Offer Accepted!

It’s official.

I just now, literally just seconds ago, replied with my acceptance for the Grateful Heart Therapy internship.

I am now part of their 2018 Fall cohort.

I will begin October 1st!

I can hardly believe it.

I will get to see clients and get paid.

I will get to have one office, instead of four different offices.

And!

Oh the nicest thing!

I found out that the Thursday morning group supervision meets in San Francisco not Alameda!

This is huge.

Especially since the group also meets a little earlier than I thought, 8:15 a.m.

But it’s done by 10:30 a.m. and I’ll be at work by 11 a.m.

I won’t lose any hours at work, I won’t have to finagle more money from somewhere else, in fact, once I start accruing a few more clients I will actually make some money.

I won’t for the first few months, it will take some time to accrue the prudent reserve the non-profit needs me to have to make sure that I can pay rent and supervision fees.

But that’s fine.

I have time to do that.

I have time and I will get paid, I suspect that I will start getting paychecks from them in or around January of next year.

I think it will take about three months to accrue the prudent reserve.

I am over the moon.

This is happening.

I will have an office.

Yes, it’s an office I will be sharing with my former professor, so it’s not mine, I haven’t decorated it, the couch isn’t mine, but I will get to rent from her and I will get to be in the space and it’s much nicer than the majority of my offices that I have currently with Liberation Institute.

One office.

God that just sounds so damn nice.

One key instead of four.

I am a very happy lady.

I almost told my boss today, but it was a hectic day with my charges, summer camps, doctors appointments, etc, and there was never really a moment that felt right.

And I’m glad that I didn’t, because I would have jumped the gun regarding the Thursday supervision.

My god I am so grateful that it’s in San Francisco and not Alameda.

Sure, I’m still going to have to deal with commuter traffic on Thursdays, but not having to go over the bridge is huge.

Such a relief.

It feels really nice to move forward.

I told one client today that I had gotten the internship and gave a soft notice for October 1st.

Now I will have to tell the rest of my clients.

Some I know will come with me.

Some will not.

For the ones who will not I will need to do a little footwork with my current internship to make sure that they are transitioned well to their next therapists.

For the ones that will go with me I will just have to tell them what office to start meeting me in when October rolls around.

Which shouldn’t be any kind of big deal as my new office is going to be in the same building as my current internship.

That is the best part of this new internship, I get to decide where I want to rent an office, and Grateful Heart takes care of the lease.

At some point I will transition completely into my own office, and I want to stay in the same building.

There is nice community there and I like the location, Activ Space (sic) in the Mission at Treat and 18th.

There’s a Gus’s Market just a block away, Stable Cafe, the new park on Folsom street at 17th, there’s Rainbow Grocery just a few blocks away, there’s plenty of parking.

And if I should want the building also has parking if I want to rent a spot.

I probably won’t at this point, but in the future when I have a sustainable income and my bills are being met well I will.

I really like the idea of having covered parking, the street parking isn’t horrible, but there are homeless folks around and there’s a bit of drug trafficking that happens in the neighborhood.

Tonight I came out and some guy was smoking crack on the sidewalk.

No thanks.

I don’t get bothered, but I know at some point it would be nice to come out of my therapy office and just get into my car without interacting with that sort of scene.

Anyway, that’s in the future.

Right now I am just going to take a moment to bask in the glow of having accepted the offer.

I really am proud of myself and the work I have done to get here.

Not just the Master’s degree and the traineeship and the internship at Liberation Institute.

But also that when it looked like my former professor and I were going to work together and then I found out we couldn’t that I didn’t sit on my ass and mope.

I went out and discovered that there were things I could do.

I heard about Grateful Heart from my therapist and remembered I knew someone who was there and met with that person and got my shit together and did the big application and got it in to the organization before I left for Paris.

I turned it all around in three weeks.

Then I got a asked to interview, which I did this past Saturday and today I got the offer.

That’s basically a month from finding out that the original plan wasn’t going to work to finding and solidifying a totally new internship.

One that is actually better for me than the original.

One door shuts.

Another door opens.

Seriously!

Sometimes

It’s nice to get mail.

Sometimes it’s really, really, really nice to get mail.

Especially from the IRS.

Holy shit.

I got home today, as per usual, a little tense, a little upset, a little in bafflement, as I have been over the last few days since I was told that I needed to move out, to a few items of mail.

One was a very sweet and unexpected card from my grandmother with a $20 bill congratulating me on graduation.

So sweet.

The other from the aforementioned IRS.

And it looked like a check.

But.

I already got back my tax returns, both state and federal, and I filed electronically so the returns were sent directly to my bank.

What was this check looking thing?

Could it possibly be?

Could it really be?

I was almost afraid to open it.

I had a thought, but my thoughts are not always the nicest to me, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

Cue an earlier thought, that I sort of joked about, but not really to my boss that it was ok, me getting asked to move out, because I have a tent, and I can hang out on the beach.

My boss laughed, but she was horrified to hear my news and also very supportive, there will be no beach for me necessary.

I can stay in the spare room that is currently the kids play room if worst came to worst.

Such a kind offer.

And one I hopefully will not have to take up, but it’s always good to know that I can.

I did once before when I was in transition, stay with employers, actually, former employers, who were remarkably generous and let me stay in their attic room with private bathroom and yes, with both my cats, while I was waiting to get into my next place.

Nothing says worst nightmare to me than homeless with cats, but in a sense that was exactly what I was.

I used to say I was in transition, but it was a transition that was horrendously uncomfortable, especially at seven years of sobriety.

I used to beat myself up about that, homeless with that much sober time, but it was just God preparing me, winnowing down the unnecessary things in my life, so that when the time came a few months later when the opportunity to move to Paris was presented to me, I was able to go without much thought about stuff and things.

I didn’t have much.

I don’t now when I look around.

The only furnishing in my studio that is mine is my bed.

That’s it.

The chaise, end tables, chairs, kitchen table, bookshelf, all my landlady’s furniture.

She’s a realtor and I believe they were used for staging at some point.

Anyway.

I won’t have much to move when I move, just the bed and the things hanging on the wall, the clothes hanging in my closet, and my kitchen stuff.

I could very easily move and do it quite efficiently.

It’s just a matter of finding a place to move to.

I began slowly putting out more feelers today.

I got a tip on an in-law on Silver Terrace, but out of my price range at $2,000.

I figure I will be comfortable spending $1500.

And if I have to I could go as high as $1800.

But that would be super freaking tight.

And I know this sounds crazy, but whatever, I have a feeling it won’t be that expensive, I do have a feeling the right thing will come and it will be what I can afford.

I told my therapist today how scared I have been and upset and angry and how it’s been hard to fall asleep because my brain will attack me with horrifying scenarios about not finding a place to live or not being able to afford what I find.

So.

Last night I said, enough brain, knock it off.

I can’t live in a future where there is no God.

God is right here.

Right the fuck now.

I am being taken care of.

I have paid for June rent.

I only have to be concerned with today.

Stop with the future tripping.

And if you have to think about the future, think about it with faith.

Magic.

God.

Love.

Abundance.

Light.

Envision where you want to live.

Think about what it looks like, really get into the details.

Hard wood floors, light, oh man, give me some light, I have been living in my little cave for almost five years, I could use a god damn window.

High ceilings.

Or at least higher than they are now.

I have low ceilings.

A nice kitchen, a gas range, a washer and dryer on site.

A place to park.

A big closet or two.

I mean.

A bathtub!

Oh.

Fuck wouldn’t that be nice?

Ruminate on the nice things, not on the bad things, see it, visualize it.

It will come.

It will!

I don’t know what exactly will happen next, I have to go to the SF Tenants Union on Saturday and do the drop in counseling.

Until that point all that I can do is what I have been doing.

Reaching out quietly to friends, avoiding social media, but just texting a friend here and there and asking them to keep ears open.

And practicing staying in the moment.

Where there is nothing wrong.

And.

There is only a little envelope to open from the IRS.

So open it.

I had put away all my stuff from my day out and about and put away my groceries, and I was heating up my dinner when I opened the card from my grandmother.

I left the envelope from the IRS alone.

But I really wondered.

If.

Well.

Could it possibly be?

And.

OH.

OH.

OH!

It was!

It was!

It was!

It was my refund from 2014!

2014!

In January of 2015 I did my taxes early and I did not have all my paperwork, I didn’t realize this until after I had filed.

I received some paperwork a month later and realized that I had fucked up my taxes and that I actually was due a bigger return than what I had filed for.

So.

I filed an amendment with the paperwork that I had left out and sent it in.

I never heard anything back.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

But.

Well.

I was hoping for something.

I sort of forgot about it after a while.

Although it would peek up above the surface of my unconsciousness every year after when I was filing and I would remember to make sure that I had all my necessary paperwork available to me before filing.

Certainly didn’t want to make that mistake again.

And there it was.

My fucking amendment refund check from 2014!

I laughed out loud with joy.

I’m going to be ok!

I mean.

I know I’m going to be ok.

But now I can stop stressing about the money I wanted to have for my traveling this summer.

I was afraid that I would find a place and have to use up my travel savings to put down a deposit to move into a new place and then have nothing left to travel with.

Maybe I would have to break out that credit card I got months ago but have never used.

Maybe not!

Not when I got a check from out of the blue for.

Wait for it.

Like you haven’t this entire blog.

Heh.

$2,126.34!

Boom.

Can you say happy?

I can!

Happy.

Joyous.

Motherfucking free to travel about the country.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Two Weeks

And I’ll be heading to that thing in the desert.

Yup.

It’s almost here.

And it an unexpected twist, I have a playa bike as of today that will be delivered to the playa for me from the woman who borrowed my playa bike last year.

I didn’t know she was going until I got a message yesterday about how the bike search was going.

I lent my bicycle last year and it didn’t make it back from the event.

I was planning on purchasing a bike for playa until just recently when I realized that I may not be able to find a ride to the event and as a safety net, reserved a car at SFO to drive to and from the event.

I didn’t want to invest more money into a playa bike and a bike rack for the rental.

It would have added another $500 or so to an already pretty expensive travel expense.

I mean.

Yes.

I have the money in my travel savings account.

Yes.

I have two savings accounts.

One is a prudent reserve and the other is for travel expenses.

I have banked on having to use a bit o the travel savings since I won’t be getting paid time off for Burning Man.

I have already used up my vacation time for work, but my boss, so sweet, agreed to let me go to the burn regardless.

Anyway.

I got a great message from my friend who basically said she’d have the bike there for me and I could use it during the event.  She’d even rig it up with my old basket and my fuzzy dice from Reno and the vanity plate, “Carmen” that I have from my trip down to LA when I did the ALC (Aids LifeCycle) ride back in 2010.

I was over the moon.

I will have a bike on playa!

That is a really big thing, especially as I was mentally prepping myself for lots of long walks in the dust.

Which I don’t mind at all, but some of my very favorite places at Burning Man are super deep playa, miles and miles away from the city center and I like to ride my bicycle out there.

Have a chat with my friend, whose ashes I left there ten years ago, we always have a heart to heart out there.

Now.

If I could just scare up a ride and not have to pay the cost of the rental, fuck, that would be nice.

Aside from that.

I need to pack.

I haven’t yet.

It shouldn’t actually take me too long.

I am a bit of an old hand at this, I have done it enough, this is time number 11, but it does take a minute and I will be changing out all my old bins for new ones I ordered online a few weeks ago.

I have everything I need, especially since I have the bike now, I have all my food prep done, frozen and patiently waiting for me in the freezer.

It’s a matter of time.

I am hoping to do it next Saturday in between my internship and my Saturday night commitment.

I have all my other time pretty booked in.

I could also, I am just now realizing, do a little tomorrow.

I had a client cancel and reschedule for another time.

It’s a tough thought though.

I have supervision in the morning before work and if I don’t have a client, I will probably go do the deal at 7th and Irving and get right with God.

I may not have much motivation or desire to suddenly delve into my dusty playa boxes.

Of course.

The following weekend is my first weekend of classes and the leaving for the event.

So I pretty much have to figure it the fuck out and take care of it this week.

I am sure it will happen.

Just like I am sure I will get my reading done for the first weekend of school.

Hard to believe that, two weeks from today I will have wrapped my first weekend of classes in my third, and thank God, final year of my Masters of Psychology program.

That’s really exciting.

Even if the reading right now is not so much.

It could have been that I was just a little tired.

But, none the less, I did a two-hour stretch of reading in between my morning routine, meeting with a lady to do the deal, coffee with a friend from school, two loads of laundry, writing, a walk on the beach, yoga and food prep for the week.

I also printed of my three syllabi for classes I will be attending, am taking five classes this semester.

Vomit.

Oh well.

It is what it is.

Two of them are online courses, which is great, but after looking over them there is a surprising amount of reading and a couple of odd have to be online for a certain class lecture series at a certain time which falls outside of scheduled class time, I’m not too certain I am pleased with this.

I mean.

Fuck.

Does the instructor not know how tight my schedule is?

Please.

I’m sure it will work out, it always does, and I was super pleased to start the reading for one of the online courses, got a peek at the syllabus and read an article.

Then.

Yes.

I knocked through three chapters, 107 pages, or so, who’s counting, of my Jungian textbook.

The reading was a bit esoteric but I understood it and I powered through, although a few times it felt like I was going to nod off.

I managed to stay awake and then get to an evening restorative yoga class.

I threw a chicken in the oven and went and did a super stretchy, work out the kinks yoga class, the restorative is super gentle and you hold the poses for long stretches at a time and use a lot of supportive props, the instructor even had us wear scented lavender eye masks at a couple of times in the class.

It was delicious.

And the focus was on hips and hip openers, it was exactly what I needed.

Then back to the house, hot shower, hot chicken dinner, and internship emails.

And there’s the Sunday.

It was good.

I may not be expressing fully how freaking stupendous it was.

But trust me.

It fucking rocked.

 

Holding Out

But not being stupid about it.

I have been looking for a ride share to Burning Man.

Everyone I know is going early, either in really early like they’re there now, or pretty much leaving prior to the start of the event since they will be helping build the city.

I love that I know so many folks who are such integral parts to the event.

I feel pretty lucky to know them.

And I am also damn lucky to be in my last year of my Masters of Counseling Psychology program, but it does throw a monkey wrench in my getting to the playa.

As it has done every year that I have been in school.

Last year I had to go up early and leave early.

But.

I got to go.

The previous year it was a similar situation, except that I was going to be coming back and rolling straight into school.

I went up with the family I was working for and came back with a playa boyfriend, the first time that every happened, who lasted all of two dates off playa, but hey, we had fun.

I remember looking at him and knowing, shit, I’m going to be “that girl he met at Burning Man.”

He’s never gone back to the event and he found a “real girlfriend” in the real world.

I don’t expect to find the love of my life out at the event, there was a time, and too fucking many of them, when I had this stupid idea that the one was out there.

The one is here.

I don’t need to go traipsing out in the desert to find the one, I am the one.

Fuck.

I remember when I realized that too, and yes, I was out in deep playa having a spiritual moment with the sky.

My favorite color.

The playa at sunset, the deepest midnight blue that fades into indigo violet and then a push of pink right at the edge of it all.

I have taken so many photographs of the playa at sunset, I can never quite do justice to the beauty of the sky with my words, but once in a while I do catch a glimmer of that bliss in the photos I have taken.

So.

Yeah.

This year my first weekend of classes is the 25th, 26th, and 27th.

The event opens at 12a.m. on the 27th.

Which means that everybody who isn’t already there, most of the people I know will already be there, will be queued up to get in as they open the gates Sunday “morning” at 12:01 a.m.

Me.

Nope.

I’ll still be in the city.

I have my last class on Sunday and it ends at noon.

I already have contemplated skipping it and maybe that happens.

But I can’t skip the whole weekend and I certainly can’t skip supervision for my internship that week either.

I can the week following and I will, by that time I will definitely be on playa.

So.

I won’t be able to leave San Francisco until 1p.m. on Sunday.

If I can get a ride.

If I can wrangle that up.

If not I’ll be leaving a little later than 1 p.m.

If I don’t find a ride, and believe you me, I am fucking trying I have been asking around since I found out I had been awarded the low-income ticket, so for months, I will be renting a car.

I have reserved a car at SFO.

I really don’t want to have to rent a car, first I’ll have to leave a gigantic deposit since I don’t have a credit card and then, well, there is the whole deal of driving it to Burning Man.

I’ll have to get it washed and very likely detailed.

I will probably lose all or most of my deposit.

Making it an $800 expenditure instead of a $384 expenditure.

That’s what I got the rental reserved for.

I have been hedging my bets that I would have to rent, and I have been putting aside little bits and pieces of money into my savings account so if I do have to rent the car I will transfer $1500 out of my savings three days before the rental happens, so basically the Thursday night before I start classes.

I have an online savings account, it takes three days to land in my regular bank account.

I will probably also have to move a bit more out than that as I won’t be getting a paycheck for my time off to go to Burning Man.

Which is fine, and that’s why I have a second savings account, also through the same online bank, which is my prudent reserve.

It’s rent and utilities and food for a month.

Eventually, one day I hope to have rent and food and utilities for at least three months, but you know, I start small and work my way there.

Ultimately I want a year’s prudent reserve.

But.

I tend not to go to that heavy into that particular savings account because all my other savings are earmarked for travel.

I would rather have travel than not have travel.

For instance I got paid today, yay, Friday!

And I put $68.24 into my savings.

$60 for travel and $8.24 for prudent reserve.

I know, its a silly system, but it’s my system and it works for me.

That being said, I can afford to eat up a lot of that travel money in savings for the event should I need to.

God.

I don’t want to.

But.

At this point I am pretty damn invested in going.

Plus.

It’s year 11.

Plus.

It’s Shadrach’s ten-year anniversary and I really need to be out there and have my own quiet time with him in the deep playa unload my heart, tell him how things have been, let him know I’ve been practicing being the ball.

It’s nice to be the ball.

And.

Well.

Fuck.

I have a ticket and I want to go.

I want to see friends I only see there, friends from Canada, London, Paris, friends from New York, Los Angeles, Seattle, friends from Toronto and Australia, shit friends from Alameda who you think I would see more often, but I end up almost only seeing out there.

So.

I am going.

And yes, I don’t want to rent the car but it’s a fall back, a net, if I have to, I will.

I haven’t paid anything for it, it’s reserved under my name, but I have the option to cancel at any time should I find a ride elsewhere.

Know anyone?

SERIOUSLY.

Let me know.

I’ll just be hanging out over here haunting the ride share board.

Ha.

Unexpected Thank You

I got the sweetest text message from my employer when I got home from work.

She thanked me for putting up with the crazy kiddos and for making a delicious dinner.

Aw!

My pleasure.

And really, the kids are not crazy, kids never really are, but when they are sick they can be a little off and my little lady today was definitely off.

I was greeted by her sweet face at the door when I came in, she was home sick from school and we spent many hours hanging out on the couch, we cuddled, read stories, played cops and robbers at one point when she had some energy, horses and unicorns, dog picnic, and loads of stickers and coloring.

It was definitely a far fuller day then I have yet experienced and I think I got a little taste for what it will be like when the dad returns to work full-time.

He is in transition and has started back one day a week.

That day was today and I had a little a ha moment and a lot of gratitude for all the time I got to have yesterday to read.

I had brought my books and reader with me from my Couples Therapy class.

I had some high hopes.

They were pretty much left at the curb when I was greeted by my little friend at the door.

I was fine with it though and I really did have a lovely day and there is something nice about being needed and I felt helpful and useful and really appreciated by the family.

I really like them.

Such a nice thing.

The mom and I had a really sweet conversation today talking about my health insurance of all things.

She wanted to know how I was going to be affected by the recent political change and whether it would have an effect on my insurance.

I don’t know.

I suspect that I won’t know for a little while and I’m not going to worry about it.

I am going to focus on what I can do for the person in front of me, in the moment, in the here and in the now, to the best of my abilities.

But.

I did share that when I heard the news my first thought (I edited my version to my boss) was, “well fuck it, then I’m going to cheat on my taxes.”

I’m not, of course.

But that was my first thought.

I was and have been very taken with how much the parents, the mom especially, have treated me, engaged with me, worked with me, I feel like I am slowly, really going to be a part of the family.

I feel very embraced by them and very respected and that is just such a nice thing.

And it makes me want to do my job even better.

I find that when I am treated humanely and with kindness I will bend the fuck over to help out and do a good job.

I’m a little concerned about this, but not too much, I don’t think I’m going to lose myself in the job and I also have been encouraged to stop, rest, take breaks, drink tea.

I’m down with all of that.

Plus, they have been flexible with my school stuff.

Which feels like a super big thing.

Especially since I head to my first open house tomorrow night.

I have to leave work about 45 minutes early.

I’m gong to have to ask them to allow me some lenience in regards to doing that, leave work early, for the next couple  weeks on Wednesday.

Plus whenever I get called back to interview.

I am just going to have to suck it up and talk with the mom tomorrow.

Today was too busy, dad at work, mom out taking care of stuff, one sick kid at the house and dinner to cook was enough work for me.

Plus.

The baby.

Granted.

I haven’t done much with the baby yet.

Mom has got him and dad too.

It’s beautiful watching him grow.

He’s 3.5 weeks old.

Anyway.

I do have to have the conversation and if I can’t get out all the days that I need to, well, so be it.

I keep telling myself I won’t slip through the cracks, I am enough, I’ll get practicum placement and it will all be just fine.

REALLY.

It will.

I have not been taken this far to suddenly get dropped on my ass.

I am grateful that I did not understand how much work there was that had to be done.

I mean I might not have applied  to the program!

I did though and I’m doing well and I like what I am doing and I love that I will get to help others out as well as continue to grow and nurture myself.

It will be years before I make real money.

But I will be making triple, quadruple, maybe more, quite likely more, when I think about it with some honesty.

I don’t know what that’s going to look like.

But I have plans.

A year’s prudent reserve in savings.

Paying off my student loans.

But if you want to do that, feel free, just let me know and I’ll send you the information.

Heh.

Having a car.

Yes.

I am a scooter queen and a bicycle loving girl.

But man, sometimes I just want a car.

More travel, obviously.

And.

A house.

One in San Francisco.

I know.

I am crazy.

But.

I bet it will happen.

Sooner than I think too.

How?

Who knows, magic maybe, honestly I don’t need to know.

I will be fine if I don’t own a house, but it’s always been a dream of mine.

Ooh.

A retirement fund.

I know.

Sexy.

Right?

Old lady traveler on the move, you know it!

The journey is the point though and I don’t want to not be here in the present enjoying my small, sweet, cozy home, the music playing, the lamps glowing, candles flickering, the pictures and paintings and photographs on the walls.

I have a damn good life.

I do.

Grateful for all the things.

All the things.

And.

The.

Love.

Obviously.

That.

Always.

 

Prudence

And a prudent reserve.

A good conversation with a very smart friend.

Some soul-searching over sushi.

Oh my god.

So good.

Such good sushi.

I made sushi face all over the place.

“Don’t tell anyone about this spot!”  My friend exhorted me.

Mum’s the word.

And the realization that the discomfort I was feeling about getting a Vespa was about not having any prudent reserve left over in case of emergencies or life happening.

Thus.

I have decided to go with the Buddy from Genuine Scooters.

Unfortunately, the Italia in avocado is gone, gone, gone.

Le sigh.

However, I learned something today, after having the fantastic sushi meal my friend and I decided to hop over to Scooter Centre and see what Buddy’s they had in stock.

I looked at the 170cc’s but none of them did it at all for me and for the cost, I might as well say, wait for the money for a Vespa.

And after talking with Barry and acknowledging what my needs are, I don’t really need that much power, I’m not going to ride the scooter over the bridges.

I am going to ride it to work and to do the deal and to school.

And how handy is it that Scooter Centre is literally a block away from school?

Pretty auspicious I say.

So I looked over the 125cc’s Genuine Buddy and I liked what I saw.

First, it wasn’t as bulky as the 170cc and I liked the color choices better.

I narrowed it down to black, mint green, and this silvery grey that has some sparkle in the paint.

Did you say sparkle?

Did you say, matches my helmet with the big stars on it?

Did you say glitter?

Yeah.

So.

I’ll be getting the soft grey with shimmer and I will be getting her next Friday.

What with the money I received for writing the sonnets and the money I have in savings and the deal I’m getting, tax, title, registration, all out the door, brand new two-year warranty with road side assistance, and he threw in a disc lock for me, $3239.

I have enough!

I have enough!

I have enough!

And.

I have some prudent reserve left in my savings too.

I will transfer the money out of my account tomorrow so that it lands by Thursday.

Then, on my day off, Friday the family will be in Indianapolis for a Bar Mitzvah, I will go down to the shop with my helmet and if I can find my gloves, my gloves, and if not, I buy a new pair, I like riding with gloves, really feels so much better, and my cash in hand.

Cash.

No credit card.

No financing.

My hard-earned money.

I am over the moon.

I will be celebrating some poetry with my scooter.

Perhaps I will ride to the top of Twin Peaks and proclaim myself with a barbaric yawp of delight.

Poetic no?

I told you.

My scooter will be running on poetry, aka love.

It gets great gas mileage.

92 mpg.

Thank you very much.

Filling up the tank will be cheaper than riding the MUNI train.

Plus.

The seat flips up and has a storage area underneath for the helmet.

Now I have to contact my insurance and let them know that I will be needing motorcycle insurance again.

And that’s it.

I don’t have to go down to the DMV and register it, Scooter Centre will do all that, tax, title, registration, brand new.

This will be my first brand new vehicle ever.

Motorized that is.

My bicycle was new when I got her.

My friend even suggested I could sell my bike, but I don’t think I will, I love her too much and I may want to have her in case I need to have a day of servicing etc on the scooter.

But next Friday!

Next Friday.

I ride.

I am over the moon.

And it feels right.

It feels right to not push myself financially and try to get a new Vespa, it feels prudent to get something nice that will get me around and do me for school and get me through the next three years.

I will be able to do so much more.

I’ll be able to get to some places that I don’t get to on my bike.

I’ll have more flexibility in my schedule.

It will be a great help to me.

And it will save me time.

Time I can use for school.

I did pretty damn well with my time today as well.

I got up an hour before my alarm, I knew that was going to happen, I just wanted to get some stuff done and I knew if I got up just a tiny bit earlier I would be able to accomplish some extra things in my day.

Like a little spoiling, I got a manicure.

And a nice hot shower this morning.

And some writing.

Which reminds me, I have to pop to the store tomorrow, I need to buy a new notebook, I filled up another notebook with my morning pages.

It was my Burning Man notebook, the one that I brought with me to the event.

I looked at the stickers I got there and my ticket to the event and flipped through a few entries.

So much has happened since then, and it was just under two months ago that I was there.

Things can change so quickly.

Especially if I allow myself a little flexibility.

And some fun.

I let myself do both.

I still got in a lot of reading, in fact all the reading I need to do to write the paper I have to write tomorrow.

It’s not due until November 4th, but that’s the middle of the work week for me and I just won’t do it like that, it will feel awful and rushed and I have commitments during the week that I need to make sure to get to.

So, tomorrow I write.

For I read today.

I also made pureed cream of broccoli soup with smoked bacon and a big pot of chili for my friend.

He who hauled me all over the city and helped me negotiate for the scooter and gave me suggestions and ideas and has been a great sounding board and also let me commandeer his couch while I read for school.

Plus, I got to snuggle with a cat.

Heaven.

Reading on the couch, a pot of chili on the stove, corn bread muffins too, the sound of college football on the tv in the background, the kids in the neighborhood trick or treating and the happy knowledge of making a decision to improve the quality of my life and get something that works best for me, plus doing the deal this morning and seeing my person at Tart to Tart.

I had a damn fine day.

Damn fine.

And I even got my helmet out of the closet and dusted her off.

I’m just about ready to rock and roll on a working scooter.

Over the moon.

I am.

Just over the moon.

Which is perfect since my helmet has sparkly glitter stars on it.

Ha!

And What Are You Up To

Tonight?

Not what I was up to last Thursday.

Ahem.

I am studying.

Or should I say, I was studying.

Sigh.

Not getting hickies tonight.

Oh well.

I knew well what I was getting into when I decided to pursue graduate school–no more reading for pleasure for a few years, limited social interaction and engagement, and lots of studying, outlining, underlining, and digesting of ideas, theories, and studies.

I will also get to add to that, navigating student financial aid, technology, online facebook pages for my cohort, never thought I would use social media for graduate school studies, but my cohort has a group on facebook and I actually do use it.

Said hickies have faded and left little trace of their previous engagement.

All that is left is a warm feeling and a few sweet thoughts.

He goes one way.

I go the other.

Nothing wrong there.

No expectations.

No resentments.

Life meandering on its way.

I’m not maudlin, upset, or concerned.

I’m focused on what is happening in front of me.

Which is mainly getting all my Human Development reading done before the weekend.

I have one chapter left in the big text-book and a lot of articles in the reader, but I have successfully finished all the reading that I need to have done to outline the chapter and do the presentation with my partner next week.

I will go back over the reading again this Saturday and perhaps one more time before I do the presentation.

Grateful to be getting the work in and done.

Grateful to be carving out the space here and there to navigate said reading.

A little here.

A little there.

The stuff and things they get done.

I haven’t really addressed the reading for any of my other classes yet, but I will.

I will get to it.

I always do.

I don’t sit idly by.

I don’t take many breaks.

I get the job done.

Speaking of job.

I expect that at some point tomorrow, since it has not happened yet, didn’t happen today, I will be sitting down with the family and doing my year review.

I have no more anxiety around it.

Which is a relief and I don’t have expectations of myself, except that I show up and be honest and come from a place of gratitude for my job, for the boys, for the gift of having a job while I am in graduate school that seems like it could well carry me through all the way from this first semester to the last.

That is my hope.

Although.

I know.

Well.

I know well.

That whatever happens.

I am taken care of.

I have no doubts.

With that qualification I await the morrow with some interest.

Tomorrow is when the school disperses the financial aid.

I have my fingers crossed that I will get the rest of my tuition bill paid for and that there will be a few thousand, two to be specific, two thousand, left over after my tuition is covered.

I really want a new mattress for my bed and I have been eyeing the Casper full size for the last three months or so.

But.

I wonder.

Would it be better to sit on the money and see how I do under my own power with the hours that I am working at work before I spill out the money?

Should I sock it away into savings and have a nest egg?

Sleeping well is important, but could I wait until I do my taxes in January?

That seems so far away.

I have been quite frugal the past few months and am doing alright with my finances.

I will be paying my rent for October when I get my paycheck tomorrow.

That’s also something I need to keep in mind, the paychecks for the next few months will be smaller to reflect the fewer hours I am working.

I feel like I can afford it though.

The full size is $750.

That would still leave me sitting on $1250, which is basically one months rent, and I could sock that away into my savings, where I currently have one months rent, and then have a little prudent reserve to see how I do with the navigation forward.

I keep looking at my bed.

It’s a nice bed.

But.

It’s an Ikea mattress that is two years old and was not meant to be the end all and be all of mattresses.

I had thought I was going to replace it this spring, but I did not.

Sleep is important.

My brain will do better with quality sleep than without.

I could write it off as a study aid.

Baha.

Doubtful, but it’s a nice thought.

I don’t have many needs.

I live a small life.

But.

It is a full life.

A quality life.

I like my food organic.

And yes.

I do drink expensive coffee.

I probably drop $60 a month on coffee beans.

But my, they are so delicious.

I also rarely buy coffee out, although I do have it on a fairly consistent basis.

Today I had a lovely iced coffee from Grand Cafe on Mission Street on my way to the Mission/Bartlett Farmer’s Market to shop for the family.

The family sports my coffees.

I don’t take advantage of it, though there can be a tendency in my brain to want more, after a certain point I just can’t do a big coffee after four in the afternoon.

I have a lot of perks at work.

I am well aware of how lucky I am to have a good job, that I get to live in San Francisco, go to school in San Francisco, live in the best city in the United States, one of the best in the world, and live as well as I do.

Yes.

I live in a studio.

But it is by the sea.

In the most salient place for me to be.

The best place for my soul to reside for the time being.

At least for the next three years.

And after that?

Who knows.

I am too focused right now on the here and now.

Where the reading is.

Just there.

On the other side of my laptop.

Now.

If you’ll excuse me.

I have some more reading to do.

See you tomorrow.

I’ll let you know if I get that raise.

Declined

Uh, what?

Excuse me.

Run that again.

I was at Whole Paycheck earlier today with both the boys.

Both the boys who were sound asleep, one strapped into the Snugli, the other in the stroller, they both nodded out early.

Daylight savings.

That, in and of itself is the compelling argument to change that shit up.

Do you realize how you are affecting nap time?

Please.

It was not a lot, $19.44, but it was apparently more than my balance could bear.

I was a little confused, but figured it was a mistake and left the store after unloading the groceries in my messenger bag and wheeling the boys back to the house.

I looked through my checking account register, yes, I balance it by hand, I do, I am old-fashioned in more than one way, despite the rebellious look of my tattoos.

And truth be told it has been years, really years, since I have bounced a check.

Occasionally, however, I have had discrepancies, off a little here or there, forgot to round-up or down, hastily marked a payment and didn’t carry the two.  Basic stuff, and though I thought I had plenty in the account, I chalked it up to that possibility.

Then I rather forgot about the whole thing.

I had food at the house.

I wasn’t starving.

The sun was out, the boys were napping, and I attended to my nanny duties.

I made a phone call about it, just to practise doing a check in, you know, let people know how things are going.

I decided I should access my account and see what was happening.

Oh.

NO.

WHATTHEFUCK!?

Overdraft.

Overdraft fee.

Bounced check?

Rent?

Did my rent check not go through?

ARGH.

Nothing says get some humility like coming home to tell my land lord who is in the middle of putting down her daughter and her daughter’s 7-year-old neighborhood friend for bed, that my rent check might have bounced.

So glad you rented to me, right?

Grrr.

I had discovered something, however, when I looked over my account, looks like my student loan payment was paid twice.

I got online and looked again, yup, charged twice.

This definitely explains why I overdrafted and I immediately got on the phone with the bank.

They covered my rent check.

Thank God.

They also pulled off the over draft fee and told me how to proceed.

Basically, I have to call my student loan company and have them return the money tomorrow.

Oh, I tried tonight, but I apparently missed the cut off time.

So tomorrow, during nap time, I will be on the phone making some calls to get it cleaned up.

The thing that I am in awe of, is how I responded.

I did not react.

Oh I wanted to I suppose at some point.

But I did not.

I guess I have been restored to sanity, look at that.

I didn’t get upset at the grocery store.

I did not get upset on the phone.

I did get a little upset when I related it to my person who called me back.

That old fear crawled right in and made a big old mess in my serenity nest.

However, she directed me to focus on what was right in front of me.

That would be the baby I was holding.

And there was nothing else to do.

I could have spoiled the rest of the day fretting, but it would have done me no good.

I also reflected, as I sat in Tart to Tart listening to a young woman and her heroin woes and the many rehabs she has been in and out of, eight, that I had it really fucking good.

Despite what that old brain was saying.

It turned  out to be a nuisance, that’s about it.

Annoying.

No drama here, just a miscalculation.

Sorry folks, show’s over.

I popped my head back upstairs to the landlady and said, “hey, just got off the phone from the bank, they cleared up the discrepancy, the fee was pulled, and your check did not bounce it is covered.”

“Good thing you have some back up,” she said.

She’s right, I also do have savings.

Not a ton, but enough, and certainly enough to have covered anything that might have come up between now and payday.

Another thing to be grateful for, a little prudent reserve.

As I was riding my bicycle home I realized that you can’t quantify me by a bank fee.

Just as I am not my jean size or my age or my class or ethnicity.

I am not my bank balance.

It won’t always be low either.

That hit me just as hard, this too shall pass.

I will have more money.

I saw a motorcycle pull out ahead of me and the thought came, unbidden, “soon you’ll be riding one of those and not this bicycle.”

Dude.

Down with that.

So, no anxiety.

There’s nothing wrong.

Not a thing.

The only thing I need to concern myself with is getting to bed at a reasonable hour so that I can have a good day with the boys tomorrow.

Today ran late and I suspect that the rest of the week will be the same.

Plus having the concert to hit tomorrow evening after work at the Fillmore, super excited, although a little tired by the thought of going out on a “school night” to see a show.

Nice thing, though, I may be a touch sleep deprived for the Thursday shift at work, but I ain’t gonna be hung over.

Nope.

I can handle a little tired.

I might have been declined.

Just for today.

But I sure as shit ain’t down.

Nope.

Not at all.

In fact.

Just.

Happy, joyous, free.

What Does A Carrot Peeler

Have to do with anything?

I once would not have been able to tell you, but the conversation I had with my mom on Sunday revealed itself to me this morning as I was standing in the aisle at Cole Valley Hardware looking at the carrot peelers.

Damn.

Those things are expensive.

Then I heard the tone of my mother’s worry and anxiety around finances and I heard myself wish to not be of that mindset.

It takes a long time to change that sort of despair and belief that there is not enough in the world.

Mom was just talking about financial insecurity and I heard loud and clear where I pick it up from.

Then another voice, oh for Pete’s sake, buy the peeler, Martines.

This is the voice I am listening to more of, rather than the one of deprivation and there’s not enough, the one that says there is not abundance, there is not hope, there are people who have it all and you don’t get to be one of them, you need to suffer.

Yup, all this crap went through my head in the kitchenware aisle at the hardware store.

See, I bought a carrot peeler a few days back, at some janky ass little Asian cheapie junk store on Irving.

Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love Japanese dollar stores, they are awesome.

But the carrot peeler, it sucked.

And when I went to use it yesterday I ended up throwing it in the garbage.

Funny thing, I had looked a the exact carrot peeler I bought today and opted to not get it because it was too expensive and I’ll just get the cheaper one.

Cheaper not always better.

I almost put it back in the hardware store, I don’t have as many hours as I want and I….

Shut up.

I am fine.

There is money.

Buy the carrot peeler, buy the dish drain mat, buy the god damn nice soap dish, buy the ice-cube trays and while you’re at it, get some paper towels you eco conscious lady you, you like to use them.

Don’t deny yourself nice things.

I deserve them.

And if you saw the way I live you would say I am not exactly living high on the hog.

I am alright with my lot.

I am.

I was reflecting on that as well, as the baby napped, and I was doing my morning writing.

I am working a job where they say, help yourself to the tea, and we bought this one just for you.  Go ahead and write, in fact, here’s a notebook I found that I thought you would like.  Where I get to sit in the sun and watch the clouds roll by, where I am outside and giggling with a baby as he flirts with a gaggle of old ladies on tour in Golden Gate Park.

My job is pretty awesome.

I am wanted and needed and it pays my rent.

I could use a few more hours, but I picked up a half shift this week and found out that next week the mom won’t be going out-of-town and my hours won’t be cut.

I’ll make rent for October, as well as my student loan, and groceries, and I won’t have to dip into my savings.

Savings that I am setting aside for Paris.

Not to move back, but to pay for this move back.

I still owe Barnaby for the return ticket.

He gave me a year to pay it off and I want to have it paid before then.

However, I am not going to hurt myself trying to do so.

It is nice to have a few hundred dollars in my savings.

I like having that safety cushion.

And as I sat accepting that I could be a nanny for the next ten years and who cares?

I mean, really, who cares?

I get to write, I have gotten to travel, I get to giggle, to sit and read the New Yorker when the napping is happening, probably not much tomorrow as I have three babies on the day, but there are days I get the reading while the napping happens.

The commute in?

Twenty minutes.

The relaxing stroll around the block looking at houses.

Houses which I used to covet.

Houses which I don’t any more.

I may own one of those houses one day.

I may not.

But what I know today is that I have a home, a home that I can afford, it is small and cozy and just so.

I opened the door to the night as I went to bed yesterday evening.

I listened to the crash of the surf as I fell asleep.

I figured I could get up and close the door at any time if it got cold, although I probably would not have felt it as I bought myself a good comforter at Ikea, I spent the entire night with the door open and it was a soothing balm on my rest.

There is no need to change who I am or what I am.

I am not broken.

I deserve a good carrot peeler and a nice bed.

Spicy tea and sweet apples.

The quiet respite from the negative accusation that I have not done enough or am enough.

My life is yet from half over and there is still so much to learn and grow and be and get to do.

Listening to my mom I could have poked a hole in the fallacy of her thinking, but it was not my place, rather, what I learned and listened to and recognized is that she has always been taken care of.

Always.

And she is in her sixties.

I can extrapolate that out to myself.

I will always be taken care of.

Especially if I continue to do that work, of which I am not planning on dropping anytime soon.  I am going to be just fine and spending another eight dollars on something that will be helpful when I cook for myself seems a silly thing to quibble over.

Thus, the acceptance has not to do with  thinking there is a lack, I just got to accept I ain’t gonna get what I need, rather the acceptance is to recognize for myself that there is abundance.

I accept abundance.

This is acceptance.

Of reality.

The other is a fantasy I inflict upon myself.

Oh, yeah, that’s correct, my fantasies have nothing to do with success, but rather with deprivation, I’m good a dreaming up that crap.

Right here, right now.

I accept myself.

My job.

My art.

My voice.

My fucking authentic fabulous self.

“Paris misses your pink,” a friend wrote me in a message.

Indeed.