Posts Tagged ‘Public Works’

Sleep

September 29, 2017

It does wonders.

I still could have slept another hour or fifteen, or so it felt, when I woke up, but I had gotten nearly 7 hours and that was miraculous after a long slog of a day with little sleep.

I am super grateful that tomorrow is Friday.

And that the mom had gotten mixed up with dates and I don’t have to come in early tomorrow.

I will next week.

But tomorrow.

Fuck.

I might even get eight hours of sleep.

It sounds so sexy it makes me shiver in delicious anticipation.

And just being the end of the week brings me some relief.

I’m almost there.

I still have a rather long day tomorrow, full day of work, client at my internship, but I don’t have a second client in the evening until next Friday, so I’ll be out by 7:30p.m. and able to make a friend’s birthday dinner at Fang on Howard Street.

I am also supposed to go dancing with the posse of ladies afterward at Public Works for Afrolicious.

I’m on the fence about that.

Originally I wasn’t going to be able to do dinner and felt an obligation to make a commitment to my friend and say yes to the dancing.

Now.

Well.

Fuck.

It’s been a long week.

I mean.

It really has.

And I’m still not in the clear.

I don’t have a day off until Sunday.

So.

Yeah.

I’m keeping the door wide open to just doing dinner and saying, love you, but I can’t make the dancing.

And.

I love dancing.

I haven’t really danced since Burning Man and god only knows when before that.

But, yes, I do like to dance.

And the music is sure to be good.

I mean.

Really good.

I’m not committing though, not yet, I just need to see how I feel and not try to be a hero and push too hard.

If I have the energy, I’ll go for it and bounce home by midnight so that I can still get up and go to yoga in the morning on Saturday before I go into my internship.

I do know this much.

I am getting a god damn mani/pedi/waxing on Saturday.

I hate looking sloppy and my nails look like ass.

It’s always an indication to me that I am busy when my manicure looks bad.

It’s a time suck, an enjoyable one, but it takes time and when I have a school weekend, like I did last weekend, I don’t have the time.

Oh.

I tried.

I had a little tiny window Saturday between my last class and my first client, but the salon was full and couldn’t get me in for even just a manicure.

Note to self.

Make an appointment so I can get a spot.

I can’t go another week without doing the nails.

It’s a part of my self-care and it’s something I very much like to do for myself.

It’s a couple of hours of sitting still, flipping through magazines, letting someone pamper me, relaxing, using the massage buttons on the chair.

Yeah.

Definitely making some time to do that.

Then my normal Saturday night get together with my fellows over in the NOPA.

I might go out to dinner that night too, but not certain.

I also have homework to attend to, I do need to do some reading.

I actually got in a couple of articles yesterday evening, despite the fact that I had such a long day, I did a 45 minute stretch and got my CBT reading done so that I can actually know what the fuck is being talked about in my webinar on Sunday and I knocked out an article in my Child and Elderly Abuse class.

Little bits and pieces as I go.

It will get done.

I didn’t have much down time at work this week to address homework, but I have brought a book with me every day, just in case.

I never know what the time will bring, just that it’s important to utilize it when it occurs.

I hope to let myself have a little down time too.

I do what I can.

When I can.

I believe in abundance, my time is expansive.

I also acknowledge that my schedule is fucking full and it’s a lot when I step back and look at it.

But boy.

The time goes by.

And.

It won’t always be like this.

It just won’t.

It’s part of what I have to do right now.

Get the degree, get the degree, get the degree.

Eye on the prize.

Eyes softly on the prize.

I don’t want it to be the sole focus of my life.

I have people in my life who are my life and I can’t just be a soul hiding in a room studying all the time.

Or working all the time.

I need connection.

I need love

I need sunshine.

I need star shine.

I need love.

Oh.

I already said that.

But.

For the sake of telling myself that I am allowed.

I need love.

I can’t just send it out, to my clients, my family, my friends, to my job, without getting some back.

And thank God.

I am getting it back.

I am so grateful for that love.

Beyond words.

I realize that I have strength.

But I cannot be strong in a vacuum.

So.

I will do my best this weekend to let myself balance all my commitments and comings and goings and be nice to myself and maybe, I’ll get some flowers, or something else sweet for myself, be romantic, woo my heart, be gentle.

Heh.

See.

I’m making an opportunity to go shopping.

I see myself here.

Oh.

But.

It’s allowed.

Let me allow myself some sweetness for all the hard work I put in.

It’s allowed.

I am lovable and worthy of love.

And.

Maybe.

Yes.

A new pair of shoes too.

Heh.

 

Just Add Another

July 20, 2016

Thing to an already full plate.

But fuck it.

I signed up for an American Red Cross CPR/First Aid/AED child/infant/adult class for the last day of the month.

I don’t have any free time really in August.

August is going to be interesting.

And actually I do have a couple of odd free dates in the first week of August, so if you want to hang out and you’re not doing anything the 2nd, 3rd, or 4th, hit me up.

We can do the MOMA.

Get coffee.

Hang out.

Make out.

You know.

Whatever.

Heh.

My certification lapses at the end of this month so I was trying to book in for one of those days that I will be free, but the classes weren’t available and I ended up having to sacrifice a Sunday afternoon for the class.

That being said, it may work out just right for me.

I was thinking I would do the class, then grab a BART and take the train over to Oakland and go to a friend’s housewarming/engagement party.

Looks like a lot of my friends will be there and since I’m already downtown, the BART doesn’t seem all that untenable and it will be nice to get out of the fog and be in the sun, catch up with old friends and see my friend’s house.

It’s hard to believe that I am making plans for the end of July and that August is like right there.

August looks like this: school retreat, out of town working for the family as they spend a couple of weeks in Sonoma at Glenn Ellen, then BurningMan, then back and right into the September with a Mike Doughty show on the 1st and my first weekend of school on the 2nd.

The month is like booked.

Crazy.

I reflected earlier though that August for me, even when I wasn’t in school, has always been pretty booked.

At least for the last nine years it has.

Burning Man takes up a lot of head space, physical space, preparation space, emotional, spiritual space, space space.

It just is a lot.

I have no answers still in regards to rides and shelter and this and that.

But.

I did get a notification from UPS that my signature was going to be required for a package delivery tomorrow.

Of course I’ll either be at work or I’ll be at a morning yoga class.

Which I committed to going to, so maybe I should go sign up for that.

Hang on.

Ugh.

It’s not a teacher I’m very fond of.

However.

It’s yoga and I’m going.

Done.

I’m working a slightly different schedule tomorrow so that the mom and dad can double date with some friends.

The said 8/8:30p.m.

So I’m just preparing myself for 9p.m.

Although still hoping it will just be 8p.m.

Then I can make my evening commitment at 8:30p.m.

But if I can’t make it, I wanted to make sure that I did something outside of work other than work, thus yoga.

And it’s good to be as regular as I can with it, I can tell it in my body now and I like how I feel when I’m getting to regular classes.

Three is the optimal, though I would like to be doing four classes a week, it just hasn’t always worked out that way with my summer time work schedule fluctuating as it has been.

This weekend will be nice and busy too.

Meet with my person Thursday after work for a little doing the deal and a chicken dinner at Firewood Cafe.

Then Friday, doing the deal, a party, and…

Saturday, meeting another one of my people, it takes a village I tell ya, at Tart to Tart, then up and over to Noe Valley to record a podcast.

Coffee after with a friend.

7p.m. commitment.

Then.

Who knows.

Probably catch up on sleep.

No Saturday evening things happening.

That’s a little open.

Sunday, yoga, which I hope to squeak in on Saturday too, but might not.

Then two ladies back to back and after a coffee date and walk down to the beach.

It’s date 1.5.

We met last week Friday at Public Works for the Desert Heart dj collective party.

He was with friends, I was with friends, but we danced a bit and hit it off and he got a hold of me yesterday and said let’s hang out.

So coffee and beach walk date.

And the weeks.

They do pass by.

Time it does so fly.

It’s amazing how quick.

It’s amazing how full my life is.

I am blessed to have so much happening.

A full and grateful heart, a full and gratitude filled life.

It’s awful nice.

I’ll have one more week of “normal” work hours next week, then start shifting into the August scheduling.

Which reminds me.

I also need to figure out how to get to the retreat and back for school.

That shouldn’t be too hard though.

Although, that being said I still need to work out a few details since I’ll be going to work from the retreat.

I may actually end up coming back to San Francisco, renting a car, and then driving back to Glenn Ellen the last day of my retreat, depending on when it lets out.

Ack.

Lots of stuff to juggle.

But.

Also lots of fun.

Despite the school year quickly approaching I am looking forward to seeing friends from my cohort and getting re-acquainted.

And it will be a much different retreat this year as I know the folks in my cohort and I know the space and the facility.

There will be an easing in that should be much softer and gentler than the landing I made last year.

Especially, as I recall that getting a ride there was crazy pants.

The person I was supposed to get a ride from canceled last minute, like minutes before I was supposed to go.

Fortunately I was working with a lady when I got the text and she just said, “hey, I can take you,” and that was that.

See.

Things will work out like that for me and the event will as well.

For me and everything in my life.

As long as I keep in fit spiritual condition.

I will be taken care of.

I always am.

Seriously.

Up Past My Bed Time

July 16, 2016

But, oh, so don’t give a fuck.

The dancing.

It was so worth it.

Spectacular.

Although.

I have to say, the crowd, the kids, the young, entitled didn’t come for the music, but came for the see and be seen and don’t know who the dj is but I’m going to dance in front of him and make out with my friends even though he asked us to get off the stage, crowd, was not a crowd I’m much a fan of.

That being said.

I danced hard and long.

Three hours.

No.

Scratch that, three and a half hours.

Solid.

Didn’t really move, well, I moved, but I didn’t move much from the spot I was in most of the night.

I texted my people.

I said where I was at.

I stashed my purse and coat underneath the dj booth.

The benefit of getting to the show a little early is not just having a nice prime spot up front, but also, usually some decent access to a set of speakers or a turn table set up.

I hid my shit underneath the dj’s coffin and checked it once.

Sent back a couple of text messages, I’m up front, and left the phone in the purse and forget, well, I didn’t forget it, but I was pretty happy and at ease and with my friends and my school chums and also a sort of date, we both happened to be at the show and casually bumped into each other and he bought me a water and it was cute.

I haven’t been out in a while.

Some things change.

Some things stay the same.

My knees are older.

I can’t drop it like it’s hot.

Fuck.

I can’t drop it like it’s lukewarm anymore.

But I can still shake my hips and shimmy and have a great big happy smile on my face and get right with God.

God is music.

Didn’t you get the memo?

I got a right proper smile, a mouthed thank you, and the nod from the first dj after he finished his set.

The same one who was ignoring the trio of oddly self-fixated girls that were trying way too hard to be sexy and wound up looking too much like a promo ad for a cheap smelling sex lube.

I mean.

I’m sorry ladies.

Yes.

You have beautiful bodies, but there’s so much more to living than that, it’s fleeting, it’s never going to be what you want and then it’s gone and you haven’t grown your heart or your soul.

I actually felt sorry for them after I got over being in judgement.

I like who I am.

I love being sexy, don’t get me wrong, but I think I am sexy because I am comfortable with who I am and also, I have no actual grasp on what I look like.

I sort of get lost in my own head and forget who I am.

I am just this body, this heart, this amalgamation of parts walking around housing a soul that loves to be light and joyous.

I’m not always.

That’s not sustainable.

But, oh, when the music is good and I’m in it.

I’m really in it.

“I knew we would find you here!” One of my darling girlfriends said as they arrived to greet me with hugs and love and squeals of happy that we were all out on a Friday after an atrociously busy week.

All of us know exactly what a big deal it is at this point in our lives to carve out time to go and do what we did.

Dance at a club in San Francisco.

It’s no big deal.

And yet.

It’s a huge deal.

I’ve officially thrown my schedule way off whack just by getting home at 2 a.m.

I have things to do tomorrow, people to see, coffee to drink, doing the deal to get done.

And yoga?

I mean.

Not sure that I’ll be going to the 9 a.m. class which is usual Saturday morning deal.

But I do want to go.

Although not necessarily for the exercise, I got plenty of that, but to keep the momentum going and also because my work hours will switch back to 10a.m-6p.m. next week, meaning no more yoga before work.

I’ll probably get in one class in the evening and have to do classes again next weekend.

Tomorrow, should the coffee date not go great, and who knows, dude hasn’t confirmed that we’ll be meeting, I may just do an afternoon yoga class.

Then again.

My brain just might wake me up and say, get on with your day and don’t muck with your sleep schedule.

All in all.

Luxury problems.

Truly.

I am super grateful to have gotten through the week, ask for what I needed at work, spend some very sweet time with the boys, and thank God, make it through without getting any serious crazy.

Really, though it was a long week, it went by fast and I’m already looking toward next week and hey, lady, stay here.

Stay in this moment.

Feel your body.

My body, which could use a snack, I burned up some calories, I broke a good hard sweat.

A mind that needs to process the goop and the gack and the random thoughts of weirdness and throw them out here on the page so that I can retire with a clear head and sleep the sleep of the just.

And also.

Sleep the sleep of the person who has been told they can borrow a blow up mattress for the event, Burning Man, man, I’m always working that in somewhere, and also the nice rest of knowing that I do have a tent, and a good tent at that, lined up and a place to camp with friends.

The ride there is slowly working it’s way out.

We shall see what happens.

And my bicycle is being handled.

Really, it’s all coming together.

I just can’t quite see it yet, but as I told a friend earlier today in a message, once you make the decision to go and get the ticket, the rest just falls into place.

It always does.

It always has.

Good and dreamy and sweet.

Just like how I feel right now in my danced out skin.

Night all.

See you on the flip.

Busy Girl

July 15, 2016

Getting into all the fun things.

Nice to know that I have opportunity and options and fun.

That there is fun in the air.

“I would like to take you out on a date,” he said in the message.

Yeah?

Nice.

I would like to go on a date.

Thanks for telling me I’m sexy.

I like that, I won’t lie.

I have a coffee date this weekend, Saturday afternoon.

A dancing date, although, truly, the dancing was not the real ask, I was invited, but he’ll have friends there and I’ll have friends there, tomorrow night.

But.

Maybe a little bump into the other person on the dance floor.

And who cares?

Because.

I got options.

I am also going dancing with three dear friends.

Which is awesome sauce.

And.

I got an invite to a bachelorette party that happens to coincide with my family that I nanny for being out of town.

The bachelorette party is also out of town.

I haven’t been to a bachelorette party in a hella long time.

Sober.

All the ladies be that way too so it’s going to be stupid fun.

Plus, I pretty much confirmed that I will have the camping gear and what not for the burn from my friend, who’s party I would be attending.

All the things.

I got lots of stuff to still work on and get organized.

But having gear and knowing the people I’m going to camp with and having a ticket make it a lot less strenuous in my brain.

The getting there and back will happen.

I have made a few more inquiries and nothing yet, but that doesn’t mean that there won’t be.

Just like when I stop being concerned about dating, what the heck, I’m dating, I’m going out, I’m having fun.

“I got you something,” I got a text today at the end of the work day.

Perfect timing.

You know you have a lover in San Francisco when you get gifted an adorable pink leather choker and  fresh produce from the farmer’s market.

Hello.

l love it.

I got to sneak in a little nooky and then scooter home happy as a clam with my goody pack and a song in my heart, happy too, to be this much closer to Friday.

And yup.

It’s going to be a big, fun, busy weekend.

It feels like it has already started.

It helped that I got up early and went to yoga and got all stretchy and zen before going into work.

It helps that tomorrow is Friday.

It helps that I got to see my fellows tonight and do the deal and see some ladies that mean the world to me.

It helps that I got friends that want to go dancing with me.

You want to come?

Come!

I’ll be at Public Works tomorrow for Desert Hearts, deep house and techno, around 9:30/10p.m.

It’ll be good times.

Saturday I have my person then a coffee date.

Depending on how the date goes I will either continue to lunch with him or head off to yoga.

That evening do some deal and see what there is to be seen.

Sunday a couple of ladies over and a trip to the MOMA with a friend to finally get into the new space and see it before the shows all change over.

We’re going to go in on a membership together.

God damn it’s good to have friends.

And fun.

Glad I’m letting myself have a fucking fun summer.

Oh.

I’ve still got the crazy in my head and I have to constantly do work around it, I’m like a bit like a shark, constantly having to swim or else they sink and drown, like that.

I’m not interested in sinking.

I’m having too much fun living.

It also helped that I got a big fat eight hours of sleep last night.

Grateful for all the richness and variety and spice of life.

The sexy juiciness of it all.

So much of it when I let myself see it.

Reflecting earlier on how much I have grown over this last year.

And, of course, that there is still so much more growth to go, which is good, when I stop thinking I have room to grow, that’s when I’m in trouble.

I’m also grateful for graduate school, for giving me this taste of summer vacation, for this desire, a grass fire drinking gasoline, to taste and have and live summer.

I haven’t had this powerful a desire to live as full as I can in a while, it seems.

Or perhaps.

It is just that I know there is a time limit on it.

I’ll have my “Mardi Gras” of fun at Burning Man.

Then return, one last kiss to the summer, one last night of song, Mike Doughty, September 1st, some dude’s living room in Burlingame, then the next day.

School.

And work.

And school work.

And that’s it.

And so it makes sense.

Pack it all in.

Get your sexy on.

Date the fuck out of the summer.

Get your dance on.

Get your play on.

Get your travel on.

Get your Burning Man on.

Get your friends together and hug them fiercely.

Fierce as fuck.

Make new friends.

Make out.

Dance.

Dance.

Dance.

Sing out of key, just a little, don’t take yourself so seriously.

Wear too many flowers in your hair.

No such thing.

Wear glitter.

Seriously.

And crinolines.

And red lipstick.

Go to the drive in.

Go to the beach.

Burn baby.

Burn it down.

Eat it like a fat juicy white nectarine.

Sweet and sultry and salted with desire.

And.

Cinnamon.

Drink a little coffee.

I mean.

A LOT.

And love.

Also.

A LOT.

Get your summer.

Get all the things.

They are there to be gotten.

Seriously.

So.

Many.

Many.

Many.

Amazing.

Things.

Whole Lot of Tired

July 14, 2016

So tired that I wondered earlier today.

Why the fuck did I buy tickets to that dj show?

But.

I knew that would happen, even when I was buying tickets to the show, whole lot of tired strikes when it does and usually brings up the, what the fuck where you thinking attitude when reviewing things to do later this weekend.

Fact is.

I want to go dancing.

Fact is.

I got invited, I invited some friends, I have three friends going, a possible Tinder connection also going and a whole lot of need to shake my ass and just wash the work week off my body.

I’m a whole lot of tired because I worked extra hours today and didn’t have much interaction with humans other than my employers.

Even less so today than I typically do.

I never got the fuck out of the house.

It just breaks my heart when it’s nice out and I am stuck inside all day long.

I have never had a nanny job like this and sometimes there are things that I don’t exactly disagree with, but they run contrary to my usual get up and go and get the heck outside.

Being outside is one of the huge perks of my job, being in the sun, walking around, stretching my legs, letting my head have space to meander free and clear.

I just didn’t get that today and I haven’t really all this week.

Summer camp scheduling and a strange sort of malaise that the youngest one has had all week have led to me being pretty much tied to the house.

I can’t say I hate it.

I have had moments of deep gratitude for the job, but I’m not used to being this cooped up and on top of that, working the extra hours today to help out on the dad’s birthday really blew me out of the water.

I think I’m going to squeeze in a yoga class tomorrow before work to get me out of the crazy in my head.

I need to exercise is probably the biggest thing.

Even though I am still sore from yesterday’s yoga class, today’s lack of genuine physical activity was uncomfortable.

And should it repeat through the remainder of the week I am really going to need the invigoration of getting my dance on by Friday.

Even if my brain protests.

I have committed to going and like I said, ticket bought.

I’ll be hitting up Public Works on Friday night for some dj action from the Desert Heart Collective.

Gonna get me some deep house and techno.

Yes please.

Ah.

Apparently I just needed a cup of tea and being in my own home to set me right.

That and a couple ibuprofen to ward off the impending headache from being indoors all day.

At least the back patio was in action today, I did sit outside and eat my lunch with the littlest guy al fresco.

Very cute.

So much cute.

Just not enough getting to the park.

At least tomorrow I know I will get outside for the Farmer’s Market.

Plus.

I am going to see the folks at the Farm tomorrow night and that’s always a nice treat.

I have a couple of ladies that I get to connect with, one, the friend that encouraged me to get after asking for the Burning Man ticket, and two, another friend who has gear it looks like I’m going to be able to use.

Reunion!

Book ending my day at work with yoga in the morning and doing the deal at night will make the day go by faster.

And the weekend is getting booked up.

I had a friend reach out today about doing coffee and pretty much had to book it for next weekend.

Although, I will probably have some free time in the eve on Saturday.

I am doing the deal Friday after work, then meeting a lady for tea and reading, then friends for dancing at Public Works.

Saturday I’ll be meeting my person and I have a coffee date at Tart to Tart at 1:15pm.

I’m not feeling the vibe in a big way, but I’m trying to practice.

I figure I’ll hit a late afternoon yoga class and go do the deal somewhere in the evening.

I may leave the night open for flexibility.

See what comes around.

Sunday I have a lady coming over, going to try to do yoga again, and then all the things I need to do to prep for a work week.

Cook, clean, laundry, and maybe something else.

I don’t know.

Tired thinking about it.

But.

Grateful for a full and happy life.

For being busy.

And I’m going to get a nice fat nights sleep and stretch it out in the morning.

I have a big, full, beautiful weekend.

Busy, but not too packed.

Full, but also open to being flexible.

I mean.

I could handle a date Saturday night.

Why not?

I’m supposed to be having fun!

Oh.

And I connected with my Burning Man family, the OG dad, and checked in with him about getting my playa bike.

I still haven’t nailed down a ride there and back, but I figure getting all my things together in one spot is going to be helpful.

I am wondering if I could send up the bike with the friend who offered me a ride.

Hmm.

Something to ponder.

And though I don’t know how I’m getting there and back, I do feel heavy magical feelings around it.

Something is stirring there, I can’t quite see it, but some pot of possibility is stewing.

Open to all suggestions and ideas.

I suppose that means I need to post to the board as well on the Burning Man website.

Another action I can take tomorrow.

It will all come together.

It somehow always does.

Even when I’m ready to fall apart.

With that.

I’m out.

Night all.

Hope some of you got some sunshine in today.

The skies looked so blue.

Impossibly high and bright and blue.

Love, hope, joy, the press of the King Palm tree’s giant fronds into the sky, the soft hand of a small boy’s in mine, the snuggling with stuffed cats, and the bright orange black of a monarch in the sky above.

Beauty in the small quiet moments.

Respite in between the fall of minutes.

The shift of blue to blue to blue.

Against blue.

A swath of love in the gentle wash of sky.

 

 

 

Sunshine Day Dream

October 21, 2015

I woke up to daisies on my doorstep.

Not a bad way to rise and shine.

Happy.

That will be my principle today.

Not that I had any time,  not a single down moment or minute, to spare, to call my person and check in with her that my principle was such, but it was.

October is one of my favorite months in San Francisco.

It’s a gorgeous kind of Indian Summer that most out of towners are not aware of, the sun shines bright, there is a lick of cool in the wind if it’s windy, there’s not usually fog and there usually is sun and high, wide, blue, blue, robins egg blue, skies.

My kind of weather.

My outfit was inspired by the flowers.

I wore my bright yellow polka dot shirt and pig tails with a daisy, fake, but still, in my hair.

And gold on the eyelids.

I could have been a bumble bee if you had stuck some antennae on my head–I wore black tights as well–in fact, I had a moment when I thought, if I didn’t already have an idea for a costume for Halloween, I would go as a bumble bee.

It would be super easy.

Maybe for when I go trick or treating with the boys this year, they were in their police office costumes all day today and are definitely ready for the holiday.

Although, Halloween is on a Saturday this year, so I may not be trick or treating with the boys.

Still it’s nice to know I have a couple of costume ideas and options before the day sneaks up.

It always sneaks up.

And then it’s suddenly here and everyone is raiding Mission Community Thrift and Buffalo Exchange and all the stores in the Haight and no, really, I don’t want to spend money on an outfit, but I don’t also want to be left out.

I only have been invited to one Halloween event so far and I am not certain I want to head over to Berkeley on a Saturday night to play Halloween with the kids.

Maybe.

I also just checked and I do have another invite to the party at the Park Gym, that’s a possibility.

Although, I am not sure about heading into the Mission on a Saturday night Halloween.

The Mission on a Saturday night is enough of a horror show as it is.

I heard of another party in Glenn Park.

Who knows.

If I do go out

I will probably dress up like a pin-up girl.

I have all the stuff.

Polka dot dress with a flare out skirt and crinoline, high-heeled pumps, and I know how to draw on a pretty good cat eye.

What I would need, is someone to do my hair pin-up style.

I know a lady who does her’s in a victory roll and it’s hella cute, but I have never done one and I have neither a flat-iron or a curling iron and I can’t tell you when the last time was I owned hairspray.

Never?

But it would be fun.

I did have a couple of girl friends that wanted me to go to the Armory party, there’s great dance music going on there and there’s another good party at Public Works, but I am hesitating to commit to anything right now.

Committing the most now to getting as much reading done before school rolls around this weekend.

In fact, I set my alarm a little early for tomorrow so that I can get to the rest of it.

Halloween.

I may pass you by.

However.

I am interested in getting dressed up and going to the ARTumnal Burning Man event that rolls around in November.

I got word from the photographer/architect/artist that I am collaborating with for a project he wants to present there.

I would love to see my work out there in the public eye.

He was quite happy to receive them.

I was happy that he was happy.

I really quite adore them.

In fact.

I am thinking of submitting them to The Bastille–the publication in Paris that published one of my stories when I was living in Paris.

They reached out to me today and said they were looking for submissions.

It’s not paid, but it’s a chance to have my work in another publication and I would get a copy of the publication and an invitation, haha, to read from my work in Paris at Shakespeare and Company.

Not that they would pay to fly me over.

I was thrilled when they picked my story The Button Boy to publish and invited me to speak at the event and read the story at Shakespeare and Company.  But by the time the publication came out I was already living back in the states.

I do want to have a reading one day at Shakespeare and Company.

I mean.

Really.

What writer doesn’t?

So in lieu of going to Paris, not that I won’t hey, you want to go to Paris?

Let’s go!

I speak some French and know a few folks over there.

But realistically.

I think the ARTumnal is more likely for me to get into than Paris at this time.

I do want to go back to Paris, especially since one of my fellows in the program at CIIS is from Paris and it would be tres cool to hang out with her there–ma poulette across the Atlantic.

I will too.

I can tell.

I keep digressing on the Paris track.

Ah, the Bastille e-mail is doing it to me.

Anyway.

I would like to go to the ARTumnal.

The tickets are pretty steep.

But I am thinking that I want to be there.

I know I will see people I love and care about.

I know I will see some art and I might even see my own poems somewhere in the big mix of spectacle and carnival, music and mayhem.

If I don’t go out for Halloween, I definitely want to go and get dressed up for this.

Oh.

Shoot.

I just looked up my school syllabus.

I am in freaking class that weekend.

Damn it.

Ugh.

I don’t know that I can get out to it.

FROGS.

Oh well.

At least the poems are done.

And I am happy I wrote them.

They make me happy.

That’s what important anyhow.

Happiness.

Sunshine.

Daisies.

Love.

I got it all today.

Who needs more?

I Think I Broke Myself

July 25, 2015

Well.

Maybe it isn’t that bad.

But fuck.

I danced hard.

Hard.

Hard.

I wasn’t planning on staying as late as I did nor dancing as much as I did.

Then the ride home.

Woof.

My body is sore.

A 41 hour work week with two boys, a daily bicycle commute of 15 miles, doing the deal, hanging out a lot with friends, writing, blogging, emotional upheaval around my financial aid package at school and finding out that I did not get a full ride–though let me to be thankful, I still was awarded $30,000 and that is nothing to sneeze at–and I should be crawling into my bed.

But.

Old habits, and I do mean this, it is an old habit, 5.5 years of doing it pretty on the daily have made it a habit that is exceedingly hard to break.

I am wide awake as well.

The adrenalin from dancing, then the brisk ride through the night, the quiet singing of blood in my veins, and I am wide awake.

Wide awake.

I, fortunately, don’t have any plans tomorrow but one commitment to keep at 12:15 p.m. at Tart to Tart in the Inner Sunset.

The rest of my day is wide open.

I do have plans to get downtown and pick up my course readers for school, but I’m not exactly sure when I’m going to do that.

I had thought I would be getting a ride in, now I’m not so sure.

Rides.

They be tricky things.

I had a ride lined up this morning and it fell through and as I was tossing my things from one bag to the other, I don’t like to ride my bicycle with a purse, I was thinking how nice it is to have options.

Sometimes plans change and I can be flexible and change with them.

The ride to work was fast, I had a nice tail wind, and I even got cat called twice, that actually sort of made my day.

I’m 42 and single.

I’ll take it where I can thank you.

The boys were adorable with me when I came in and for a rare few moments, we had the house completely to ourselves–the parents work from home–and we snuggled up on the couch and I read them a French pop up book that a former nanny had given them, from yes, France.

Lots of nannies doing the French connection.

I enjoyed brushing up on my French and it was fun to translate the book with the boys, then get them out into the world.

First stop, the Laundrette on the corner, drop off a dress to get altered.

Next stop, Mission Playground.

Running around the courts, kicking balls, chasing each other, swings, tag.

Back to the house for lunch–smoked white fish sandwiches on whole wheat toast with avocado, carrot sticks with humus, and sliced grapes and mango for the boys.

Quiet time was actually quiet time as the youngest, worn out from shenanigans last night and a hard romp at the park, actually took a nap.

I got to have my lunch, drink some tea, check in with a ladybug having a hard time, and talk to my person before the howl of the five-year old alerted me to the end of quiet time.

They have colored clock faces.

When the light on the clock is blue, its quiet time.

When it turns yellow, it’s time to holler my name at the top your lungs.

Good times.

In the afternoon we went further afield, I had the time to spare, not having to prepare any dinner, dinner reservations were happening, to KidPower Park.

Aka.

Crack Power Park.

It’s at 16th and Hoff and occasionally is a little colorful being so close to the 16th Street Mission BART station.

However, today was perfect and I actually sat for a while and soaked up some sun and thanked the universe for my nice job.

After much playing, poking of roly poly bugs, more swinging, lots of sliding, chasing butterflies, and renegading the merry-go-round, we headed back to the house for a small snack, some milk, and a change of clothes.

I cleaned the house, emptied the dishwasher, set right the small disasters that seem to follow after little boys, then hopped on my bicycle and headed to 14th and Folsom for dinner with the family at Rintaro.

A special treat.

Good lord it was good.

I had sashimi–salmon and tuna and trout–tomago, the best I have ever had, baked trout, astounding, yakatori–duck and chicken–stunning and simple and quite possibly the best duck preparation I have had in the city, and a Dirty Girl Farm heirloom tomato salad with squid.

Simple, bright, luscious.

It was great and I certainly would not have taken myself out here, but you got the dime to drop, it’s worth the dropping.

After that.

A quick, fast, short ride up the hill towards Church and Market for a little doing the deal at Our Lady of Safeway.

After.

Tea with a friend.

Then.

Yes.

Space Cowboys at Public Works.

Where I effectively danced off all the duck yakatori and baked trout I had eaten, and then some.

The Space Cowboy dj collective is one of my top favorites and I found myself staying far longer than I said was going to.

I got there at 10:20pm, hit the dance floor at 10:30p.m. stopping only around midnight for a quick walk through and some silly photos in the photo booth with my darling friend Le Bon Bon, we then went back to the room upstairs and got our rocks off on Dusty Rhino.

Quite simply the best set of music I have heard out all year.

So worth staying and dancing another hour to.

I left at 1:15 a.m., never running into one of my dear friends who was also there and we were like ships passing in the night the whole evening, to arrive at my door and text my girlfriend that I was home safe and sound.

1:58 a.m.

Not bad, Martines, not bad at all.

I mean.

I fucking take it for being 42 years old and up past my bed time and yes, blogging to beat the band.

I didn’t break myself.

But I am now ready for bed.

A bid you a good night.

And my body a good rest.

xoxoxo

Unexpected Visitor

July 23, 2015

And no I don’t mean Aunt Dot.

Just my friend coming over when I was not planning on seeing him and it’s nice to have him here, across the room, on his laptop while I’m on my laptop.

It’s rather endearing.

Lucinda Williams on the radio.

I haven’t listened to her for a time.

Thinking, as I sip my tea, what was my principle today, did I practice it well, was I of the world, or distracted and in my head and in review it seems that I was pretty present.

I took a few more actions in regards to school–got my last two syllabi printed, forwarded the Master Promissory note and Loan Counseling paperwork to my school and let it all go.

All of it.

I am just super grateful I’m going to graduate school and no matter what happens, just taking those small next actions always do seem to pull the trick.

I’ll pick up my readers this weekend and go from there.

And.

I will have myself a little fun.

I forgot that I bought a ticket to go see Space Cowboys at Public Works this Friday.

I bought the ticket over a month ago because a dear friend shared the page on social media and I wanted to spend time with her.

Of course, today, late morning when I was feeling exhausted and stupid with chasing the boys around and potty training and scheduling and not the greatest night of sleep, I was ready to throw in the towel.

What the fuck was I thinking?

Go out on a Friday night.

Go out dancing.

Fuck that.

I’m too tired.

But.

I called a girlfriend instead and said, can I just run something by you and she listened and said, hey, you don’t have to go all night, hit the club at ten and bounce by midnight.

Such truth.

I don’t have to be the party animal I used to be a long time ago in a land far, far away, the service industry, and stay out and rage all night long.

Besides my knees would kill me.

I can go for a few hours, shake my ass, and feel good about listening to some good music, seeing some friends I haven’t seen in a while, and playing a little before getting all serious about school, readers, course work, financial aid, life.

“Fun and flexibility,” she told me.

“Happy,” I told another lady today.

I’ll use all of those.

I’ll be fun and flexible and allow some happy in my life.

Dancing is a really happy place for me, in case you’ve never been dancing with me, or haven’t read any of my blogs about dancing our have any awareness, as I do, that dancing is a spiritual experience for me.

It’s my “get right with God” place.

If you don’t mind me borrowing some Lucinda to emphasize the point here.

So, as of now, I am going to go dancing.

I don’t have a ton of obligation on Saturday, I’ll be meeting my person at 12:15pm at Tart to Tart in the Inner Sunset, then, well, hopefully hanging out with my friend who has offered to run me down town so that I can go to Copy Central on Mission and 2nd and purchase my readers.

Then.

The weekend.

And yeah, I’m a little bummed that work stuff changed up on me, that I’m not going to be able to do the Grand Canyon this weekend, but you know, the Grand Canyon ain’t going no place.

I’m still going to get the heck out of dodge next week and have some camping–either Yosemite or Crater Lake.

Two other places I have not been.

Yeah, I know.

But hey, I’m going to see one of them soon.

I got to kick it out the rest of the week, and I’m going out to dinner Friday night too, with the family, at RIntaro at 14th and Folsom.

Uh, yes please.

They asked if I would join them for dinner.

Uh, yes please.

I mean, you don’t have to ask me twice.

Granted they have asked me before and I was unable to go for having a commitment I had to cover, and I still have a commitment to cover on Friday, but it’s not until 6:45 p.m. and it’s fair close to the restaurant, Church Street Cafe at 16th and Church, so I should be cool.

Yeah.

We’ll be eating dinner hella early, but that’s the deal when you have two little boys that are growing up so fast, we’ll be at the restaurant by 5:30p.m. at the latest.

I usually get the boys started on dinner by 5p.m.

Tonight was pretty simple, cheese omelet, made into egg sandwiches on buttered toast, with sliced avocado and fresh fruit salad I made from the last of the fruit that I picked up last week at the Mission Community Farmer’s Market at Bartlett and 22nd.

I am grateful again and again for this job, even when I feel punked and can’t imagine dancing or doing anything fun this weekend.

I can be fun and flexible.

So when my friend said would I like company tonight, I was like, hell yes.

I could use a cuddle.

A hug.

An arm around me.

Please do come by.

I love a surprise.

Most of the time.

And even when the surprise isn’t the greatest, like the clarification I received in regards to my financial aid award, I am still able to see the gifts inherent in the experience.

I rode my bicycle home through the park and I saw that the buffalo where out in the wild buffalo paddock by Chain of Lakes.

There were six buffalo on the hill, silent, stoic, a page out a history, a picturesque moment in the twilight.

I thought of my friend who would have been running the San Francisco marathon this weekend.

He used to run out past the buffalo and sometimes I will have chats with him when I whiz by, some part of him always with me, inked on my heart, some part of him always in the park–his ashes scattered over the falls by the Chinese Pagoda–a breath of wind on my face, a kiss of mist on my forehead and he is with me.

“Hey Shadrach,” I said, out loud, that’s how I pray, that’s how I communicate with those I love, whether here or there, in the ether of the air, and unexpected, yet felt visitor, there, just there riding on hood of my heart.

“You’d be pretty proud of me,” I said, I felt my heart swell.

“You really would, big guy, thanks for being so patient with me while I’ve been figuring it out, any other words of wisdom?” I looked at the bison.

“Be the ball, Martines,” his voice in my ear.

Oh shoot.

Yup.

Thanks for the reminder honey.

I love you.

I miss you.

May you always run through the park ahead of me.

I see you in the twilight gloaming and you always there for me, a gentle reminder to be kind to myself, and laugh at myself, to be fun and flexible and to keep on keepin’ on.

Getting right with God.

Long Legs

February 24, 2015

Long day.

“Look at your legs!” The kid passing by me on his fixie shouted.

“Thanks, I’m twice your age, I don’t think I can keep up,” I shouted back.

He had whipped past me and gone up the right side of the flow of cars crossing Market Street at Church.

I, having discovered, weeks ago during my commute, that unless there’s a MUNI train screaming behind me, to take the far left lane that is specifically only MUNI and taxis–thereby avoiding the commuting traffic at Church and Market and also the drivers turning in and out of SafeWay.

“What the fuck?” The kid saw me angle left and whip around the N-Judah that was waiting to cross over to Duboce.  “How did you do that?!  Sneaky lady!”

I laughed.

I got to have some tricks up my sleeves.

“You’re not twice my age, no way,” the kid replied.

He was right.

I’m 42 and he was 32.

Still.

That’s ten years and I worked a 9 hour day today.

My 42-year-old legs, though lovely to look upon whilst riding my one speed from the Mission to the Outer Sunset, were tired.

Monday’s are always a busy day, a long day, full of stuff and things and work, work, work.

But today there was the extra hectic of a grandparent visit, construction happening at the house and the house next door, visits from out-of-town friends, and swimming lessons.

Whew.

I was never once alone in the house.

Or at the park, grandparent’s tagged along on the outing in the morning.

Fortunately I have gotten used to interacting with a lot of people while working for this family and I feel like I can roll with the punches.

I generally keep a pretty good demeanor and keep myself occupied.

It does, however, mean I was unable to take phone calls, make phone calls or really respond to texts messages during the day.

I realized that I hadn’t talked to anyone outside of work until 6:30 p.m. tonight when I rolled up into the Inner Sunset.

I was grateful to sit and be quiet though, sometimes that’s all I need, I don’t need to check in, I just need to claim my seat and sit.

Then pedal my bicycle on out towards the beach and the smell of the ocean.

Monday’s always go by quick, I tell myself this when I am eating my morning oatmeal and drinking my coffee, waiting for the caffeine to hit while I write my morning pages.

I was writing this morning about how I feel a little stuck on the dating front, I exhausted my list of guys and I haven’t met anyone new online that is a good match and well, what now?

I had a friend suggest I go perform, or try to perform, at the Moth tomorrow night at Public Works.

I was tempted.

I even came up with a few ideas about a piece.

The topic?

Heartbreak.

Heh.

I thought I could tell a story about red flags.

And there’s some funny ones that have come up for me and I probably could tell a five-minute story on them.

Truth though.

I’m tired thinking about it.

I have a long week this week with the grandparents in town at work, and the graduate school interview on Thursday, and the scooter getting checked out on Wednesday night after work, and stuff and things that I normally do, plus a workshop that I agree to run on Saturday.

I mean.

Sitting here at my table this morning sipping coffee and my whole week is mapped out and I wonder, well, fuck, the next thing I know it’s going to be next Monday and the whole thing will start-up again.

I felt exhausted even before starting.

I shook it off.

I had a really lovely, relaxing, mellow day yesterday and I bank rolled that into today, keeping my spirits up, not getting involved in drama, doing my job, keeping my side of the street clean, and going to do my commitment.

That leaves little time in my day to write out an extra piece and practice it.

Anyway, the contemplation process was short and sweet.

Not this time.

I can and will make time to do things, I will, I thought, I have to, if I’m going to date I definitely have to.

There’s a balance and I know it can be struck.

But I am, really, fresh out of ideas for the dating thing.

Y’all have any suggestions throw them my way.

The best thing I can think is to not isolate, and yes, I know that going and doing something like the Moth would be a great social event to check out, I just find it a serious challenge to add extra things onto my week day evenings.

I will though.

If I have to.

I’m willing to do the work, but right now, I don’t even know what that is.

I like myself, natch.

I take good care of myself.

I try to look cute when I leave the house for work, you never know when someone might be looking, at the “those legs” or that hair.

Or the glasses.

I got a lot of compliments on the frames today.

I am quite pleased with them.

They are outside my box, and yet, a perfect fit for me.

So how to get outside the dating box?

I tried Tinder and that was just nasty.

I’m not having much luck on OkCupid.

Unless you count offers in Scranton.

Sorry dude.

I don’t want to date outside of San Francisco, let alone outside of California.

I asked out the ten.

I did get two dates out of that.

So cool.

But what next?

I really would like to just magically get asked out.

Ah.

Magical thinking.

Fucks me every time.

I used to have magical thinking around my weight.

Turns out I had to have a huge bottom around it, get broken down, and find spiritual help outside my own brain.

Basically, I had to do a lot of work.

I did the same with my finances.

I had to do a lot of work to get out debt, stay out of debt, and live prosperously (thanks Jerrold Mundis).

I know the same is applicable to dating.

“You know what’s been nice about this graduate school deal,” she told me on the phone yesterday, “it’s not fast and wild and crazy, it’s been a slow, serene process, where you’ve taken things a step at a time and let go of the results the entire time.  It’s been pretty amazing to watch it all unfold.”

I know that’s a correct assessment.

Those things worth having are worth working for.

I don’t mind doing the work.

That’s not the conundrum.

I don’t know what the work is anymore.

So, this week, unless I get some stellar suggestions about dating.

I’m going to focus on taking care of myself and doing the things that I need to do for graduate school and doing my job at work.

As well as doing the deal.

Which is a non-negotiable deal.

The dating will probably happen like every thing else.

When I am not paying attention to it.

I’ll get popped on the head, or in the heart.

And I’ll be off on another adventure.

Such is life.

My life anyway.

Detach With Drama

February 13, 2015

Or.

Detach with love.

I know I sound like a wussy, but I chose the latter rather than the former, even though I wanted to be all dramatic about it.

I got a text from the ex again last night.

Come on.

It was hard enough to see him, and just move on, I had my feelings, I processed my shit, I wrote it out.

I thought, I don’t need to do any more inventory, I’ll just do a gratitude list tonight and e-mail my person with that and then.

Eeeooo.

My phone whistled at me.

I had a text.

It was 11:38p.m.

I ignored it.

I was busy watching the last few minutes of Broadchurch, so good, if you haven’t seen it, get on it.  I highly recommend it.

I had forgotten, by the time the episode ended, that I had received a text and I was getting myself ready for bed and checking to set my alarm when I saw it.

Unidentified number.

But oh, very identifiable information.

Fuck.

Leave me alone man.

I had deleted my ex out of my phone, but receiving a late night text about how it was good to see me, even from afar and how it took all of him to not come up to me and engage with me and interact so he could hear my voice, well the number might not have had an id attached to it, but it was him.

And I don’t quote exactly.

I’m giving you the gist of it.

I don’t remember the message verbatim.

I read it once.

Deleted it.

Then I cried.

Then I got pissed.

Then, well, I guess I did have an inventory to write.

When we retire at night.

Uh yeah, I had me some resentments, some fear, some selfishness crop up.

I wrote it out.

I sent it off.

I went to bed and slept like a log.

No texts this morning, no messages, no nothing.

No drama in my head.

I thought about it.

I thought, I should text so and so and call this person and that person and I should.

Get over it.

I should get over it.

Oh.

Who cares?

I don’t give a damn no more.

I’m moving on.

I’d like to suggest to my ex that he do the same.

And who knows, I suspect he is, in his own way, and though it seems a bit bumbly, I’m sure he’s pretty unaware of the emotional impact of his actions.

I don’t believe he’s trying to hurt me.

And he’s not stalking me.

A friend suggested today that he was being selfish though, texting after he asked for 90 days no contact, texting me twice in the last week, really, and that I should block the number.

I hadn’t thought of that.

I suppose I could.

What I did though, was practice being in the moment today.

Being in the sunshine.

Dude.

It was 70 degrees today.

I rode my bicycle home, and it was a slightly chillier ride than I anticipated, but, I rode home without a sweatshirt on.

Just me and my short-sleeved mini-dress and leggings.

Delicious.

I wanted to enjoy every drop of sunshine I could.

I ate well.

I woke up early and wrote extra pages this morning in my notebook.

I devised my hula hoop in my head and I climbed inside the ring.

Taking care of myself and believing that there is enough, more than enough, all the resources in the world, I have them.

I am not deprived.

There will be other dates.

There will be another boyfriend.

There will be more sex.

Please.

Let there be more sex.

It wasn’t forthcoming towards the end of the relationship and I am ready for a little affection.

To that extent.

I got on the phone today and made a call and let the gentleman from last night know that I have a three-day weekend and we should get together.

Has he gotten back to me?

Nope.

Nor has anyone else who I have asked out this week, and you know what.

Who cares?

Again, there’s no drama here.

Detaching from my own expectations around dating too.

However, I keep taking action, that is where the juice is.

Doing the deal.

Of course after the hug and the aforementioned snuggle conversation I had with my friend I was prone to want to see him again, but if I don’t it’s cool.

It’s just more information.

I don’t have to put a good or bad tag on it.

I am just clearing the way for what comes next, or whom.

And my vibrator’s all charged up in the meantime.

Ahem.

It’s a three-day weekend though, and who knows what magic is going to happen.

I’m listening to some Basement Jaxx as I write and I get to go see them Saturday at Public Works.

I am dancing.

I am also going to go to a party for a friend who is moving out of the city indefinitely, so there will be fellowshipping happening and who knows, maybe someone to add to the list.

That’s Saturday in the afternoon.

Tomorrow night I’m meeting a couple of people after work for tea and talk and then doing my regular Friday night deal.

I could go out after that.

Or not.

I’ve got Sunday pretty wide open.

And the weather is supposed to be in the 70s for the next four days.

Excellent.

There are no problems.

My life is lovely.

The weather is divine.

I’m going to ask someone else out tomorrow.

Who?

Don’t know yet, but I will.

Or maybe I’ll get asked out.

Don’t have to worry about it.

And I don’t have to have drama about the ex.

I really don’t.

Even though I have had a few moments of violent excessive thoughts of smacking him.

And then fucking the hell out of him and then walking away.

And well.

That’s not very spiritual now is it.

They are only thoughts though, and I don’t act on my thoughts, they pass, emotions go away, and really, at some point, I’d like to give him a hug and say no hard feelings.

But I think maybe when I am not a single lady.

Whilst I am a single lady I am just going to stay out-of-the-way and continue to not contact him and let it all go.

Sweetly.

Quietly.

Without fuss.

Wearing my big girl pants and walking through with my head high and my dignity in tact.

Like I already have been.

Gracefully keeping my side of the street clean.

Clean as a motherfucking whistle.


%d bloggers like this: