Rainy Day

Mood music.

It rained.

It rained a lot.

I have listened to scads of French music today.

San Francisco in the rain reminds me of Paris.

I love that I can listen to music at work.

I was home, at the home of my employers, again, all day.

The little lady was sick again.

And much sicker than earlier in the week.

She had such little energy.

Most of the time was sat and snuggled on the couch.

I got her lunch, which was actually my lunch, and she wrestled a promise out of me that I would make spaghetti for dinner.

That did not happen and she was mad, oh lordy was she mad, when she realized I was leaving for the night and there was no spaghetti dinner.

Her parents had ordered pizza since she had missed her pizza party at school.

She was not so easily mollified.

She had fallen asleep on me at one point this afternoon and had fever dreams and big coughing fits.

I just spent most of the day on the couch rubbing her back and brushing the hair off her hot forehead while she slept, and drooled a bit, on my lap.

Such a sweet little lady.

Although she wakes up really hard and was a screaming crying mess.

I have never seen a child wake so hard.

She does not like waking up.

But before that I had hours and hours of contemplating the rain falling and listening to the Amelie soundtrack by Yann Tiersen, which really is such perfect rainy day music.

I had taken care of my household duties and really the only thing was to sit and be still and let the little girl rest against me.

I know that though she woke up hard and wanted her mother, that I had been a calming, loving, kind presence for her, she totally cuddles with me now and it’s become a very sweet relationship.

I am very glad for it.

I never felt restless, but I was ready for the day to wrap and excited for my first day off in two weeks.

The alarm is set.

Yeah.

Like that.

I’m not sleeping in.

I’m going to yoga, which will do me more good than trying to squeeze in some extra sleep.

And if I need a nap in the afternoon, I can take it.

Not that I will.

I’ll probably roast a chicken.

Yoga.

Shower, breakfast, hope for a break in the rain so that I can scooter up to 7th and Irving and go to Tart to Tart and do some work with my person.

A mani/pedi after.

Then home.

That’s sort of the plan, cook, sort through homework and reading.

Then go see some fellows and do the deal in the evening.

Sunday will be another round of yoga, I’m only getting into the studio on the weekends, but I’m trying to stay with it and not drop back out of it, it’s too easy to let it slide, even when I feel like what’s the point, I do inevitably feel better, and my brain is much quieter when I do it.

Tattoo touch up on Sunday at 1:30 p.m.

No other plans.

A few tentative feelers out there from friends, but no solid plans.

I told on myself today in a phone message about trying to leave some room open on the weekends so that I socialize and see people and don’t completely isolate into homework land.

Fingers crossed that can be achieved.

It will be.

And maybe some clothes shopping, but I’ll probably leave that until next weekend, I have a big coupon to redeem at Gap from when I bought my “casual interview” clothes, and it needs to get used by next weekend.

Maybe I play some pinball this weekend.

I have had this urge to make things happen all day, I realize, as I was just looking at a text from a friend who was wondering what I’m up to.

I want to know.

I want to be solid.

I wanted to text back and say, book time with me, or don’t, but let me know.

I have three people in that boat with me at the moment.

What are you doing this weekend?

Let’s get together.

I’ll text.

Part of me wants to throw a temper tantrum, I want to know definitively so I can prepare myself, it’s a protection thing, I recognize that, and I can let it go.

I have faith that even if every person who said let’s meet wasn’t able to, that my weekend will be just fine anyway.

I mean it’s begun, I’m not working tomorrow and I signed up for a yoga class and I have a coffee date with my person to do some work, I can lightly hold what happens the rest of the day and see what makes me the happiest to do.

A friend suggested I get a mani/pedi and a massage.

Mani/pedi is definitely on the list.

Massage sounds good too, but I don’t think that it would work tomorrow.

I’ll keep that in my back pocket.

I don’t often get massages, they are nice, but I am not often compelled to get one.

I always feel like my money is better spent elsewhere.

But a mani/pedi I can totally get behind.

Not that my toes will be seeing the light of day any time soon, more rain in the forecast, but it is a delicious splurge and I always appreciate my toes when they are done up.

Anyway.

I ramble.

Rainy day French music soundtrack lends me to a meander with my words.

Bon nuit mes amies.

A demain.

 

Poetry In Translation

Is like taking a shower in a raincoat.

Yes.

I went and saw a movie today.

That was a line between two of the characters.

It was lyric and sweet and the sweep of it was soft and gorgeous.

I was unexpectedly free this afternoon.

I had some things come up and I had to change my plans.

I had managed to get up and go to yoga, even though I really didn’t think I was going to after the late night I had last night.

I had turned off my alarm and just planned to let myself sleep in, but I was up in time to make the late morning yoga class and I went.

I really didn’t think I was going to, even after I had gotten out of bed.

I went and washed my face and brushed my teeth, drank a glass of water, took my iron supplement and flax-seed oil and went to get dressed.

I opened the door to the closet and pulled off my yoga pants from the rack and put them on.

I almost laughed out loud.

It was just so automated, my body telling my brain what it wanted to do and just doing it regardless of the brain that was like, no, you’re not going, my body was like, sorry Charlie, as my hands pulled up my yoga pants and then my sports bra and top, I actually chuckled at myself, I was that surprised.

Sometimes I have smart feet and they just carried me along despite my brains weak protestations that I could just go at another time.

Yeah.

Sure brain.

You get me into some hot spots you know, why don’t you just take a back seat today.

The yoga was good, but hard, I mean, it was a super challenging class, but I found myself letting it be hard and doing what I could to keep up and just being there was more than good enough.

I came back home, changed and made breakfast.

I did some inventory and decided that I needed to change-up my plans for the day, but I was till going to head down to Let It Bleed and see my tattoo artist.

I need some touching up on the star tattoo I got two weeks ago.

But.

Shoot.

It’s not fully healed.

“Nope, I’m not going to touch it, the skin’s too tight, it’ll end up tearing, you’ll scar, we need to wait a little longer,” he told me.

So.

No tattoo for me today.

Suddenly having time, I called a friend in the Mission, let’s hang out, I said on the message.

I started to walk towards the Mission and decided to go see a movie before I headed over to my friend’s house.

I ducked into Opera Plaza and saw Paterson.

It was just the perfect reprieve and the perfect place to watch a matinée on a rainy Sunday in San Francisco.

The theater was actually quite a bit fuller than I had expected and it was cozy, smelling of warm buttered popcorn and the soft warmth lulled me and the movie with its fluidity of images and poetic moments, its small details and artistry drew me in.

I left happy and content and meandered a nice mellow walk to my friend’s house.

We chatted, had tea, he fed me an apple and a thick slice of brie, we caught up, compared notes about this and that, school, mutual friends, life.

It was just right.

Then I headed over to Firewood Cafe up in the Castro and had a big heart to heart with my person about the events of my day and got some suggestions and afterwards we went over to Diamond and 18th and hung out with a big group of fellows and I got to be held and it felt so good to sit next to someone who loves me and gives me perspective and also doesn’t sugar coat anything and yet advocates for me in a way I am not sure anyone has ever done before.

And now home.

Some Jeff Buckley on the stereo, I was just talking about the show that I saw him in when he was on tour with his album Grace last night with my friend in Oakland.

I love you.

But.

I am afraid to love you.

How I heard the news when he died, drowning in a river, the Mississippi to be exact.

I was setting up the Angelic Brewing Company for that night’s dinner service and had cued up Grace to play on the sound system and one of the waitresses walked past and stopped and said, “God, weren’t you devastated when you heard he’d died?  I haven’t been able to listen to this yet, thanks for playing it now.”

I gasped.

I had remembered only that day wondering when he was going to be on tour again, impatiently waiting for his long over due album My Sweetheart, The Drunk.

I ended up giving him a eulogy in my speech class that semester and crying shamelessly during it.

Music moves me.

When he sang Leonard Cohen’s version of Hallelujah during the encore at the Barrymore Theater in Madison I just about collapsed with the joy and the exquisite pain of the music.

But you don’t really care for music.

Do you?

Things change.

But somethings are indelible on my soul and that song, those words, landed and stuck.

I have a great deal of perspective since then and have grown, moved, changed, evolved, but poetry is poetry is poetry.

And when I walked through the streets of San Francisco in the overcast grey and threatening rain I was glad for the light and the rain and the soft forlorn grey and the sweet surreal beauty of the sky over the Opera House, in the alleys of the Mission, the graffiti murals washed clean and bright in the tepid grey of the day, my heart shifted and the bloom of the umbrella over my head sheltered me and led me forward into the heart of the city that I am so-called to be a part of and belong to.

I am.

Even when the day was different then what I expected.

The open window lets the rain in.

The open heart lets the love in.

Thank you San Francisco.

I do so love you.

I do.

Thank you for loving me back.

It has not gone unnoticed.

No.

It has not.

 

Happiness

Is  a fucking rare ass steak.

Holy moly.

That was good.

I had a little celebratory dinner out and yes, I got my steak and ate it too.

So divine.

Then I get home and there are flowers.

Seriously feeling special.

So nice to celebrate and take a moment to appreciate the hard work that I have put into being where I am at.

I still have so much more to go, to do, to learn, to be, but how exciting is that?

That I can create and do and be more, that there is more room to grow, that there is more to come, in fact, the best is yet to come.

I firmly believe that.

And.

I can still have today, this moment, this nice time to reflect and let it sink in.

Really let it sink in.

I feel like I took a giant leap forward, but really, it was just doing the same things I have been taught to do for such a long time now.

Show up.

Be kind.

Be yourself.

Be honest.

Be open.

Be humble.

And listen.

And be.

It’s just not nearly as complicated as my brain wants to make it out to be.

It is not.

It is lovely and simple and sweet and that how I feel right now, loved and full of sweetness.

Daisies and roses.

Steak in my belly.

Hot tea in a mug.

Candles lit in my studio in-law.

Music in my heart.

A little Regina Spektor.

And it’s Friday.

And the school sent me my tax documents so I can finish my taxes this weekend.

I am busy, but busy in a manageable way.

Although when I spell it out, it does sound a little crazy.

Yoga in the morning, then a lady will be coming over and we’ll do some work, then I’ll have lunch, I’ll cook up a bunch of food for the week, I’m in class next weekend, a necessary evil to make an extra big batch of food, then write my paper for Trauma class.

After that a ride on the train to the BART.

BART to Oakland 19th street station.

A friend is picking me up from BART around 8 p.m. and we’re going to have dinner and catch up, I haven’t seen him since Burning Man.

Then off to a late night speaking engagement at 10p.m.

Back home via BART and the MUNI.

Sunday, more yoga, then I will be heading to see my tattoo artist at 1:30p.m. to get my star tattoo touched up.

After that I’ll have some opening in my schedule, I’ll probably do some reading for school, take my laptop with me and hit Maxfield’s in the Mission and hang out there until 6p.m.

Do the deal.

And then a double anniversary dinner with friends at Pakwan in the Mission.

There it is.

My weekend.

I’ll get my taxes done in there as well.

That actually won’t take too long as I already did  the majority of them, I just was waiting on one form and since that came in the mail I will be able to finish them within twenty minutes, half hour tops.

I could do that between yoga and meeting with my lady.

Yeah.

I know.

Busy town.

But.

Good busy.

Fulfilled busy.

Happy busy.

Useful busy.

I wont’ be taking my scooter anywhere though, rain all weekend long.

The rain boots will be out and I’ll be doing public transit.

And there will be down time.

Time to watch the rain fall from the streets and the wind ripple through the palm trees on Dolores street while I watch from the big plate-glass windows of Maxfield’s House of Caffeine.

Time to sit with friends and catch up.

Time.

There is more of it then I think or know.

The streets wet and slick, the foyer of a pretty building in the West Portal district.

The soft laughter of shared knowing and the openness of my heart tonight as I spoke out into the dark room, a string of Christmas lights glowing in front of me as I faced the people and shared my self, my story, my strength and the fact that I don’t do it alone.

I can’t do it alone.

I have you.

I have us.

I have fellowship and friends and family and loads of laughter.

So much laughter.

Today at work.

The six-year-old, soon to be seven, so soon, like the day after tomorrow, laughing and chasing me around the four-year old hugging me and dancing around in her tights and balancing on the toes of my nanny clogs as we pirouetted around the living room.

The rainbow sprinkles.

OH.

The rainbow sprinkles.

BiRite Ice Creamery on a Friday afternoon after school has let out.

Strawberry ice cream in a sugar cone with rainbow sprinkles.

How lovely to be a child, hazed out in the glory of ice cream and candied sprinkles.

We sat smooshed next to tables full of people blissed out on sugar and the reprieve from a sudden downpour of rain showers.

The train ride back to the house, the fat bottom clouds scudding across the sky threatening rain, but never quite delivering again.

There will be plenty tomorrow.

And the next day and the next and the next.

Lots of rain in the next week.

But that’s ok.

That’s life.

Stomping puddles in rain boots.

Joyfully popping open my umbrella tonight as we stepped from the restaurant, giddy and full, to walk the slippery shined streets and head home to the Outer Sunset.

Hugs and words to hang again soon.

Such a good life I have.

And I walk in and I can smell the flowers in my house.

So wonderful.

So loved.

So grateful.

Thank you all.

May I mirror back even a glimpse of the happiness I have for you.

The joy, happiness and freedom that I wish for you.

All the things.

All the things.

I wish them for you.

And Then There Was Hail

Holy shit was there hail today.

It hailed at least three, four times today.

Hard.

The first was this morning writing and drinking a nice coconut/almond milk latte and thinking about my week and trying to not freak out about school and practicum and stuff.

Trying being the operative word.

What if I sent in a fucked up resume?

Why would he want me?

I don’t want to deal with it anymore.

And I’ve only begun to deal with it.

Then the hail.

Rather jolted me from my place of anxiety.

Oh yeah.

There is only so much I can do today and the most important is to get to work on time and yes, I’ll be taking a car please and thank you.

I took a few deep breaths and yes, I know there is plenty to do, but in that moment, this morning, I had done all I could and it was time to leave.

Slip into the new rain boots.

And really I am astounded at myself for not getting them sooner.

“Your feet are big!” My employer exclaimed.

And I laughed.

Yes, they are big, especially in comparison to her tiny tootsies, but I wasn’t offended in the least, I think that’s a big part of why I never got rain boot before, they make my feet look astoundingly huge.

But who cares?

My God, they keep my feet warm and dry.

And they give me an excuse to pull out all of my tall socks that I normally don’t wear except when I’m in boots at Burning Man.

I have been happily pillaging my sock drawer for the last few days.

I am almost sad to see the rain go.

Almost.

I am hella happy that I will be back on my scooter tomorrow.

It just guts my commute time.

I am very ready for that.

Plus.

It’s cheaper.

I mean, even cheaper than MUNI.

I pay less in gas that lasts me days then for one ride on the trains.

Granted I am grateful for those trains.

I rode one home tonight after dinner with a friend who was celebrating a birthday.

It was a surprise being able to make it, but I am glad I did.

It was good to catch up and have company and talk and hang out.

I am trying my best to say yes when people want to spend time with me.

I went out to tea yesterday.

I went out to dinner today.

Not too shabby.

I did the deal and had a great time there too.

Sometimes everything that I hear is everything that I need to hear.

It was good.

So good.

Everything today was good.

Even getting caught outside with my two charges and getting caught in a horrendous down pour and hail drop.

Thank God we were huddle under a couple of the big palm trees by Mission Dolores High School, the trees gave a bit of shelter and we all were in rain boots and jackets and I had my umbrella, but there was nowhere to go, it was stay put, huddle up and keep the wee ones close.

The crazy hail stopped and we dashed to Dolores Park Café.

Animal crackers and mini pizza for them.

A big café au lait for me.

And a sweet message from the mom and dad, “where are you, we’re coming to pick you up.”

So nice.

We did some puddle stomping before we got picked up.

Nothing says good times like stomping puddles with little ones in rain boots.

Stupid fun.

We got back and played with robots and stuffed dogs and chatted and I am happy to say that I am super glad that I am working this job.

I feel appreciated and though the kids occasionally have a hard time, Monday’s are traditionally hard anyway, by the end of the day we were best pals again.

The dad and I took pictures off the back porch of the rainbow, double rainbows, that happened after one of the hails storms.

The mom and I rescued a hummingbird that had bashed into the sliding glass door of the patio.

The six and a half-year old gave me the “huggies” because he missed me.

The four and a half-year old vehemently defended me to her play time fancies when her brother tried to ensorcell me to the Legos.

It was a good day at work.

It was a good day for easy does it and letting me be enough.

I tried to explain to my friend how it was that it had taken 14 years of rainy season before I got rain boots and it really comes down to that, “I’m not enough, I’m not worthy, rain boots are an extravagance.”

And the truth is that nothing that brings me happiness and warmth is an extravagance.

I mean.

Maybe if I got like fur-lined rain boots, but no, the things that I deny myself sometimes because of that unconscious belief that I am just not allowed for not being enough.

It’s good to see it.

It’s even better to have accepted it.

It’s there, it’s a part of my make up.

And.

The best thing is that with that acceptance I was and am able to now take actions that help me see just how enough I actually am.

I am plenty enough.

There will be times when I forget this, but having accepted that it is a basic part of my make up I can take action to alleviate the symptoms of martyrdom when it trips me up.

Nobody is going to be affected by my lack of rain boots.

Except me.

I won’t be going without again.

It’s too lovely to have dry feet.

And I am allowed that.

Probably.

Most certainly.

A whole lot more.

But for today I will be happy that my boots kept me dry in the crazy last gasp of this winter storm.

Tomorrow there is the sun.

I am ready for it.

And I’m sure my rain boots won’t mind a break.

Shit.

I live in San Francisco.

They will see action again.

Serious action.

I am sure of it.

 

Getting Laughed At

Carried my umbrella all day long.

Did it rain?

No.

Is it going to rain gangbusters the next few days.

Yes.

Was it supposed to today?

No, and I prepared to ride my scooter out into the great big blue sky that was finally peeking through the grey clouds.

I emptied out my bag, transferred gear to the appropriate spots and got my riding jacket out, I took the cover off my scooter and came in to sit down to do some writing and have another cup of coffee before heading out into the day.

Then.

What the fuck?

Down pour.

Deluge.

The sky got dark, it happened super fast, and the rain just flooded down.

Um.

Ha.

I guess I’m not going to ride my scooter in this mess.

I went back outside and put the cover back on my scooter, getting a bit wet in the sudden onslaught of weather, secured the cover, came back in, transferred all my gear into different bags, hung my scooter jacket up.

I finished my coffee.

Finished my writing.

I got out my phone and saw that I wouldn’t have time to catch the train, so I sent for a car, grabbed my umbrella and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

Hmm.

Well, fuck, it stopped.

But the forecast was saying it was going to start back up early evening and did I want to be on the scooter in the dark and the rain?

I patted my scooter cover and waited for the car to pick me up.

No rain.

All day long.

Oh, it’ll be back, but it made me laugh, plans, I make them, God laughs at them, here, a change of plans.

Hey, here a change of careers.

Oh, wait, no, try this, go here, do that.

Oh hey, dating?

How do you like them apples?

Fuck I suck at all this living, all these things.

Plans, plans, plans.

Plans don’t save me.

Managing my life so that I am safe and secure doesn’t work.

I can’t control the outcome.

The MUNI.

The weather.

None of it.

But I can show up to it without expectation, anger, resentments.

And that is something really lovely.

Like.

I don’t know what the weekend has planned and I’m actually trying to not plan anything.

Tea and conversation with a lady this Sunday.

A tattoo after that.

Yes.

I will be adding star number 12.

I have it narrowed down to one of two places.

But that’s it.

My person is out-of-town this weekend, so we won’t be meeting and all the rain, rain, rain, well, I have no idea.

And I tire of plans.

Fuck the plans.

Fuck my expectations and desires and wants.

My needs are amply, and then more, met.

I have everything I need.

And.

More.

I have a lot more.

Grateful for all the gifts.

All of them.

Perspective.

Better than a plan any day.

Bravery.

Sounds like courage and walking through fear when my plans don’t go my way.

Faith.

Belief that something has a better plan than I do.

Love.

That I am loved even when my plans are stupid and short-sighted.

Joy.

I am allowed to have fun, despite my best laid plans.

Hope.

That someone else has a better idea than I do how I should live my life.

Happiness.

That none of my plans matter anyway, I can be happy no matter what, no matter where, no matter how.

You catch my drift.

I want to let in some time to be spontaneous, to say yes, to say ok, I’ll show up to that.

I don’t know yet what “that” is, but I’m saying yes.

Because so often I want to say no.

Nope.

Don’t do that, don’t give me that, I don’t deserve it.

Don’t love me, I’m not enough.

No, really, I am fine on my own, I’m good.

I got this.

Hahahahahaha.

Oh.

Yeah.

I got this.

Heh.

So funny.

But in that knowing, maybe there is something, a small inkling of relief, sotte voce of the stars, the music of the spheres and the poetry of language pushing out of my heart, blowing the top of my head off with hot-house flowers of desire and bespoke romance.

I’m doing pretty damn good.

Just hanging on the corner laughing at the inside jokes I tell myself.

Insight, roses in the tall Mason jar on my table, cuddled up close to a lighted globe of incandescent love and desire, traveling all over, a map of longitudinal lust and lush tales from the wide Sargasso Sea.

I swim in this blue-green firmament.

I am home.

I am in my heart.

My arms await me.

Don’t forget to water the orchids tomorrow, I whisper in my ear, and then laugh.

Always so practical minded.

Yet.

They bring me a sense of constant renewal.

An acknowledgement that extraordinary beauty opens slowly, takes time, that the unfurling is just as exquisite as the full bloom.

That stunning flowers can come from bare and barren sticks.

The green leaves signs of plenty of life.

Water them, let them go, don’t have plans, give it to God.

And when you’re least expecting.

Flowers, buds, burgeoning growth where there was none before.

Don’t force the flowering.

Leave it be.

Let it grow.

Have dreams, aspirations, hopes.

Have faith.

But fuck your plans.

They are so limiting.

At least, let me speak for myself, because ultimately that is the only person I speak to and speak for, my plans are so limiting.

There is so much more.

Allow yourself to have it.

I stand where the light is pure.

The moon is on fire.

My hand upon the door.

I’m burning like a white wire.

It’s an inside job.

But.

It’s a job I’m grateful to show up for.

Day after day after day.

One fucking day at a time.

Doing the God

Damn.

Deal.

Get it.

Got it.

Good.

God Damn It

I got the cold.

Dude.

I just got over the stupid flu thing that was going around.

Two weeks of that shit over my birthday and Christmas and now.

NOW.

I have the cold.

I just did the unheard of.

I mean, UNHEARD OF.

I called in sick to work.

Because when out of nowhere, I mean, no warning, ones nose starts running so fast that it ends up in your cleavage, you don’t go to work.

Um.

No.

Especially not with a brand new baby in the house.

Guys.

I just got the fucking flu shot last week, and the Tdap.

I think I caught it last night, I could feel a tickle in my nose and I had a little bit of difficulty falling asleep.

But.

I went in.

I didn’t think much of it.

The weather, frankly, is not much help either.

Wet feet, rain, wind, storms, coldness.

Lots of excitement out there.

Ugh.

I thought maybe, maybe, it’s allergies.

Because at first all that was happening was random big sneezes every so often.

Until towards the end of the day and then it started to be a bit of congestion and runny nose.

Then more rain, cold, waiting on trains and by the time I got home I had to have the box of tissues right by my side.

Because when my nose started running that fast I had to use my shirt.

Ugh.

Oh my God.

I had absolutely no desire to call in sick, in fact, I feel mortified.

But I can’t with any good conscience take this to work with a new-born.

Oh, my nose hurts.

Bad.

This is not good.

I have school this weekend, my anniversary dinner, get out of my body fucking illness.

Ugh.

Grr.

I swear, my entire blog won’t be about my cold.

I got my dress!

There’s that.

And it’s so cute.

I was right, the company sent my dress to the woman who’s cardigan sweater I received.

Pretty easy mistake, we both live within blocks of each other.

So she came by tonight, dropped off my dress, got her sweater, and hey, hey.

I have a super cute new dress.

You can check it out here.

Freaking adorable.

Fits like a charm.

I will either wear it with my platform Mary Janes or my Converse, depending on how I feel come Sunday.

I’m going to school, I’m not going to call out sick and hopefully, whatever stupid cold bug this is will rapidly cycle through and out of my body.

I’m wearing that dress come hell or high water.

With my little black cardigan and some black leggings, it’ll be hella cute.

And it looks really good with my hair back to brunette.

Happy to have a new frock.

Yes.

And super happy I didn’t have to return the sweater and wait for the company to figure out the error, really happy I was proactive and contacted the woman who was listed on the packing slip.

Granted I could get annoyed with the company, but it was a human error, and mistakes happen.

I’m just happy to have it for the weekend.

And for in general.

It’s a very cute dress.

Pardon me while I breathe open-mouthed and sit here with a very strange look on my face, that one, yes, there, the one where I’m about to sneeze but haven’t yet.

Hella distracting.

I think I’m going to make more tea.

I think I might have to have tissues delivered if I continue wiping my nose.

Goodness.

Yeah.

I haven’t heard back from the family, but I really don’t see going into work tomorrow, not at this rate.

I’m in bunny slippers with my third cup of tea since I got home, shed the shirt I wiped my nose on, thank you very much, and a box of tissues on the table that is now half empty.

I don’t actually, at the moment, feel that bad, and I sound hella sexy, like I stuffed three packs of menthol cigarettes in my mouth and lit up after drinking a bottle of whiskey.

Not that I did either.

It’s fun though, sort of, having a husky voice.

God’s way of compensating for the runny nose.

Sorry your snot ran out your nose so fast you had to use your shirt, but hey, you sound super sexy.

Like anyone wants to be within ten feet of me right now.

I could use a cuddle if you’re down, though.

Just saying.

Misery loves company.

Heh.

Oh gosh.

I amuse myself.

Which is good, I’ll probably be my only company for the next twenty-four hours or so.

Hoping that if I take it easy and let the cold run it’s course, I haven’t really much of a choice, it’s running it’s fucking course down my face, I will be able to at least go into work on Thursday and be ready for the school weekend come Friday.

At least tomorrow is supposed to be the last day of rain for a while.

I might just need to do that.

Lie in bed.

Listen to the rain.

Sneeze.

Like I just did.

Whew.

Wow.

That’s some heady shit.

Hahaha.

That was like, make sure your eyes are closed tight, or your eyeballs might fly out of your head.

Sneezing is actually kind of fun in a gross out kind of way.

I’m so distracted, this blog is taking a long time to write.

And I am legitimately sick.

So.

I’m going to call it a night and ease on down the road with my box of tissues.

Night all.

Rest well.

I’ll be using my box of tissues for a pillow.

Heh.

You think I’m joking.

 

 

It’s Been A Day

And I haven’t left the house.

Well.

I tried.

I thought about it.

I was going to.

Then.

I didn’t.

I took care of all things domestic and necessary–laundry, cooking, food prep, cleaning.

I took care of all things personal and grooming.

Even knowing that I might end up spending the entire day indoors I still got up, took a shower, did my hair, my it looks fine, and even put on make up and a cute outfit, because, well, I like to dress for myself.

And I was to have a visitor and I like to be nicely put together when I have people over.

I am so glad she and I met.

It’s been about a month since we sat down and did the deal, it was so good to get caught up and hear about her life and listen and be present.

Such a gift, that, being present for another, no expectations, just me here at the table reading a few words from a blue bound book and listening to fears and love and faith and joy and happiness and challenges.

Getting to share what I have gone through, knowing my experience can be of service, that nothing, and I do mean nothing, is wasted, that every moment, triumph or painful fall, has meaning and can be shared with another.

My life has meaning.

That is a great gift to know.

My greatest assets are my experiences and knowing that another can make use of them is incredible.

So there was that and it was good.

Then there was the overwhelming feeling of it wasn’t enough.

That I wasn’t enough, that I hadn’t gotten enough done, that I had left too much undone during my vacation time.

Meaning.

FUCK ME.

I am already behind on my school work.

Fuck me.

I mean.

Holy shit there is a lot more reading than I thought there was.

I really took a look at my syllabi today.

And get this.

I did read an entire book yesterday on the train.

Granted, it was a small book, only 87 pages, more a pamphlet than anything.

But.

Shit.

I did not see the rest of the syllabus readings until today.

Whoa.

There was a lot of reading there.

I also, before the discovery that I wasn’t nearly far enough along, done a bunch of reading for my Trauma class.

Maybe 90-100 pages.

I only have one of the books yet, so I read what was assigned from that book.

I need to read about another 150 pages between two other text books for that class and at this point I am just hoping I get them in the mail this week.

Just to have them.

I mean.

I have plenty of other reading to keep me going.

I had been warned by two of my friends in the cohort that the reading for the first weekend of Couples Counseling was beyond the pale.

I didn’t think much of it until I look up the work after kicking through what I could of the Trauma class.

Holy fucking shit.

Whoa.

I mean.

Does this teacher realize that we have other fucking classes this weekend?

Good gravy man.

Fuck you.

I texted a friend and just sort of lost it, what the hell is up with ___________ class?

We commiserated about the amount of reading and that the reader wasn’t available yet, so he’d sent a fuck ton of downloads to the class to read.

I am not great about reading on a computer screen, it’s super hard for me and I also knew that I wouldn’t get through all the reading unless I was able to take it with me and read a little here and there while waiting for the train, or on the train.

Fucking weather.

Fucking fuckedy fuck fuck fuck.

The storm is also why I didn’t really get out.

I didn’t need to, I had done all my shopping and errands previous to this weekend because of the impending doom of the storm.

And it was big and is still going on.

I was going to leave for a moment, I got on the coat, I got my umbrella, I grabbed my purse and I walked out the door, locked it, opened the gate, popped open my umbrella, took five steps and said, “nope.”

I turned right back around, shut the gate, unlocked the door, put my umbrella back and hung up my jacket.

Then I went back to the syllabi.

I messaged my friend a few more texts and then discovered that the grades were up from last semester.

Wait for it.

Straight A’s.

And Passes for the classes I had that were pass/fail.

Which I still think is hilarious that some of our courses in a graduate school program are pass/fail.

Then again, thank God that some are, I tend to get caught up in them and then realize, hey lady, focus on the ones that have a letter grade.

Which means.

Yes.

I have straight A’s through three semesters of classes.

I am half way through the program officially.

Officially I didn’t do dick today in regards to my practicum stuff.

But I did buckle down after a bit of freaking out and needing to get talked down off the ledge by my friend in school and a couple of phone check ins I did with my people.

“Your timing couldn’t be more perfect,” I said as I answered the phone.

“Lay it on me mama,” he said.

And I told him about it all and how I felt overwhelmed and I have had nightmares recently.

Ugh.

Recurring nightmares that haven’t had in years, but hey, here you go, have a nightmare, not stressed at all are you?

hahahahahahahaha.

Vomit.

“It has to be enough,” I said to him, “it has to be, I already did more today than most people do all weekend.”

I felt the tears well up and slide down my cheeks.

Sometimes it feels like there is just so much work to do and no one to rely on but myself and my God I better make this work or I’ll be homeless in the park.

Thanks brain, really needed that added incentive.

We talked it through and I felt the pressure valve open and the emotional steam hiss out.

Then.

I expressed some plans for the weekend.

Yeah.

It is a school weekend, but it’s also a big anniversary for me on Friday.

So.

I’ll be leaving school, I decided, a half hour early so I can go sit in a church basement and make a little announcement where I have made a few before, eleven other to be exact, but who’s counting?

I am.

That’s who.

I’m also going to go to a special church on Sunday and have dinner with some friends before hand and pick up a little something that evening.

A sort of talisman if you like.

A special token of time and effort and work.

If I only do that.

If I only did that work today, the sitting across from the lady bug, the listening, the sharing, than it was a good day.

Fuck.

It was a great day.

An amazing day.

To help another.

Spectacular.

With those thoughts and feelings I got off the phone, ate a home cooked, I told you I did food prep today I have meals for every day this week and all my meals at school all portioned out and ready for take off, made a cup of tea and got onto the reading.

I watched a two-hour movie required for one of the classes and then read two clinical papers.

I did over two hundred pages of reading today and watched that movie.

But most importantly I acknowledged to myself that I am enough.

I am doing enough.

I have enough.

There is no scarcity.

No.

I have all I need.

I am so grateful.

Because the one thing that I may have the most of is perspective.

It is astounding to realize how well I have taken care of myself and how far I have come.

I’ve come a long fucking way.

Just saying.

And though I have a long way to go.

Well, they say, “they” who the fuck are they, it’s the journey not the destination.

I’m on the path and though I don’t know where it leads exactly.

I’m happy to report that I made some nice strides along it today.

And at this juncture the most important thing is to acknowledge it and to take my rest.

There will be more work to do tomorrow.

But for tonight.

I am done.

Seriously.

l am pretty much toast.

Which means.

Time for tea.

And listening to the rain beat against the glass on the back door and the deep hallucinatory roar of the ocean as the waves smash upon the beach.

Warm.

Safe.

Cozy.

And loved.

That too.

I believe it.

I know I love me.

And that is enough.

It was even when I did not realize I was enough.

Perspective.

Seriously.

Where it’s at.

 

Gearing Up

For the weekend.

I got stuff to do people.

Places to go.

French friends to reconnect with.

Plans to make.

Plans that may be changing.

I may postpone my trip to Paris in May, my friend won’t be going back the time we had originally made plans on being there together, she’s made some suggestions and we are going to get together tomorrow in the afternoon and hash it out.

Oh.

I’m still going.

There is absolutely no doubt about that.

Just that the timing may be different, more toward late summer or fall.

The entire point of the trip was for us to spend time together, she’s from Paris and has spoken often and passionately about a Paris I have had glimpses of but not quite gotten to see.

She wants to show me and I am all in.

We just have to push it back a little bit.

Once we have figured that out I will look at making my other travel plans, Puerto Rico.

I may take a few days and go there in May, swap out the timing on the two trips.

There will be travel.

And tomorrow there will be much get about on the train.

I have parked my scooter and covered her up.

It’s going to rain.

And it’s going to rain a fucking lot.

For over a week.

Oh well.

Before the train I will be going to yoga, I haven’t been all week trying to navigate my new schedule with the new job, but I signed up for the 9 a.m. class tomorrow and I will squeeze in a class on Sunday as well and perhaps one on Thursday, help me get mellowed out before I have my first weekend of classes.

Yup.

That’s next weekend.

I got my second text-book in the mail today.

The stack of notebooks and text books begins to grow once again.

So this weekend will be getting as much stuff as I can done before next weekend’s first classes.

I will do the deal at Tart to Tart with my person tomorrow at noon.

Then a manicure.

Then lunch with my friend.

I’ll probably find a cafe to hole up in for a few hours and crank out some reading.

I’m not going to bother coming home after I do the deal and meet my friend for lunch.

I’m gong to be heading over to the East Bay to a speaking engagement and I figure once I’m out, I’ll be out all day and just get it all in.

Sunday I’m having a lady over to do some work and then I’ll cook for the week and work on my practicum applications.

Because that shit has to get done.

And after next weekend I will be in the doing homework mode.

I mean.

Fuck.

I already am.

I have reading assigned for all my classes.

But after next weekend’s round of classes I will also have the papers and the projects that inevitably follow a weekend of classes and I have to get my practicum stuff together.

So yeah.

I’m almost, not quite, but almost, grateful for the rainy days.

I will not be out running amok.

Not that I tend to anyway when I’m getting prepared for the school weekend.

But you know.

Easier to sit still when it’s rainy and cold.

I do wish that it passes quickly and that it clears by the weekend so that I can ride my scooter to school or even to a day or two of work.

It is just so much faster than the trains.

I finally figured out the fastest way to work today.

I found the magic through streets that get me from Diamond Heights to my spot in Glen Park.

It’s a lot of hills and it’s a little nerve-wracking, but I’m getting used to the commute and it is intriguing to be in a part of the city that I haven’t had much experience with.

It’s funny how a little change in my work location opens up an entirely new part of the city and all the things that I had no clue where there are there.

It’s fun to discover stuff.

And the new job continues to be quite lovely.

I am really going to like it, I am liking it more and more every day.

Even though today was a little hard.

It wasn’t hard because of my current job, it was hard because of my previous job.

I saw the boys today.

Oh, hello tears.

I am super grateful I didn’t cry at the school, but it took some enormous draw of strength to not do so.

I saw the little guy first when I went to pick up my current charges from school.

He was out running around, he and the little girl in the family are in the same class and I figured I would see him, but I had no idea how hard it would be.

Which, you know, is a gift, when someone affects me like that, when I have that kind of depth of feeling, I don’t have to run from it, it’s a gift, it means he meant something to me.

He still does.

He means so much.

I said his name.

He looked at me, and for a moment he didn’t recognize me.

Then.

“CARMEN!”

He flew across the playground and threw himself in my arms (pausing to cry, I’ll be with you in just a moment) and hugged me so hard.

So very hard.

“I missed you,” he said and shuddered and then clung to me even harder, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too sweet guy,” I said and squeezed him back.

I set him gently down and asked how his Christmas was and his first week back at school and then I took a few pictures of him with my little girl charge and there was another hug and then he raced off to the playground and that was that.

I hugged my new charge and we got her back pack and bag of stuff to take home and signed her out.

I saw the old mom.

We said “hi,” and she said, “did you see?”

I did.

I nodded.

She told me his older brother was coming out and very much wanted to see me as well.

Ugh.

Slight pause to clean off my glasses.

Tear splatters.

I girded myself for the emotions and took my little girl by her hand and asked her about her day and she showed me the drawing she had drawn for me and then I looked up.

And.

Oh.

God.

His face.

All the emotions dancing across his face.

Shyness, excitement, joy, sadness, he paused and looked at me.

I smiled.

He smiled back.

Then he grinned.

Then he ran to me.

I caught him and lifted him up and hugged him and smelled his sweet neck and tried very hard, very, very, very hard, to not cry.

Saved that all for right now.

Ha.

“I missed you Carmen,” he whispered into my ear, “it’s been two weeks, it’s been too long, when are you coming back?”

“Oh bunny,” I said, and set him down, then I knelt down next to him.

“I missed you too,” I said and brushed his hair from his face and touched his soft cheek, how pale he looked, how sad and sweet and sincere.

“When are you coming back?” He asked me again.

I didn’t get a chance to say anything, the mom came and scooped him up, “we got to go ____________”

“I have to get them to the dentist,” she said, “sorry to rush off!”

“No worries, it was wonderful to see them, have a great weekend,” I said and smiled.

He looked at me, ugh, that look, then walked away with his mom.

I signed out my other charge and gave him a big hug.

“Guess what?!” I said and shook the sads out of my coat sleeves.

“What?” He asked very solemn.

“ICE CREAM,” his sister yelled, “ice cream, ice cream, ice cream, we’re going to go get ice cream.”

And we did and it was jolly fun and it helped soothe the ache in my chest to be with them and giggle and laugh and taste, them, not me, the different flavors at BiRite Creamery, and then sit and watch them devour their cones and then say, hey, let me get a coffee and guess what else, we got time for the park before we catch the train.

It was a good day.

A little sad.

A lot tender.

But a good day.

And I’m grateful for all the feelings.

“It must be hard,” my new mom said to me, when I mentioned that I saw the boys.

“For them, but also for you,” she said.

She’s an insightful person.

We get along quite well, I have to say.

“It was, but it was also good to see them,” I said, I might have been trying to gloss it over a tiny bit to keep myself together as I got my stuff to leave for the weekend.

“You must feel pretty tender, it might be harder than if you had just had a complete end with them,” she added.

“Maybe,” I said, looking at her deep blue-green sea glass eyes.

“But I’ll be ok, and I am so grateful to have made the transition to be with you,” I smiled, “thank you and please let me know how I can help next week, I’m very happy to be here.”

“Mom!” The little girl came running, “come eat dinner.”

Saved by the dinner time bell.

I got another hug from the little girl and a blown kiss from the boy and big, hearty, heart-felt thank you’s from the parents.

It was a good week.

I am glad.

My tears have dried.

And I am glad for both the expression of the emotion and that I can hold a vast amount of love and joy and emotions all at the same time.

I can love and miss the boys.

And.

I can be excited and happy for the new job.

And grateful for all of it.

All the feels.

All the things.

All the love.

Yes, love.

All the love.

It is so very, very good.

Even when it hurts.

Even then.

Seriously.

Finding a Groove

Not really.

But I’m just going to pretend that I am.

I did, however, feel like, hey, you got this today.

I mean.

I really just have to show up, that’s the gist of things, that and not freak out about the fact, I almost wrote, fucked of it, of school starting next week.

What the hell.

When did that happen and I have to do all my practicum shit and wasn’t I going to do to that during the break.

What was I doing?

Oh yeah.

I was sick.

I guess I have somewhat of an excuse.

And I have time, I remind myself, I have some time.

Granted, not a lot, I do need to get on the stick, but it will happen.

Some how it always does.

Even when the train won’t come.

Even when I decided to leave my scooter at work.

I actually did that.

I rode to work today and then the rain decided to rain again and it didn’t slack off and it was cold and I just felt funny about the idea of getting on my scooter.

I mean.

Really funny.

I heed stuff like that.

I just do not need to force riding home in the dark, in the cold, with the rainy rain and the slick streets and nope.

Not going to do it.

I figured, I got out of work an hour early, we are still figuring that all out and I don’t doubt that it will be a little wonky for a little while as the mom and dad and new baby get their routine down.

The house guest left today though, one less person in the house, and though I know that she was and is a good family friend, that there was a bit of breathing space that was tangible when I came back from picking up the kids from school.

I have to say, I am getting into that part of the job, going to grab the kids at school.

Getting out of the house, having a little purpose, packing snacks, making plans to do things.

Of course all plans to go do things and stuff at the park were cancelled as soon as the rain started back up, but the forecast looks clear for the next few days.

I should be able to ride my scooter home from work, I’ll just suck it up and take the train in again tomorrow, and Friday as well.

After that, who knows, I keep hearing about a monster storm that is going to dump a load of rain on us over the weekend and it looks like solid rain all next week.

Sigh.

Tomorrow though, no rain, means an outing to the park and hopefully a break in the clouds and some sun on my face.

And perhaps.

A visit with my former charges.

I ran into the mom dashing in during the rain to grab the boys and we had a quick hug and she asked if I had seen the boys, and I had not.

Which did make me momentarily sad, I wish I had, it would have been nice, but the rain being what it was, maybe it was for the better.

“You have been very missed,” the mom said, “there have been a lot of tears, a lot.”

Oh.

Dang it man.

That made me mist up.

But.

I did assure my former employer that I would be doing lots of pick up and that tomorrow and the days following I would look for them.

I would love to give them great big fierce hugs.

I do miss them.

That being said I can see that this current job is going to serve me really well and I am happy that I have made the change.

I really like the mom.

In fact, I think I may have told her more about myself than I have most of my previous employers.

Granted, there are some that definitely know more about me, as they have been in my life past my employment with them, but for the most part, I don’t divulge that much.

I told the mom today that I was sober.

It just sort of came out.

I ran into someone who I do the deal with and he waved and said “happy new year” and I figured, well, here’s a great opportunity and I just told her as we were standing in line at Whole Foods in Noe Valley.

It felt good to divulge and be honest and like I said, just to see that this job is really a good fit for me personality wise and money wise and principle wise and even environmentally wise.

They use all organic products, right down to everything they clean with.

They eat organic, they listen to music together.

The dad put on Leonard Cohen today for the baby to hear.

“It’s really important to get them into music young,” he said.

Hell yes.

I like their art.

I like their house.

I like how it’s clean and cozy, but not super tidy, organized, but not fanatic.

I really like how the mom pulled me aside at the grocery store when I said, “I’ve got the list let me know what you want me to grab.”

“Actually, I don’t need the list and what I want you to grab is food for yourself,” she looked at me very seriously and touched my arm, “we’ve discussed it and I understand your food stuff, but we really want you to have some staples in the house, in case you get hungry in a pinch, or need some food, we want to make sure that you have what you need and aren’t going without.”

Oh my God.

So nice.

And maybe for the first time ever I really embraced that.

I mean.

I didn’t go grab some lobster tail and steak.

But.

I did get a box of my favorite tea and a 1/2 gallon of unsweetened vanilla almond/cashew milk (I can drink milk, but um, it’s not always the best idea for me to, heh, it can be a little hard to digest, I’ll leave it at that), I picked up some carrots and apples and a couple of Japanese sweet potatoes.

Things that I can nibble on, tea that I can sip, I was told very firmly to drink what ever coffee is in the house, they have a friend who is in the coffee business and apparently they have a lot in the house.

Good to know.

Especially since I bring coffee with me.

Should I forget, I’m covered.

And.

I got the “I love you,” tonight from the little girl.

That was unexpected and really lovely.

I also got the “you’re stupid,” a couple of times, but that’s pretty par for the course.

Mom, dad, and the older brother got the “you’re stupid” too, so I didn’t fee too awkward about it.

I also got a rousing walk up the hill from the J-Church with the brother and sister, stomping rain boots, umbrellas, snacks, and a bright and loud version of The Yellow Submarine.

It was pretty awesome.

I laughed a lot today and for that I am grateful.

Yeah.

The rain sucked and I was cold by the time I got home.

But that’s what hot tea is for.

And bunny slippers.

Seriously.

Get a pair.

They are the bomb.

A little more tea and then off to bed.

I am still a bit tired, the new job stress is easing, it’s still a bit exhausting hauling all over and having a new schedule and the cold and the rain.

But I’m making my way through.

So grateful for this experience.

Really grateful.

Getting the fuck out-of-the-way and letting the good stuff in.

Please and thank you.

All day long.

All day.

Grad School Death Bed

A friend asked me how I was doing today and I rattled off all the things school and all the books and all the papers and all the presentations.

And.

Fuck me.

I’m so done.

But.

I’m not done yet.

Nope the death rattle on this semester has yet to start shaking.

I have papers galore to turn in tomorrow and yes, my Child Therapy presentation to do, but the big puppy, the big paper, the Moby fucking Dick final for Psychopathology is not done.

Nor shall it be for a while.

I won’t be able to touch it over the weekend.

I’ll have my three days of classes to attend.

And.

Yes.

A wedding in the middle of it.

At least I’ll look cute for it, I am hella stoked for my dress and pretty new blue shoes.

I’ll take some pictures, don’t worry.

I don’t believe I will actually be able to write the paper until next Saturday.

Sigh.

I’ll, fingers crossed, work on it while the baby naps, please God, on Monday, but I don’t see having it done on Monday.

And that’s ok.

Or Tuesday.

And that’s ok too.

It will get done.

And it will get done by the end of day Saturday.

I refuse to have that thing hanging over my head on my birthday.

I can’t believe it’s next Sunday.

I still have a few days left of 43.

I’m so not really focused on it, it’s dim and hard to see, these next few days are really all I have on my mind.

I am ready for them.

All I have to do is show up.

My books are packed, my notebooks too, my files and folders and pens.

My lunch and dinner.

My coffee and tea.

Yeah.

I roll like that.

I bring all the things.

All of them.

And I’m happier for it.

The day after tomorrow, Saturday, when I will be leaving early to head to a dear friends wedding, I won’t roll with anything.

Not even my school books.

Nope.

I’m just going to come to class, check into Family Therapy, have lunch with a friend, sit through the first half of Psychopathology and then bounce at the break.

I will be taking the gift for the wedding and me.

That’s all.

I don’t feel like hauling shit all over the city.

Especially since it calls for rain for the next few days.

And yes.

I did ride my scooter today.

The rain was not as bad and the weather report showed that there would be no rain at all, so I chanced it.

Of course.

There was rain.

But it was not as bad as last night and it wasn’t as cold.

I took it slow and gentle and got home safe and sound.

Granted, a bit damp, but home safe.

I won’t bother taking it in tomorrow, I don’t want to worry about morning rush commute.

I always have to deal with it on Friday mornings when I go to class, the rest of the time I manage to avoid rush hour, and I just can’t fathom lane splitting to get to class.

I’m just going to take the train, N-Judah style, all the way in.

It picks up one block from my house and I’ll get off one and a half blocks from school.

I already have my fare set aside on the table.

Like I said.

I’m ready.

I’m totally ready.

I even snuck in one last yoga class today.

And holy fuck.

It was just what I needed.

It might have been one of the best classes I have ever taken.

It felt so good and I felt the anxiety of school melt off the back of my shoulders and I was actually bummed when I realized that I won’t be able to get to another class until Tuesday morning since I have an early start Monday and a long day.

And a date after work.

Yes.

Like that.

I make some wiggle room for fun when it comes knocking.

I have to.

Just like I need to do the yoga.

I need to do the fun too.

It’s no fun when I don’t make an effort to have some injected into my life.

No matter how busy with the work and the school.

It’s important.

So.

Yes.

Lunch with a friend from school Saturday, the wedding–there will be dancing, and a date on Monday after work and doing the deal.

Then yoga Tuesday morning.

The yoga, though, damn it was good, and I am hella grateful that I let myself go.

I had momentarily thought about not going and doing some prep and running some errands before work today, but I realized that I’d rather be a little sore and get that last day in at the studio.

Very grateful.

Funny how sometimes it takes me a minute, or a month or three, to do those things that are so good for me.

The yoga is fantastic for me and yet I had those three months I just balked at doing it.

And no regrets, it was the experience I needed to have and I am pretty sure that with all the things I was processing emotionally I just needed a break and I took it and I got the emotional and mental rest I needed.

I didn’t drop into a depression.

But it was damn close and I’m super grateful that I got back into the yoga before it could develop.

I tend towards it, having had major clinical depression diagnosed back in 2007 and clinical anxiety and PTSD, it can be easy for me to fall into the hole.

Exercise helps a lot.

And what with the not so much on my bicycle and the lapse in the yoga and the emotional pot that was stirred early in the semester, I was certainly flirting with it.

Thank God I glided through.

Although, I am contemplating get myself a sun lamp since I do have seasonal depression as well, that was the first depression that I was diagnosed with in Wisconsin.

Fuck.

Who doesn’t have seasonal depression in Wisconsin?

Ha.

But.

It’s looking like a wet winter and darker than it’s been, so maybe some pre-emptive sunshine is on order.

Anyway.

I get a head of myself.

Just here.

Just now.

Just going to wrap it up and get ready for bed and have a little more tea and get ready for school.

Last weekend of the semester.

Let’s do this!