Posts Tagged ‘shooting stars’

Did I Get It All Done?

September 28, 2015

Fuck no.

Did I do a lot?

Yes.

Including and in no particular order, meeting with a ladybug and teaching her how to do spot check inventory, no need to sit in that dirty diaper all day, change it, change your perspective, get on with your day, walk through the fear.

Please.

And.

Thank you.

Cleaned my house.

Like really cleaned it.

REALLY.

Swept the floors, Swiffere’d the floors ( I know, I know, I used Swiffer as a verb, shut up), scrubbed the bathroom, did my laundry, stripped the bed, even washed and dried the duvet cover.

Which is a pain in the ass if ever there is one.

Putting the comforter back into the duvet cover after it’s washed, that is, pain in the tuchus, let me tell ya.

I even made extra food for the week, since I won’t be doing any cooking or grocery shopping before school next weekend or during the time I’m in class.  But I don’t want to have the experience of bonking out again like I did last time I was in class.  I will have food prepped and ready.

I made homemade pork fried brown rice with peas, carrots, corn, onions, brown mushrooms, garlic, and ginger.

Like that.

Then.

I read.

And read.

And read some more.

I also drank a lot of tea.

Excuse me while I go pee again.

Kidding.

Barely.

I read a lot about Freud, I read more Freud than I have in my entire life up until this point.

I read a lot of Freud, a lot of criticism of Freud and a lot of defense of Freud, that was really good and quite compelling and I find myself actually liking Freud a whole lot more than I used to.

Not that I had many great experiences with Freud prior, just assumptions.

I looked over my syllabi as well.

Although I felt a touch frustrated with how much I still have to read, I read as much as I could.

I switched up spots in my room to encourage better reading consumption.

Moving from kitchen table to chaise lounge.

I read outside on the back porch for a little while, although that was challenging as I found myself just wanting to lie back and enjoy the warm sunshine whenever it poked through the cloud cover.

I read until a friend texted me and we made plans to go up to Twin Peaks tonight and watch the Super Moon rise with lunar eclipse.

It was spectacular.

My friend grabbed me at 6:30 p.m.

Right about he time I was hitting my limit of Freud intake.

It was nice to gel out in the car and not think and let my friend ramble about the new house and new room mates and situations and I wasn’t tuned out, I was just there.

Appreciative.

Grateful.

Held.

Warm.

Because, damn Gina.

I forgot.

It gets cold up at Twin Peaks and after we had parked the car and gotten out to survey the lay of the land and make a spot to watch the moon rise with what felt like a great deal of the city as well–I love you San Francisco that so many of you came out to watch the moon rise and lunar eclipse, I love my city–we decided to get back the fuck into the car.

It was that breezy and cold.

The car.

Oh.

It was lovely.

Warm.

Good music.

Good company.

And the moon rise and the orange glow of eclipse as the earth reflected back it’s refracted light upon the surface of the moon, a reddish-orange hue, the burnt umber red floating in the East over the Bay, the sodium lights of the dockyards in Oakland glimmering, the dusky orange of City Hall shimmering in the cityscape, the flash of a red light on top of the TransAmerica Pyramid, the thread of white gold light sparkling on the Bay Bridge as traffic flowed over the top deck, the fog ghosting in over the back side of Twin Peaks.

And I am reminded of how beautiful this city is.

How lucky I am to get to live here.

And yes.

I had a moment or two, perhaps three, when I thought.

I really should be reading my Freud.

But then.

I would look up at the moon and sigh inwardly at my fortune.

And memories.

The times I have come up to Twin Peaks.

The first time I was taken to the top a couple of years before I moved to San Francisco, at sunset, the fog thick and blanketing the buildings, the tops of the Golden Gate Bridge poking through the grey bed, rosy and red and industrial orange and golden in the setting sun, the clouds over the East Bay a spectacular color guard of pinks and royal purples, blushed with persimmons and pumpkins and creamy rosettes of cloud clusters.

I was smitten.

I still am.

I can still see that first sunset and I can contrast and compare it to all the other times, really, not all that many, despite living in the city for over 13 years I can probably count about ten times that I have gone up to Twin Peaks and taken in the view.

Maybe more.

But not that many more.

I remember the time when I moved to San Francisco and I hadn’t been in the city more than a month and there was a huge spectacular meteor shower that was happening and I walked up to Twin Peaks from 20th and York in the Mission.

The meteor shower was amazing.

I counted 56 shooting stars that night.

And.

I wrote down a wish for each one of them in a notebook.

I have that notebook somewhere.

I feel compelled to dig it up and look at those wishes.

See how many have come true.

So many of my dreams have coalesced.

I have lived a grand and fabulous life.

I have lived in Paris.

I have written short stories in cafes in the Montmartre.

I have travelled to Rome and sat at the cafe on the top of the state museum and written in my journal while sipping an Americano.

I have gone to Burning Man a few times.

Nine.

I have loved and lived and grown in San Francisco.

I get to live here.

Who is this girl, this woman?

Who is this person who now gets to go to graduate school and balance all the things with all the other things, which make all the things possible?

She is a woman who once in a while is going to let herself off the hook from Freud.

To play a little hooky and watch the moon rise over this city.

This beautiful city.

My city.

By the Bay.

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Super Sonic Blog Post

September 21, 2015

I have no idea what I am going to say except that I am going to say it as fast as I can.

And.

I hope to be done within a certain time frame because I am up past my bedtime on a school night and really, I should just be getting under the covers.

But.

It seems wrong to not write a little.

To not wear my heart a tiny bit on my sleeve.

Did you see the moon set?

It was a glorious firebrand smoldering over the inky black sea.

Did you smell the bonfires on the beach?

I did.

It was a glorious day in San Francisco.

I spent a lot of it reading.

But I tried to get out a little and I gave myself breaks and no, I did not get as much done as I had thought or hoped.

I’m alright with this.

I’m ok to keep doing a little in the morning before work and a little more at night before I go to bed or before I blog.

I am ok to let myself have a little life experience.

Go for a ride in a car.

See a room.

Hang out with my fellows.

Get my God on.

And.

Commune with the beach and the waves and the stars.

I saw two shooting stars tonight.

I wished for the same thing on each one.

“I wish to stay sober.”

I say it soft, under my breath, in the dark shadow of my heart, the dreamsicle orange of the moon descending with love below the horizon of my tender sweet soul self.

The first one I saw I almost wasn’t sure was a shooting star, but it had the trace of tail and was bright enough that I was certain.

The second one made me gasp out loud, it was long and low and the tail was bright orange.

It was an emissary.

Promise of bright things to come.

Love.

Taking care of myself.

Doing my reading.

Graduate school.

Dreams of travel and shoes and ships and sealing wax.

Cabbages and kings.

Poetry and nursery rhymes and the sound of the ocean crashing just beneath the beach line of dunes.

No.

I did not do what I set out to do this weekend and yet I had a fabulous weekend.

A weekend that went by so fast that I cannot believe it is Sunday night and time for me to wrap it all up tidy in a neat bow of words and images and thoughts and soul strivings and stirrings.

I was flexible this weekend.

I gave myself allowance to do and be and see and be seen and that has to happen in my life just as much as the work or the work won’t be worthwhile and all I am doing is living to work.

Rather.

I want to work to live and give myself a little allowance sometimes to play.

It is almost as though I am convincing myself that I have this leeway, this lassitude, this wayward time with time.

And.

I do.

I am efficient.

I am quick.

I will have to work a lot next weekend.

I have a project with another classmate that I have to prepare for and I don’t want to leave her in the lurch with the work.

But.

I also realized today when I looked over the syllabus for the one class I dread the work the most, my Human Development class, that I don’t have to have the paper done for that class until October 13th rather than the 2nd.

I have a little tiny bit more time.

I do have to be honorable and not screw my partner and get to the reading so I can properly outline the chapter that we are presenting to the class, but I can see that it will happen.

Little bits and pieces at a time.

My first appointment on the day was late, and so I read a few pages there.

I got up about 15 minutes before my alarm went off, so that added another quarter of an hour this morning.

I read for an hour after my lady bug left my house.

I made lunch at home and read.

I read after lunch.

I checked in with my person and told him what was happening in my heart.

No expectations.

Going slow.

Staying in the present moment.

I read some more.

I went up to the corner store and bought a few household things I needed to get.

I came home and read more.

I got a ping and headed out the door to do the deal in Mill Valley.

Did you see the bridge today?

Did you see the clear skies?

Did you stop at Fort Point because it was too irresistible to not stop?

I did.

How grateful am I to live in such tremendous beauty.

The sumptuous bay sparkling and spun with boats and cargo ships, yachts, sail boats, windsurfers, seals, seagulls, waves, sunshine.

Rolling into Marin.

The hills sweeping, swept with Eucalyptus and the warmth of a day that spells all that is summer and sexy and San Francisco and if it were like this all year round it would be even more expensive to live in.

And when the sun shines.

I have to make hay, I have to let my skin soak it in.

I ate my lunch outside today in the back yard, blissed out with the warmth and the happy sounds of the neighborhood.

I did not read my stuff outdoors, it’s too distracting and too easy to just lift my face skyward then down into the pages of the text and yes, I could have read more, but I let my heart be my guide and look.

Look at that.

I am happy.

Joyous.

Free.

And just made it in under the wire to get enough sleep to get up and do it all over again tomorrow.

And.

Go to my job too.

Life.

It is good.

Full as fuck.

But so good.

SERIOUSLY.


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