Posts Tagged ‘slowing down’

I Have To Stop

September 14, 2018

Falling down.

Twice.

Twice in the last two days I have fallen down.

At my new place.

I’ve been going too fast, and I’m really aware of it, but shit, I don’t need to fall down anymore.

I bruised my hand tonight and last night I split open my left knee and bruised both of them badly.

But.

I didn’t sprain an ankle, and I could have either time.

Last night I had time in between my work and my normal Wednesday night commitment to run out to Bed, Bath and Beyond.

My studio that I’ve been living in has pretty much been furnished.

Down to towels and the compost bin.

So I have realized that I needed to get things to make my new home, well, homey.

Like bath rugs and towels and a compost bin, and a shoe rack.

Although I got a rack yesterday, it just doesn’t work for my new closet.

That was how I wiped out yesterday.

I was carrying the shoe rack into my place and completely missed a step going into it.

I smashed on my knees and for just a brief moment I thought I might have banged my left ankle, the one that I so badly injured a few years back.

I mean.

The ankle has never really felt fully healed and I’ve re-sprained it once, so I was scared and breathless in a heap on the floor slowly rotating my ankle in both directions.

I was ok.

I mean.

I wasn’t ok, exactly, I discovered later that I had cut through skin on my left knee, but I was pretty adrenalized and didn’t feel it.

I discovered it when my leggings stuck to my knee from the dried blood.

Tonight I wiped out as I had another load of things from Bed, Bath, and Beyond in my car to deliver, and I slipped on the freshly waxed floor.

I knew I was going to fast, I had my car double parked with the flashers on and I just wanted to get in and out.

So as I drove away I knew, I need to slow down.

I need to breathe.

I am anxious about this final push, moving is hard, it’s stressful, I don’t have as much time to devote to it as I would like.

Although every day I have been doing something.

Today I returned the shoe rack and replaced it with one that would work and I bought curtains, a curtain rod, and a shower curtain, as well as some pillows.

I also took over a bin of stuff from the house this morning.

I figured if I was going over to get the shoe rack to return it I should not go empty-handed, so one large box traveled with me.

I have also organized everything Burning Man in the garage, my tent, my bins, my camping stuff, even though a part of me was like, trash it, you’re never going back, you have five years of PhD to deal with, you aren’t going back forever…I couldn’t quite do it, so it will go into storage.

My new landlord acknowledged that there really wasn’t much storage space built into the studio so he is allowing me to store things in the basement.

I packed a couple of boxes of notebook and journals and books and my Burning Man stuff, my picnic basket, and some blankets and got it all out to the garage.

On one hand I haven’t that much more stuff, on the other, my brain is just hollering at me, move, move, move!

I’m trying to strike a balance.

As I am also trying to get homework done for school.

I have managed to do a little reading at work, but not as much as I was hoping, then again, I have to cut myself some slack, I really am doing every possible thing I could do.

I got my online bank account set up for Grateful Heart today too, so that was an accomplishment.

I am tired though.

I went to bed at a reasonable hour, but tossed and turned a lot before falling asleep and I woke up an hour and half before my alarm went off.

I just got up.

I figured, grab the shoe rack, return stuff, get more stuff, go to work.

And I did.

Plus I had a client tonight.

I really am doing as much as I possibly can.

I cleared up most of Saturday and only now have group supervision to go to.

I can’t miss that as much as I might like to.

So I hope to get a lot of it taken care of on Saturday.

I am in contact with a friend who may be able to help out with a truck either Saturday or Sunday.

I think I am going to have to break down my bed, I have been contemplating how I was going to move it and I think that part of it will have to be unscrewed.

It’s an Ikea frame, so there are 1,001 parts to it, but I think if I can just remove the head-board, I can do it in two parts.

I’m not sure what day it’s going to happen, but I’m leaning towards doing it on Sunday.

I think I’m going to need to sleep over here on Saturday night as I have another orientation in Alameda for my new internship.

That’s from 10a.m. until 1:30p.m.

So it makes sense to keep the bed here until Sunday.

If my friend’s truck is only available on Saturday then I will just move a bunch of boxes and my bicycle.

I’ll use the Lugg app to get my bed out on Sunday.

Then I’ll be coming back next Saturday to clean the studio up and make sure nothing’s left and hand over the keys.

As stressful as this has been I am grateful for this little studio by the sea, it’s been a good home to me, and, I am also ready to move the heck on.

I can’t wait to get my new place set up.

Did I mention how many windows it has?

Seven!

Advertisements

Slowing Down

December 13, 2017

Not having any school stress hanging over me has really mellowed me out.

I got to debrief with my therapist about it all and the lecture and all the things love and relationship and work and family today.

It really amazed me to see that it was just one week ago today that I was on a stage giving a lecture in front of 100s of people.

It feels like it was last year.

There was so much that happened after the lecture that I quite lost sight of the fact that I had done it.

Even though I have had a number of people clamor for the video of it.

It has not been posted up yet and I’m rather loathe to watch it anyhow.

I don’t need to see myself, I was there, I know how it felt.

Even my therapist wants to see it!

My therapist went to the same school I’m in now and did the same program and had some of the same teachers.

It’s always a good feeling of commiseration with her about my life and school and all the things.

It’s almost as though we are contemporaries, friends.

We had a good session and there was much to process.

There always is.

And then off to work.

I went in early to help the family and got to spend an unexpectedly sweet day with the baby.

He’s almost a year now and it’s coming close to time to renew my contract with the family.

I’m very happy with them and they are happy with me.

It’s a mutual appreciation society.

Seriously.

The dad today said he didn’t know how they’d still be alive without me.

That was super sweet to hear.

It’s a trip though, working for a family with three kids, three really changes the dynamic, it’s a flat-out hustle sometimes and there is not a lot of down time.

There is always something for me to do.

Always.

I don’t mind, it’s good to stay busy.

Although not too busy.

The parents had asked if there was a day in the upcoming weeks that I might be able to help with an overnight and I gave them a night when I could and as it turns out that night doesn’t work and well, I have to say that I wasn’t really upset about that.

I don’t have solid plans to do anything on the days I have off, but I sort of like that I have some time off to do with what I will.

My therapist asked me about Christmas and what it was like for me and whew boy that opened up a lot of fodder.

I realized very much that the last few Christmases have been really hard on me and she was encouraging me to do something sweet for myself, a yoga retreat, a little road trip in my new car, something personal and kind and I will add, for myself, cheerful.

I often spend Christmas alone and I can get melancholic about it.

Last Christmas I was navigating through some personal landmines that surprised me but in hindsight needed to happen and helped me grow exponentially.

Nothing like pain to prompt some spiritual growth.

The year before I was with someone in Paris who couldn’t really be with me and that felt like throwing my heart on a bonfire and roasting marshmallows over it.

Burnt and crisp and super painful.

I’d rather not have a painful Christmas this year.

Soft and gentle and loving and I really want to let myself not freak out about it.

I don’t want to compare and despair.

Maybe the road trip to Stinson on Christmas Day, pack a picnic, go to the beach, have bonfire, collect shells, reflect on my life and what I want in the new year.

Or down to Santa Cruz and go to Bridges State Park for the Monarch migration happening now.

I tried to go one year with a boyfriend and yes, we made it, but so late in the day that the monarchs weren’t flying.

I might try to give that another shot.

I should also get my MOMA on.

I have a membership and haven’t been in months, now that I’m on break from school it’s definitely time to go again.

I also want very much to see the Klimt exhibit at the Legion of Honor.

I love Klimt.

That is a must do.

I will also do a movie at the movie theater.

Last year I went to La La Land on Christmas day for a matinée at Kabuki Theaters and then I took myself out to sushi.

It was super cold on my scooter and I felt pretty miserable riding around.

Not going to be a problem with year with having a car.

I’ll be taking her tomorrow.

The last two days I’ve been on my scooter to avoid the morning rush traffic and get to supervision and today to therapy, before work and then to my internship on time.

I haven’t those obligations tomorrow.

I’ll be taking my car.

I really love having that car.

Yeah.

The more I think about it the more I think a mini road trip will do me good.

Even if it’s just across the bridge.

Oh!

I could do a ferry ride too.

I remember one year on Christmas Eve I caught the last ferry to Sausalito, I got off the boat, walked to a coffee shop, bought a coffee and walked right back onto the ferry.

I got to see the city at night all lit up in Christmas lights.

It was stunning.

I got a lot of really gorgeous photographs from that little jaunt.

And of course.

I’ll find somewhere to go do the deal and get right with God, always that, especially during this time.

Just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I have to be lonely.

Nope.

There will be many ways to keep it merry and bright.

Heck.

I can just sit and contemplate my Christmas tree and watch Holiday Inn.

I love me some Bing Crosby.

I do.

 

Museums A GoGo

May 16, 2017

Today I hit the Jeu de Paume and the Musee D’Orsay.

I am not museum’ed out.

Yet.

But I will be pacing myself.

The crowds were pretty thick at the Musee D’Orsay, and thank God for the Paris Museum Pass, so nice to just pop to the front of the line and not have to be herded through the main gate.

They had a beautiful exhibition with “Etoiles” as the thematic, “stars” lots of Van Gough, Monet, even Georgia O’Keefe, there were artists I had never seen and pieces that resonated so deeply with me, my breath caught in my throat and tears welled in my eyes.

Or every hair stood on end.

One of the Van Gough’s so blew me away, deep and visceral in my body, I caught my breath.

It was deeply surrounded by viewers and I got as close as I could withstand the crowds and breathed in the beauty of it.

I tried to look for postcards later in the museum shops that were of the same piece and I was disappointed, the flatness of the card did the painting no justice and I could not bring myself to buy one.

I did, however, get my museum shop on.

I do love a good museum shop.

I bought a book for one of my charges and postcards and a cloth sack for myself and a magnet of a Klimt piece that I saw in the Etoile ensemble that did translate from the painting to the magnet.

I took lots of photographs and I stopped and sat and periodically rested.

I went all the way to the top of the museum and caught the perspective from the interior, and from the exterior.

I got some pretty pictures.

I am quite happy.

I am a bit of a shutterbug.

I am not sure if I am going to post them up to my other blog or not, I’m thinking, as I continue further with my schooling and career goals that I do have to change-up some things with my blog.

I still haven’t quite figured it out and while I’m in Paris I’m not going to worry about it.

I really just want to enjoy my leisure time here, I am slowed down quite a bit, even with my ankle feeling better.

Tomorrow I will return to the Marais, I have a tattoo appointment at 3:30 p.m. and I will hit the Pompidou either before or after the tattoo.

I also may pop around the shops and do a little more window shopping.

It’s awful fun to do.

I am doing well with my finances and there’s a few things I still haven’t gotten to get, but then again, I have really done so well with what I wanted to get that I am alright if I don’t score a bunch of souvenirs.

I have to be careful, I only have so much room in my luggage.

I bought a poster today that I’m not real sure how the hell I’m going to get back.

But.

I had to get it.

When I was at the Jeu de Paume they were having a sale in the library and one of the prints that was on sale was from the Marilyn Monroe, Phillip Hausmann exhibition that I went to Christmas of 2015.

I had to buy it.

When I had seen the original print it was 25 Euro.

Today it was 2 Euro.

Um.

Yeah.

I’ll risk transporting that.

Especially since the bag that I had gotten with the same image was destroyed soon after I got back from the trip with pink hair dye.

Oops.

I have a magnet of the same image, Monroe barefoot in a black cocktail dress leaping up in front of a cerulean blue backdrop.

Her face and the bare feet really got me.

The blue background is brilliantly done as well too, it highlights the blonde blond of her hair and the cream of her skin and the bare feet, something so tender and vulnerable and real.

I love the photograph.

I’ll see if I can scare up a cardboard poster shipping container.

I’m sure I can pick one up at the post office.

But what with the numerous notebooks, the gifts for the children I work for and the new dress I don’t have much space left for stuff in my carry on.

I put back a Diane Arbus book that I was sorely tempted to get and resolved that I would get something else.

I have always loved getting earrings, so I’ll grab a pair and I do want to get a hat.

Hats from Paris are the bees knees.

Just saying.

I also will be bringing home a tan.

I have been out in the sunshine all day and it was glorious.

A bit hot, but so good.

Tomorrow it is supposed to be 83 degrees, today was the same.

Then rain is forecast for the rest of the time that I am here and the temperature is going to drastically drop.

So.

Tomorrow.

Sundress time.

Lots of pictures while the light is good and a new tattoo, a visit to one of my favorite museums and of course.

Cafe creme.

I mean.

When in Paris.

Do what the Parisians do.

Right?

It’s Official

May 11, 2017

I’m on vacation!

And.

In a surprise twist, pun way fucking intended, I am now the owner of a pair of sensible walking shoes.

Fuck my life.

It’s official.

I’m old.

Ugh.

I sprained my ankle.

I am so not happy about having sprained my ankle, said ankle currently elevated, wrapped in an ace bandage with a package of organic frozen corn on it.

I hear hormonally treated, pesticide sprayed corn won’t help in the healing.

Heh.

Grr.

My person today, when I was talking to her, said in her bright cheery voice, “Oh!  Look at that!  God wants you to slow down and really enjoy Paris!  You get to really soak it in.”

Fuck my life.

I mean.

Fuck you.

Even though.

She is absolutely right.

I have been slowed down.

You should have seen me at the PJ Harvey show last night.

A show I normally would have been up front for, screaming my heart out, singing along, having my music experience.

But.

No.

I was in the handicap section seated with my leg propped up on the ledge in front of me.

Sigh.

At least I was at the show.

The ticket was a total last-minute surprise.

And I got taken out to dinner too.

The Slanted Door.

So yummy.

Like, all the yummy things.

Oysters.

Fuck, I love oysters.

Kumamoto’s from Hog Island.

St. Simone.

Beausoleil.

Pacific Gold.

And Island Creek.

So damn good.

For an appetizer my friend and I split the Ahi Tuna tartar.

And I had the seared Ahi Tuna with turmeric, scallion oil, fresh dill and toasted silvered almonds.

Swooning.

Such lovely food.

It took my mind off the ankle.

The ankle that I have NO FUCKING IDEA how I sprained.

Well.

Ok.

I have a theory.

I think that from repeated uphill parking on my scooter that putting down the kick stand I may have been giving myself some stress on my ankle.

And open full fucking idiot disclosure, I know you’re going to say, I told you so, I’ve been wearing Converse on my scooter and they are flimsy shoes.

Yes.

I wear them with inserts, but they are really a good shoe and well.

I’m not old, necessarily, but I have 44 years on these feet and I have not often enough worn good shoes.

So.

Today.

I upgraded.

Big time.

Now.

Part of me wants to tell you that the shoes are fucking big time ugly, they’re not, although, yes, bland and not what I would call sexy by any stretch.

But then again.

You know what’s really sexy?

Being able to fucking walk.

So.

I hobbled my way to the Inner Sunset today.

I took yesterday and today off from work, I could barely make it up the stairs yesterday into work, I got to the top, sat down on the floor and cried.

I was utterly mortified.

But.

My boss was so sweet and so kind and got me situated on the couch with a compression bandage and an ice pack and I started making the calls to my doctor at Kaiser.

The bad news.

No one could see me yesterday.

The good news.

Mild sprain.

If it was severe I wouldn’t have been able to walk on it at all.

I procured a brace from Walgreens that I was able to get around enough on to get me back to the house after an hour of sitting with it icing on and off and elevated and trying to hold back the tears.

I cried a lot yesterday.

I am teary now.

But not so bad.

I mean.

It felt like my whole fucking trip got shit on.

But when I was talking to my therapist she said something that I feel is prescient, that her sense was that if I took care of myself, rested, and took some precautions I would be ok.

That does seem to be the case.

My friend, after the concert, also doctored me up a bit, the brace was not so comfortable and I got an ace bandage wrap as a parting gift.

The wrapping seemed to help and I slept with my foot on a pillow and took a lot of ibuprofen.

I also called into work.

I mean.

I could barely go a block from the MUNI station to the Embarcadero where I met my friend for a coffee at Blue Bottle before Slanted Door.

I wore my pink Saucony’s out last night, but knew I wanted to grab a better pair of shoes.

So today, after taking my time getting going, more icing, more elevating, and bolstering my emotions, I set out for On The Run.

God.

Running shoes are fucking hideous.

Who wears these ugly things?

I suppose people who don’t sprain their ankles like I do.

Ugh.

Anyway after being thoroughly grossed out by the shoes I asked the clerk, well what about walking shoes.

OLD LADY SHOES.

To go with my bifocals.

Er.

Progressives.

Heh.

He pointed some out.

Not sexy.

But.

Not hideous.

He brought them out.

I slipped them on.

Holy shit.

It was like walking on sunshine.

The difference was immediate.

I felt stable, supported, my knees hurt less almost as soon as I took a few steps and the clerk showed me a trick to tying the shoelaces that added extra ankle support.

I almost danced out the store.

Almost.

My pocket-book was a lot lighter than when I went in, but I am super glad I allowed myself to get the shoes.

I got back here.

Ate lunch.

Did some writing, made some phone calls, and met a friend for dinner at Thai Cottage.

I did not go fast.

But I did not go as slow as I did last night and though it’s not as fast as I want.

It’s fast enough.

My person is right.

I get to really slow down and take things in.

I sort of hate it when she’s right.

She often is.

But I also am extraordinary grateful that she is too.

“You can do whatever you want,” she told me tonight, “as long as you accept the consequences.”

So.

I won’t look sexy and chic in Paris with my pretty platform sandals.

I will, however, be happier in my comfortable old lady shoes.

Old ladies be hella sexy.

Just sayin.

 

Slow Down

December 29, 2016

He said and patted my arm as we were heading up the stairs to the MOMA’s membership desk.

Then he did a mimicry of me and my busy self.

Oh shit.

I had someone else do that to me recently.

I was a bit abashed.

And as I sit here, having slowed way the hell down today, after the MOMA and lunch out with my friends, I came home, and read.

I didn’t nap.

I was actually a little afraid to nap.

Who the fuck is afraid of naps?

I am.

If they are past a certain point of time in the day, then I get afraid I wouldn’t get out of the house again if I lay down (and I did get out for a little while this evening to do the deal, which was super handy).

So I read.

And that was relaxing.

And I roasted a chicken and that made my little studio warm and cozy.

I posted up the photographs I took at the MOMA and I just hung out at the house and was chill.

I am contemplating a yoga class in the morning, but truth be told, I may not go, just let myself rest, sleep, lay about.

Even if it kills me.

Because it won’t be for always and there’s a good chance I will still go out and deal with a few things.

I have been in intermittent communication with the mom in my new gig and we have been trying to figure out a time to meet and talk about the job and sign the contract.

Said job starts on Monday.

But.

Mom is pregnant and due December 30th.

Today is the 28th.

So.

Like any second now she could be going into labor.

In fact, a couple of times I thought to myself today, we’re not going to end up being able to meet, she’s in labor, or she’s about to have the baby.

But I got an email this evening asking if I was available tomorrow or Friday.

I have an appointment downtown that is going to take up some time on Friday, so I said tomorrow.

I will skip yoga, rest, and await her time frame.

I am not about to get pushy with a mom who’s due to deliver at any second.

She gets to set the time.

I get to be available.

And yes, the cold is lingering and it felt improbably worse tonight then it has in a few days.

I think it’s gone and going away and then it’s back.

Annoying thing.

I have things to do.

Places to be.

Ugh.

Shut up brain.

Let it go.

I did my FAFSA renewal yesterday, for my federal financial aid package for grad school next year, and I had this tremendous anxiety over come me when I started to think about all the things I needed to do and how I was squandering my time off and I should be working on my practicum cover letters and applications and arranging to go to open houses and get my resume written and my letters of recommendation.

Boy howdy.

My brain knows so well how to sabotage me enjoying a day off and getting a massage.

Thanks brain.

SHUT UP.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a really sweet day today and saw some yummy art and hung out with two of my favorite people and then got treated to lunch at an amazing Zagat rated Chinese restaurant.

Which was nice.

Since i got a fucking $81 parking ticket on my scooter.

I plugged the meter!

I swear.

I used my debit card, it registered as having charged me for $3.40 cents, hours of time, and I happily traipsed off to the museum with my camera.

I came back and there was a ticket.

For 12:45 p.m.

What?

I paid long in case we decided to stay at the museum and have lunch in the cafe.

I should be covered until 2 p.m.

I used my card, it charged my card, I wrote it down and balanced my check book.

Because that’s how I roll.

I don’t have a credit card, everything by cash and I tally as I go and I also keep a running log in my checkbook register.

You know, those funny little things in the back of a check book.

Yeah.

I use them.

All the time.

I checked, yup, I had put a notation down for $3.40 and then I thought!

Oh hey!

I’ll check my bank balance online and I’ll contest the ticket!

I checked my bank balance.

The charge had not gone through.

What the fuck?

I don’t know if it was user error or meter error, but there was nothing left for me to do but get out my check book again and pay the ticket.

Can’t contest it if I don’t have evidence that I paid.

Because if it didn’t pull from my account, then technically, I didn’t pay.

Sigh.

Cost of living in the city.

Grateful I got a couple of cards from family with cash in them this Christmas.

Oh well, really, I’m not too upset about it, I really had such a lovely day, I don’t want to focus on the negative.

In the grand scheme of things, one parking ticket is not going to break me and what a gift that I had money, disposable income, to pay it off within hours of getting it.

That is something to be happy about.

So too, the option and availability to rest and not push myself.

Sleep in tomorrow.

Don’t set the alarm.

Rest.

Read a book in bed.

Chill the hell out.

And if the mom gets back to me, yes, I’ll venture out and I’ll have a coffee with her or tea and see how I can help and be of service in my new job.

If she doesn’t, it’s all good, I know that I will show up and be ready to go on Monday.

Everything is alright, I didn’t drink or use today.

I didn’t smoke a cigarette or eat a big pile of donuts.

I spent time with two fabulous men who I dearly love and got to see art and eat amazing Chinese food.

I have a blessed life.

Really.

I do.

And I am allowed to slow down, to feel the feelings that need to be felt, and to rejuvenate before the busy gets well, busy again.

Everything, I gently remind myself, is exactly, and I do mean EXACTLY, how it should be.

It always is.

Seriously.

You Are Brave

April 4, 2016

She said to  me tonight as I straddled my scooter and got myself adjusted.

“Get home safe,” she added, smiled, patted my arm and got into her car.

Yes.

Get home safe so I can do more home work.

Oof.

I got a lot done.

Did I get it all done?

No.

Will I?

Of course.

Will I get it done tonight.

No fucking way.

But.

I did do so much that I haven’t really a leg to stand on as far as complaining goes.

I did not sleep in, that is the one thing that I sort of wanted to do, but it didn’t happen.

I got up at my normal hour but I did not do yoga.

Today is a day when I typically do go to the yoga studio, but I deferred instead to doing all the chores and maintenance and household stuff that I needed to do so that I won’t have to do any of them while in my weekend of classes.

I did a big grocery shopping trip, I did laundry, I swept and vacuumed and swiffered and did the scrubbing in the bathroom.

“Your place is so clean,” my friend said today as he was using the bathroom.

Yeah and it smells hella good.

Broken bottle of $100 Chanel Egoiste Pour Homme makes one hell of a disinfectant and smells just lovely.

I joke that my house is clean because I have papers to write.

And there is some sort of correlation there, I don’t doubt it (can you imagine how clean my house would be if I were getting a PhD?  Don’t mind me, I’m just scrubbing the grout with a toothbrush), some manner of procrastination, but also, I just like having a clean space.

It feels nice to come home to.

I met with a lady, did the deal, cooked meals for the week, and wrote one paper.

I actually wrote the one I was going to save for the last minute since I figured it would be the easiest to write and decided to just get it out of the way since it was the shortest to write.

And granted, yeah, I didn’t get all the writing done I wanted, but I did all the reading, ALL of it.

Which means the time that I would be reading before work this week I can devote to doing the paper writing.

I’m going to do yoga in the morning before work and there’s always a little time for me on Monday’s to do about a half hour of reading before I head to work after I have done a yoga class and showered.

Which is enough time for me to go over my notes and the readings that I have done over the last two weeks and compile the things I need to do the papers.

I will work on one of them Monday and Tuesday and the other one Wednesday and Thursday.

Had I gotten the papers done today I still would have been reading.

I just basically switched up the order in which I am procrastinating.

I’m not even going to call it procrastinating, I know what I can do in the time I have and I am being efficient.

I have a practice that I like to keep outside of school work and work work, and that is for me where the real work is done and that needed to be addressed today.

It needs to be addressed every day.

And there is time.

There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
Oh what do I write about, how do I write about it, how will I cite my sources, do I have any idea what the professor wants, all the various indecisive shit that my brain can cook up.
The thing is though, the thing I learned the most, is that it almost, a tiny bit maybe, doesn’t matter if I don’t know exactly what I am going to write about when I sit down to write the paper.  It’s just making the decision to do so, then taking action.
If I don’t take action.
Well.
Nothing happens.
And that’s just sad.
I don’t want to live a sad life.
Granted I could use a little down time, but I am happy that I didn’t stress myself out over trying to figure out how to get all the things into all the day.
I got what I needed to do done and I took good care of myself and my needs.
I took plenty of actions.
It’s not that I rest on my laurels, ever.
In fact, sometimes I feel like it could be a good thing to do just that, for maybe, just a tiny second, before I am off and running onto the next thing, experience, opportunity.
To take a minute.
I noticed that the clerk at Other Avenues had double charged me for the dozen eggs and nobody, at least not I, wants to pay $10.44 for a dozen eggs.
I walked back to the store.
I got my money back.
I walked out.
I sat down on a bench and lay back and let the sun splay out on my body, warm my face, warm my hands, warm my heart, I closed my eyes and reclined, right there, in the public parklet in front of the store without a care in the world and not a thought of papers, books, articles, writing, not for long, mind you, but just for a moment.
Slow down.
Rest.
I had already done so much that I could know in my heart, without reservation or regret that I had done enough.
I will continue to do more work, that is true, but tonight, I can look about my clean, well lit, sweet space and know I am enough.
The efforts made were enough.
And I am allowed rest.
Good sleep.
And a quiet, self-congratulatory pat on the back for a day well done.
And a video.
Heh.

 

It’s A Simple Request

January 4, 2016

Please God.

Give me Internet.

I really want to blog tonight.

Really.

And damn it.

Two nights in a row without Internet is beginning to bum me out.

I wrote a blog last night and did not post it.

In fact.

I deleted it.

I was upset with what I wrote and it felt false, so this last night after multiple attempts to get online, I deleted it in a fit of pique.

I am here.

Now.

Ready to do the deal and write a good blog.

I really am.

And.

Foiled again.

It is super frustrating.

Although, as my person astutely noted when we checked in by phone, awful handy for me since yesterday I did something I have not done in over six months.

NO.

I did not have sex.

It has not been six months.

Yet.

Rather.

I bought a book.

And not a school book.

In fact, I bought a trilology—The Bayou Trilogy by Daniel Woodrell, author of Winter Bone (which was a great book and an awesome movie, Jennifer what’s her face was in it before the idiocy of the Hunger Games got her all famous) and between yesterday and today, I finished the first book and am well into the second.

I also, gasp, read two Vanity Fairs that I had lying about from right about the time I started school.

Ah.

School.

You are coming up here so soon.

I am in a mix as to how to proceed with my day, with my week, with the needing to go and get the readers and the needing to not be fucking wet all week long at work.

The rain is forecast for the entire week.

I know.

I know.

We need the rain.

I just got off my bicycle and am in the process of drying out my scarf and fingerless gloves.

I will need them tomorrow.

Nothing says good times like wet and cold for the work commute.

I am debating to take a care.

I always do when it rains, but I probably won’t.

I just don’t want to spend anything extra this week.

I already have on books.

I have to get my readers.

They should not be too much, but until I know I’m not going to throw extra money out the window by taking a car to and from work.

Unless it’s down pouring or it’s really windy.

Or lighting.

There’s lighting I am not on my bicycle.

That, however, happens very rarely.

The question I am putting before myself, is whether or not to get out a little early tomorrow and ride m bicycle downtown to Copy Central to pick up my readers for classes.

Hahahahaha.

Fuck me.

I just checked the weather.

Rain all week.

And lighting on Tuesday and Wednesday.

Great.

Ugh.

There is a small window tomorrow around noon when the rain might cease, there’s still 50% chance of rain, but it’s better than the 90% forecast for the rest of the day.

Man, oh man.

No Internet and rain all week.

Come on God.

Cut me a break.

At least let me get online.

That should tell you where my priorities are.

Ha.

Ugh.

I just tried to go online and I got to the opening page of my blog site, Word Press, and it dropped me again.

REALLY?

What is up?

Like I don’t want to be online to get my porn on.

Not that I can recall the last time I did look at porn, it’s been a while, my imagination does me just fine.

Nope.

I just want to write and post my blog.

And maybe down load a video.

Ok.

So, let’s get this thing happening, please.

Now.

This is interesting.

I did manage to get into my blog site, but nowhere else is letting me in.

No social media, no dating sites, no facecrackage, no twitter, not that I ever really check Twitter on my laptop, I generally use it on my phone, but you get my drift.

I can’t seem to get around.

It’s like I have a dial up or something.

Not having internet for the last two days has simplified my life that is for sure.

“You look rested,” she said to me yesterday when she sat down across the table from me at Tart to Tart.

“I am,” I said, “uncomfortably so.”

I have slept plenty, rested lots, hydrated, gone for walks on the beach, a bicycle ride, cold, but good, along the ocean, a few scooter rides here and there to do the deal, I have cooked and cleaned and tidy and I have had lots of down time.

I did an extra sitting meditation today after writing four pages of long hand in my notebook (my Claire Fontaine notebook that I bought on my first day of my last visit there, from a papeterie on Rue Violeta in the 15th arrondisement).

Hell.

I even colored in a coloring book today.

For about an hour.

Who is this relaxed person?

I am not entirely comfortable with her, but I have gotten more so as the days go by.

Sometimes there would be moments of sweet melancholy or tears or loneliness, but I never felt really lonely, although tonight, as I was having my dinner, home cooked with plenty left over for the work week, I realized I was getting a little isolated.

I knew I would be riding my bicycle.

Come rain or cold weather.

Over to St. Gabe’s tonight.

And I am so grateful I did.

Set the brain right and put me in a very happy, contented, warm space, despite the cold rain and the wet ride home.

I was all sorted out.

Oh.

Ha.

The Internet just dropped me again.

I wonder if this will make it up tonight.

If it doesn’t.

If I can’t post, at least I know that I stuck to my guns, I wrote a daily blog, like I mentioned earlier in the post, I wrote one as well yesterday, but I didn’t like it (not that often does that happen, but when I don’t like it and the interwebs are not conspiring to help me, it wasn’t too hard to delete the draft.  Even at 1,200 words, I was not sad to see it go).

I may have to save this back to Word and keep my fingers crossed.

If it’s meant to be I can’t fuck it up.

If it’s not.

I can’t manipulate it into happening.

Whatever happens is just alright with me.

It really is.

I showed up to the page.

I can let go of the results.

Oh.

Ha!

There she is again.

Surrender.

That’s right.

Go over to the winning side.

Because I can’t make it happen over here.

I believe that’s called humility, but I don’t have enough of it to honestly be able to tell if that’s a correct assessment.

I am not the best judge of my own character.

Never have been.

Anywho.

Let’s see what happens.

This could get exciting.

 

Inbound to Richmond District

May 4, 2015

You got to love NextBus.

I don’t often ride the MUNI trains or the bus, but when I do, this is the best app ever.

EVER.

I can sit in my house, noodle around, and when I have about three minutes, maybe four, if I’m feeling anxious, walk out the door, walk to the end of the block, and voila!

Bus arriving.

So nice.

Remember when you just sat and waited?

Forever.

It would say bus every ten to fifteen minutes in the schedule, but it was 49 minutes later and you’ve seen 18 buses headed the other direction and yet, here you are, alone, cold, shivering in the fog, waiting for the fucking bus to come.

Not waiting for Godot.

No never.

Waiting for the 22.

Or the infamous 24.

Or the 33.

Oh how I have waited for the buses.

Today, I just scrolled my finger on my phone, popped open the app and saw when the next one was coming and even better.

The app also has the time that the bus behind it is coming.

Brilliant.

Therefore allowing me time to do what ever I need to do at the house before leaving the house.

I got up early and got my errands, chores, and laundry on.

I still got a good night’s sleep, just a touch over eight hours, and I took a friend’s suggestion and silenced my phone last night.

I will forget and be pinged awake at all hours of the night, texts from my sister in Florida, which is three, no, four hours ahead, at 6:30 a.m.; messages from friends, Twitter alerts, Facebook messages, all manner of social media pings and beeps and boops.

Plus, of course the occasional text and what have you.

It’s nice on one hand to be in the mix.

But sometimes I don’t want to know who has like my Instagram feed.

I want to sleep.

It is with that in mind that I also do not look at my phone, I am not always successful, or respond to messages until after I have done my morning routine.

I can’t flip on my phone and lie in bed and scroll the internet universe.

I will be a grumpy toad before even having tossed aside the sheets.

I love my world, I love my friends, I love, love, love that I am in contact with so many of them through so many different places.

Case in point: having a conversation on the ride back from North Berkeley with my friend about not having a ticket, yet, to Burning Man, this conversation happened about oh, 24 hours ago, slightly less.  Fast forward to a few minutes ago when I saw a post on a private Facebook page for a group I belong to for a camp at Burning Man that I have dear friends camping at.  The post featured a link to another post saying, hey friends, I have two tickets, who wants them?

I see lots of people want them.

Lots.

However, I look closer, oh!!

It’s my good friend from my first year at the burn when I camped with Camp Stella and he gave me my first playa name: Ophelia and has a photo of me hanging in his office from the dust storm I fell asleep in (I got covered in dust, head to toe, had my hands crossed over my chest and was wearing a tutu, face mask, bandana, and goggles, I looked dead).

I have to hook my friends up!

I message both, get a text from both, exchange phone numbers and they just got off the phone with each other and my friend who didn’t have a ticket.

Well.

Now he does!

Fabulous.

It can happen like that.

Sometimes, though, I do need to slow down, take it easy, turn off the technology and rest.

It helps me get clear with the things I do need to do and a lot of that has to do with taking extremely good care of myself.

Laundry, grocery shopping, cooking, composting, taking out the trash, meeting with the ladies and doing the deal.

I had two ladies back to back from noon to 2p.m.

But before that.

I did all of those things above.

Plus my own writing and having a nice breakfast (hot oatmeal with diced pear and blueberries, cinnamon, nutmeg, sea salt, raw cocoa, one organic hard-boiled egg, lots of coffee w/unsweetened vanilla almond milk) of my own.

Then later after my last lady bug had left.

I got to have lunch from what I had cooked earlier, dinner too, and I had time to do a field trip.

So.

I opened my NextBus app and saw when the 18 was heading my way.

Richmond bound.

Legion of Honor.

That’s right.

I finally got myself in to see the Brooklyn Museum’s Costume Collection: High Style.

Oh my.

It was so good.

I got all sorts of art high.

House of Worth, Roger Worth evening dresses.

Edward Molyneux evening dresses.

Vionnet.

Givenchy.

Dior.

Yves St. Laurent.

Charles James and the muslims for his ball gowns, breath-taking.

Steven Arpad, for Delman, Inc evening shoes.

Elsa Schiaparelli butterfly day dress and parasol.

I’ll take two please!

Oh fashion, how I do love you.

Plus, you know, the normal galleries with their Monet’s and Pissarro’s, the Rodin sculptures everywhere, the Renoir’s and Manet’s (I like the Impressionists a bit you could say), it was just scrumptious.

The museum was a bit busy, there was also a concert happening–an organ concert by David Hegarty–which I thought about staying for, but it was standing room only and it felt nicer to just wander through the galleries with the sound of the Skinner Organ drifting around me.

I’m ever so grateful for all the tech that this world has, I mean, I am writing a blog and posting it online and sending it out into the inter webs, but I am also a Mensch for the classic, time-worn, much beloved wander through a museum, sit on a bench and listen to an organ concert, admire art, slow and delicious, taking the bus and not riding my bike willy nilly though the park and over the hills.

I believe this is what’s called balance.

Serenity.

It’s a nice place to be in my life.

More please.

Mama Needs A Massage

February 2, 2012

I just realized that I have been pretty drastically on the go again.  Meaning, I need to slow down.  My new space will come together, however, I don’t need to get crazy getting everything right now, right now, right now.

Despite that being on the set list in my brain.

My brain which is toasty warm, thanks to Mrs. Fishkin.  My friends rock.  They do, they do.  Not only did the lovely Mrs. Fishkin lend me her car this afternoon, but she also lent me a little space heater until I get one of my own.

That purchase will be happening this weekend. Along with a microwave, unless I can score one on craigslist in the next few days, which is what I am hoping for.  I got a little mini fridge today.  It is spot on perfect and was just $60.  I took a late lunch, borrowed the Fishkin’s car and cruised over to 24th and Valencia.

Met with Elliot, exchanged money, dropped off said fridge to my place.  I got it out of the hatchback, into the yard and I hosed it off with the neighbors garden hose.  I got back to the shop in 45 minutes.

It was pretty awesome.

I walked to work today.  That ruled.  It was sprinkling out a little and I thought, nah, I don’t want to ride my bike in the rain.  So, I just walked.  It is really nice to have that as an option–walk to work.  It has been years since I have been able to do that.

I ran into friendly faces all day long.  On my walk to work, at work, out and about on errands.  I am getting re-connected to my neighborhood.  It is such a nice feeling.

But I do really need some body work done.  I have that tight constricting feeling in my shoulders and a little bit of a head ache gnawing at me.  I have pushed pretty hard these last few days to get it all in.  I moved and unpacked and organized and I have made two trips to Bed, Bath, and Beyond, two trips to Trader Joes, and one trip to get the fridge.  Plus, I tried to go by Harringtons to pick up my shelf, but they were closed.

Add on to that working at the shop and going to my commitments and I am a tired monkey.  I think it’s all caught up with me and is resting, uncomfortably, on my shoulders.  I cannot remember the last time I got a massage.

Wait!  Yes I can.  It was, oh, this is embarassing, five years ago?  Is that right?  I know I got one on the AIDS LIfeCycle ride, but I don’t think a fifteen minute sports rub down counts.  I need to incorporate some self care into my schedule ASAP.

I wish Osento was still open on Valencia Street.  I would go soak in the hot tub in a heart beat and sit in the wet sauana for a good long time.

What is also a little embarassing, I am realizing as I write, is that I have written a blog similar to this before.  I have written about needing to go get a massage and then not doing it.  Perhaps it is time.

Fuck that.

Perhaps, my bottom.  I will just go and get one.  No perhaps, no maybe, just do some self care Martines.  No one else is going to do it for you!

I think I am going to go to bed early tonight as well.  I feel pretty zonked.  Not sick.  Not like I’m catching something, just that it’s time to allow myself a rest.  A good long sleep.

One in which I will probably dream.  I have been having dreams again.  Not that I don’t always have dreams, but I don’t always wake up during my REM cycle, and I am on my REM cycle again.  The dreams have been quite vivid.

Last night I dreamt about my old kung fu instructor.  The night prior I dreamt of a bartender I used to work with, an old friend who is here in the city, but I haven’t seen him in years.  A few nights prior, I dreamt of my friend Zefrey.  Perhaps it’s the getting settled into my new space.  I don’t know.  I like it though.  I like dreaming.

I’m a dreamy kind of gal.

I’m going to go dream about a massage.


%d bloggers like this: