Posts Tagged ‘socializing’

Not Quite So Dark

June 18, 2017

Oh.

For fuck sake.

So here I am trying to be all low-key and down low and not post anything via social media so I stay anonymous.

And.

Um.

hahahahahaha.

Oops.

Turns out I’m completely transparent and known on my own fucking blog.

My “About Me” page had, I say had since I just pulled it down, a photo of me and link, failed link, but still a link, with my gmail account linked to it.

My gmail account is my full name.

Rolls eyes at self.

Ugh.

Fortunately a friend caught it and gave me the heads up.

And the post has been updated to reflect that.

No more photographs of me, no more name on the page.

Just me and my thoughts listening to some Bill Withers.

When I wake up in the morning love and the sunlight hurts my eyes.

…..Just one look at you and I know it’s going to be a lovely day.

Up a little late.

Up a tiny bit wired.

I went to an anniversary party this evening after doing the deal over on Turk and Divisadero this evening and saw a swarm of folks that I hadn’t seen in a while, including one of my best friends who came into the city and my god, it was good.

I had my internship today and lots of errands that I wanted to do and some down time in the afternoon to do laundry and get myself caught up, and I realized that I hadn’t done a good bit of this kind of socializing in a while.

It took me a moment to catch my stride.

I can be charming and funny and outspoken and a character, but the truth is that sometimes I get a bit over my head with social stuff, which is hilarious and most folks have no idea.

I am not going to label myself an introvert or an extrovert, I’m not going to pigeonhole myself, but I will say I felt awkward and I realized it was going to pass and I had a minute to get settled and be in my skin and let it be ok that I was in a big social situation with a lot of people I am acquainted with but perhaps not that close to.

I also needed to be there and be seen and just let myself be not at work or at the internship.

I logged another two hours today at the internship, even went in a little early to do some paper work and get myself situated and eat a lunch quietly in the office before the other interns got there for our session.

I got some good info, gave some good feedback and was mightily pleased that I had clients to talk about.

I am just dipping my toe into the mix and it’s a lot to carry, but I’m starting to do it and I can see that I am doing the thing that I am supposed to do.

Granted when I logged into track my hours I realized that I had done five hours this week, two client hours and three training hours and that my supervisor at the internship wants me to carry a load of 15 hours.

Three times what I did this week.

Sigh.

Granted I may not get up to that speed for a while and there will be times when I’m able to do that and times when I won’t.

I can’t get too focused on it and I also told myself today that in the service of keeping a tiny semblance of sanity that maybe I don’t have to get as many hours as is possible for me to collect while I am in school.

I just need to get the hours required by my program to graduate.

Granted.

I say to myself.

Fuck that shit.

GET IT ALL.

But.

I don’t want to kill myself and I want to have some socializing.

I need face time with people.

I am thinking specifically of a few friends that are just too dear for me to let go of and I will squeeze them in where and when I can and I will be tired and I won’t give a fuck and you only live once and get it.

Get it girl.

Some things may feel overwhelming, but in the day-to-day of it, I’m doing it.

Slowly building up my client base, learning how to be a therapist, learning how to keep loving and taking care of myself and finding those odd hours and minutes in the hollowed spaces of golden sunned afternoon light when I can pause, catch my breath and get hella grateful.

I mean.

Hella.

Grateful.

That I have what I have.

“You look different,” my friend said to me tonight.

And she’s right.

Things in my life have altered in an amazing way and I am beyond myself with happiness and succumbing to all the feelings therein.

Without expectation or thought for future moments.

Ok.

Small white lie, I do have some plans for future travel, but I am trying to really keep it to this day, these scattering of moments, dipped in old school R&B, or Elvis ballads, old love songs and lyrical movements in time, the stars framed by the trees overhead, a snapshot of a moment.

Astounded with beauty.

Awake to every feeling in my body.

And that’s all I can wish for.

This moment.

Where I am alive.

Oh.

And I am so alive.

It is glorious.

Sure.

Might have something to do with the peer pressure cup of coffee I accepted gleefully at the party and perhaps I might have racing thoughts but I have had racing thoughts for weeks now and I am rather used to it and the heart beating in my chest going fast just lets me know how fully alive I am.

It is exquisite and I am unabashed by the feeling of it.

Love.

Love.

That’s where it’s at.

The word that flutters in my chest.

The ache and longing.

The aliveness.

The song on my lips.

The poem in my eyes seeking yours.

The smile that I cannot help but smile.

So fucking good.

This life.

My life.

Luckiest girl in the world.

 

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Hump Day

March 9, 2017

Mid week.

Nice day.

Going to drink a big mug of tea.

Listen to a little jazz.

Write a little blog.

Watch a little video.

And get my last night of full sleep for a few days.

I have a school weekend looming.

I’m totally prepped, all my reading done, my papers written, the mid-term is turned in, via e-mail, and my Trauma paper will get turned in once I hit my first class Friday morning.

I’ve got a big busy week, and as per usual, I won’t have time off for two weeks.

Which I always forget about and then wonder why the fuck I’m tired about mid-way through the second week.

Be that as it may.

I am trying to negotiate time in between the spaces to see folks.

I’m half-assed trying to get a tea time with someone and we both have idiotic schedules.

When I grow up I think what I want to be is retired.

Hahahaahaha.

Fuck me.

I have had my down time this week, what with having my stuff ready for school I’ve had quiet afternoons at work until I have to pick up the kids from school.

The mom has been out with the baby at her office all week and I’ve shown up at the house with nary a soul there, tidied, done the dishes, shopped, got dry cleaning, washed up things, even cleaned out the fridge today, ran to Walgreens, put money on the Clipper card, organized, and done meal prep and planning.

But.

I am efficient and quick and I have had down time.

It’s been nice.

Slightly strange, but nice.

I don’t feel burnt out from work and I also feel really useful.

I am doing a lot for the family and helping a lot, what I have found is my routine with them and that makes my job easier and me more efficient.

Sort of like with school.

Once I got the hang of what I need to do I have been a lot more effective in getting what I need done.

Of course I also chafe a bit at the work that still has to be done.

There is always the work.

Then I think.

That is good.

I’m learning, I’m growing, I’m changing.

The change is good.

I don’t always notice it either, but change is constantly happening.

Like.

Turning down an offer to hang out with someone right now.

Part of me is like.

HANG OUT.

The other part of me is like.

Fuck no.

Don’t screw with your last night of full sleep before your weekend of classes.

There was a time when I would have been all like, fuck that, I’m kicking it with this dude, but frankly, unless I’ve kicked it before and know the direction that it is going, it’s too late to just be like, come over, have tea, see what happens.

If it were a lover.

Well.

Different scenario.

You wouldn’t be reading this blog.

But a semi-casual hang out that might have potential is not enough to get me to get out of my comfort zone.

I guess you could say that I’m old.

But.

I think, no, it’s rather, that I have priorities and school is a big one.

I want to meet with people and spend time and date and all that, but unless you’re a good friend, I can’t make a lot of spontaneous mid-week hang out plans.

I have to schedule that shit.

I wish it were different, but then again, I know how lucky I am to get to go to grad school.

The fact that I have a job that let’s me have off on Fridays for class is huge.

I’m not going to jeopardize that, nor that I have to show up and be in form.

Life is going to happen and I won’t always be on task or I will have a date that I have to go on or an experience to pursue that is not congruent with school.

Tonight, however, I’m being a good girl.

And I’m actually pretty proud of myself for that.

I am worth making time for.

I also want to make sure that I am making time for people in my life who are my friends, to keep nurturing those relationships through this whole process.

“You’ll know your real friends by the time you are done with grad school,” she told me at the beginning of the whole process.  “You’ll lose a lot of fair weather friends, but the people who love you will stick with you, and you’ll find that when the opportunity strikes you can spend time with people.  Your friends will understand.”

I fucking hope so.

Because it has been hard.

I miss people.

I miss my friends.

I miss socializing.

I miss not being able to be as spontaneous as I’d like.

Then again.

I don’t miss not having an idea of what I was going to do when I “grew up.”

I don’t miss thinking that being a nanny for the rest of my life is all that I would be.

I don’t miss not having goals that were going to propel me further in this life.

I’m alright with the sacrifice of time.

It’s a dear cost, but I am willing to pay and hopefully when it’s all said and done, when I graduate and I’m just doing the hours to get my licensure I’ll be able to reconnect and pick back up with people.

I have faith.

I know I’m on the path I’m supposed to be on.

I know that without any kind of doubt in my mind or heart.

I’m doing the right thing and I’m happy to be doing so.

So.

Let’s make plans and yes, I might have to book out weeks in advance, but I can do that.

Spur of the moment late night tea time may not happen.

Then again.

It might.

Let’s just keep in touch.

I’ll give you what I can.

I tell myself it will be enough.

Because.

It will be.

Damn it.

 

Carmen

March 5, 2017

That is an unusual name.

My driver said to me before dropping me off.

“Yes,” I replied, “I am lucky to have it.”

I am too.

I love my name and there are days I feel like I live up to it and there are days when it takes on its own persona, its own life and I’m a little like, hey, who the hell are you?

Sort of like my blog.

I am not all here, no, I’m not.

There are things I don’t write about and there are things I do write about.

Which is just how it is.

I have learned over the years of writing to keep the focus on me and I have a strong tendency to want to wrap up whatever I’m writing with something pithy, with some solution, with some sort of aha moment.

I had a sort of aha moment today where I just wanted to scoop my brain out of my head and throw it out into the rain.

I was struggling in yoga.

I just wasn’t feeling it, it was a substitute teacher and she had a different way of doing things, and different isn’t bad, though my head may try to tell me that it is, it’s just different, that’s all, and I can struggle getting someone else’s routine down.

I wasn’t doing a lot of compare and despair but I was a little and I felt sort of janky and jangly and out of my element and as I was lying in the final pose, corpse pose, yeah, that was definitely me after class today, dead, but alive, my brain hadn’t rested much, churning out the good time music and the chaos, I began to obsess about how I wasn’t doing enough yoga and that I had to figure out how to do more yoga.

All this while doing yoga.

BRAIN.

Please.

Can you stop.

Please.

You’re killing me smalls.

Seriously.

At least I was able to find the humor in it.

It was funny and so typical of what my head does, I had to laugh.

Especially when I shared it later today with my person.

We met at Tart to Tart, did some reading, I got a good check in, some suggestions and felt a lot better about my kookoo brain than I had before I walked in.

Then I met with another lady and felt better after that.

And I ended up skipping on getting my nails done and just headed home on the train.

Which was nice, facilitated having a phone call with a dear friend of mine that I have been out of touch with.

Which led to making plans to see said friend.

Super grateful for that.

And a slow day here at the house thereafter.

I did a tiny bit of grocery shopping at the co-op and did some preliminary scouting work on my mid-term paper that I have to write tomorrow for my Couples Therapy class.

But.

I was just not in a mood or place to do any homework.

I now what I have to do tomorrow and I’m going to get it done, but today, I just couldn’t muster the energy to do it.

My friend and I had talked about how lonely school can be and how hard it is to balance full-time work with full time school and full time recovery.

And it is.

It is a lot.

And I miss my friend.

And I miss socializing.

So when we talked I could see my calendar in my head and I double checked, and yes, there, a day where we can meet and hang out and catch up.

I also let myself off the hook to do anything super productive today, just to let myself have a chill day, especially after the trauma of going to the dentist last Saturday.

So.

I bought myself some flowers at the store and I did some art.

Just messed around with my colored pencils for a while, but it was nice, listening to jazz, John Coltrane, listening to the rain all outside, listening to the scratch of the pencil on the paper.

Soothing.

And when the time was time I ordered a car and headed out to 1100 Divisadero and hung out with an hour in a room with some fellows.

Then.

Yes.

I did it.

I fellowshipped.

I was uncomfortable, I always am at the beginning of it, then I got into it and I felt more connected and it was nice, I don’t always know how to act in social gatherings and I can still be really awkward, but I am working it out and better awkward with friends, burgeoning friends, than cozy and alone.

Not that there’s anything wrong with being alone.

But I can get alone too often.

And I need to be social, I am a social creature, I am a human with needs for connection.

I can just get in my way sometimes and get too caught up in trying to figure out when I can get to do more yoga.

Which is me trying to figure it out, trying to manipulate, trying to control and manage my life, which I have proven over and over and over to myself that I am not the best management team for myself.

Yet.

I still try.

My brain is a pushy little beast.

I have some great respect for that tenacity, but sometimes the tenaciousness of it is wearing.

And like I said, when I’m doing yoga while trying to figure out how to do more yoga I know that it is too meta for me and not in a good way.

I am in my will and when I’m there, well, I’m watching the horror show.

I got to practice changing the channel today and it was pretty damn good.

Reality.

It really is the best show in town.

Seriously.

 

Slip Into Something More Comfortable

February 13, 2017

Like my bunny slippers.

Yes.

Baby.

Ooh.

That feels so good.

I wore my new Fluevogs today, my interview shoes, all day at school.

Loads of compliments, but they are not quite broke in yet and I realized when I got home, yeah, time to take them off, and slide into my slippers.

Happy feet.

Happy heart.

I got to see my cohort out in style today.

I gave everyone a Valentines Day card.

Felt really good and sweet and I love to spread the love.

I do.

It’s just who I am and I am glad to know it, to have it in my heart, to show it, to accept it when it comes back too.

I also got to have lunch with my friends in cohort, catch up, share stories, be together, be seen and after I got out I ran a quick errand then caught a late afternoon coffee, decaf thank you, with a lady and do some work showing up for each other in honesty and good faith.

Then.

Go speak.

And.

Do the deal.

Then have dinner with another friend who unexpectedly came to the spot and that was a gift, I am so grateful for my friends.

So grateful.

It was really good to catch up with my friend at dinner and we could have hung out for hours more, but ah yes, the work week calls, it’s not quite so siren song.

I mean, I suppose it is a siren song, I can’t ignore it, but I can lament, a tiny bit the end of the weekend the coming of the work.

Though.

I am grateful too for that.

I am.

I really like my new job and it feels good to look forward to work and to look forward to seeing the family, to look forward to helping them and seeing how big the baby has gotten over the weekend and to cook for them.

Such gifts.

So much life.

I am just in a super happy, serene place.

I am also well fed, hydrated, showered and have had sweet, smart company today.

Life.

You could say.

Is good.

Very good.

All life is good I am grateful to be alive.

Period.

If life were fair.

I have said many, many times.

I would be dead.

But.

I am still here, still making a go at it, still learning, and loving and changing.

I have plenty to get ready for this next week, school stuff mostly, I have to get my paper work in order for the next steps in my practicum process, but I talked to my advisor today and was very excited by his excitement for me and for getting placed.

I’m a little a head of the curve in regards to the rest of the cohort, and there is no judgment there, I just knew I needed to be in position to get what I needed to take care of myself.

But I must continue to be proactive and take the next small steps.

I will give myself a day or two to breathe and come down from the weekend of classes before I leap back into the work, at least tomorrow, at least one day of down time, not taking my books to work, just easing into the work week.

Which may not feel easy in my brain since I am going to ask off for Burning Man dates, but that too is just asking a question, I just have expectations.

When I can let go of the expectation though, and just know that I am going to be wherever God wants me to be, usually in a pace of maximum service then I know I am going to be ok.

I ask.

I let go of the results.

Of course.

I want to go so it feels loaded, when ever my wants are on the table it can bring up fear.

I’m not going to get what I want or I’m going to lose something I already have.

I’d rather ask in faith, knowing that whatever the outcome, I’m taken care of.

I’m going to Paris in May for fucks sake, I get to go on vacation, I’ll be starting my internship, I have a job, I have a home to live in, I have nice shoes and clothes, I have my scooter.

I am taken care of.

Heck.

I have a tax return returning.

It’s pretty good, this life of mine, really, superb.

I feel that my little blog is a bit rambling tonight, but I have to give myself some credit, I have gotten up early every day for the last three days, shown up prepared and did the work in my classes.

I did a lot of work.

Lots of emotional work.

Lots of staying in the moment work.

Lots of dyad work.

I may allow myself to be a little all over the place, I just feel so content and blissed out on having gotten to see my friends, both in school and out of school, to have had some social engagement, to feel like life is not just all work and recovery and school, there are these wonderful beings called friends that want to see me and spend time with me and how lucky am I?

Hella lucky.

Hella grateful.

And yes.

Hella tired.

My bed beckons.

I bid you adieu.

Bon nuit.

Bon soir.

Trop gros bisous pour toi.

A demain mes amies!

J’aime toi beaucoup.

xo

Much Better Now

November 5, 2016

I opted out of dancing tonight.

I opted out of a girl’s dinner.

I just wanted to go home.

It was a long day.

LONG.

It was a hard day at work and despite wanting to process the shit out of it here, it’s not my business to share.

Suffice to say it’s been a challenging week and I’m super grateful it’s done.

I went to do the deal after work and just felt at peace, sitting in a folding chair in a church and listening.

Sharing.

Letting go.

Solution is not trying to figure out what I need to do next, it’s just doing the next thing in front of me.

And despite wanting to socialize a little, I really just wanted to come home.

Yes.

I know.

It’s called isolation.

I just needed to recoup myself from the week.

I will go fellowship tomorrow night.

I will.

I already promised myself that I would.

And I really like the spot that folks go to on Saturday night after my thing with the people who got that problem like, wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

They head up to Brenda’s, a soul food place with fried chicken and grits and lemon pie on saltines cracker crusts.

I can’t eat much.

But I did have a damn nice bowl of red beans and rice with andouille sausage last week.

And.

Conversation and lightness and sweetness.

Which I need.

I do also have a date tomorrow.

I know.

Like I said.

Word got out I have a membership to the MOMA.

He messaged me last week while I was people watching in the cafe and sipping my coffee.

I agreed to a date for the following Saturday, which is tomorrow.

I’m not real hopeful, to tell the truth.

Not to be pessimistic, it’s just that I don’t see it as sustainable.

He doesn’t live in town.

Story of my mother fucking life.

Ha.

Albeit, he’s not super far away, 22 miles, 25 miles, where the fuck is Menlo Park anyway.

Anyway, he works in San Francisco, thus the connect, so I figured, oh, just fucking practice, just go out.

I could have gone out tonight, I could be dancing right now, but I did, I did, I did, just needed to come home, to take a scalding hot shower, to take care of myself, to let the week slide of my shoulders and down the drain.

Sometimes it’s easier for me to commit to going out on a Saturday then it is a Sunday, I’m realizing this, as I write, maybe that’s what I will suggest, next time let’s make plans for Saturday.

I’m not so beat from the work week.

I realized today too.

I have been working more hours than I did last semester.

The new family that I split my time with has asked me fairly consistently to work an extra hour here, and extra half hour there.

Mondays I work 9 1/2 hours to 10 hours.

I’ve been working more, of course I am a little more tired.

And I have not gotten as much reading done as I need to do.

But I’m not here to beat myself up.

Yes.

There’s some hulking big papers on the horizon and I sort of don’t give a fuck.

I’ll write them, I’ll get a bit anxious, and then I’ll do the work, like I always do.

Always.

I have two papers due for the next round of classes.

One I will write on Sunday.

The other I will write next Saturday and Sunday–it’s a big one and will probably take me two days to kick through it.

Which is fine.

I will have a clear weekend and another week to knuckle down on the reading.

Tomorrow is probably my last day to have any “free time.”

I’m going to get up and do my morning routine and writing.

I am going to scooter to my nail place and get a manicure.

I’ll go on my MOMA coffee date and see what happens.

Depending on timing I may go grocery shopping before I hit up my 7p.m. commitment.

I really don’t think the date will go that long.

I’m not trying to jinx it either, just, I don’t have expectations.

Which means I won’t have resentments.

Fingers crossed.

I don’t resent my decision tonight either.

Both offers, the dinner and the dancing were last-minute invites.

I hadn’t made plans to do anything tonight, so it wasn’t like I committed and now I’m feeling sorry for myself.

Nope.

Happy to be home listening to my G. Love and Special Sauce.

Because sometimes I need to go back in the day.

I had an ex-boyfriend in my early twenties who was a huge G. Love fan.

He introduced me to them and once in a while he would amuse the hell out me singing about his “baby’s got sauce,” it always made me laugh.

I was with him for five years.

Longest relationship of my life.

And it’s been a long time since.

It’s still hard for me to believe that.

I can allow that to make me sad.

Or.

I can celebrate all the wild and winsome adventures I have gotten to have because I was able to go, sure, I can go to Burning Man.

Paris.

Rome.

New York.

Los Angeles.

Sure.

Let me have that adventure.

I’m down for a road trip.

A side trip.

A walk in the woods, along the creek, underneath the moon or the bright sunshine.

I was riding my scooter home along the park, Golden Gate Park, I always ride home along the park, and I was pondering to myself how I felt.

Did I feel like I was self-sabotaging?

I mean how am I supposed to meet people if I just come home from doing the deal after work on a Friday?

Then I rounded the corner that ends the Pan Handle and begins the long slide of park toward the sea and I saw something glowing through the trees.

What is that?

I looked up.

Is that a kite?

NO!

Oh my God.

It was the moon, a slice, a thick buttery slip of crescent blooming golden buttercup through the pines.

My heart just jumped.

How small my concerns, my worries.

How silly.

When there is a moon like that sailing through the trees.

In the scheme of things me not going out dancing is so small it is fucking laughable.

I take my shit way too serious.

I let the moon glide me home along the road, the mist of the sea rising to meet me as I zipped along, light and joyous and thankful for all that I have.

So much.

So much love.

So much gratitude.

So much.

I have.

It astounds.

Really.

It does.

 

You’re Such A Nanny

June 10, 2016

My friend chuckled after I admitted that I almost offered him a graham cracker.

“Hey, do you want a gra….oh my god.”

I laughed.

I was so my job at the moment.

I was also just excited to be talking to adults that weren’t the parent of my charges.

Like just my peeps on the street.

I got a text asking what I was doing and where I was and I replied at the playground, my friend knows the one, and there until swimming lessons and the farmers market and laundry had to be got done.

I had already made the roasted cauliflower and vat of broccoli soup during the earlier part of the day.

It was a super sweet surprise to get to hang out with my friend and his lady, also my friend, these are your friends/here are your friends/these are your friends, and it was just a special quick moment of getting to be relaxed and playful with my charges and catch up a little with my friends.

I am so lucky to have the friends I do.

It has taken awhile.

Some relationships get let go.

Some become stronger.

Sometimes I have a friend for a few years then they disappear for a while.

That always makes me sad.

But.

There’s not much I can do except focus on getting what I need for myself and letting that friend do what he or she has got to do to get back to where I am at.

Some do.

A lot don’t.

So the ones that stick.

Fuck.

They are important.

They are cherished.

Plus.

Despite my apparent transparency here.

I don’t have a ton of close friends.

I have enough.

I have just what I need.

I am not complaining.

I am grateful for the amazing friends in my life.

I just am not quite so popular as my facecrack page would like you to believe.

Sometimes I just can’t keep up with it all, the events, the parties, the things, the doings the goings, but I try to keep up with a select few.

And that makes me very happy.

To know that I have friends in my life.

I am a social animal even though I try to act like I’m some sort of lone wolf.

So.

I am quite happy to have a coffee date this weekend, some doing the deal with three different ladies, and a dinner date with a friend who is just had a really big anniversary.

Plus.

I feel good because tomorrow is Friday and I’m almost through my first full time work week after school has let out.

I am getting used to getting up early again and being at the house in the mornings.

I am also happy because I had a little epiphany in the shower when I got home tonight after doing the deal.

I was laughing to myself about the graham cracker offer at the park and then I recalled a brief conversation I had once with an acquaintance years ago.

I was nannying.

Shocker.

It was an afternoon in the Mission and the parents I worked for were hella cool about letting me take there kids everywhere.

Even church basements.

And as I sat in the spot, the metal folding chair more comfortable than the crap running through my brain which was why I was there during the work day instead of after the work day had finished, one of my monkeys was getting fussy.

So I took him out of the stroller and nestled him on my shoulder and crooned to him and rocked him until he fell asleep, heavy in my arms, completely warm, soft, a puddle of love, all collapsed on my shoulders.

I hummed a lullaby under my breath.

I have two go to’s–the classic “Hush Little Baby” and one I made up that consists of a couple of bars that I hum.

I couldn’t tell you what key it’s in.

Perhaps the key of gratitude.

But.

It’s affective.

I cannot tell you how many babies, toddlers, children I have hummed that little ditty to, rocked to sleep, held through teething bouts, calming them down at the park after a scraped knee or a startled dropped plate shatters on the floor.

I would later, much later, realize, fuck I am dense, hit on me after the deal was wrapped up.

“I don’t know that I have ever envied a two year old more,” he said to me, eyes a twinkle, “what I wouldn’t give to be held in your lap having you sing me a lullaby.”

God damn it.

Even writing that I can tell he was hitting on me.

I however, was busy bundling the monkey back into the stroller and keeping the other one, I specialize in nanny shares and almost always do double duty, busy with the snacks and the milk.

I tucked the blankets around them and smiled.

I walked away.

And I wonder why I am single.

Gah.

Anyway.

Total digression.

All this in a flash in the shower, the lullaby, the song, the oh!

Oh!

Oh!

I got it.

I got it!

Lullabies and Love Songs.

My book!

Er.

Well, my chap book.

I’m not sure how much I’m going to get, but it has been needling at me to put together a group of poems.

Hmm.

Or should it be.

Love Songs and Lullabies?

Not sure.

But.

I want to gather my materials.

I have tons of poems scattered through out my notebooks.

I want to go through them and find the pearls.

There’s a lot of dross.

But there is gold too.

I will also mine this blog.

I have some poems tucked in here too.

I got super excited.

I have something to report on for the podcast and I have a real sense of it.

I can see it very well.

And I want it.

I want to do this.

Lullabies and Love Songs.

That’s the one.

That sounds good coming out of my mouth.

Oh.

Happy.

I like having a creative goal and I don’t know that I’m ready to go back in and try and re-work my book yet.

I also do want to find one of my old short stories.

I have an idea to polish it up and submit it to Glimmer Train for their emerging authors contest.

I have had a short story published, but the circulation, I’m pretty freaking sure, was under 5,000, which was the cut off to be considered for the contest.

Anyway.

I am going to do this.

I usually do.

When I put it here.

This blog.

My blueprint.

My happy.

My graham cracker.

Heh.

My crumble bum muse, tumbled out like grains of sand from the park expedition, harmonies of love and joy and the sweet hands of a little boy riding my shoulders calling my name out gleefully as we stride down Valencia street.

Can’t ask for more

My life.

So.

Fucking.

Good.

Excuse Me Waiter

April 2, 2016

There’s a nanny in my soup.

Ugh.

Or soup in the nanny.

Or.

Ha.

Soup all over the nanny.

It’s Friday and of course the weekend is ramping up and there’s a bunch of motion and hustle and bustle and the dog is under foot and the dad’s grilling veggies in the back yard and the mom’s getting ready to go out and the boys are hungry and I was going too fast.

Trying to assuage the three and three-quarters year old, “CARMEN, I’m hungry, I want milky, bread and butter, bread and butter, bread and butter!” heat up my own dinner, get the toast ready for the soup, slice up some apple, get the meds ready for the older boy, and manage to unload the dishwasher all at the same time.

Sometimes.

Well.

I take on too much.

And kersploosh!

The container of broccoli soup splashes out and all over me.

I had broccoli soup down my bra.

Now.

I have had sand in my bra.

Cheerios.

I have had small children wipe runny noses on my shoulders.

I have had babies burp milk, yes, breast milk, freshly pumped by mom, in my hair.

That’ll teach you.

I started wearing my hair up pretty much right after that incident.

I have been peed on, farted on, vomited on.

I have had milk spilt on me, water, fruit juice.

Melted ice cream.

But never.

No.

Not in all my years of being a nanny, over 9 now, but who’s counting.

Have I ever had a container of broccoli soup dumped over my body.

It was like that Nickolodeon thing where they drop the green goo all over you.

It was cold.

Thank God or I would be blogging from the ER.

When I make it, I blend it hot after a full roiling boil of ten minutes so that the broccoli is super tender and easier to blend.

The mom loves my soup so much I make quadruple batches of it.

Usually enough to get through the week and over the weekend.

I suspect I will be making more broccoli soup when I go to work on Monday.

Oh well.

Broccoli soup in my socks.

That could be a great band name.

Broccoli soup on my leggings, on my jean shorts, in and on my nanny clogs.

Thank God for the dog.

SERIOUSLY.

Broccoli soup all over the fridge too and on the floor.

It was a great big mess.

I made light of it, I got it cleaned up with much help from the dad.

I got most of the soup off my clothes.

But.

I was two and a half hours out from the end of the day and the mom had plans and the dad was still working and well.

Gah.

I spent the rest of my day at work smelling like broccoli.

I was channeling Dana Carvey on SNL and chopping broccoli like no ones business.

I stank.

Of course, no one said so and when I went to do the deal, I was warmly welcomed, hugged, and loved on, but I felt awful.

My belly was moist from soup and my bra felt sticky and my socks were green.

Then someone walked in with no shoes on and abscesses all over his arms.

And.

Well.

I was just fine.

Granted.

Happy to get on my scooter after ward and get myself home and into a very hot shower, but fine, really, nobody needed to cry over spilt soup, let alone I.

I think I rolled with it pretty well.

It’s funny, though, sometimes the small stuff can get me the worst.

It is also a great reminder to me to slow the fuck down.

I don’t need to go anywhere this weekend fast.

Despite what my brain says.

And it wants to holler at me.

“YOU GOT WORK TO DO BITCH! GET ON IT!”

Hey.

Shhh.

Thanks for sharing.

I got this.

“I am so glad you are taking a break and doing something social,” my dear, darling, much missed doctor friend told me on the phone as we briefly caught up and confirmed that we would be seeing each other at the birthday party tomorrow.

I am so excited to see her.

Like.

Way excited.

I also confirmed that I would be able to make her son’s first birthday party, in fact, it will be a sweet little reunion of sorts with three of my friends and a very special reminder of the time that we spent at Burning Man just a few years back.

I will be letting myself have some nice social time tomorrow.

I might freak out about the amount of work I have yet to do, there’s more reading than I want to be acknowledging–a chapter of a book got uploaded for one of my classes and it’s far longer than I was expecting–and my Ethics class has a little more reading than I was expecting, but I got an good solid hour today in this morning as well as my morning routine.

And the papers will get written.

They always do.

I saw a friend on facecrack that just turned in her dissertation for her PhD and I was like, shit, I don’t have time for that, how am I ever going to get to that point.

And it was such a clear signal for me to slow down.

Appreciate what I do have.

First.

I don’t smell like broccoli soup anymore.

Second.

I get to connect with my friends tomorrow.

I am also going to do some nice self-care and get my mani/pedi on and an eyebrow wax.

I will do the deal.

I may do some yoga too.

Depends on how early I want to get up.

Either way.

I am making sure I get eight hours of sleep.

I am not scrimping on my sleep.

Or on my recovery.

Nope.

And I’m not fucking writing a dissertation right now either.

Just a couple, er, three, papers.

I’ll be ok.

It’s ok.

I’ve probably already spent more time being anxious about writing the papers then I will actually spend time on writing the papers.

Because.

That’s what I do.

That too, is just fine.

Tonight is not the night to beat myself up.

Not that there ever really is a good time for that.

Tonight is the night to be grateful to be clean, that I have laundry on site, free, not coin-op, that I have had a superb hot shower and I am wearing my favorite lotion and smell heavenly.

I have another cup of tea queued up and hour to wind down and relax.

Tomorrow can wait.

I just have today.

And today.

Was perfect.

Broccoli soup and all.

 

All Things Challenging

May 4, 2014

I did them today.

I tried on jeans.

I rode my scooter all over the city, day and night.

I went to brunch with ladies.

I told a guy that I like that I was attracted to him and should he want to go out for coffee to let me know.

I blushed.

At the last one, anyhow.

But I did it.

Sigh.

Such relief, doing these things, these challenging things, these silly things that make up being alive.

I feel right alive I do.

The scooter ride back home tonight, glorious, smooth traffic, up and over hills, not Castro, but I did do Church and I cannot relate how amazing that view was coming up over the top of Church Street, the dark bowl of Dolores Park just below me to the thick sprinkling of lights downtown to the drape of white ropes flickering on the Bay Bridge.

Amazing.

Then I remembered the first time I ever took a scooter ride along Lincoln Ave, it was about nine years ago and I was on the back of a friends Vespa heading out to the beach.

Never in a thousand years did I imagine that I would one day be taking the same ride, at night, on my own Vespa.

Nope.

That had not occurred to me to even want.

And yet, there I was flying down the road with the stars ahead, the smell of the ocean pulsing over me, the wind whipping by, on my way home from a long, wonderful, life changing day, in the smallest most wonderful ways, to my little spot by the sea.

I woke up this morning a tiny bit on the cranky side, but put a little breakfast in me and some good coffee, write a few pages, meditated a little, get right with God, and the next thing you know, all feels good in the world, and I can do this.

What ever this is.

The first thing on that list of “this” was to put air in my scooter’s front tire, I planned on riding it out all day long and needed it to be performing at it’s best.

I filled up the tire, wiped down the Vespa with a soft cloth, and checked to see how the gas was holding up–just fine.

I gathered the things for my day, including a bunch of clothes that I was taking to a clothing swap a friend of mine was hosting in the outer Noe Valley neighborhood–off Church Street and 30th.

I just realized, I took my longest scooter ride to date, just getting over there.

I did have it broke down into two legs, I had a pit stop to make in the Inner Sunset, and met up to do the deal at Tart to Tart at 7th and Irving.

I got to sit, have a coffee, shake the crazy out of my head, get some perspective, get encouraged to show up and have a fun time with my friends and maybe even get some clothes.

I had absolutely no doubt in my mind I was going to come away with nothing (nothing being two new pairs of pants, a new hat, and a great new scarf) and that I was not going to have any fun whatsoever.

I had a great time.

Caught up with the hostess and got to congratulate her on her new position at work and hear about her travels, re-connected with a friend who I hadn’t seen in some time, and yes, score some clothes.

I was standing looking at a shirt when a mutual friend walked in with a stack of pants and a bag of shirts, took one look at me, and said, “Carmen, you should try these pants on, I think they’ll fit, and they’re brand new, I never wore them.”

What.

I was loath to drop trou, but when I saw them, I thought, hmm, she could be right.

Now I have the hardest time finding jeans that fit and that I feel comfortable in.

Not only did the fit, they fit fantastically, and, hahahaha, they’re “skinny” fit.

The jeans had some stretch in them and they made it over my bicycle calves and thighs and hugged my butt in the most sassiest of manners, I was blown away, all the girls applauded, and I have a new pair of jeans.

Amazing.

That was not on my agenda.

In fact, I also scored a pair of cords that I wouldn’t have tried on either, but a friend insisted and she was right, they fit, and they matched the outfit I was wearing.

Two pairs of pants in one fell swoop and they’re free?

And there was bacon at the brunch.

Hello.

Happy Saturday.

I stayed, sipped tea, caught up with my friend and felt so much gratitude for going, yes the pants were awesome to get, but so was the human connection.

I can and will isolate at the drop of the hat.

To make myself known and available to friends, and female ones at that, is a big, big deal for me.

I left feeling free and open and, well, well dressed, I never took off the jeans, I put my old ones in the messenger bag, and zipped off on the Vespa to Noe Valley where I had some business to attend to.

A little grocery shopping.

A box of salad to eat at the coffee shop.

Fellows to hang out with.

A little bit of reading and some experience sharing with another woman.

And then up the hill a bit further to do more of my Saturday night thing.

“What are you doing,” my friend said to me as I hemmed and hawed and packed my messenger bag and re-packed it.

“Getting up the nerve to tell a guy I find him attractive and does he want to go have coffee sometime,” I said.

He wasn’t supposed to be here, he never comes here on Saturdays, what the heck is he doing here?

I was just talking about him earlier, how is he here?

My friend smiled, “you look like you’re hiding,” she said astutely.

“I am hiding!” I admitted it.

If there had been room in my messenger bag to crawl in, I would have done it.

“I’m going to go, so you can do your thing,” she said, gave me a hug, and then I spent some more time fumbling around while he spoke to a mutual acquaintance five feet away.

Unpack, re-pack, re-arrange messenger bag.

Adjust scarf, take off scarf, re-adjust scarf, take off hat, ruffle hair, stuff hat in bag, oh God, what does my helmet head look like?

“Hey are you going with the guys,” he turned and asked me.

“I uh, no, I have to get my groceries home,” I said.

Lame!

Lame!

Lame!

“Let me know when you guys go dancing again, you didn’t go last night did you?”

“No,” I said, “did not, but I will, let you know, that is.”

Oh my god, help me, please.

“Ok, you have a good night,” he said and started walking away.

“T______,” I bleated out, “wait, uh, I, uh, come here, for a second.”

He turned, walked back to me and I rambled out the most goofy, off kilter, silly, I’m not good at this, but I find you really attractive and you make me laugh, and if you ever want to have coffee and laugh with me or at me, or, um, have coffee, I already said that, and I don’t know if you’re interested or available, but uh, yeah.

Or something like that.

I was blushing.

I think he might have blushed.

He said, “that’s very sweet, and good to know, thank you for telling me.”

He smiled.

I smiled.

Ok.

He walked away to join his friends.

And sigh.

Done.

Doesn’t even have to go anywhere.

I got it out and it won’t sit on my chest any longer.

Dispelling the fantasy.

I don’t believe he’s actually available and he might not be interested, and it doesn’t even matter.

I am so proud of myself.

Socializing, brunch’ing, trying on jeans in front of a room full of women, asking a guy out, getting on my Vespa and tackling the mean streets of San Francisco–have you seen the hills here?

Doing all things challenging.

Aka

Living.

 

 


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