Posts Tagged ‘trying new things’

Work It Out

January 22, 2015

I’m finding my groove again.

The fog seems to be lifting and my life, rich, full, busy, any other adjective that subscribes to big and content and happy, insert here.

The unfriending of my ex on Facebook was really helpful.

A couple of times during the day I had moments of expecting a call or text and then I thought.


I bet he doesn’t even realize.

Not that it matters if he did.

Because what he thinks of me is none of my business.

My business is me and getting down to the taking care of me that is needed on a daily basis.

Today really was mostly about showing up at work and doing a good job, meeting with a dear heart after work, reading some out of an important piece of literature with her, drinking tea, sharing experience, strength, hope, then going to see some fellows in the neighborhood.

I may have found a new Wednesday night deal.

I am grateful for it.

I also ran into an old friend I have not seen in over a year, some one very dear to me and it was so good to catch up.

I was quite tempted to do a bit a late night fellowshipping with the crew there, head down to Java Beach, play some Cards Against Humanity, but  I knew that I needed to come home, write, eat a little snack and get on with the end of the evening.

It was a long day, but the sadness seems to be lifting and there’s some excitement and I realized, as I left the house with a flower in my hair, glitter socks on my feet, pink lipstick and hot-house blue eyeliner, that I was back.

Here I am world.

And I sparkle.

So get prepared.

I don’t believe I lost myself so much in the relationship that I lost my identity, but I will say, I did tone it down a little and I don’t care that I did that.

Something learned.

God, the past months, all the learning, about myself, not him, myself, that I did.

I have to show up for myself, advocate for my needs, know my needs, know what I like and dislike, realized I am up for some things, but definitely not others, still be wiling to try new experiences.

Some of which I won’t be trying again.

Thank you very much.

And if you want further clarification you best have my phone number because I am not putting that out on my blog.


I don’t write about EVERYTHING here.

Only in my morning pages.

Only in my private notebooks do I write about everything.

Suffice to say, I deserve to give myself props for putting things out there and going the extra bit and trying new things.

I may not be able to hang with a straight pepper diet, but I can still be spicy.

Just saying.

I like that I am also of service to those around me by showing up and being honest with what has happened and letting people in and showing those in my fellowship, in my community, that I didn’t have to do any thing idiotic to negate the experience, or not feel around it.

Although, there was an hour or two, especially on Saturday, when I felt like it was the best I could do to just show up.

If I hadn’t bought tickets to Public Works and invited a bunch of friends, some who came into the city, I would have stayed home and burrowed under the blankets and watched videos.



So very good.

If you haven’t caught it, check it out.  I was very, am very, impressed by it.

End aside.

I realized today that I spent most of Saturday being in a little bit of shock and denial and also a bit of self-deprecation.

Sunday I was emotionally hung over.

Monday I was recovering.

Tuesday I took him off Face Book.

Today I wrote out more stuff, shared it with another, then resolutely turned around and helped another person who was going through the wringer.

That’s what I do.

That’s what works.

And of course, I am tired.

Not exhausted, but tired.

I had a moment at work when I thought, why, despite having Monday off, does this week feel so damn long?



Maybe I didn’t really have a weekend.

I didn’t really have a day off, I was recovering from the break up and going through the feelings and facts are facts, sometimes this work is the harder work than just showing up at my regular day job.

I do the work.

That I have to acknowledge.

To myself, mostly, but it’s not a bad thing to write about.

I really show up and I do the work.

It’s simple.

But not easy.

When I was having an argument in my head this morning while I was making coffee about my Face Book page and what about 90 days with no contact precludes posting on my page and I, uh, you, uh.



Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.

If I am having a conversation with some one who is not in the room with me I need to take some actions.

I sat down and took them, and I felt better.

Fast acting relief.

So grateful it comes at the end of a pen, not a pipe or a straw, or a bottle.

I got balanced out and I was able to go about my day and show up for the delicious little boys I take care of and cook a really nice meal for the family, and go to the park and sit in the sun and listen, really listen to the sounds of the playground while I drank a coffee.

My equilibrium is back.

And I am so grateful for that.

I’m certain there will be more feelings, but they are easing and the forgiveness I have granted myself around the experience and the relief I have of being just me, just my pink sparkly self again, is vast.


It keeps happening.

And all of it.


Is amazing.

Keeping The Home Fires Burning

August 28, 2014

I mean that rather literally.

I am at camp on a night shift so the parents can actually go out and see the creation that they helped put together over the last year and more specifically over the last, uh, um, thirteen days.

I really have no idea how many days I have been out here.

I could try to figure it out, but the fact that I even have the mental capacity to be writing anything like a coherent sentence is rather amazing.

The amount of stimulus out here for the senses, without ANYTHING mind altering, unless you count a lot of ice tea as getting crackin’ with it, is beyond the pale.

There is just so much constantly going on and sometimes I can get some fierce FOMO.

Fear of missing out.

But I also agreed to work a night shift and in return I have tomorrow off.

I am tired and I am ready for bed and I would love to turn in once the blog is done, but who knows how long I will be keeping an eye on things at camp.

It’s not a challenging shift, the little guy is sound asleep, it’s just a matter of staying put and not falling asleep.

I will make a few more trips to the port-a-potties and have another cup of tea or three and eat an apple and write and edit some photographs and then it will be just chilling.

I suppose I could watch a movie, but I don’t have the mental capacity to watch a gnat at this point.

The same goes for reading.

So when I found myself starting to do some internet research I shut it the hell down.

I mean, just downloading a few photos to my facecrack page was more than my little brain seemed capable of having.

But I will say I am excited by the prospect of what I was researching.

I have come to the decision to try, yet again, exploring another career.

And you thought I was done with that.


This time may not be different from any other of the various multitudes of careers I have researched and explored, but I will say it feels different and the amount of positive feedback that I have had from friends out here on playa who I have told of it has been absolutely enormous.

I mean.

Not a single one of them said that sounds idiotic.

I have had ideas about careers and have had them prove pretty damn silly as soon as it came out of my mouth when I told a friend.

So to get the affirmation I received felt very positive and I keep getting goosebumps when I think about it.

I want to go to graduate school and get my PhD in child psychology.


I said it.

I want to do something completely outside the box of my writing and creative life, which I adore and love and cannot imagine not doing, but I feel like those things are only more helpful for what I endeavor to do.


Dr. Martines has one hell of a sexy ring to it.

Does it not?

And as my dear friend from LA, Daddy Don (his playa name) said quite succinctly when I came to his camp and unloaded about a very uncomfortable situation, “you already have seven years of field work, you’re probably overqualified, research it when you get home, and you’ll know if it’s right when you get into school.”


Holy fuck me.

I mean, yeah, I won’t lie, I have consider psychology before, in fact it was one of the majors I looked at before I settled on English Literature, which was really settling when it came down to it.

English Literature, I love you, I always will, but mama needs a career and I don’t want to teach in academia and that’s really what I would have to focus on.

Plus, how many times have I looked at Creative Writing MFA programs?

Iowa Writers MFA program.


Columbia, NYU, UCLA, San Francisco State, the Stegnor Fellowship at Stanford.

Check and double fucking quadruple check.

I also applied to and was turned away from UCSF.

I was so certain at the time that I applied to that program that not only would I get in, that they were also going to give me a full ride.

I believe that’s called hubris.

I have been blocked at all turns.

I have also researched accounting–going so far as to pick up a class at City College of San Francisco to get a taste of it.

I dropped it after twenty minutes into class.

I went to the orientation at SF State to find out about teaching elementary school.

I left the orientation knowing I had no desire to invest anything in the program to only get out and make less money than I did at that time as a nanny.

I went to San Francisco Massage School.

How many times I have had someone say, “you should be a massage therapist! You’re amazing.”

I made it through one class and knew it was not for me.

Though I still love to gift massage and have a number of times on playa this Burning Man.

One could say that I have had quite a few ideas about what or who I should be and it could change, I may find that I don’t want to.


It feels real.

It feels of service.

It feels like a career I could go to school for and still nanny until I was able to set up my own practice.

It feels like something I could actually make a living at and not worry about when pre-school or elementary school starts and then I am ass out having to hustle to find a new family or families.



When I return to San Francisco I will be looking for a full-time gig, if I am going to go to grad school I will be applying for next fall semester and I need to sock some money away.

Working three days a week is not going to cut it.

So, you know someone who has full time needs peep me privately.



And I have a sweet friend out here, the same said friend who saved my ass when I forgot my coffee drip cone in the dish rack and brought me her spare so I could make coffee in camp, who raved about the program she is in.


Got the goosebumps too when I told her what I was considering.

“You would be amazing! Yes! Yes! Yes!”


I have some research to do.

But not tonight.

I am tired and I still have hours to go before my sleep.

I cannot make any headway like that.

Besides there’s a fire or two to sit by while the camp is out playing on the playa.

Happy Wednesday.

Or Tuesday.

Or, fuck, Thursday?

From Burning Man.

Mary Fucking Poppins out.

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