Posts Tagged ‘work commute’

Gearing Up

January 7, 2017

For the weekend.

I got stuff to do people.

Places to go.

French friends to reconnect with.

Plans to make.

Plans that may be changing.

I may postpone my trip to Paris in May, my friend won’t be going back the time we had originally made plans on being there together, she’s made some suggestions and we are going to get together tomorrow in the afternoon and hash it out.

Oh.

I’m still going.

There is absolutely no doubt about that.

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

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

She wants to show me and I am all in.

We just have to push it back a little bit.

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

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

There will be travel.

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

I have parked my scooter and covered her up.

It’s going to rain.

And it’s going to rain a fucking lot.

For over a week.

Oh well.

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

Yup.

That’s next weekend.

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

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

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

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

Then a manicure.

Then lunch with my friend.

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

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

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

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

Because that shit has to get done.

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

I mean.

Fuck.

I already am.

I have reading assigned for all my classes.

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

So yeah.

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

I will not be out running amok.

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

But you know.

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

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

It is just so much faster than the trains.

I finally figured out the fastest way to work today.

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

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

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

It’s fun to discover stuff.

And the new job continues to be quite lovely.

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

Even though today was a little hard.

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

I saw the boys today.

Oh, hello tears.

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

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

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

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

He still does.

He means so much.

I said his name.

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

Then.

“CARMEN!”

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

So very hard.

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

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

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

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

I saw the old mom.

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

I did.

I nodded.

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

Ugh.

Slight pause to clean off my glasses.

Tear splatters.

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

And.

Oh.

God.

His face.

All the emotions dancing across his face.

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

I smiled.

He smiled back.

Then he grinned.

Then he ran to me.

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

Saved that all for right now.

Ha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asked very solemn.

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

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

It was a good day.

A little sad.

A lot tender.

But a good day.

And I’m grateful for all the feelings.

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

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

She’s an insightful person.

We get along quite well, I have to say.

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

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

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

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

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

Saved by the dinner time bell.

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

It was a good week.

I am glad.

My tears have dried.

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

I can love and miss the boys.

And.

I can be excited and happy for the new job.

And grateful for all of it.

All the feels.

All the things.

All the love.

Yes, love.

All the love.

It is so very, very good.

Even when it hurts.

Even then.

Seriously.

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Train Time

January 4, 2017

I took a lot of trains today.

Five to be exact.

I don’t mind the trains, but man, the extra time to be in commute.

Ugh.

However.

The weather was not conducive in any way, shape, or form, for me to be on my scooter, no way.

If I’m having a hard time walking in the wind and rain, I cannot imagine what being on my scooter would have been like today.

When I got up this morning I basically threw the cover on my bike and settled into the idea of calling for a car.

Except.

My new employer texted and said, hey we won’t need you for another hour, don’t come in until 11 a.m.

So.

I had plenty of time to take the train.

And it was not as long as I thought it would be.

I had guessed an hour and a half to an hour and 45 minutes.

It was an hour ten minutes.

But still.

Considering that on my scooter it would be about 20-25 minutes, it felt like eternity.

I also brought the kids home from school on the train and then rode the train back from work to doing the deal and after that, finally, home.

I feel a little blown out from all the trains.

Granted.

I got a good idea of what one of my duties was going to be picking up the kids from school and I’m grateful for that experience as I will be out in the world and able to have some time away from the house and were it not raining, a trip to the park, to the library, to Glen Canyon, to all sorts of places.

I may have spent a few moments in the bathroom at work crying today.

I won’t say I didn’t.

But.

I know that once I get used to the job and the commute and the newness of it starts to fade, I am really going to like my job.

I am going to have a lot more autonomy, a lot more freedom and a lot more space than I did in my previous job.

I am super grateful for that.

And I also feel so very welcomed in the family.

The mom gave me a big hug tonight when I left, “I really feel like I want to hug you,” she said with her big, spacious, sincere blue eyes.

We hugged.

It was nice.

It is nice.

It’s still hard.

It’s just day two.

It might be hard for a little while.

It might be weird for a little while.

It might be awkward for a little while.

Might.

Ha.

It will be.

And that is ok.

I can see that it will also become easier, when I get a routine, when the family has a routine, hell, the baby is four days old, there is no routine yet, dad’s home from work, friend from out-of-town is there helping with baby, new nanny, first day back to school today, I’m surprised there wasn’t more crazy than there was.

The crazy was mostly in my head.

The family is super warm and very inviting and caring and lovely.

I mean it.

Really lovely.

We haven’t set up the payroll stuff yet and the mom and I talked about that a little bit today when I first came in.

She wanted me to know that should it fall through the cracks this week that I would just get a check and that it would get set up and that I would be taken care of.

She also said that I would get the hours I needed, that they would pay me for the set amount that we had agreed on, even if I didn’t end up working the full set of hours this week, I would be compensated for them.

I felt really good hearing that.

The dad joked that really it was the family that was on the two-week trial and not me.

“What?! You’re going, but we’re having pizza!” The oldest boy told me.

“Will you be back tomorrow,” he asked me, eyes, big, serious, searching.

“Yes,” I said, “would that be alright with you?”

I got the nod.

We had spent easily an hour sitting at the table over looking an astonishing view of down town San Francisco, playing play doh and rockets and building things and smashing things and telling stories.

“Sometimes I forget to eat my lunch, because, um, I’m chatty,” he told me.

He is and it’s adorable.

He’s got a huge imagination, a great memory, and an amazing vocabulary for a six-year-old.

We talked a lot.

Just back and forth and back and forth and read from a book about rocket ships and yeah, that was the last hour of my day, while the parents dealt with a visiting baby nurse and the house guest played stuffies with the little girl and when I checked in with the dad, “I’m just playing play doh, let me know what I can do to help.”

He looked at me and shook his head, “that is the best help you can give us right now.”

Which is nice.

And I feel trusted and that is really nice.

“You’re going to get lots or down time too,” he told me, “when we all go back to our normal lives and the kids are in school and the baby is napping, we hope you will read and study for school.”

Oh my god.

Such a nice thing to hear.

I mean.

Really so nice.

So despite the discomfort of change, even when change is good for me, it can be so disquieting, I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be for this next phase of my development.

I am excited too when I give myself the space to feel it.

It’s just mostly buried under the newness of it all and finding my feet as I get situated in a new home, with new closets and corners and nooks and crannies and things to learn and re-organize in my mind.

All the stuff.

All the things.

And tomorrow.

More rain.

So I think I’ll splurge on a car.

I had enough of the trains today.

Besides.

I’ll be picking up the kids from school on the MUNI and riding that back and forth all week-long.

It’s a quick commute and a little walk and I’m grateful for that as well, I spent a lot of time indoors at my previous job, very grateful for the opportunity to be back out in the world.

I rather missed it.

So.

Embracing the change.

Even when giving into the change makes me feel out of my comfort zone.

I know I’ll be in the sweet spot soon.

I can already see it coming down the line.

Just like the J-Church turning the corner on Church and 30th.

Or the N-Judah coming out of the tunnel at Cole and Duboce.

It may seem far away.

But it’s really just around the bend.

Thank God.

Flirting

November 2, 2016

With the idea of moving.

You thought I was going somewhere else, didn’t you?

Heh.

It’s come up a little recently.

First time was about two weeks ago when I met with my person up at Firewood Cafe in the Castro for dinner and some get right with God.

I had mentioned having a little anxiety about the commute to my new job that starts in January.

If I have to do MUNI it’s going to be screwy long.

It’s doable, two trains, but it feels so across town, and not across town in a direct line sort of way, that I do have some concern about it.

On my scooter I’m always faster than public transit, hands down, but still it’s further away than where I work now and I postulated what it would look like to move back to the Mission.

Or Noe Valley.

Or Bernal.

Or Glen Park.

I’d love a shorter commute.

And I would consider living with room mates for cheaper rent.

I would.

I mean.

I definitely would.

I’ve also thought that I man need more sunshine in my space.

Not having any windows in the in-law has always been a bit of a bummer for me, and yes, granted, I do always say the back door is a big glass door, so I get light, just well, I’d like more.

More light.

Less rent.

Closer to work and school.

That’s the hope.

I do like living alone and I do like my space and I do like my landlord and I do like living by the beach.

The fog this summer though was rough and yeah, it would be nice to be back in the thick of the city.

Anyway.

Like I said.

It’s a flirtation.

I have a month to month here and I have few things, really, my space is small and the only furnishing that is really mine is the bed.

The rest of my stuff belongs to my landlord.

I could pack it all up and move pretty quick.

I could probably do it in a day if I was organized.

And I’m pretty organized.

I’m not pursuing anything.

It’s, like I’ve said, a flirtation, but I am a flirt, so I’m putting it out there that I could move for the right situation.

And it’d have to be the right situation, as I’m not interested in working for it.

I’m not putting up an ad on Craigslist, I’m not giving notice to my landlord, I’m not actively looking.

It’s just out in the Universe, hey maybe it’s time to relocate some where more convenient to my new job and my school program.

Especially if I get my practicum internship where I am hoping to get it.

The location I’m vying for is actually only two blocks away from the new job.

It could be oh so handy to live closer.

It really could.

Anyway.

Speculation, flirtation, random thoughts and ideas.

No particular plan of action, no particular need to move.

Just the desire to find something that works better for me.

Sort of like when my current job stopped working for me.

Speaking of.

I got my last check today from my boss for health insurance.

Crazy.

It’s coming.

Seven more weeks.

Then I’m out.

The boys were quite sweet today and I could tell they missed me and they also weren’t as angry with me as they were the last couple of weeks, I think they are getting used to the idea that I am going to be heading on.

We mostly played at the house and did lots of drawings and coloring and making of altars.

They were both very enamoured with the Day of The Dead ancestral honoring and we put together a little altar in the back yard.

The oldest wanted so much to include me, asking me about my grandparents and great grandparents, and whether I had pictures of them that they could use.

I sweetly told him that though I was honored to be involved it was more for his family than for mine, but he was so firm in me participating he chose a fruit to symbolize me.

A persimmon.

I was so touched.

I don’t know why, but when someone notices you and loves you and does something for you in that they have paid attention to your likes, well, it’s mind-blowing.

It made me laugh, this little six and a half-year old knows me better than most of my ex-boyfriends.

I love persimmons.

My counter top in the kitchen looks like a persimmon harvest.

So, on his family altar I am represented with a persimmon; his mom with raw almonds; dad was a container of white sushi rice; his brother was a couple of pretzels; he was an apple.

We also put out a couple of mandarin oranges and a pear.

We put a cup of water on the altar and a candle, a birthday candle, it was too cute.

“Carmen!  We’re missing something,” he said to me.

Well.

Sure.

Liquor and salt.

But I don’t think your mom wants us to break into the booze.

The water will be fine.

Also, incense is nice, but again, mom’s not so much into stuff like that.

“Flowers!” He said, jumping up, “we need flowers, what are those special orange flowers?”

“Marigolds,” I said and smiled, “I bet we could get some at the corner store.”

In fact, you could probably get them on every corner in the Mission, but I wasn’t going to break the spell of magic for him.

“Let’s go!” He said, grabbing his coat.

“Hey, I’m going to go get your brother from Rock Band Land,” his mom came into the kitchen, “want to go?”

“No!  I need to get marigolds for the altar, and mom, pictures get me pictures of your grandmother.”

It was so endearing.

“I’m going with Carmen to the market to get flowers, I’ll see you soon,” he concluded.

And there was something about the ritual of it.

The flowers in a glass jar.

The fruit on a white plate.

The boy arranging them just so.

I felt precious for getting to be a part of.

Sweet.

Included.

Noticed.

Loved.

Me.

And.

My persimmon.

Flotsam And Jetsam

January 19, 2016

I don’t have an idea about what I am going to write.

Just a bunch of disjointed things floating around my head.

I have a flat tire on my bike, which is annoying and I am super lucky I made it back to the house before it went all the way.

I thought it was soft this morning, pumped it up, broke the pin on the valve and sort of went the whole ride wondering if it was going to go.

Then promptly forgot about it as I had an early day at work and the minute, I mean the second I brought my bike over from my descending place–I usually land a few minutes early and stretch (this did not happen, I did not realize, only in hindsight, that my tire’s low inflation point probably spelled out a slower ride in, I was a little surprised to see I didn’t have as much time as normal to get into work mode)–it was go time.

But I also was surprised by an old friend driving past in his car who stopped and chit chatted me for a few minutes.

I could feel the boys watching and as soon as I wheeled my bike over and opened the garage I could hear them banging on the windows and doors and chanting my name.

Now.

That’s the way to come to work.

Can you imagine?

Going into work and all your co-workers are banging on the doors and walls because they are so excited to see you?

It’s rather amusing.

As were some ridiculously cute bon mots from the boys today.

“Carmen, do you know what’s always in season?”  In response to a question asking for berries that are out of season.  “Ice cream,” the five year old said and wrapped his arms around me.

I got lots of I love you’s and I missed you’s and loads of hugs and snuggles.

I read them a lot of stories this morning and then we went out and did the park and also Crepehouse for lunch.

Today was a holiday at school so I was there much earlier then normal.

I’ll be going in at 9:30a.m. tomorrow and working until 6p.m.

I did 10a.m.-6p.m. today.

Extra hours on the week and some extra cash in the pocket.

I’ll probably grab a car in tomorrow, it’s supposed to rain as well, so it wouldn’t have been the most optimum day for a bicycle ride in anyway, but it is annoying to deal with the tire.

It’ll work it’s way out.

The day is long, but it did go by quick, for which I am grateful.

Glad that I can help the family by coming in early, but I do like my routine, although having just come from a school weekend I am used to getting up a little earlier than normal.

Anyhow.

It is what it is.

It’s a full week too.

Lots of work, doing the deal, meeting up with ladies, old and new, and then getting a new hair do this weekend.

Although last night my hair looked so good I almost thought about canceling the appointment.

Almost.

I haven’t had my hair done in a bit and it will be fun.

Things feel like they need shaking up for me and a hair geographic usually does the deal.

I also inevitably get asked out on a date.

Jesus.

Why the hell haven’t I done my hair sooner?

Heh.

Ah.

Dating.

Okstupid is still a disappointment.

I do wonder why I keep the profile up.

I don’t have any other profiles anywhere so I suppose that’s why.

But it is inevitably disappointing when ever I check it out.

I got lots of sweet comments yesterday on the new tattoo on my social media spots and that was some nice ego massage, but no dates arose from it.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Freud, psychoanalytic theory and my own patterns.

I was told a few weeks ago by my person that I get to continue to be powerless and also that I get to stop romanticizing what I can’t have.

The old unrequited love trope.

Been there.

Done that.

But it continues to resurface.

When I look at the last two men I had romantic dates with they were both coming out of divorces with two girls.

And the guy prior to that.

Another recent divorcee with a kid.

I wonder sometimes if I am not trying, in some desperate way, to rectify the past, to somehow make wrong that right (oh holy shit is that a Freudian slip!), er, make right that wrong, of my parents relationship.

“Believe someone when they tell you who they are,” I was told.

“I’m just coming through a divorce and we have a kid and I still live at the house,” bachelor number one.

“I’m not available for dating, I’m not over my ex-wife,” bachelor number two.

“You are magic!  But I should tell you I’m in the process of getting a divorce and my wife and I haven’t told the girls yet,” bachelor number three.

Ugh.

Martines.

The repetition compulsion, according to Freud, the insanity, according to people I trust and who tell me like it is, it to continue like this–repeating the same thing expecting different results.

Now.

Granted.

All of these men are good men.

And one of them became an extraordinary friend.

I have no complaints about these experiences.

I have, in fact, prayed and practice forgiveness of self all over the damn place.

But as a friend spoke with me tonight and reminded me, gently, this is about me.

Funny thing too, we weren’t exactly talking about dating, but it was about relationships.

So.

This is about learning, even if it feels like something I keep having to learn, about letting go, surrendering, and trying something new.

I have been trying to get back out there.

Even with school.

Even with my heart still on my sleeve.

Even with my head in the clouds about how to do any of it.

With kindness and compassion for myself.

I watch people all over the place date and commit and do the deal and I think, hey,  I can do that too.

So.

I may fall down.

And it may only be practice.

And.

Ugh.

As much as I want to say something else.

Here goes.

I’m single and available for dating.

And.

I’m taking suggestions.

Double ugh.

Haha.

They will probably be the same ones I have already tried.

But fuck it.

I only I have this one life.

And it’s too sexy to waste.


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