Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Blog 73: Still not a Queen... (Living in Reflections of a Dream, Part II)

Blog 73: Still not a Queen… (Living in Reflections of a Dream, Part II)

***my first anniversary blog was Blog 19***

They are selling my building…for a moment I freaked out…the management did a walk-through and I grilled the agent…she asked how long I had been here, and it dawned on me, “Exactly two years!” I exclaimed…

“Nothing can happen to you, they can’t raise your rent, they can’t kick you out, you are under Rent Control, unless they make the building into condos…and who is going to buy a condo in the Tenderloin…” she replied.

As she left, I exhaled a massive breath of relief and laid down upon my bed…two years in this tiny colorful studio that I have made my home…two years…two years is such a short span of time in reality…but can seem like so many lifetimes ago.

Happy Anniversary to me…times 2

When I am asked to give my address over the phone I say, “Leavenworth St…like the prison.”…but Leavenworth St. is not my jail…it has been my freedom, my chance to finally spread my wings and become an independent woman…living in the Tenderloin has helped me figure out, exactly who “me” is and to enjoy exactly what that entails…(I still have so much to learn, but a dent has been made.)

I believe that everyday I am here, I am one step closer to becoming a Queen…everyday is a lesson, a thought, an experience, a witness…how lucky I am to have a roof over my head, food in my belly, a family that loves me and friends I can count on…I see the parallels of life on a daily basis…I see the pain and the suffering…the consequences of addiction, the whoring of a body…the smell of death, urine and shit…right outside my door.

I am serious when I say “right outside my door”…if you open my gate, 95% of the time to the left, there is at least one person smoking crack…by the time I have reached “the pit” a block and half away, if I haven’t seen 5 more people smoking crack…than it is a slow day in the Loin…as I walk home at night the crack heads are matched to par with the hookers of all kinds…most of them I assume smell pretty bad…(that being said in the course of the last 6 months an increase in midget hookers has taken over the Tenderloin, I have noticed at least 3 different ones…and they seem to be pretty busy…just an added observation.)

Yes Tenderloin, you are nasty...but you are mine.

And being a bystander to this Sodom & Gomorrah has made me see what I don’t wish to be.

The loud-party girl that moved into the Tenderloin two years ago has been replaced with the quiet contemplator…I chose to stay home last Friday night and sleep…and I lavished in it so.

I still enjoy going out and having a good time, in fact I love it… but that is not all life has to offer…I guess the biggest thing that I have learned this past year is BALANCE…and the importance of it...

How if you can’t take care of yourself, you can’t really take care of anyone/thing else.

I don’t want to be an addict of any kind, I don’t want to throw my life away, I choose not to flush my potential down the toilet nor to waste my dreams on a hallowed breath.

Living in the “Dirty” has made me want to be clean.

(In all aspects of my life…I now shower at least three times a day, when you see the nastiness that happens all around you, and you march through it on a daily basis, when you get to the sanctuary of your apartment, you want to clean that shit off and make sure you smell good.)

Sometimes I ponder if I see too much…if living here has made me to sullen and hushed. People talk to me as I walk down the street and I keep my head bowed avoiding eye contact and interaction…maybe I needed this stillness…this quietness to invoke me…it has made me mature in a soft wonderment that still shocks the former me.

And whether this is right or wrong…this is my home…my kingdom…and I do not see myself leaving anytime soon…at the present moment, this is where I am supposed to be.

Sometimes at sunset I ascend to my roof and as the sun dips beneath the city I observe the reality outside my building and I hope…I wish to one day obtain my throne and mend, heal, understand and rejuvenate the tastiest cuts of meat this city has to offer.

Until that time I have taken on the role of watchful observer…or that crazy redhead walking through the Tenderloin with a corkscrew…either one is a shoe I fit.

Curiosity engulfs me with thoughts of next year…yet I know enough now to not even assume what that path shall be…

And reality cuts the stillness like diamond upon glass.

So I simply walk…I know that I have a long way to go…but I have come so…so far…and it brings me faith.

“Cheers” to our destiny…and how we choose to get there.



So the two most important aspects of this dance are that it is all in the wrist and you got to remember to hold the cord up…so start by plugging in the vacuum…this is definitely crucial…now pull yourself out some cord…hold the cord up about waist level…grip the handle, and with your right foot step forward, going into a very soft lunge and extend your wrist forward, as you shift your weight to your back foot bring your wrist down…and repeat…now proceed to cover some serious ground…and please do not vacuum up the cat…cause man the tail sure gets sucked up there quick!

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