Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Blog 78: "I got Sunshine on a Cloudy Day" (Music is my Church...Part III)

Blog 78: "I got Sunshine on a Cloudy Day" (Music is my Church…Part III)

Parts I & II of Music is my Church are blogs 25 and 44.

Do you know when you have one of those days where everything gets put in perspective…

When the things that you think are massive problems in your life all of a sudden become ever so minuet.

I had one of those days last Saturday…after a busy morning at work, I headed to Carnival where I not only handed out flyers and put up posters for an after show, but also made it a “twofer” by having a second date with a home-skillet…cause I am a multi-tasking mother fucker if I have not mentioned that before.

In the midst of promoting, pisco, Charlie’s Angel poses (my favorite,) and trying on sunglasses and hats I had no intention of buying, I put my new phone down to look in the mirror and it went away…turned off in an instant…gone like the sun in the Alaskan sky…

Freak out I could not do…for on a date I was…and in public no less…and that ain’t my style…

So breathing I began…

It’s just a fancy phone…

And to be honest, this last week…I had been letting go of a lot…I lost some friends (these darn diaries…I now am acutely aware of why people hide their diaries under their mattress for no one to see…stupid project I have committed to)…I reached a revelation on my last relationship which truly put things in perspective and has helped me let go and heal my heart…why not lose a phone.

I didn’t lose a family member, I still have a job, a roof over my head, my princess dresses, my cats, my sparkles…a phone shouldn’t make or break a day…

And I had a great day at Carnival…except for the chicken fucker that took my phone…it was a good afternoon.

As the sun began to set…what had started as a really good date turned it to awkward-ville, which did help me forget about the phone disappearing thing…

***Sunny Dating Tip***
If I make-out with you…that does NOT mean I am going to hump you and the more and more you push me about sex, the more you are turning me off, and I don’t care if making out with me has given you blue balls, no man should ever ask a lady on the second date, a princess no less…if they can masturbate while looking at me…that is not okay!…who does that…this is why I have a hump buddy…so I don’t get all horny with guys I don’t know and say stupid shit…seriously…I just met you, and you want me to watch you jack off while you stare at me…way to creep me the fuck out…and yes I see it, and no I don’t want to touch it…(and on a side note…big is nice, but good god, I’m scared, cause who wants a freaking forearm between their legs.)

All this in a day and I still had one to two shows to go to.

Part of me just wanted to stay at home, and sleep…hide under the covers and pretend the day did not happen while watching old TV shows on hulu…and try to purify my brain from the gross-ness that was the end to my date…

But I had made a commitment to go to a show and hand out more flyers and it was not one I was going to break…and to be honest, I had been really looking forward to this show…it was “The Temptations Review”…who doesn’t want to hear Temptations songs…

As I approached the show, thoughts of my phone, my date, my week swirled in my head making the sides of my eyes hurt…

More breathing…

I walked in at the beginning of a song…

“I got sunshine…on a cloudy day…”

Ain’t that the truth…

Before me stood five men lined up, snapping and side-stepping in what I can only describe as if mint, lime & neon made out and became a color suit, with gold embroidery, white wing-tipped shoes with green flowers where laces should be…and a smile spread upon my face, it began at the tip of my toes.

I sauntered to the front and sat myself down resting my head in my hand, and simply melted away.

All the thoughts in my head rolled out like fog over the Golden Gate.

And crisp, clear clarity settled in.

As I sang along, I chuckled to myself about my day…how funny the whole thing was…how I was so glad I didn’t freak out about my phone…how I was so glad I came to this show…and could just hear music that made my heart happy.

And in a moment…I let it all go…I felt cleansed…lighter…pure.

More breathing, this time I felt it throughout my entire body.

It is truly amazing how music can make you forget about your troubles, how it can take you to a different place…my happy place was right there…I did not need a thing.

I did not want the sermon to end.

I left with a smile on my face and contentment in my soul…things that we should always have…

I just needed a reminder, and those come in all shapes and sizes ☺



…cause it is getting hot out and you need to shave your sheep…totally.

Start by “chumping up” on the sheep’s neck, get a good grip, now grab your electric razor and start at the back of the neck and take long strokes going towards the tail…you might have to call in a friend to help you hold down the sheep as you get towards the “sensitive” areas…make sure you have shaved off all the wool…now give the poor sheep some pats…and a kick in the butt to get on down the road…cause there is always more than one sheep to shave…

Thursday, May 24, 2012

Blog 77: Yelling...

Blog 77: Yelling…

I am going to be honest…I am not a fan of yelling…in fact you could possibly say that I hate yelling…and one is not suppose to “hate” anything.

When someone yells at me…in an instant…I am taken back to the time of my marriage, curled in the fetal position in a corner, shivering, simply taking in the harsh words my husband had for me…that was my life for so long…constant yelling…Today, I simply walk away from that shit as fast as I can…and the smoke that rises from behind me, is not from the bowl I am puffing but from the lightning speed of my ass hauling in the opposite direction of the person on a tyrant.

And yelling is so unnecessary.

Not to mention counter-productive.

People start screaming at me and in a split second I tune them out…when I was young my father would yell at me while I sat at the kitchen table…my seat had a view of the Pacific Ocean…I would not let his words penetrate me…Instead, I would imagine his harsh observations flying over the sea, away from me…and hitting some poor soul in Hawaii.
(please note: My daddy yelled cause I was a teenage girl…he had every right to…discipline is a dying trait in today’s society…but I have it…and I thank my parents for that everyday...and disciplining a child who smokes and drinks in the park till midnight at the age of 15 and dealing with a lover or friend…are two totally different things)

For some reason when my ex-husband barked at me, I could not tune that out…maybe we should have lived by an ocean…

That being said, he would always apologize…they just piled up too high and I became numb to them…like a trampoline that does not bounce.

As of late, I have witnessed or been a subject to my friends yelling…and it really sucks…it sucks even more that neither of them apologized or had remorse for their actions and they kept on going about their business like there was nothing wrong with what just happened.

And I love my friends…deeply…that being said, I truly distain yelling…which one is a stronger feeling…that one I am still contemplating, and maybe why I am writing this blog.

Crap, another blog that might get me in trouble…fuck it…let’s add it to the heap…

Encounter One:
I had heard about this person and their temper at shows, but I had never witnessed it…and now that I have…I’m totally scared of my friend, and am well aware that they can punch me in the eye…it is not good to be fearful of your friend…totally.

I was in the front row of a show and my friend found me and we were grooving…a drunk girl did a drunk dance and my friend went off on the girl, pushing her and yelling at her…I was confused as fuck…the chick was just dancing…no one was hurt…this is the front row (my one friend says the front row is a “contact sport”)…who gets in fights at music shows?...when did this become hip?...and isn’t like 99% of the crowd doing some kind of loaded dance…

I immediately fled from the vicinity…and for the first time ever, was glad that this was a venue you could not smoke pot in (but in reality peeps, this is San Fran-fucking-cisco…I should be able to smoke pot everywhere…seriously) while outside with extra hash to calm my nerves I saw the drunk girl come out in tears with her boyfriend, and they left the show…a show that they had paid for…that they had every right to enjoy…instead their evening was ruined.

I walked inside the venue and the first person I saw was my agro friend who started off with, “I jut yelled at that bitch again…got all up in her face!”

“Dude, you can’t do that,” I replied.

“The girl got in my dancing space and was all drunk, I put her in her place,” she retorted.

“Well if she was bothering you, you should have moved.”

“I am not moving for no one,” she said.

I then stated, “But I just had to move”…she then went off some more, and I don’t really think she took in my last statement, simply going on and on about how she would not move…and I, personally, didn’t really get it. I wander all around at shows…and I am sensitive, especially to other people’s vibe…and if I don’t feel comfortable or if I feel my “getting down” is being affected…I simply saunter ten feet over and try again…in life and especially at shows, I am a firm believer that there comes a time when a blind man takes your hand and leads you to where you are suppose to go…if I am not feeling it…I move to a spot where I am…it is as simple as that.

After this incident I am left in a predicament…cause I love my friend, and I want to hang out with her at shows…but I am a firm believer that our friends are a reflection of who we are…and that yelling…that anger…that is the farthest thing from me ever…

Encounter Two:
I honestly really don’t know why my friend yelled at me…I got us a free ride to a show and she freaked out…confused, I am…and the truth of the matter is…this friend yelled at me twice in one day…both times they pretty much freaked out…the second time for no reason other than they lacked patience at the current moment…and not only berated me…but in public not less…totally not okay times a million.

And I might not be writing about this if they had apologized…but none was given…simply they went on their evening like nothing had happened…which left me with the idea that they thought it okay to roar at someone in public…which frazzled me even more.

Cause I totally get that sometimes we all need to freak out…that shit happens…we all need to left off steam…but if you are going to blow a gasket for no good reason, and effect everyone’s mood around you, you best say that you are sorry.

May I also state again that yelling in public stinks for two reasons, not only are you putting someone down in front of other people and embarrassing them but you are effecting the moods of everyone around you…cause yelling ain’t good for nobody.

(And on a side note: I am a very compromising and reasonable individual…I believe we all are…it is simply in the approach and the tone…and if an issue is had, talking to me in mature, even toned manner…a resolution can be easily obtained.)

And once again…I am left pondering…I love this friend…so much, but I am not going to have a friend yell at me like that and think it is okay…I don’t play that game.

I am not going back to that time in my life spent in the corner.

I’m praying the blind man simply leads me to the decisions I need to reach.

I have faith in the simple fact that it will all work out…it always does.

I hope our friendship is strong enough to work through this…if not, I have cherished my time with these friends…and will leave it at that.

It’s just yelling, messes up my bubble…and I like my Sunny bubble…a little too much.

I will end this by addressing my fault in this…instead of writing, I should just talk to these friends…but my words are never as eloquent in person as they are in writing…and these…these are my diaries…and the strength I try to have in them, is not always easy to carry in person…


SKIING…cause you don’t need snow to ski on a dance floor!!!!!

All right, so let me start by saying that skiing just isn’t my thing…those bunny slopes are freaking steep…so on the dance floor is where I get my “sunny bunny” in…totally.

Clamp your boots in…now grab your pole thingies and start to push off matching each ski to your arms…as you get going…bend your knees and tuck your poles under your arms, sinking your upper body into your hips, now lean from side to side…taking the hills (you can even make “whoosh, whoosh” noises as you go)…take the jump…make sure there are no beer bottles in your way as you land…stick the landing…I give that jump a 10…

Thursday, May 17, 2012

Blog 76: Party Professionalism (Part I)

Blog 76: Party Professionalism (Part I)

Being a “party professional” comes from at one point or another being a “rookie partier” and making dumb ass choices and decisions and learning from them…in realizing a few simple key factors one can avoid the toddler stages of “RAGING”…

I by no means consider myself an “expert” on the matter, but will simply say, “This is not my first rodeo” and leave it at that.

Now let’s get down to business, shall we...


Last week, my friends got me super loaded (of course I am a grown woman so the blame actually lays on me) and as they tried to get me to go out for “round four” I was having a hard time keeping it together in my apartment…as I arose from my bed I realized that me standing up was taking a lot of effort. I turned to my friends, gave them my keys and said, “You all go, this bunny is staying in for the rest of the night.”…they started to give me shit and I simply stated, “It is taking a shit ton of work on my behalf to simple remain vertical at this point, I should not go out…I will be a hot mess and fall the fuck over…I am a party professional…and part of that is knowing when to fold.”

I totally got called a chicken fucker, but whatever, they did not have to take care of me for the evening and as soon as they left, I passed the fuck out.

There is no point in embarrassing yourself in public (more than we already do naturally)…if you are having a hard time grooving…get off your feet and call it a night.


It is your dumb ass fault that you drank/partied to much to hold your shit down…and you need to be the ding dong that cleans that shit up...This one time last year at The Boom Boom Room, I fell into this puddle and started to go down very quickly…I took a TO in the bathroom and all of a sudden the feeling of “puke city” came over me and I collected myself, made a quick exit and hailed a cab…when I got home I started to walk up the stairs (why I did not take the elevator is beyond me) as I got to the second floor, I puked a little in my mouth…and for a moment I thought about letting it fly…but then the thought of me walking down the next morning to get coffee and smelling old puke made me keep my mouth shut…and up I ascended…two more flights of stairs keeping the puke in my mouth until I had opened my door and lifted my toilet seat…cause I will be dammed if anyone is cleaning up or dealing with my puke but me.

(Sunny Festival Advice: if you need to puke at a festival and don’t want to hit the Honey-Buckets or puke in plan view, go into your tent or car with a trash bag and just barf in that bad boy, it makes clean up a breeze and no one is the wiser…I am speaking from experience of course.)


Gum is just a smart thing to have on you when partying, it helps with cottonmouth, beer breath and such. If I am talking to someone with bad breath I will offer them a piece of gum…I feel like it is part of my civic duty…there are times when I have been out that I have simply felt saved by a single stick of gum.

That being said, you got to let people know if they start kicking the “horse chomping gum chewing.” Some people might say it is mean to call a person out when they are chewing gum like a freaking mare goes through wet hay…I call it being honest…and if I am smacking loud enough for someone to hear me across the room I would hope that someone freaking tells me…(that being said it is also proper to tell peeps when they have shit in their teeth, boogers up their nose, the white stuff that forms on the side of one’s mouth or toilet paper on their shoe…one should not let others walk around with that shit rocking.)


Water, club soda, coke, ginger ale, a shirley temple…all things that are not booze and you should have throughout the night…when going out drinking, you should know when to stop drinking…knowing some little tricks can help you keep control…cause it is fun to get tipsy…but it really is not that fun (for yourself or your friends who have to deal with you) to get shit-face wasted.

Tips I have learned along the way…don’t use the straw, you drink slower…I usually get drinks on the rocks so I can pour water in it along the way and make it last longer…don’t do shots, those usually lead to memory loss…drink a bottle of sparkling water in between each cocktail...and knocking over a glass means it is time to switch to water…


Especially during times of marathon partying you need energy and stamina, food is pivotal…when I was young I could not eat when I was loaded…oh how the times have changed…lets be honest, it totally soaks that shit up and sometimes that is beyond necessary…you don’t have to eat a lot…but with substantial nourishment one does not have that “deflated” feeling and it also helps with recovery time…


Have you ever found yourself rolling with a chode in your crew…some guy that makes girls sneer with his remarks and pisses off all the bartenders, or a chick that jumps on people and falls down a lot (i.e.…a non-party professional)…if you find yourself in the shitty situation to be stuck with them, you might not want to bring them to your favorite establishment…you might want to take them to a different bar and then ditch them in an hour to head to where you want to go…sound mean?...again, I am just being honest here…and a place I go to often like The Boom Boom Room is my sanctuary…why would I want to bring a total chicken fucker I work with there and not only have myself deal with them, but people I know and love as well…that is just not nice nor respectful.


Do you know what is worse than bringing “that guy”…being that guy, especially if “that guy” is an asshole.

In all honesty, who doesn’t love a happy drunk, they can talk too much and sway from side to side, but they are innocent as shit (just please don’t fucking drive)…but an angry drunk…boooooooooooooo! You guys suck! Who wants to be all loaded and deal with negative energy…or someone being mean…it sure the hell doesn’t help anyone have a “good time” and isn’t that why we party…to have fun, to enjoy ourselves…why go acting like a bitch?

Everyone be nice…it is really not that hard.

***This rule can also be associated with the “NO FIGHTING IN PUBLIC” rule (not just for party professionalism, but simply for life in general…keep your issues with one another private…no one needs to know about everyone’s business, that shit is personal…you need to fight…go home and do that…or pick up the phone…write a nasty email…de-friend someone…just don’t get me involved.***

So those are some good rules to start with, the list goes on and on and is always expanding (for example, rule six is the result of my outings last evening…cause we are constantly evolving…oh and if you do bring “that guy” to the bar you frequent you might find yourself having to slip the bartender a $20 to make up for the chodemeister)…just remember to take everything in strive and as a learning experience…

Remember to be a good friend and not let your crew make a fool out of themselves and if they can’t stand make sure they are sitting and headed home…

Take care of each other.

Cause the number one rule of Party Professionalism is that we are all kinda rookies in some sort of way or another…cause who the fuck knows everything.



It is that time of year to get your soil nice and cultivated and put some seedlings in the ground, and since I don’t have a garden living in the Tenderloin, I gotta have a dance…

Grab your shovel and start to dig, really toss that dirt up in the air, once you have a nice hole pick up your plant and put it in the ground, shovel some dirt on the sides…give it a good pat down so the dirt is nice and firm, maybe use your foot a little…now grab a hose or water can and let that baby drink…and of course…Let it Grow.

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

Blog 75: To be FREE (Being Divorced...Part II)

Blog 75: To be FREE (Being Divorced…Part II)

***Being Divorced, Part I…To be Scared is my previous blog…Blog 74.***

“…I’m going to love the life I live, and I’m going to live the life I love…”

Like a phoenix rising in the east…I feel as though I am soaring sometimes, the wind of freedom blows my hair and brings pink to my cheeks…since leaving my husband three years ago…I have truly become me….

It is an ideal that I lavish…TO BE ME…to grow, to fuck up, to learn…and in turn to love myself for the first time in my life…

When I wrote Blog 74 about “being scared” I had a bunch of friends call and message me with words of kindness and encouragement…some told me how brave I was, how strong, how I inspired them to be themselves…how I should be proud…how they didn’t want to see me sad or scared…I simply smiled, gave them a thank you that came from the bottom of my heart and retorted, “Don’t worry about me, you must have forgotten about Part II.”

I am a firm believer that you must see the darkness in order for the dawn to warm and to truly learn from the twilight.

For while I am petrified and scared shitless of letting someone in, I am also quite selfish and really am not ready for anyone to take away from my “me” time.

Cause I like me some me…

Why would I not?

I spent almost 30 years of my life not loving me, wishing I were different, wanting to be someone else, caring more about others than myself (while it is vital to care for others it is impossible to do so in the proper way if you do not have that drive for yourself)...

And that is no way to live…

Today when I awake in the morning it is to live a life of my choosing…to be the person I wish to be…constantly learning, always searching…and finding acceptance within reality.

I have learned not to let others dictate my dreams…or to even imagine what will make me happy tomorrow.

Before, I thought having a house, a business, a marriage, a nice car, fancy shoes, dogs and a garden was going to bring joy to my life…but my thirst was not quenched…and I yearned for satisfaction.

And today, I don’t have all the shit I want, but I have what I need…I am content…a feeling that completes me in ways I never knew possible…a notion that shines its light on me through the darkest of times…when holding myself in the fetal position I can open my eyes and as the tears part, I bask in the light…I live a blessed life.

When I moved to San Francisco I made a promise to myself…TO LIVE…to enjoy every moment…no matter if the lesson is cruel or a crowning moment…the outcome is a better me…and it is a covenant that I have held true.

I have subsisted an existence I could only wonder of before…when I was married my sleep was restless and never sound…today I am exhausted, and I don’t remember my dreams at night…but only the daydream that is my viability.

And I can honestly say that if I die tomorrow…it is okay…for I have lived…which is something I could not have said three years ago.

This time I have spent focused on me has opened my doors to the liberty of self-love.

To be okay with who you are, to do your best and learn along the way.

When I left my marriage, I stumbled…and fell quite hard…as I clawed my way out of the darkness…I began to find my inner strength, my light and my “grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

It was what had been missing from my life.

The strength of acceptance…the sweetness of the deliverance to be me.

The old me was so lost…

I would look at myself in the mirror and hate what I saw, I could not see beauty in the looking glass…for my light was trapped…enveloped by the shroud of self-doubt.

Today I am quite impressed I haven’t broken my mirror for the amount of times I high-five the naked me starring back at it…

Now I look the same I did all those years ago…actually I have more wrinkles now and I have started to get those purple vein thingies on my legs and my arms aren’t as buff…so I might have looked better back in the day…

Yet my trials and tribulations and how I have weathered the storm and found comfort within is breathtaking. It is I being blinded by my own illumination that cause my victorious arm flaps.

I survived…and the outcome…is quite sparkly!

If I had never emancipated myself from my husband, and taken this journey alone…and become attune with my glow, my fight and my courage…I would have never learned a lesson, I so needed to attend.

Cheers to the freedom to be who you wish to be…

Cause you got to keep on keeping on.



(If you are like a certain sister I know you can take this dance even further and take your toothbrush out of your purse and put it in your hand…)

Dash about five feet in front of your buddies and land next to someone, turn your head towards them and go “Meep, Meep”…than dash off to five feet to the right, turn your head and say, “Meep, Meep”…and continue your running and your “Meep, Meeps”…please note to anyone on the receiving end…Roadrunners take bowl breaks…a princess is just saying.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

Blog 74: Being Divorced...Part I (To be Scared)

Blog 74: Being Divorced…Part I (To Be Scared)

***To Be Free (Being Divorced, Part II) will be my very next Blog.***

To be honest, I am not even legally divorced yet…when it came to my ex-husband and I going our separate ways, I took care of the selling of the restaurant and the losing of the house…His job was to do the divorce, over 3 years later, he has finally made a slow start on the process…chicken fucker…speed that shit up…please…

In my head, I have been divorced for a long time…the only thing I have talked to my ex about in the last two years is him starting the divorce, I know nothing of his life only that he has a child with someone else…mentally I vacated the relationship long ago…legally, I simply yearn for my maiden name of “Powers” to be restored…for that is my father’s name and the bloodline of my royalty…

I consider myself divorced, in all senses of the word…I am just waiting for that wonderful piece of paper.

And then…I shall truly be a divorcee.

I will have admitted true failure…defeat…inadequate thinking capabilities…

I think that is the hardest part about going through the divorce thing, knowing I made such a bad choice, not following my instincts, putting all my energy into someone else and not into myself…knowing that I am capable of believing so much in a notion, that never really truly made me happy.

The mistakes I made have left me scared shitless.

Unable to move, petrified with fear…I often ponder if I will ever let my guard down, ever let someone truly in…ever fully be able to relax in another man’s presence.

Sometimes I feel like I am encompassed in a cocoon, fighting to break free, to let go, but the memories of my past tightened around me like a noose after the chair has been kicked…

I am trapped by fear.

From time to time I simply feel like laying in the fetal position, holding myself tight…taking comfort in the warmth of my own arms…

Yet the safety I feel by myself does not dull my thoughts…

When I met my husband at the age of nineteen, I thought that being in a relationship was not only what I was suppose to do, but what was going to make me happy…with age I have recognized with pure delight that I don’t need a man to make me happy, I need to make myself happy.

That lesson has come at a high price.

I have shut my heart off…terrified of repeating my past.

To the point that when I go out on dates I get all freaked out over the stupidest stuff…he touched me…he smelled my hair (what is going on with the flood of peeps trying to smell my hair lately, I don’t get it…and it kinda wigs me out)…he is too into me…his index finger is longer than his middle finger…and so forth and so forth..

If a date does lead to a second or a third, I really start to loose my shit…my friend, who always calls me out on shit (like cutting my hair) will interrupt me as I start to laminate over stupid petty shit and say, “ohhh, here goes Sunny, a guy is into her and she gets all spooked and starts to freak out, cause for some reason she can’t handle it when boys are into her.”…I really hate it when he calls me out on that shit, cause I know he is right...he makes me so mad with his mind reading abilities…

And I have pushed many a man away…

I turned down a man that wanted to drive me around while I blow bubbles out the window, buy me a computer and take me to Hawaii…I ran so fast from that…that shit hit me like a shock wave…dude being nice, homie totally into me…whoaaaaaaa, that was a notion I was not ready for.

Maybe that is it too…maybe I am just not ready.

It makes sense if you look at the choices I have made…the only relationship I was able to manage was a long-distance-non-committed relationship with a man who told me many a times that he was, “destined to be alone”…a princess I might be, but my powers pale in comparison to that of one’s chosen path…

A glutton for punishment?...Or a chance to continue to keep my walls up?...An opportunity to learn how to love again without the need to let go…

The independent woman that I have become is to self-willed.

The softness that comes from letting your heart open and be loved has the texture of stone within me…and while this quest has led to a self-satisfaction I once only imagined, I often wonder if it is worth the sacrifice.

Yet the damage has already been done.

How long till the medicine takes?

Sometimes I simply stare out my window wondering when I will let my guard down…when the trepidation will subside…then I come to terms with the fact that to theorize this ideal, is simply a waste of time…for only time can heal certain wounds…

And only time will tell.

To be truthful, while I am full of apprehension…I also lavish this time by myself…while it can be lonely at times, it is mine…to put towards me…something I have never had the opportunity to do before…to be freely me…

But those are words I shall speak…this very next week.



Start by threading the needle…this involves pulling the thread from the spool around the eye-hook-action-ness and then looping it around the thingy-mo-bob and finally threading it through the needle (sometimes you need to lick the thread to make it all taunt-like so you can get it through the head of the needle)…now line up your fabric straight and get it all ready to sew…this might involve pulling it, making last minute cuts and such…now put the fabric under the needle and pull the level so the foot-thingy clasps the fabric firm and put both hands on either side of the needle…(as you are doing this, bring your right foot forward about a ten inches and touch your heel to the floor bringing your toes up on the pedal)…now as you press the peddle down push the fabric under the needle, keep going…now give me some reverse-forward action-ness to keep the stitch…cut the thread, hold up to examine…yeah we might want to take some sewing classes…yikes.