Blog 81: The Power of Color (The Birth of the Jammin Chronicles)
Sometimes you need to recall certain things that you had forgotten…in recent weeks I have been reminded of the Power of Color…and I so appreciate the lesson.
The past few months have been hard on me, from a death of a friend to matters of the heart…I had been feeling kinda down in the dumps…almost less sparkly (it could be because I ran out of my favorite glitter…that is up for grabs…and stop discontinuing good glitter damm it!)
And as I began to heal, regroup and get my mojo back…there was still a little something missing.
Then I walked into Jammin on Haight, the old Positively Haight Street that my friends just purchased on the corner of Haight and Masonic…
Now let me start by prefacing that I used to hang out in front of this shop when I was a teenager…I first felt the effects of pot when I smoked it in the park two streets down…I bought my first tye-dye from Positively Haight Street at the age of 13…I used to get my pot on this very corner…you would get a “twamp” bag or a “haigth” (haigth = small buds fluffed to line the bottom of a bag…if it went across the baggie, you could call it an eighth even though we all knew it was short.)…my first boyfriend slept outside the store…note to all teenager girls…DO NOT DATE MEN who live on Haight Street…by this of course I mean actually on the street…if they have an apartment that is more than cool…but usually, if they live on the street, they are probably going to mooch of you…just a heads up…totally.
So to walk into this store today, almost 20 years later, and know the owners, makes me really feel like life had come full circle…I’m still like “whoaaaaa” and get that stupid-glazed-princess smile from time to time when I go in there…and I can’t stay away…it is kinda like “color crack”…realizing how wonderful the circle of life is…it is purely rejuvenating.
And then there is the “COLOR” factor…mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
To saunter in and simply be encompassed in color…to be truly stimulated…makes me tingle all over.
To see people’s reaction when they put on the perfect “one”…
I sold a 13 year old boy his first tye-dye the other day…it was a “Hugo”…the store only had a couple “Hugo’s” left…I pointed them out…how you could see the unique style…how this really was a piece of art and he could probably come back in five years and sell it to us for more money than what he is paying for it now…
I saw the look on his face when he came out of the dressing room.
Have you ever seen someone truly “light up”…
Ain’t nothing like it…I can only describe it as…totally awesomeness…
You know I sparkled that little boy which I think he loved just as much ☺…I think his dad was a little jealous though…
The other day I got my first pair of tye-dye yoga pants…and let me tell you…I put them on and I had to do my “Hey-Hey-Hey” dance (to be described later)…I left them on when my “special friend” came over and he was like “Hey-Hey-Hey”…I still have the hand marks to prove it…cause my ass is bumping…and you put some tight, beautiful, one of a kind colorful yoga pants on that bitch…it is like putting foie gras on top of a steak…melt in your mouth awesomeness…
The whole experience has made me love me even more…who thought that was possible!
For the reality of the matter is that I know I stick out in my colorful dresses and my glitter and sometimes I wonder…“Should I tone down the color?”…for even a princess has self-doubt…
But why spend time in a black and white world…
Because Color…makes me Happy, it makes me Smile…
And why would I ever want to tone me down…I should only want to brighten myself…to enlighten…after all…I am Sunny!
I live in the tenderloin for God sake…we need some color up in this bitch…
When you are feeling down…put something on that makes you feel luminous…that puts you in a better mood…
When the fog is gloomy slip into something that inspires you to shine through the dusk…
And when the sun’s rays dance upon your skin, drench yourself in a rainbow so the color bounces off in all directions…let yourself shine…and encourage others to do so as well…
I have embraced my “inner-color”…and I like it…game on.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
“HEY-HEY-HEY”
Have you ever put on a pair of pants, or a dress or something…that has made you look in the mirror, bend your knees and kind made you swing your hips and go “Hey-Hey-Hey”…I have this happen quite often…I will be trying on dresses for the night and I slip into one, and my hips start to roll, I pump my arms a little bit and get some bounce in my knees…look in the mirror and go “Hey-Hey-Hey”…
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Blog 80: Resolutions
Blog 80: Resolutions
I have had the idea about this blog since New Years…I sat at my desk and pondered my goals for the upcoming year and stared at the ones from last. I wondered if I wrote them in my diaries would they become more palatable.
I chose to push off the blog for I was in a funk of a mood around the holidays…stupid matters of the heart…
I must admit with pride…I had accomplished all my resolutions for 2011…except for JAZZFEST, which in my defense had three question marks behind it…so it was to be an effort (this year it had one question mark…and to be honest, I didn’t make the effort…I couldn’t…but the dream was still there.)
Some of the goals, to be honest, I had compromised…I had wanted a turn-table, I got a record player…I figured it evened out…I had wanted to lose 20 pounds…I had lost 15…I blamed the last five on bloating and high-fived myself…I did not finish my book, but I felt my diaries had produced a body of work I could be proud of.
I had gotten the internet (this might not seem like a big deal to some of you, but remember I might be a princess…but I live in the Tenderloin [aka: crack ghetto]…little shit means a lot.)…I left my job where my ass was getting grabbed (AMEN) and got control of my psoriasis…I have since kept the same job (they let me wear glitter!)…and only have one little spot of psoriasis on my leg…it appeared after my last break up…and when it has healed, so will have my heart.
And I became a member of The Boom Boom Room Family, I love you BBR…yeah 2011…I had done pretty well!
Which unfortunately put the pressure on for 2012…and myself, being a true glutton for punishment, made my list twice as long…what a ding dong!
The thing is…my birthday marks the half way point for my yearly resolutions…now I only got six months left…and the urgency is on…
This year it dawned on me that the burden of change is why I always freak out on my birthday (well besides the getting older part)…cause I realize I have been slacking off and need to get my shit done…I can be such a freaking procrastinator.
And on the day I celebrated my life, I awoke way to fucking early and stared at my resolutions…looking them up and down…letting my fingers feel the indentation my pen had made upon the paper…wondering if I could make them so…
I crossed off the goals I had accomplished…I have exercised everyday since the year began (I eat whatever I want) but I do some form of exercise daily, I have gotten my self-confidence back as well as my positive attitude…(sometimes when you are sad…you lose sight of the very things that make you happy…and have to remember how truly awesome you really are)…and I have inspired…at least that is what some people have told me…I feel blessed to have others feel that way about me…
But those goals, those are things I used to do and used to have…I had just strayed from my path…the goals I haven’t accomplished yet…those…those simply stared back at me as I pondered them…taunting me…making me realize how much work still had to be done.
I wanted to smoke less pot this year…funny, I can’t really recall if I am or not…so maybe at the end of the year that can be one of the goals I compromise on…I did not put hash on my bowl this morning…I am however out of hash…hmmmmmmmmm.
I still have a debt to a friend a need to pay back…that shit weighs heavy on me, that being said it is not a large debt by any means, I do the best I can, and I know he is in a good place…but I have my debt jar, and while it is full of ones…it is still full…hopefully in six months time I can cross that off my list.
The whole money crap is such a bitch and a half…
I need to find a career outside the restaurant business…while I have like seven jobs…the one that makes me my money is the restaurant job…a business I wanted no part in, yet did for my husband…I worked on his dreams and neglected my own…trying to realize what my dreams are after all this time has been a journey I still feel lost navigating…yet I must find a dock to rest my sail…a nitch…made just for me, and while things have begun to unfold, I wait with baited breath that is happens before the year ends so another check upon my list can be made.
And in accomplishing this last goal, I feel my resolution of cooking more at home will be easily fixed…cause the truth of the matter is, when you work at a restaurant…you rarely cook at home…so solving problem A…inherently solves problem B.
And the finishing book thing still has to happen…but I have continued my writing, and actually gotten half way through my book, “Diaries of a Rock & Roll Mistress”…it just sounds good, right….
Truthfully, I like the kick in the ass…I need it…If I am not constantly improving myself…I’m not doing my part to make shit better…cause making the world a better place starts with me…being the best me, encourages others to do the best that they can…and while I need to tend to others, it doesn’t matter a dime if I am not taking care of myself…for that is how I maintain my own happiness.
Since my birthday I have gotten up at 6:30am each day and just started working…I have thought positive notions about my future, I have asked favors, absorbed lectures, studied, imagined, and taken chances…new thoughts swirl in my head mixed with sparkles, rainbows and visions of a tomorrow which is my true destiny…and the rush has invigorated me in a direction I have always dreamed of…
And I know that in the end, all this will simply figure itself out…the way it is suppose to…as it always does.
My job is simply to lead myself down the right avenue and enjoy the mystery as it unfolds.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE PITCH
Start by starring down the hitter, give him the evil eye, tuck your ball into your glove and bring your knee high, recoil your elbow back (please look out for people behind and in front of you)…bring your leg and arm forward at the same time, letting the ball fly through the air…please maintain your balance during your follow through…for falling down is not a great ending to any dance move…
One thing that is so great about the dance version of this move is that you don’t really have a ball…so you can assume you are throwing a no hitter…unless you are looking for someone to hit a home run…
I have had the idea about this blog since New Years…I sat at my desk and pondered my goals for the upcoming year and stared at the ones from last. I wondered if I wrote them in my diaries would they become more palatable.
I chose to push off the blog for I was in a funk of a mood around the holidays…stupid matters of the heart…
I must admit with pride…I had accomplished all my resolutions for 2011…except for JAZZFEST, which in my defense had three question marks behind it…so it was to be an effort (this year it had one question mark…and to be honest, I didn’t make the effort…I couldn’t…but the dream was still there.)
Some of the goals, to be honest, I had compromised…I had wanted a turn-table, I got a record player…I figured it evened out…I had wanted to lose 20 pounds…I had lost 15…I blamed the last five on bloating and high-fived myself…I did not finish my book, but I felt my diaries had produced a body of work I could be proud of.
I had gotten the internet (this might not seem like a big deal to some of you, but remember I might be a princess…but I live in the Tenderloin [aka: crack ghetto]…little shit means a lot.)…I left my job where my ass was getting grabbed (AMEN) and got control of my psoriasis…I have since kept the same job (they let me wear glitter!)…and only have one little spot of psoriasis on my leg…it appeared after my last break up…and when it has healed, so will have my heart.
And I became a member of The Boom Boom Room Family, I love you BBR…yeah 2011…I had done pretty well!
Which unfortunately put the pressure on for 2012…and myself, being a true glutton for punishment, made my list twice as long…what a ding dong!
The thing is…my birthday marks the half way point for my yearly resolutions…now I only got six months left…and the urgency is on…
This year it dawned on me that the burden of change is why I always freak out on my birthday (well besides the getting older part)…cause I realize I have been slacking off and need to get my shit done…I can be such a freaking procrastinator.
And on the day I celebrated my life, I awoke way to fucking early and stared at my resolutions…looking them up and down…letting my fingers feel the indentation my pen had made upon the paper…wondering if I could make them so…
I crossed off the goals I had accomplished…I have exercised everyday since the year began (I eat whatever I want) but I do some form of exercise daily, I have gotten my self-confidence back as well as my positive attitude…(sometimes when you are sad…you lose sight of the very things that make you happy…and have to remember how truly awesome you really are)…and I have inspired…at least that is what some people have told me…I feel blessed to have others feel that way about me…
But those goals, those are things I used to do and used to have…I had just strayed from my path…the goals I haven’t accomplished yet…those…those simply stared back at me as I pondered them…taunting me…making me realize how much work still had to be done.
I wanted to smoke less pot this year…funny, I can’t really recall if I am or not…so maybe at the end of the year that can be one of the goals I compromise on…I did not put hash on my bowl this morning…I am however out of hash…hmmmmmmmmm.
I still have a debt to a friend a need to pay back…that shit weighs heavy on me, that being said it is not a large debt by any means, I do the best I can, and I know he is in a good place…but I have my debt jar, and while it is full of ones…it is still full…hopefully in six months time I can cross that off my list.
The whole money crap is such a bitch and a half…
I need to find a career outside the restaurant business…while I have like seven jobs…the one that makes me my money is the restaurant job…a business I wanted no part in, yet did for my husband…I worked on his dreams and neglected my own…trying to realize what my dreams are after all this time has been a journey I still feel lost navigating…yet I must find a dock to rest my sail…a nitch…made just for me, and while things have begun to unfold, I wait with baited breath that is happens before the year ends so another check upon my list can be made.
And in accomplishing this last goal, I feel my resolution of cooking more at home will be easily fixed…cause the truth of the matter is, when you work at a restaurant…you rarely cook at home…so solving problem A…inherently solves problem B.
And the finishing book thing still has to happen…but I have continued my writing, and actually gotten half way through my book, “Diaries of a Rock & Roll Mistress”…it just sounds good, right….
Truthfully, I like the kick in the ass…I need it…If I am not constantly improving myself…I’m not doing my part to make shit better…cause making the world a better place starts with me…being the best me, encourages others to do the best that they can…and while I need to tend to others, it doesn’t matter a dime if I am not taking care of myself…for that is how I maintain my own happiness.
Since my birthday I have gotten up at 6:30am each day and just started working…I have thought positive notions about my future, I have asked favors, absorbed lectures, studied, imagined, and taken chances…new thoughts swirl in my head mixed with sparkles, rainbows and visions of a tomorrow which is my true destiny…and the rush has invigorated me in a direction I have always dreamed of…
And I know that in the end, all this will simply figure itself out…the way it is suppose to…as it always does.
My job is simply to lead myself down the right avenue and enjoy the mystery as it unfolds.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE PITCH
Start by starring down the hitter, give him the evil eye, tuck your ball into your glove and bring your knee high, recoil your elbow back (please look out for people behind and in front of you)…bring your leg and arm forward at the same time, letting the ball fly through the air…please maintain your balance during your follow through…for falling down is not a great ending to any dance move…
One thing that is so great about the dance version of this move is that you don’t really have a ball…so you can assume you are throwing a no hitter…unless you are looking for someone to hit a home run…
Friday, June 8, 2012
Blog 79: Life is Like a Rollercoaster
Blog 79: Life is Like a Rollercoaster…
Since moving back to San Francisco over three years ago, I have started a tradition on my birthday…I ride the rollercoasters at Great America…
I used to go there when I was in grade school on school field trips…the rides seemed so much scarier than...
I find it a fitting way to celebrate a new year of life, for in reality…Life is like a rollercoaster.
Last year I recall an incident on the “Drop Zone”…it is this ride that sends you up in the air approximately twenty-two stories high, holds you for a couple seconds and then drops you down in a swift instant. I went on the ride four times so I could get a panoramic view…on my last drop (and yes I did push a slow moving teenager out of the way so I could get a fourth turn in…sometimes those youngens amble so slow and have no sense of urgency…and yes…I might have called him “a slow moving whipper-snapper.”) I was situated with my friend to my right and on my left, two teenage girls that were freaking the fuck out…as we ascended, they started to scream and fidget and it was making it hard for me to concentrate on the killer painting taking place as the dusk touched the sky…one girl turned to me and said, “Aren’t you scared?”
I replied, “Honey, you are spending too much time being scared…on something that you know is going to happen...something you chose to do...chill…look at the view…check out the sun saying good-night, how small everything really is…”
I saw her take a deep breath and look out upon the horizon…for a second…serenity took over her face…and just has she got her bearings, the bottom fell out from underneath us and we plummeted down…as we came to a halt…she turned to me and said, “That was awesome!!!!!”
I replied (as only a loaded, sparkly ass princess can do on her birthday) “Life is like a rollercoaster…you can get all petrified and let fear take over, or you can put your arms in the air, check out the killer views and enjoy the fucking ride…it is one or the other darling.”…and off I went to try to get one more turn on the stand up ride known as “The Vortex”…
(I only mention this ride for one reason…as a woman, I highly recommend the stand up rides to all women…there is something about having that seat in between your legs, and having to put weight down on it…maybe it is cause I wear dresses, but let me tell you, I ride that ride five times in a row if I can…there is this one part where is rocks from one side to another…look out NURSE!!!! I get off the ride saying “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” shaking and trembling and have to hit a wall a couple times and than change panties…all ladies should ride this ride as many times as possible…totally!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
And as my birthday fast approaches…I feel the ungulating waves of life bouncing me up and down…and for a second, I let it shake my core…disrupt my happiness and plans of yesterday…in fact the fear of another year in which I might fall short on my potential left me in bed…frozen in a despondent state…and as I tried to shower off my funk of a mood, I thought about my approaching trip to the amusement park, and my conversation with the girl last year…I thought about life in general…its imperfection and tribulations…its soaring highs…the loops it takes us on…the thrills…the screams…
How when we think we have found peace, we fall twenty two stories but still end up with a smile on our face...
How it is simply so much easier to enjoy the ride.
How you can be screaming in fear and in delight at the same time.
Sometimes seeing others so scared makes fear seem so silly...
I recall the first year I went with my boyfriend at the time, and we went on this ride called “The Revolution” it takes that pirate ship action-ness to a whole new level, cause instead of just rocking side to side, this bitch actually goes all the way upside-down and hangs…with your hair becoming parallel to your body and change from ding dong’s pockets plummeting into the water below…this ride has been my nemesis since I was a little girl in grade school, it has always made me shake…I only rode it one time when I was young…but three years ago…I felt the need to overcome my fear…we got on the ride and as I began to tense up and the “ship” began to totally swing all the way around…a girl in front of me began to scream…”My life, my life….my life is flashing before my eyes…I see the light…help me God…please help me”…over and over again…
And you know what…I didn’t have any fear that whole ride…I could not be scared because I was to busy laughing my ass off at the chick freaking the fuck out in front of me…you can’t really be a chuckling coward now can you…
You don’t have time to be petrified when you are laughing…or enjoying the view…
When life is about to take you upside-down on a loop, you can clench up and close your eyes…or you can exhale, put your arms up, and let the fear help you fly…feeling the wind caress your cheeks as you come around…
Life is like a rollercoaster...
Sometimes you are to scared to get on the ride…
Sometimes the fear makes it that much better…more exhilarating…
Sometimes when you are frightened shitless...you just got to laugh through that shit...
Sometimes you just got to make sure you are securely fastened and let the arms wave…and scream just to scream…
Rarely do those stupid pictures they take of you in mid “swoosh” come out good…
And when the ride comes to a halt, you realize how fucking awesome the thrill was…and how you just want to ride the ride…over and over again…cause that shit is awesomeness...
Especially that “Vortex” one…
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:
PUMPING IRON (cause you know I am going to be eating some cake this week so I might as well workout and dance at the same time…aka…”a twofer.”)
Whether at the gym or on the dance floor the most important part of “pumping iron” is your form…so line up your feet with your shoulders, bend your knees a little, keep your back straight, your ass tucked and suck in your stomach…now take your weights, and bring your arms up horizontally and your elbows at ninety degree angles…slowly…remember you are suppose to have “weights” in your hands…lift your arms so your hands meet above your head…going up should take you about two seconds, then you want to hold the weights at the top for another two seconds, and slowly (this should take you approximately four seconds) let your arms come down to starting position…inhale…and as you exhale repeat…now if you are pumping iron and you got a joint dangling from your lips…hotter…
Since moving back to San Francisco over three years ago, I have started a tradition on my birthday…I ride the rollercoasters at Great America…
I used to go there when I was in grade school on school field trips…the rides seemed so much scarier than...
I find it a fitting way to celebrate a new year of life, for in reality…Life is like a rollercoaster.
Last year I recall an incident on the “Drop Zone”…it is this ride that sends you up in the air approximately twenty-two stories high, holds you for a couple seconds and then drops you down in a swift instant. I went on the ride four times so I could get a panoramic view…on my last drop (and yes I did push a slow moving teenager out of the way so I could get a fourth turn in…sometimes those youngens amble so slow and have no sense of urgency…and yes…I might have called him “a slow moving whipper-snapper.”) I was situated with my friend to my right and on my left, two teenage girls that were freaking the fuck out…as we ascended, they started to scream and fidget and it was making it hard for me to concentrate on the killer painting taking place as the dusk touched the sky…one girl turned to me and said, “Aren’t you scared?”
I replied, “Honey, you are spending too much time being scared…on something that you know is going to happen...something you chose to do...chill…look at the view…check out the sun saying good-night, how small everything really is…”
I saw her take a deep breath and look out upon the horizon…for a second…serenity took over her face…and just has she got her bearings, the bottom fell out from underneath us and we plummeted down…as we came to a halt…she turned to me and said, “That was awesome!!!!!”
I replied (as only a loaded, sparkly ass princess can do on her birthday) “Life is like a rollercoaster…you can get all petrified and let fear take over, or you can put your arms in the air, check out the killer views and enjoy the fucking ride…it is one or the other darling.”…and off I went to try to get one more turn on the stand up ride known as “The Vortex”…
(I only mention this ride for one reason…as a woman, I highly recommend the stand up rides to all women…there is something about having that seat in between your legs, and having to put weight down on it…maybe it is cause I wear dresses, but let me tell you, I ride that ride five times in a row if I can…there is this one part where is rocks from one side to another…look out NURSE!!!! I get off the ride saying “ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” shaking and trembling and have to hit a wall a couple times and than change panties…all ladies should ride this ride as many times as possible…totally!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
And as my birthday fast approaches…I feel the ungulating waves of life bouncing me up and down…and for a second, I let it shake my core…disrupt my happiness and plans of yesterday…in fact the fear of another year in which I might fall short on my potential left me in bed…frozen in a despondent state…and as I tried to shower off my funk of a mood, I thought about my approaching trip to the amusement park, and my conversation with the girl last year…I thought about life in general…its imperfection and tribulations…its soaring highs…the loops it takes us on…the thrills…the screams…
How when we think we have found peace, we fall twenty two stories but still end up with a smile on our face...
How it is simply so much easier to enjoy the ride.
How you can be screaming in fear and in delight at the same time.
Sometimes seeing others so scared makes fear seem so silly...
I recall the first year I went with my boyfriend at the time, and we went on this ride called “The Revolution” it takes that pirate ship action-ness to a whole new level, cause instead of just rocking side to side, this bitch actually goes all the way upside-down and hangs…with your hair becoming parallel to your body and change from ding dong’s pockets plummeting into the water below…this ride has been my nemesis since I was a little girl in grade school, it has always made me shake…I only rode it one time when I was young…but three years ago…I felt the need to overcome my fear…we got on the ride and as I began to tense up and the “ship” began to totally swing all the way around…a girl in front of me began to scream…”My life, my life….my life is flashing before my eyes…I see the light…help me God…please help me”…over and over again…
And you know what…I didn’t have any fear that whole ride…I could not be scared because I was to busy laughing my ass off at the chick freaking the fuck out in front of me…you can’t really be a chuckling coward now can you…
You don’t have time to be petrified when you are laughing…or enjoying the view…
When life is about to take you upside-down on a loop, you can clench up and close your eyes…or you can exhale, put your arms up, and let the fear help you fly…feeling the wind caress your cheeks as you come around…
Life is like a rollercoaster...
Sometimes you are to scared to get on the ride…
Sometimes the fear makes it that much better…more exhilarating…
Sometimes when you are frightened shitless...you just got to laugh through that shit...
Sometimes you just got to make sure you are securely fastened and let the arms wave…and scream just to scream…
Rarely do those stupid pictures they take of you in mid “swoosh” come out good…
And when the ride comes to a halt, you realize how fucking awesome the thrill was…and how you just want to ride the ride…over and over again…cause that shit is awesomeness...
Especially that “Vortex” one…
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:
PUMPING IRON (cause you know I am going to be eating some cake this week so I might as well workout and dance at the same time…aka…”a twofer.”)
Whether at the gym or on the dance floor the most important part of “pumping iron” is your form…so line up your feet with your shoulders, bend your knees a little, keep your back straight, your ass tucked and suck in your stomach…now take your weights, and bring your arms up horizontally and your elbows at ninety degree angles…slowly…remember you are suppose to have “weights” in your hands…lift your arms so your hands meet above your head…going up should take you about two seconds, then you want to hold the weights at the top for another two seconds, and slowly (this should take you approximately four seconds) let your arms come down to starting position…inhale…and as you exhale repeat…now if you are pumping iron and you got a joint dangling from your lips…hotter…
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 ☺
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
SHAVING THE SHEEP
…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…
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 ☺
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
SHAVING THE SHEEP
…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…
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
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…
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…
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
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...
RULE 1: KNOW WHEN TO GO HOME
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.
RULE 2: PUKE IN YOUR OWN DAMM TOILET
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.)
RULE 3: GUM IS CRUCIAL
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.)
RULE 4: WATER WATER WATER
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…
RULE 5: DON’T FORGET TO EAT
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…
RULE 6: IF YOU ARE BRINGING “THAT GUY” GO SOMEPLACE THAT YOU DON’T FEQUENT
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.
RULE 7: DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE
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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
PLANTING THE PLANT
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.
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...
RULE 1: KNOW WHEN TO GO HOME
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.
RULE 2: PUKE IN YOUR OWN DAMM TOILET
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.)
RULE 3: GUM IS CRUCIAL
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.)
RULE 4: WATER WATER WATER
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…
RULE 5: DON’T FORGET TO EAT
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…
RULE 6: IF YOU ARE BRINGING “THAT GUY” GO SOMEPLACE THAT YOU DON’T FEQUENT
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.
RULE 7: DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE
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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
PLANTING THE PLANT
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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE ROADRUNNER
(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.
***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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE ROADRUNNER
(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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE SEWING MACHINE
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.
***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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE SEWING MACHINE
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.
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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
VACUUMING
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!
***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.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
VACUUMING
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!
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Blog 72: Going Outside the Box (Dating Diaries Part III)
Blog 72: Going outside the Box (Dating Diaries Part III)
***Dating Diaries Parts I & II are Blogs 7 & 24…as well as my Dating Diaries Prolouge is Blog 43***
Last week, I decided to dip my toes back into the dating pool…and…wait for it…the water was shockingly refreshing.
Instead of looking at dating as a burden & a bitch and a half to deal with, I decided to just start to enjoy myself and take everything as a learning experience…and just have fun.
What a difference an outlook makes!!!
And I don’t know if changing my shampoo altered my scent…but I seem to be attracting some NICE boys…and while I usually laminate over all the bad dates I go on in my diaries…this time, I don’t have anything to complain about.
Now, I'm not going to go on second dates with all of the boys from last week, its not that some weren’t nice, they were all soooooo sweet but they weren’t “just right”…and I am a picky bitch…
I enjoyed all the dates…for so many assorted reasons…mostly cause they were all contrary from ones I had been on before…they were new, invigorating and stimulating.
All three dates I went on last week opened doors for me, bought me dinner, had jobs…smelled good…all that action…they were all gentlemen…and they were all boys that before for some reason or another I would never even think to go out with.
Cause when it comes to men…I have pigeonholed myself.
I have had this mental mirage of exactly what I want…what will satisfy my thirst…what is going to make me happy…but I have forgotten one crucial item…I’m not always right.
Chicken Fucker!
After reaching this most valid point, I decided to step outside my box of what I think makes me happy and go exploring...and I do so love an adventure.
The Dates in my last diaries have not been up to par with how princess dates should be…and I am a princess...maybe the boys being ding dongs wasn’t the only thing not making the dates go well…maybe…I know this is shocking…IT WAS ME.
Oh humility, a flavor I so dislike dancing on my palate…yet a vitamin one so needs.
The reality of the situation is that while on the dates from the past diaries the boys weren’t making me happy, but what they were doing was making themselves happy…and who the fuck am I to knock someone down for being whom they are.
What works for one person, does not work for the other…
Now, to look at both sides of shit (as I love so much to do) I was entirely valid in feeling the way I felt on the previous dates…cause that is how I felt…and one cannot tell nobody that how they feel is wrong…period.
I also cannot adjudicate all boys on what some have done to me.
For I am jaded and have been hurt, fucked over and left heartbroken…alas who am I to be pissed off, for there is a path of broken hearts behind me…I get so caught up in how I have been damaged that I put the blinders on to my own imperfections…how I have made others feel...
I hate it when people look at me and judge…or compare who I was in the past to who I am now…I am proof positive that people mature and grow and fuck up and stumble and fall and get back up and keep climbing…and learn from their mistakes…so I need to stop judging everyone else.
And who always says the “right thing”…I sure the hell don’t…I need to have more empathy towards others as I desire them to have with me.
I need to step down from my pedestal and be more accepting…and realize there are exceptions to every rule.
I need to understand that what I think makes me happy…isn’t necessarily the truth.
That maybe I just don’t know.
Man I hope this humble pie comes with some whip cream or something…
I believe that if I cast down my walls, I will open myself up to things I didn’t know would make me happy…I cannot say I don’t like something…when I haven’t even tried it…
And not only do I need to do this when it comes to dating, I need to do it when it comes to life in general.
For example, tonight I scored free tickets to Kenny G…and I have talked plenty of shit about Kenny G…I think I even talked shit about his mom…my sister said she would fuck his nose (I bet it hits the ladies in just the right spot ☺ )…but the truth of the matter is…I have never seen Kenny G…and who the hell am I to talk shit about someone who I have never seen play, who I have never met…that is some bullshit right there on my part…and Kenny G, has been around for a while…his career is more than solid…shit, he is playing four nights in a row here in the city…I have this feeling that I am going to see him, and be like, “Fuck that was a good show…I still humped his mom last night…but that was a good show.”
And it may or may not be my cup of tea…but damm, I won’t know till I taste it.
Yes I did just compare my dating tales to a Kenny G show…you will just have to deal with that one…
And I will deal with the fact that I don’t always know what is best for me…
By taking new things in…I will start to fine tune what I really want…what makes me happy…what I can put up with…
I am pretty sure that is what this whole “dating” thing is about…
Figuring shit out…and making sure you smell good while doing it...crucial.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
CUTTING THE PIE
All right, start by pulling the pie out of the oven…damm that bitch is hot…give your hands a little blow/cool down action and grab your towel and start fanning down the pie…waiting for the pie to cool is a bitch…I recommend smoking a joint while you wait…it helps the time pass…the pie is cool enough (not really, but patience is not my strong suit)…practice cut the pie with the knife in the air, once you have mapped out your slice size begin carving…I recommend cutting each side two to three times...grab the spatula/ pie slice grabbing gizmo, and try to get the slice out…ohhhhhhhhh nooooooooo…it fell apart cause we didn’t wait for it to cool properly…no need to panic…thank god for Plan B…pull out your fork, and just eat it straight from the pan…that is some smoking pie!!!
***Dating Diaries Parts I & II are Blogs 7 & 24…as well as my Dating Diaries Prolouge is Blog 43***
Last week, I decided to dip my toes back into the dating pool…and…wait for it…the water was shockingly refreshing.
Instead of looking at dating as a burden & a bitch and a half to deal with, I decided to just start to enjoy myself and take everything as a learning experience…and just have fun.
What a difference an outlook makes!!!
And I don’t know if changing my shampoo altered my scent…but I seem to be attracting some NICE boys…and while I usually laminate over all the bad dates I go on in my diaries…this time, I don’t have anything to complain about.
Now, I'm not going to go on second dates with all of the boys from last week, its not that some weren’t nice, they were all soooooo sweet but they weren’t “just right”…and I am a picky bitch…
I enjoyed all the dates…for so many assorted reasons…mostly cause they were all contrary from ones I had been on before…they were new, invigorating and stimulating.
All three dates I went on last week opened doors for me, bought me dinner, had jobs…smelled good…all that action…they were all gentlemen…and they were all boys that before for some reason or another I would never even think to go out with.
Cause when it comes to men…I have pigeonholed myself.
I have had this mental mirage of exactly what I want…what will satisfy my thirst…what is going to make me happy…but I have forgotten one crucial item…I’m not always right.
Chicken Fucker!
After reaching this most valid point, I decided to step outside my box of what I think makes me happy and go exploring...and I do so love an adventure.
The Dates in my last diaries have not been up to par with how princess dates should be…and I am a princess...maybe the boys being ding dongs wasn’t the only thing not making the dates go well…maybe…I know this is shocking…IT WAS ME.
Oh humility, a flavor I so dislike dancing on my palate…yet a vitamin one so needs.
The reality of the situation is that while on the dates from the past diaries the boys weren’t making me happy, but what they were doing was making themselves happy…and who the fuck am I to knock someone down for being whom they are.
What works for one person, does not work for the other…
Now, to look at both sides of shit (as I love so much to do) I was entirely valid in feeling the way I felt on the previous dates…cause that is how I felt…and one cannot tell nobody that how they feel is wrong…period.
I also cannot adjudicate all boys on what some have done to me.
For I am jaded and have been hurt, fucked over and left heartbroken…alas who am I to be pissed off, for there is a path of broken hearts behind me…I get so caught up in how I have been damaged that I put the blinders on to my own imperfections…how I have made others feel...
I hate it when people look at me and judge…or compare who I was in the past to who I am now…I am proof positive that people mature and grow and fuck up and stumble and fall and get back up and keep climbing…and learn from their mistakes…so I need to stop judging everyone else.
And who always says the “right thing”…I sure the hell don’t…I need to have more empathy towards others as I desire them to have with me.
I need to step down from my pedestal and be more accepting…and realize there are exceptions to every rule.
I need to understand that what I think makes me happy…isn’t necessarily the truth.
That maybe I just don’t know.
Man I hope this humble pie comes with some whip cream or something…
I believe that if I cast down my walls, I will open myself up to things I didn’t know would make me happy…I cannot say I don’t like something…when I haven’t even tried it…
And not only do I need to do this when it comes to dating, I need to do it when it comes to life in general.
For example, tonight I scored free tickets to Kenny G…and I have talked plenty of shit about Kenny G…I think I even talked shit about his mom…my sister said she would fuck his nose (I bet it hits the ladies in just the right spot ☺ )…but the truth of the matter is…I have never seen Kenny G…and who the hell am I to talk shit about someone who I have never seen play, who I have never met…that is some bullshit right there on my part…and Kenny G, has been around for a while…his career is more than solid…shit, he is playing four nights in a row here in the city…I have this feeling that I am going to see him, and be like, “Fuck that was a good show…I still humped his mom last night…but that was a good show.”
And it may or may not be my cup of tea…but damm, I won’t know till I taste it.
Yes I did just compare my dating tales to a Kenny G show…you will just have to deal with that one…
And I will deal with the fact that I don’t always know what is best for me…
By taking new things in…I will start to fine tune what I really want…what makes me happy…what I can put up with…
I am pretty sure that is what this whole “dating” thing is about…
Figuring shit out…and making sure you smell good while doing it...crucial.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
CUTTING THE PIE
All right, start by pulling the pie out of the oven…damm that bitch is hot…give your hands a little blow/cool down action and grab your towel and start fanning down the pie…waiting for the pie to cool is a bitch…I recommend smoking a joint while you wait…it helps the time pass…the pie is cool enough (not really, but patience is not my strong suit)…practice cut the pie with the knife in the air, once you have mapped out your slice size begin carving…I recommend cutting each side two to three times...grab the spatula/ pie slice grabbing gizmo, and try to get the slice out…ohhhhhhhhh nooooooooo…it fell apart cause we didn’t wait for it to cool properly…no need to panic…thank god for Plan B…pull out your fork, and just eat it straight from the pan…that is some smoking pie!!!
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Blog 71: How to Walk in Downtown San Francisco
Blog 71: How to Walk in Downtown San Francisco
In taking a break from the serious writing connotations that have been dancing from my fingertips as of late, I thought a tutorial would be much more appropriate for this week…cause walking in downtown San Francisco can be a bitch and a half…totally.
Yet strutting in the city by the bay is the best way to get around…a bus may take 30 minutes with all the stops it makes, while traversing will take 45 minutes, doesn’t smell horrid like Muni, you can smoke pot and amble, obtain exercise and absorb so much more of San Francisco.
That being said, there is an art to ambulating…there is pivoting, ducking, gentle pushing, galloping, fake-right-move-left-action-ness and so forth. Being a professional City Prancer I thought I should lay out some basic ground rules…
Rule One: Swim like the Salmon Bitches
This is probably the most important rule, and sets the tone for the lesson. Walking in a straight line is not an option, there are just way too many people moving at different paces for you to be sedentary in your movements….Zigging and Zagging are crucial, sometimes you might have to take the inside, from time to time you need to make big moves from the outside. I try to stay on the outer perimeter so I only have people flanked to one side of me making it easier to map out my routes.
Please note: Swimming like the Salmon also involves changing of pace…while you can mosey down the street plucking away at the current there are times when you must go for a speed walking burst (sucking in your stomach encourages this to be achieved faster) in order to accomplish avoiding a cluster of tourists pointing upward at a dead halt.
Rule Two: Look Ahead and Think Out your next 5 Moves
To properly swim upstream, one must think ahead…what is the point of taking the inside to avoid a group if at the end of the masses lies a homeless person with a dog that is creating a major road block. Your moves should have afterthought to the next move…if you can avoid the group by taking the inside and cut them off in just enough time to miss the dog on the side and take a sharp right angle to get around dude not paying attention on his cell phone and still make the light…than you are thinking your shit out right.
Rule Three: Avoid the Inside whenever Possible, but Don’t get hit by a Car (crucial.)
Who wants to be flanked by a wall…nobody…especially one that might have been urinated on…this is always something to ponder while mapping out your marching route in your head…and there is often more room on the outside…that being said, for the love of all that is holy, look out for the two ton vehicles as well as insane bikers when you are doing your side stepping, (remember these are people just as bonkers as both you and I, but in cars…yikes)…and whether your move takes you to the inside or the outside, make sure you have at least two escape options…cause sometimes you gotta to use Plan B.
Rule Four: Follow the Lights
When taking off for your destination, start by walking in the general direction, to become more time efficient simply follow the lights, when one light turns red…turn down the street avoiding having to pause for red lights and have the green lights lead you to your journey’s end.
Rule Five: Shit Check (Don’t forget the “Tenderloin Shit Shuffle” dance…Blog 9)
While you always need to be looking ahead, you also need to keep your eyes flashing on the ground, for you never know what craziness will be waiting for you...from shit, to puke, to a tomato, a Jehovah Witness…you never know what is hiding between those feet on the sidewalk…strolling in San Francisco is like driving, you got to be aware of all angles.
(Also as far as pigeons are concerned, if you are going to look up at them as they zoom by your head, just make sure you keep your mouth shut…cause getting shit on by a pigeon is one thing, having the shit land in your mouth is a whole new ball game (I do not speak from experience…but simply a small nightmare that flashes through my head when I approach a bevy of the winged rats)…and whoever is the ding dong that keeps on feeding the pigeons, freaking stop…they get enough crap to eat, there is no need to encourage them to congregate on street corners.)
Rule Six: Yelling “RAT” can thin a Crowd
At the heart of Union Square the crowds can look like small armies and make crossing the street seem almost impossible…if you find yourself holding up the rear of a gaggle needing to move fast, simply yell in your most petrified voice, “RAT, RAT, RAT, oh my God, there is a RAT.”…one will be amazed at how quickly the scores thin giving you a chance to part the sea of people and make it across the intersection.
Rule Seven: Don’t Text & Walk
Talking on the phone is okay in a throng of people, even though I find it kinda useless since my hearing sucks, but to text and walk is not okay…save that for when you hit Nob Hill and can saunter in a straight line…there is no point to become one of those speed bump people…there are enough of those out there already without you adding yourself to the equation…besides, having your phone out is just asking for it to get stolen…this is the city peeps, and don’t even think about pulling out your fancy phone in the Tenderloin…do you know how much crack someone can get in exchange for one of those nice phones…don’t even try to find out….
Rule Eight: You can always avoid a Hill (why would you want to)
Since I am always looking for ways to improve my ass…I never avoid the sky scrapper hills that adorn this city…that being said, if you are feeling a little tired, just progress five minutes to the right or the left and you can usually find a flatter route. For example…in walking to California Street from downtown, the steepest hills are on Jones, Taylor & Mason. Leavenworth is a gradual hill and much more do-able, as well as Stockton Street has a tunnel to avoid any uphill action…a few more blocks over Kearny Street almost goes downward…that being said, the best views are from Taylor Street…see the hills aren’t just butt improving…they capture breathtaking visions as well.
Rule Nine: Wear Shoes you can Walk in
I always say that you don’t need a TV living in this city; cause there is free TV everywhere. One of my favorite channels is the “Watching Chicks try to Walk in the Craziest Heels Ever.”…after hours it turns saucier with, “Watching Drunk Chicks try to Walk in the Craziest Heels Ever.” Experiencing this program results with the audience gasping, pointing, big eyes, sideway glances, soft smiles and snorting laughter…(if you are like me and snort when you laugh)…I have never understood the idea of walking in shoes that you can’t…WALK IN…isn’t that what shoes are for…it is this simple fact that for me, makes the station even that much more entertaining.
And boys, you don’t get off on this rule…I’m all about equality. Just the other day I saw homie high stepping down the street in a pair of cowboy boots that were obviously two sizes too big for him…and he wasn’t fooling me, I knew that he hadn’t just gotten off a horse…this is San Francisco buddy…there ain’t no horses round here…if you are wearing shoes that in order to keep on your feet when you walk you have to point outward, lift five inches off the ground and heel-toe it in slow motion, than maybe you might want to find a pair of shoes that stay on your feet…a princess is just saying…
Rule Ten: Always be Polite
No matter what kind of hurry you are in, how dense the tourist can be to their effects of the flow of foot traffic, even if the dig dong ahead has started to meander backwards instead of forward do to their love affair with their Iphone…shit happens, and part of living in this great city, is letting people do what the fuck they need to do and what makes them happy…they are not purposely trying to get in your way…but are simply obstacles in what can be quite an amusing course. Saying, “Excuse me, Pardon me, Oops and Sorry” are quite crucial…and just as others might make you shake your head, you might do the same for them…swimming like a freaking fish down a city street…you might even knock your tail against someone in your quest for dinner and a cocktail…But we all need to get where we need to go…and there is never any point to being rude to nobody.
I did mention walking makes your ass look better…right.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
PICKING OUT THE PERFECT RECORD
(if you are like me and are re-organizing your records…this is an awesome dance move to accomplish)
Start by flipping through your precious vinyl…pull out a record and look at it, maybe even open it up and scroll your finger down the inside…hmmmm, not quite what you wanted…put is back, flip, flip, flip….wait a minute, flip back….pull out the record…smell it…ohhh the vinyl was dusty but the music was clean….as you take the record from its case give it a little wink and a smile…place it down on the player, arc the needle up and softly place it home…and let the music take you away.
In taking a break from the serious writing connotations that have been dancing from my fingertips as of late, I thought a tutorial would be much more appropriate for this week…cause walking in downtown San Francisco can be a bitch and a half…totally.
Yet strutting in the city by the bay is the best way to get around…a bus may take 30 minutes with all the stops it makes, while traversing will take 45 minutes, doesn’t smell horrid like Muni, you can smoke pot and amble, obtain exercise and absorb so much more of San Francisco.
That being said, there is an art to ambulating…there is pivoting, ducking, gentle pushing, galloping, fake-right-move-left-action-ness and so forth. Being a professional City Prancer I thought I should lay out some basic ground rules…
Rule One: Swim like the Salmon Bitches
This is probably the most important rule, and sets the tone for the lesson. Walking in a straight line is not an option, there are just way too many people moving at different paces for you to be sedentary in your movements….Zigging and Zagging are crucial, sometimes you might have to take the inside, from time to time you need to make big moves from the outside. I try to stay on the outer perimeter so I only have people flanked to one side of me making it easier to map out my routes.
Please note: Swimming like the Salmon also involves changing of pace…while you can mosey down the street plucking away at the current there are times when you must go for a speed walking burst (sucking in your stomach encourages this to be achieved faster) in order to accomplish avoiding a cluster of tourists pointing upward at a dead halt.
Rule Two: Look Ahead and Think Out your next 5 Moves
To properly swim upstream, one must think ahead…what is the point of taking the inside to avoid a group if at the end of the masses lies a homeless person with a dog that is creating a major road block. Your moves should have afterthought to the next move…if you can avoid the group by taking the inside and cut them off in just enough time to miss the dog on the side and take a sharp right angle to get around dude not paying attention on his cell phone and still make the light…than you are thinking your shit out right.
Rule Three: Avoid the Inside whenever Possible, but Don’t get hit by a Car (crucial.)
Who wants to be flanked by a wall…nobody…especially one that might have been urinated on…this is always something to ponder while mapping out your marching route in your head…and there is often more room on the outside…that being said, for the love of all that is holy, look out for the two ton vehicles as well as insane bikers when you are doing your side stepping, (remember these are people just as bonkers as both you and I, but in cars…yikes)…and whether your move takes you to the inside or the outside, make sure you have at least two escape options…cause sometimes you gotta to use Plan B.
Rule Four: Follow the Lights
When taking off for your destination, start by walking in the general direction, to become more time efficient simply follow the lights, when one light turns red…turn down the street avoiding having to pause for red lights and have the green lights lead you to your journey’s end.
Rule Five: Shit Check (Don’t forget the “Tenderloin Shit Shuffle” dance…Blog 9)
While you always need to be looking ahead, you also need to keep your eyes flashing on the ground, for you never know what craziness will be waiting for you...from shit, to puke, to a tomato, a Jehovah Witness…you never know what is hiding between those feet on the sidewalk…strolling in San Francisco is like driving, you got to be aware of all angles.
(Also as far as pigeons are concerned, if you are going to look up at them as they zoom by your head, just make sure you keep your mouth shut…cause getting shit on by a pigeon is one thing, having the shit land in your mouth is a whole new ball game (I do not speak from experience…but simply a small nightmare that flashes through my head when I approach a bevy of the winged rats)…and whoever is the ding dong that keeps on feeding the pigeons, freaking stop…they get enough crap to eat, there is no need to encourage them to congregate on street corners.)
Rule Six: Yelling “RAT” can thin a Crowd
At the heart of Union Square the crowds can look like small armies and make crossing the street seem almost impossible…if you find yourself holding up the rear of a gaggle needing to move fast, simply yell in your most petrified voice, “RAT, RAT, RAT, oh my God, there is a RAT.”…one will be amazed at how quickly the scores thin giving you a chance to part the sea of people and make it across the intersection.
Rule Seven: Don’t Text & Walk
Talking on the phone is okay in a throng of people, even though I find it kinda useless since my hearing sucks, but to text and walk is not okay…save that for when you hit Nob Hill and can saunter in a straight line…there is no point to become one of those speed bump people…there are enough of those out there already without you adding yourself to the equation…besides, having your phone out is just asking for it to get stolen…this is the city peeps, and don’t even think about pulling out your fancy phone in the Tenderloin…do you know how much crack someone can get in exchange for one of those nice phones…don’t even try to find out….
Rule Eight: You can always avoid a Hill (why would you want to)
Since I am always looking for ways to improve my ass…I never avoid the sky scrapper hills that adorn this city…that being said, if you are feeling a little tired, just progress five minutes to the right or the left and you can usually find a flatter route. For example…in walking to California Street from downtown, the steepest hills are on Jones, Taylor & Mason. Leavenworth is a gradual hill and much more do-able, as well as Stockton Street has a tunnel to avoid any uphill action…a few more blocks over Kearny Street almost goes downward…that being said, the best views are from Taylor Street…see the hills aren’t just butt improving…they capture breathtaking visions as well.
Rule Nine: Wear Shoes you can Walk in
I always say that you don’t need a TV living in this city; cause there is free TV everywhere. One of my favorite channels is the “Watching Chicks try to Walk in the Craziest Heels Ever.”…after hours it turns saucier with, “Watching Drunk Chicks try to Walk in the Craziest Heels Ever.” Experiencing this program results with the audience gasping, pointing, big eyes, sideway glances, soft smiles and snorting laughter…(if you are like me and snort when you laugh)…I have never understood the idea of walking in shoes that you can’t…WALK IN…isn’t that what shoes are for…it is this simple fact that for me, makes the station even that much more entertaining.
And boys, you don’t get off on this rule…I’m all about equality. Just the other day I saw homie high stepping down the street in a pair of cowboy boots that were obviously two sizes too big for him…and he wasn’t fooling me, I knew that he hadn’t just gotten off a horse…this is San Francisco buddy…there ain’t no horses round here…if you are wearing shoes that in order to keep on your feet when you walk you have to point outward, lift five inches off the ground and heel-toe it in slow motion, than maybe you might want to find a pair of shoes that stay on your feet…a princess is just saying…
Rule Ten: Always be Polite
No matter what kind of hurry you are in, how dense the tourist can be to their effects of the flow of foot traffic, even if the dig dong ahead has started to meander backwards instead of forward do to their love affair with their Iphone…shit happens, and part of living in this great city, is letting people do what the fuck they need to do and what makes them happy…they are not purposely trying to get in your way…but are simply obstacles in what can be quite an amusing course. Saying, “Excuse me, Pardon me, Oops and Sorry” are quite crucial…and just as others might make you shake your head, you might do the same for them…swimming like a freaking fish down a city street…you might even knock your tail against someone in your quest for dinner and a cocktail…But we all need to get where we need to go…and there is never any point to being rude to nobody.
I did mention walking makes your ass look better…right.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
PICKING OUT THE PERFECT RECORD
(if you are like me and are re-organizing your records…this is an awesome dance move to accomplish)
Start by flipping through your precious vinyl…pull out a record and look at it, maybe even open it up and scroll your finger down the inside…hmmmm, not quite what you wanted…put is back, flip, flip, flip….wait a minute, flip back….pull out the record…smell it…ohhh the vinyl was dusty but the music was clean….as you take the record from its case give it a little wink and a smile…place it down on the player, arc the needle up and softly place it home…and let the music take you away.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Blog 70: The Elegance of Failure...
Blog 70: The Elegance of Failure…
Oh my diaries…I have been doing this project for almost a year and half, and I still have trouble sometimes writing down how I truly feel, wondering if it will get me in trouble with the people that I love…as it often has. Yet many times what I have written has moved and touched friends and family...probably in equality I have pissed them off too.
I got yelled at last week for what I wrote from one person, and another I feel was truly able to understand where I was coming from…and our relationship mended from a small rip.
The truth of the matter is that writing these diaries, are a form of therapy for me.
It frustrates me when people get angry at me for writing how I feel…after all, isn’t that what a diary is for? And this is what I do…writing my problems and accomplishments as well as my thoughts and feelings help me look at them from all sides…as one should…and if people hang out with me for more than 15 minutes they are acutely aware that this is what I do…and if you haven’t figured it out yet…if I have an interaction with someone and it affects me in any kind of way…I am probably going to write about it…
I ponder whether this one might get me in some trouble too…but I refuse to not stay true to my project…for it is one thing that is completely me…and is something I feel I must continue.
I am having a disagreement with my family…and to be angry and hurt by them is a feeling I so wish not to have.
If you have read some of my previous entries you know how much my family means to me, how good they are to me…how they are the one stable thing in my life, and how thankful I am to have them.
And the thought of me being mad at them is killing me slowly, like drowning face down in an inch of water…drifting in and out of consciousness, almost able to flip over…but slipping away right before the rotation can occur.
I am angry at how my parents are codling my little sister…something they have done for most of her life…which I feel has limited her from the truths of reality.
Many times I have wondered if the same parents that raised my older sister and myself are the same that raised our family’s youngest…for her life is a completely different picture than mine.
My parents learned from my older sister and my hardships in grade school and sent my younger sister to a school where my mother would not be her teacher…so she would not have to endure the teasing, the cruel children and the backlash that came with having your mother being your teacher (not to mention calling your mom “Mrs. Powers” is tough when you have been calling her “Mom” for so freaking long.)
For some strange reason, my younger sister thinks her childhood was extremely hard…and I just don’t get it.
She did not have to deal with the mom being a teacher factor, she didn’t have bright red hair that everyone teased…her hair was straight long blonde. She was not heavy growing up like I was…constantly harassed about her weight. In fact she was tall and skinny and often approached about modeling jobs…she had numerous friends and was not forced to walk around Golden Gate Park alone in her free time just to keep herself occupied (that being said…I know that park like the back of my hand…every corner and kook…is still imprinted in my brain from years of wondering around by myself…the park and The Boom Boom Room are truly my homes away from home.)
She was not sexually assaulted as a teenager…she knows not the putrid smell of a vile man atop her, a cold elbow against the throat…clawing at her innocence…she has not had to deal with how these encounters affect one’s sexuality.
When she was in college she never waited for canned pork and rice in line at a shelter, never was on food stamps, never had to have a job of changing an adult diaper from a man that yelled and screamed constantly cause that was the only job one could find (I took care of this one lady once…she made me wash her depends to save money…those bitches are disposable diapers…not made for reuse, if you all didn’t know…that was some nasty ass shit)…she has only has had one job at a time and never had to work a triple.
And yet so often she mentions how hard her childhood was…and it baffles me…for all the shit that I went through growing up…I still had it easy…I had a roof over my head, I had parents who loved me (yes we would get in fights, and they would piss me off…I still can only imagine the true hell of raising three teenage daughters…all Gemini no less…YIKES) I grew up in a place where I have clean water, rights as a woman…can shit on a toilet not in the woods or some hole in the floor…always had clean cloths and food on the table…
Whatever shit happened to me growing up…happens to a lot of people…and a lot more people, have to deal with even worse shit.
To me her childhood seems like a fairytale that I can only imagine.
I feel like she has been sheltered for so long from the cruel reality…of reality.
But the shadows only last for so long, and as her twenty five years gets ready to turn to twenty six…the dawn of actuality has begun to rise bringing light to hardships that are simply part of life.
If one has seen the sunrise and sunset of reality, the harsh beams it can beat down…how it can warm and nuzzle as well as bitterly burn…the cycles can be daunting but faith in dusk always coming helps numb the pain…and makes it more palatable.
Yet for someone like my younger sister…encased in a sepulchral of dwarfed actuality…simply shifting gears leads to a car accident.
The strident truth that you don’t always get what you want has landed at her doorstep…and due to the fact that this is its first touchdown upon the welcome mat…she stands behind the door unwilling to open the door, but knowing that she has to.
And I have tried so hard to bite my tongue from saying, “Nut up, reality is a bitch that slaps you in the face”…I would whisper afterwards, “but sometimes the sting of pain feels good in its aftermath.”
But she is in denial that life is supposed to be bleak at times.
She is collapsing like Atlantis into the sea.
And instead of teaching her to swim against the current…my parents are once again letting her float in her own bubble.
Yet all great kingdoms at one time or another fall…and in the rebuilding one can right the wrongs…that is where the beauty lies.
In learning to swim against the current one finds inner strength, power in breath and ever lasting endurance…my parents taught me this…and why they choose not to pass these lessons on to my younger sister, I fail to understand. (In some way I do understand, cause if you try to reason about not always getting what you want with her she flips out and yells at my parents and threatens to cut them out of her life…and who wants to deal with that…on the same hand, it shouldn’t even happen in the first place)…but this lesson that my parents taught me has helped me so much, I yearn for them to pass it on to her.
I feel that my younger sister lacks a softness which is the result of being humbled…a trait that proves quite endearing.
The selfish part of me also feels in protecting her so much against the mercilessness of life my parents are some how saying that they love her more than they love me (and I am so good to them…I love them so much, and she can be so mean)…a fact that has left me in a despondent state…now I know in the back of my head that this is not true…that it simply is more towards the merit of my mightiness…but that does not stop the thought from dangling itself in the forefront of my mind.
And this last fact…is probably why I am so upset…I don’t want to admit that…but hence these are my “diaries.”
I love my younger sister…many times when growing up I was quite jealous of how easy she had it, and to hear her bitch about it now, just baffles me….
I pray and really hope that instead of wallowing in self-pity…she finds the elegance in failure…the pureness…that in not always getting what you want…leads to truly obtaining what you were meant to be.
Yes, life is not all unicorns, moonbeams and sparkles…but just because it is hard, does not mean it is not a glorious thing…from the hallow darkness the light emerges that much more luminous and breathtaking.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
SETTING THE TABLE
Start by high-flying a table cloth on top of your table…give it a nice smoothing out…now place your plates down…let us get some napkin folding action on and place them on the sides of the plates. It’s silverware time!...Knife, fork and spoon…got to be prepared for any kind of food here…after we set those down we grab the glasses…check for spots they might need a polish or two…now that those are all sparkly, what else…put you finger to your head and think about it for a second…oh yeah…salt and pepper…think we are good to go…light the candles with the matches and now everyone can sit down…crap…someone has got to go get the food!
Oh my diaries…I have been doing this project for almost a year and half, and I still have trouble sometimes writing down how I truly feel, wondering if it will get me in trouble with the people that I love…as it often has. Yet many times what I have written has moved and touched friends and family...probably in equality I have pissed them off too.
I got yelled at last week for what I wrote from one person, and another I feel was truly able to understand where I was coming from…and our relationship mended from a small rip.
The truth of the matter is that writing these diaries, are a form of therapy for me.
It frustrates me when people get angry at me for writing how I feel…after all, isn’t that what a diary is for? And this is what I do…writing my problems and accomplishments as well as my thoughts and feelings help me look at them from all sides…as one should…and if people hang out with me for more than 15 minutes they are acutely aware that this is what I do…and if you haven’t figured it out yet…if I have an interaction with someone and it affects me in any kind of way…I am probably going to write about it…
I ponder whether this one might get me in some trouble too…but I refuse to not stay true to my project…for it is one thing that is completely me…and is something I feel I must continue.
I am having a disagreement with my family…and to be angry and hurt by them is a feeling I so wish not to have.
If you have read some of my previous entries you know how much my family means to me, how good they are to me…how they are the one stable thing in my life, and how thankful I am to have them.
And the thought of me being mad at them is killing me slowly, like drowning face down in an inch of water…drifting in and out of consciousness, almost able to flip over…but slipping away right before the rotation can occur.
I am angry at how my parents are codling my little sister…something they have done for most of her life…which I feel has limited her from the truths of reality.
Many times I have wondered if the same parents that raised my older sister and myself are the same that raised our family’s youngest…for her life is a completely different picture than mine.
My parents learned from my older sister and my hardships in grade school and sent my younger sister to a school where my mother would not be her teacher…so she would not have to endure the teasing, the cruel children and the backlash that came with having your mother being your teacher (not to mention calling your mom “Mrs. Powers” is tough when you have been calling her “Mom” for so freaking long.)
For some strange reason, my younger sister thinks her childhood was extremely hard…and I just don’t get it.
She did not have to deal with the mom being a teacher factor, she didn’t have bright red hair that everyone teased…her hair was straight long blonde. She was not heavy growing up like I was…constantly harassed about her weight. In fact she was tall and skinny and often approached about modeling jobs…she had numerous friends and was not forced to walk around Golden Gate Park alone in her free time just to keep herself occupied (that being said…I know that park like the back of my hand…every corner and kook…is still imprinted in my brain from years of wondering around by myself…the park and The Boom Boom Room are truly my homes away from home.)
She was not sexually assaulted as a teenager…she knows not the putrid smell of a vile man atop her, a cold elbow against the throat…clawing at her innocence…she has not had to deal with how these encounters affect one’s sexuality.
When she was in college she never waited for canned pork and rice in line at a shelter, never was on food stamps, never had to have a job of changing an adult diaper from a man that yelled and screamed constantly cause that was the only job one could find (I took care of this one lady once…she made me wash her depends to save money…those bitches are disposable diapers…not made for reuse, if you all didn’t know…that was some nasty ass shit)…she has only has had one job at a time and never had to work a triple.
And yet so often she mentions how hard her childhood was…and it baffles me…for all the shit that I went through growing up…I still had it easy…I had a roof over my head, I had parents who loved me (yes we would get in fights, and they would piss me off…I still can only imagine the true hell of raising three teenage daughters…all Gemini no less…YIKES) I grew up in a place where I have clean water, rights as a woman…can shit on a toilet not in the woods or some hole in the floor…always had clean cloths and food on the table…
Whatever shit happened to me growing up…happens to a lot of people…and a lot more people, have to deal with even worse shit.
To me her childhood seems like a fairytale that I can only imagine.
I feel like she has been sheltered for so long from the cruel reality…of reality.
But the shadows only last for so long, and as her twenty five years gets ready to turn to twenty six…the dawn of actuality has begun to rise bringing light to hardships that are simply part of life.
If one has seen the sunrise and sunset of reality, the harsh beams it can beat down…how it can warm and nuzzle as well as bitterly burn…the cycles can be daunting but faith in dusk always coming helps numb the pain…and makes it more palatable.
Yet for someone like my younger sister…encased in a sepulchral of dwarfed actuality…simply shifting gears leads to a car accident.
The strident truth that you don’t always get what you want has landed at her doorstep…and due to the fact that this is its first touchdown upon the welcome mat…she stands behind the door unwilling to open the door, but knowing that she has to.
And I have tried so hard to bite my tongue from saying, “Nut up, reality is a bitch that slaps you in the face”…I would whisper afterwards, “but sometimes the sting of pain feels good in its aftermath.”
But she is in denial that life is supposed to be bleak at times.
She is collapsing like Atlantis into the sea.
And instead of teaching her to swim against the current…my parents are once again letting her float in her own bubble.
Yet all great kingdoms at one time or another fall…and in the rebuilding one can right the wrongs…that is where the beauty lies.
In learning to swim against the current one finds inner strength, power in breath and ever lasting endurance…my parents taught me this…and why they choose not to pass these lessons on to my younger sister, I fail to understand. (In some way I do understand, cause if you try to reason about not always getting what you want with her she flips out and yells at my parents and threatens to cut them out of her life…and who wants to deal with that…on the same hand, it shouldn’t even happen in the first place)…but this lesson that my parents taught me has helped me so much, I yearn for them to pass it on to her.
I feel that my younger sister lacks a softness which is the result of being humbled…a trait that proves quite endearing.
The selfish part of me also feels in protecting her so much against the mercilessness of life my parents are some how saying that they love her more than they love me (and I am so good to them…I love them so much, and she can be so mean)…a fact that has left me in a despondent state…now I know in the back of my head that this is not true…that it simply is more towards the merit of my mightiness…but that does not stop the thought from dangling itself in the forefront of my mind.
And this last fact…is probably why I am so upset…I don’t want to admit that…but hence these are my “diaries.”
I love my younger sister…many times when growing up I was quite jealous of how easy she had it, and to hear her bitch about it now, just baffles me….
I pray and really hope that instead of wallowing in self-pity…she finds the elegance in failure…the pureness…that in not always getting what you want…leads to truly obtaining what you were meant to be.
Yes, life is not all unicorns, moonbeams and sparkles…but just because it is hard, does not mean it is not a glorious thing…from the hallow darkness the light emerges that much more luminous and breathtaking.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
SETTING THE TABLE
Start by high-flying a table cloth on top of your table…give it a nice smoothing out…now place your plates down…let us get some napkin folding action on and place them on the sides of the plates. It’s silverware time!...Knife, fork and spoon…got to be prepared for any kind of food here…after we set those down we grab the glasses…check for spots they might need a polish or two…now that those are all sparkly, what else…put you finger to your head and think about it for a second…oh yeah…salt and pepper…think we are good to go…light the candles with the matches and now everyone can sit down…crap…someone has got to go get the food!
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Blog 69: Letting Someone Down...
Blog 69: Letting Someone Down….
What makes us take one path, instead of the other?
This last week, I let someone I love down…a friend, a boss, a mentor…someone I look up to and I love…I let them down because I was selfish, I was caught up in the moment, and while I was letting her down, I was letting myself down as well.
See even a Princess can be a chicken fucker.
I put someone else before her…and what kills me is the person I put first, never puts me first…their job, their friends and a laundry list of things always come before me…and yet I put him before my job and my friends…and I wish I could take back time…that being said…oh what a lesson I have learned.
While I disappointed my friend and know she has every right to be mad, I also know that our friendship is stronger than this incident…I have faith that I have been a very good friend…I know that I have loved her, stuck up for her, and been true to her, just as she has helped me, it has not been a one sided road…I know I put an effort into the relationship…which is one of the reasons that I am so mad at myself….yet I know that our friendship is stronger than this, and after time passes, so will the disappointment I made my friend feel.
I also know that maybe at my age…she might have made the same mistake…it doesn’t justify it at all, just humanizes it.
The truth of the matter is that what I did was not that big of a deal (I didn’t show up for something I was suppose to…and an effort had been made by this person so I could go) and it was not that I had bad intentions or any intent of malice….but that does not take away from the matter that I let my friend down…and I love my friend more than words can tell…
I simply got caught up…distracted by matters of the heart (ohhhh, those matters of the heart can really take a girl over).
I am ridden with mortification of my actions…my choices.
And feeling guilty, really sucks…it torments me and ravages me when I awake…it sneaks into the back of my head when I am trying to space out and forget, I have been finding myself shaking my head to myself and just thinking, “how could I have been so stupid”….which has lead to my neck kinda hurting…ouch.
Now granted, maybe my feelings of “guilt” are stronger than they should be, I was raised Catholic after all…they really bang that shit into you at a young age…but I think the real reason I feel so guilty is that I saw this happening on the horizon and I did nothing to fix the situation…I let my emotions sweep me away.
And maybe she hasn’t given it a second thought, but the truth of the matter is that I have…for as much as I disappointed her…pales in comparison to how I have made myself feel.
I made the classic woman mistake of putting a man before my friends…my true friends…and we all know the saying, “men come and go….”
And in putting someone first who never reciprocates the action, I really did let myself down…for when it comes to my heart, I am weak, and somewhat of a dumb ass (reason #194 why I am not yet a Queen)…I in no way mean this man does not love me, simply that he is not capable of loving me the way I need to be loved, or does not want to and I am fully aware of that (a lesson I keep badgering into my head)…I just keep coming back to be punished again and again…I pray for the day that I achieve the strength to walk away (but remember walking the walk and talking the talk are two very different things.)
As I marched to meet him the night of the incident, I felt the pull…the lure, in the back of my mind I knew that something bad was going to happen…and yet I kept on proceeding in his direction…see, this man is like a drug to me…he is an addiction I must kick and yet have no clue how…I am completely aware in my head that I deserve a man who will put me first as I do him, a man that doesn’t make me cry all the time, that realizes my importance…but a gluten for punishment I must be.
I wonder if he feels this same remorse when he lets me down…
It is easier for me to deal with him letting me down than to deal with myself letting me down…we are always harder on ourselves.
Why do we let ourselves down?
It is a question that I have been pondering since that night…and one I have so many thoughts about, yet so few answers.
I know I am not the only one…that puts the wrong people first, that gets caught up in what is happening at the moment, that is weak when it comes to love…
And when will I stop letting myself down…when will I learn my lesson…how long before I can finally kick my habit?
Sometimes this whole “choice” between right and wrong is a bitch and a half and I could really use more of a road map…totally.
Why did I follow the lure?
Even though I knew it was the wrong hook to bite.
Why did I not listen to the voice in my head? (then again, I know I should not listen to all the voices I my head…welllllllll)
Why am I so weak?
(I think the main reason I am so powerless is because I love it when this man holds me, I feel so safe in his arms, I disappear to sleep, floating on a soft cloud…the waking up part is the bitch and a half.)
I thought I was a strong-ass-bitch, I believed my priorities to be intact and than whammmmmmmm, just like that…I become a chicken fucker.
Fuck.
Oye, the parallels of being human.
The truth of the matter is that as much of a lesson as I have learned…I am probably more often than not going to follow my heart…that is just the reality of the situation…for who does not want to be loved.
Following my heart has led me to my highest highs and my lowest lows, to my greatest gifts and my most mind-numbing lessons.
And if I did not fuck up like I did this last week, I would not be realizing just how important my friends are to me (not that I didn’t know but sometimes you need a good slap upside the head)…the companions that have shown how much I matter to them…now, after my schooling I am one step closer to overcoming my addiction. (I am just not a “cold turkey” kinda girl)
I pray that I learn to make the right choices…to have my priorities in order…to tap into the strength I know I have…I hope that for all of us.
The homily I gave myself this week I will carry with grace…and I feel eventually, it will help lead me in the right direction.
Here is to hoping, and to a whole lotta faith.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:
MAKING THE COCKTAIL….(cause sometimes you need a drink)
I like to shake things up…so first things first…I grab a shaker and than crack some ice cubes out of those tray thingies you got in the freezer and pop them in my shaker, don’t forget to put some in your glass to chill that bitch off…now…booze time ☺ if you are going to do 2 kinds of booze to a 6-8 count on each, one kind of booze gets a 12-16 count…I am a fan of citrus so I squeeze some citrus in that mug, maybe a splash or two of some juice action…now put the lid to the shaker on and SHAKE THAT SHIT UP….keep going…dump the ice from you glass (into the sink not on the floor ding dong) and strain that drink into your ice cold glass…sniff…smelling good is always important… it smells good, time to enjoy…CHEERS.
What makes us take one path, instead of the other?
This last week, I let someone I love down…a friend, a boss, a mentor…someone I look up to and I love…I let them down because I was selfish, I was caught up in the moment, and while I was letting her down, I was letting myself down as well.
See even a Princess can be a chicken fucker.
I put someone else before her…and what kills me is the person I put first, never puts me first…their job, their friends and a laundry list of things always come before me…and yet I put him before my job and my friends…and I wish I could take back time…that being said…oh what a lesson I have learned.
While I disappointed my friend and know she has every right to be mad, I also know that our friendship is stronger than this incident…I have faith that I have been a very good friend…I know that I have loved her, stuck up for her, and been true to her, just as she has helped me, it has not been a one sided road…I know I put an effort into the relationship…which is one of the reasons that I am so mad at myself….yet I know that our friendship is stronger than this, and after time passes, so will the disappointment I made my friend feel.
I also know that maybe at my age…she might have made the same mistake…it doesn’t justify it at all, just humanizes it.
The truth of the matter is that what I did was not that big of a deal (I didn’t show up for something I was suppose to…and an effort had been made by this person so I could go) and it was not that I had bad intentions or any intent of malice….but that does not take away from the matter that I let my friend down…and I love my friend more than words can tell…
I simply got caught up…distracted by matters of the heart (ohhhh, those matters of the heart can really take a girl over).
I am ridden with mortification of my actions…my choices.
And feeling guilty, really sucks…it torments me and ravages me when I awake…it sneaks into the back of my head when I am trying to space out and forget, I have been finding myself shaking my head to myself and just thinking, “how could I have been so stupid”….which has lead to my neck kinda hurting…ouch.
Now granted, maybe my feelings of “guilt” are stronger than they should be, I was raised Catholic after all…they really bang that shit into you at a young age…but I think the real reason I feel so guilty is that I saw this happening on the horizon and I did nothing to fix the situation…I let my emotions sweep me away.
And maybe she hasn’t given it a second thought, but the truth of the matter is that I have…for as much as I disappointed her…pales in comparison to how I have made myself feel.
I made the classic woman mistake of putting a man before my friends…my true friends…and we all know the saying, “men come and go….”
And in putting someone first who never reciprocates the action, I really did let myself down…for when it comes to my heart, I am weak, and somewhat of a dumb ass (reason #194 why I am not yet a Queen)…I in no way mean this man does not love me, simply that he is not capable of loving me the way I need to be loved, or does not want to and I am fully aware of that (a lesson I keep badgering into my head)…I just keep coming back to be punished again and again…I pray for the day that I achieve the strength to walk away (but remember walking the walk and talking the talk are two very different things.)
As I marched to meet him the night of the incident, I felt the pull…the lure, in the back of my mind I knew that something bad was going to happen…and yet I kept on proceeding in his direction…see, this man is like a drug to me…he is an addiction I must kick and yet have no clue how…I am completely aware in my head that I deserve a man who will put me first as I do him, a man that doesn’t make me cry all the time, that realizes my importance…but a gluten for punishment I must be.
I wonder if he feels this same remorse when he lets me down…
It is easier for me to deal with him letting me down than to deal with myself letting me down…we are always harder on ourselves.
Why do we let ourselves down?
It is a question that I have been pondering since that night…and one I have so many thoughts about, yet so few answers.
I know I am not the only one…that puts the wrong people first, that gets caught up in what is happening at the moment, that is weak when it comes to love…
And when will I stop letting myself down…when will I learn my lesson…how long before I can finally kick my habit?
Sometimes this whole “choice” between right and wrong is a bitch and a half and I could really use more of a road map…totally.
Why did I follow the lure?
Even though I knew it was the wrong hook to bite.
Why did I not listen to the voice in my head? (then again, I know I should not listen to all the voices I my head…welllllllll)
Why am I so weak?
(I think the main reason I am so powerless is because I love it when this man holds me, I feel so safe in his arms, I disappear to sleep, floating on a soft cloud…the waking up part is the bitch and a half.)
I thought I was a strong-ass-bitch, I believed my priorities to be intact and than whammmmmmmm, just like that…I become a chicken fucker.
Fuck.
Oye, the parallels of being human.
The truth of the matter is that as much of a lesson as I have learned…I am probably more often than not going to follow my heart…that is just the reality of the situation…for who does not want to be loved.
Following my heart has led me to my highest highs and my lowest lows, to my greatest gifts and my most mind-numbing lessons.
And if I did not fuck up like I did this last week, I would not be realizing just how important my friends are to me (not that I didn’t know but sometimes you need a good slap upside the head)…the companions that have shown how much I matter to them…now, after my schooling I am one step closer to overcoming my addiction. (I am just not a “cold turkey” kinda girl)
I pray that I learn to make the right choices…to have my priorities in order…to tap into the strength I know I have…I hope that for all of us.
The homily I gave myself this week I will carry with grace…and I feel eventually, it will help lead me in the right direction.
Here is to hoping, and to a whole lotta faith.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:
MAKING THE COCKTAIL….(cause sometimes you need a drink)
I like to shake things up…so first things first…I grab a shaker and than crack some ice cubes out of those tray thingies you got in the freezer and pop them in my shaker, don’t forget to put some in your glass to chill that bitch off…now…booze time ☺ if you are going to do 2 kinds of booze to a 6-8 count on each, one kind of booze gets a 12-16 count…I am a fan of citrus so I squeeze some citrus in that mug, maybe a splash or two of some juice action…now put the lid to the shaker on and SHAKE THAT SHIT UP….keep going…dump the ice from you glass (into the sink not on the floor ding dong) and strain that drink into your ice cold glass…sniff…smelling good is always important… it smells good, time to enjoy…CHEERS.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Blog 68: She called me a "Hippie"
Blog 67: She called me a “Hippie”
Sunny’s dictionary says a HIPPIE is:
A person of unconventional appearance, typically with long hair, jeans, beads, etc., often associated with hallucinogenic drugs and rejection of conventional values...(other words associated with HIPPIE...bohemian, longhair, flower person & dropout)
The Setting:
Sunny arrives at a dinner party for a dude she knows through work...thank God she brought a friend cause she didn’t know anyone else and the party was stiff when we arrived. Thank God Sunny brought the birthday guy a gift of a JUNO WHAT cd...cause when we entered, not nary a note of music was being played (what Sunny considers a clue in helping to determine a “straight party”)...Sunny put in the cd so at least her and her friend could get down.
The Situation:
As guests started to arrive Sunny drank some champagne (cause champagne makes everything better) and tried to make small talk with guests...she met some very nice people from different walks of life...all was going well but every five minutes or so Sunny would walk up to her friend and say, “Thank God you came with me.”...Cause let us be honest, in situations where you are uncomfortable or don’t feel at home sometimes it is nice to have a partner in crime.
The Incident:
As the last of the guests arrived a lady came in. The first thought in Sunny’s head was how beautiful she was...dressed crisp and simple...she showed an understated elegance...unfortunately her fashion and her words did not pair well together as Sunny was about to learn...Sunny, intrigued by the lady’s style and vibe walked up right away to introduce herself (and the chick had the champagne in her hand...twofer)...Sunny immediately forgot the girls name when introduced (she is such a ding dong that Sunny Bunny)...Sunny asked questions and learned that the woman was from the Ivory Coast and New York...her accent was delicate yet firm...she returned the questions she had answered with replica inquiries...after hearing that Sunny was from San Francisco than moved to Humboldt and Eugene than back to Frisco, she raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and said...”Oh...you must be a hippie, only hippies live in Eugene.” And preceded to roll her eyes two more times (Sunny pondered if the chick had “random wondering eye syndrome” but found that almost impossible)...
Sunny repeated...”I must be a hippie?”
Than home skillet replied with, “You probably don’t even shave your legs...”
The Reaction:
Now Sunny has always been known to be nice and polite, but once in a while...while still being respectful she will put a motherfucker in their place.
Sunny turned to fully face the lady that had just judged her after two sentences (Side note: Now if she had read the blog “Honey, I just look this Way” maybe none of this would have happened...reason #284 why more people should read Sunny’s Blog...totally.)
Sunny took a deep breath and out came the words...”Am I a hippie?...Well, I work multiple jobs, work almost everyday of the week, shave my legs regularly...like a slip and slide they are, not my pits that often cause the hair is red and it can go longer, graduated from college, used to own a restaurant, live by myself, wears princess dresses, smoke pot all the fucking time, try my hardest to be a good person, smells fucking delicious and does not judge a person because of where they are from or what they look like but how they are as a person...does that make me a hippie...I don’t know...my History BA degree ass thought hippies were from the 60’s...what the hell is a hippie in your mind anyway?”
The woman took a minute to reply, but all of a sudden her “random wandering eye syndrome” stopped and her bottom lip dropped into a “huh” look (almost like the female version of a chode)...”I guess I just thought that everyone in Eugene were hippies.”
A smile spread upon Sunny’s face...she asked, “Have you ever been to Eugene?”...The woman across from her shook her head NO...as the smile on The Princess’s face got bigger...she replied “well than I guess you can’t say that only hippies live in Eugene or that I am one, cause you don’t even know...I bet you don’t even know what a ‘hippie’ is, I am going to go home and look that shit up in my dictionary and get back to you...(hence the definition at the beginning of the Blog)...are you going to the show tonight it is going to be great.”...Sunny is a firm believer that after you prove a point if only to yourself you should change the subject, and Sunny is always working so promoting a show she was seeing was an easy subject to change to...)
What Sunny Thought in Her Mind while all this was going on:
Bitch please, what the fuck is a “hippie”...in today’s society what is “conventional” and “unconventional” and if you are someone that doesn’t want to be labeled and judged, don’t fucking do that to anyone else, let them tell you who the fuck they are...I am sure they know themselves a hell a lot more than they know anything else...I thought the ideals of “Peace, Love and Happiness” were pretty much the same ideals our forefathers fought for and wrote in The Constitution, just in different words...and that ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL...I could have thought a whole lot of shit about this chick when I first saw her, but instead I waited to get to know her...and you know what, I still don’t know her, she might not have meant for her words to come across the way she did...I don’t know, cause I wasn’t in her mind.
I just found her to be _____________(that is where her name is supposed to be if I could fucking remember it.)
And I am just Sunny.
You can’t categorize me, or put me in a group, I am sure the hell not going in the corner...and while some people might share traits, ideals and views about shit with me, they ain’t me...And I’m not you.
And that is fucking awesomeness.
Now go be fucking you and let others do the same.
And don’t judge...it leads to “random wandering eye syndrome’ and that shit really freaks me out.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE WASHING MACHINE
Start by opening the lid, put your detergent in...put in the quarters (when did washing machines start to cost so much money, chicken fuckers!)...anyhoo...start putting in the cloths, unroll the socks so they get washed right, close the lid...now put your feet together and bend your knees, keeping your elbows against your ribs put your forearms out at 45 degree angles, now pivot your body back and forth washing the cloths...SPIN CYCLE TIME...go super fast...and stop, open the lid...and wait for the “Folding the Laundry” Dance.
Sunny’s dictionary says a HIPPIE is:
A person of unconventional appearance, typically with long hair, jeans, beads, etc., often associated with hallucinogenic drugs and rejection of conventional values...(other words associated with HIPPIE...bohemian, longhair, flower person & dropout)
The Setting:
Sunny arrives at a dinner party for a dude she knows through work...thank God she brought a friend cause she didn’t know anyone else and the party was stiff when we arrived. Thank God Sunny brought the birthday guy a gift of a JUNO WHAT cd...cause when we entered, not nary a note of music was being played (what Sunny considers a clue in helping to determine a “straight party”)...Sunny put in the cd so at least her and her friend could get down.
The Situation:
As guests started to arrive Sunny drank some champagne (cause champagne makes everything better) and tried to make small talk with guests...she met some very nice people from different walks of life...all was going well but every five minutes or so Sunny would walk up to her friend and say, “Thank God you came with me.”...Cause let us be honest, in situations where you are uncomfortable or don’t feel at home sometimes it is nice to have a partner in crime.
The Incident:
As the last of the guests arrived a lady came in. The first thought in Sunny’s head was how beautiful she was...dressed crisp and simple...she showed an understated elegance...unfortunately her fashion and her words did not pair well together as Sunny was about to learn...Sunny, intrigued by the lady’s style and vibe walked up right away to introduce herself (and the chick had the champagne in her hand...twofer)...Sunny immediately forgot the girls name when introduced (she is such a ding dong that Sunny Bunny)...Sunny asked questions and learned that the woman was from the Ivory Coast and New York...her accent was delicate yet firm...she returned the questions she had answered with replica inquiries...after hearing that Sunny was from San Francisco than moved to Humboldt and Eugene than back to Frisco, she raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and said...”Oh...you must be a hippie, only hippies live in Eugene.” And preceded to roll her eyes two more times (Sunny pondered if the chick had “random wondering eye syndrome” but found that almost impossible)...
Sunny repeated...”I must be a hippie?”
Than home skillet replied with, “You probably don’t even shave your legs...”
The Reaction:
Now Sunny has always been known to be nice and polite, but once in a while...while still being respectful she will put a motherfucker in their place.
Sunny turned to fully face the lady that had just judged her after two sentences (Side note: Now if she had read the blog “Honey, I just look this Way” maybe none of this would have happened...reason #284 why more people should read Sunny’s Blog...totally.)
Sunny took a deep breath and out came the words...”Am I a hippie?...Well, I work multiple jobs, work almost everyday of the week, shave my legs regularly...like a slip and slide they are, not my pits that often cause the hair is red and it can go longer, graduated from college, used to own a restaurant, live by myself, wears princess dresses, smoke pot all the fucking time, try my hardest to be a good person, smells fucking delicious and does not judge a person because of where they are from or what they look like but how they are as a person...does that make me a hippie...I don’t know...my History BA degree ass thought hippies were from the 60’s...what the hell is a hippie in your mind anyway?”
The woman took a minute to reply, but all of a sudden her “random wandering eye syndrome” stopped and her bottom lip dropped into a “huh” look (almost like the female version of a chode)...”I guess I just thought that everyone in Eugene were hippies.”
A smile spread upon Sunny’s face...she asked, “Have you ever been to Eugene?”...The woman across from her shook her head NO...as the smile on The Princess’s face got bigger...she replied “well than I guess you can’t say that only hippies live in Eugene or that I am one, cause you don’t even know...I bet you don’t even know what a ‘hippie’ is, I am going to go home and look that shit up in my dictionary and get back to you...(hence the definition at the beginning of the Blog)...are you going to the show tonight it is going to be great.”...Sunny is a firm believer that after you prove a point if only to yourself you should change the subject, and Sunny is always working so promoting a show she was seeing was an easy subject to change to...)
What Sunny Thought in Her Mind while all this was going on:
Bitch please, what the fuck is a “hippie”...in today’s society what is “conventional” and “unconventional” and if you are someone that doesn’t want to be labeled and judged, don’t fucking do that to anyone else, let them tell you who the fuck they are...I am sure they know themselves a hell a lot more than they know anything else...I thought the ideals of “Peace, Love and Happiness” were pretty much the same ideals our forefathers fought for and wrote in The Constitution, just in different words...and that ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL...I could have thought a whole lot of shit about this chick when I first saw her, but instead I waited to get to know her...and you know what, I still don’t know her, she might not have meant for her words to come across the way she did...I don’t know, cause I wasn’t in her mind.
I just found her to be _____________(that is where her name is supposed to be if I could fucking remember it.)
And I am just Sunny.
You can’t categorize me, or put me in a group, I am sure the hell not going in the corner...and while some people might share traits, ideals and views about shit with me, they ain’t me...And I’m not you.
And that is fucking awesomeness.
Now go be fucking you and let others do the same.
And don’t judge...it leads to “random wandering eye syndrome’ and that shit really freaks me out.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK
THE WASHING MACHINE
Start by opening the lid, put your detergent in...put in the quarters (when did washing machines start to cost so much money, chicken fuckers!)...anyhoo...start putting in the cloths, unroll the socks so they get washed right, close the lid...now put your feet together and bend your knees, keeping your elbows against your ribs put your forearms out at 45 degree angles, now pivot your body back and forth washing the cloths...SPIN CYCLE TIME...go super fast...and stop, open the lid...and wait for the “Folding the Laundry” Dance.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Blog 67: Mommy, You have Blessed me...
Blog 67: Mommy, You have Blessed me...
(My “Dear Daddy” Letter is Blog 53)
Dear Mommy may I count the ways that you have blessed me...
I should probably start with the endowing of my itty-bitty waist and that round thing in your face...you get sprung...on my ass...times 11, I often look at people who remark about my buttocks and say, “Hair from my dad, Hips from my mom”...then I proceed to shake it on down now...
Granted I don’t know whether my ass causes more harm than good that is something which is up for grabs...I think it has only caused one traffic accident...anyhoo, I must say I have learned to adore my ass. In a society where sticks and skinny jeans are in (even for men if you live in The Mission) I still feel like I have a freakin awesome body even if it is not what ELLE or VANITY FAIR think is perfect, it is mine...and for me personally, my favorite part of my body is the curve between my waist and my hips...delightful.
Thank you mom for my ass, I have embraced it with gusto...
Now besides what I inherited from my mom (a photographic memory as well) she has taught so much more.
I mentioned back in the day (Blog 16) the lesson I learned from her about wearing a bra so my boobs don’t sag...I’m wearing one now mom ☺
But there are some key elements that my mom has taught me about life as well...
EDUCATION
My mom has been a teacher at the same school for like forty years or something, for me going to college was a requirement, I did not know why I was going to college, but knew I had too...to make my mommy proud. And while I still do absolutely nothing with my degree...it is my safety net in life, an area or field that I can go to when all else fails, an accomplishment in life that I can say I did, proof to my follow through and my ability to stick shit out...and while I don’t always talk like the most educated woman on the block...it’s in there...that is for sure.
TO BE LADY LIKE
My mom might question my “lady like-ness”...I do call people “chicken fuckers” after all...That being said, I always say “please” and “thank you”...usually bring a bottle of wine to houses I am invited to, treat my friends like gold, do not like to fight in public, insist on smelling good and am a dedicated and hard worker...I have learned that to be a “lady” is not only in how you carry yourself but in your follow through and your way of thought.
(Sunny Insight: Growing up, my mom only wore dresses, she only recently started to wear pants...so if any of you wonder why I rock the long dresses, it is cause my mom wore them everyday when I was growing up and I can think of no other lady that I would like to emulate)
TO BE STRONG
While my mother teaches me how to be a lady, she has never taught me to be weak, that’s not my mother’s vision of a lady. If I start freaking out about something she yells, “Calm Down, one thing at a time” and we go from there...I have never seen my mother meet a challenge that she has not overcome, I am sure she has failed along the road, but I have never seen it...I have only seen her grow, evolve...like a true lady should.
TO BE INDEPENDENT
My mom could have not worked when we were young, times would have been tougher, but she had the option...my mother often tells me, “she chooses to work”...that being a contributing factor to the relationship helps keeps her at an equal level with my father.
I have evolved to become an independent woman, and it gives me a strength I never knew that I could have...it ignites the fire inside my core...pushing me to desire greatness for my self...
THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY
My mother has taught me to never let anything come between family, that our blood is sacred and stupid trivial things hold no importance when it comes to the sanctity of our family.
I meet people that have parents like mine and don’t appreciate it and I ponder at their disillusionment...my family has had its shares of ups and down but my parents make a conscious effort to make us a unit...
To be honest, I don’t know how I got blessed with the mother and father that I have...I am fully aware of my luck, and am so fortunate that I have been able to move back to the city and soak in my parents love and take our relationship to a whole new level.
My parents have believed in me in ever endeavor I have taken, even if they question my actions, their support is always still there...they have watched me at my highs and at my lows, and their love for me has never faulted.
I am blessed to have the mother that I have.
I am blessed to have the father that I have.
Part of me never even considers having children for I have such big shoes to fill...
It is hard to follow in the path of greatness.
And yet I still walk my walk, as any royalty born from a King and Queen should.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:
MASHING THE POTATOES
Grab your potato, turn the sink on and wash that bad boy off, now grab your peeler and peel the skin off, cut our potato up into cubes and toss it into the boiling water...wait (this includes tapping your foot and looking as well as pointing to your watch) once the potatoes has cooked for long enough (you might have to put some other dance moves in the mix while you are waiting) take the pot off the stove, drain the pot and grab the masher and start to mash your potato, harder...add some cream and butter, start to whip that shit up, check your consistency...ohhhh, add salt and pepper, taste test, yummers!!!...time for the “making the gravy” dance.
(My “Dear Daddy” Letter is Blog 53)
Dear Mommy may I count the ways that you have blessed me...
I should probably start with the endowing of my itty-bitty waist and that round thing in your face...you get sprung...on my ass...times 11, I often look at people who remark about my buttocks and say, “Hair from my dad, Hips from my mom”...then I proceed to shake it on down now...
Granted I don’t know whether my ass causes more harm than good that is something which is up for grabs...I think it has only caused one traffic accident...anyhoo, I must say I have learned to adore my ass. In a society where sticks and skinny jeans are in (even for men if you live in The Mission) I still feel like I have a freakin awesome body even if it is not what ELLE or VANITY FAIR think is perfect, it is mine...and for me personally, my favorite part of my body is the curve between my waist and my hips...delightful.
Thank you mom for my ass, I have embraced it with gusto...
Now besides what I inherited from my mom (a photographic memory as well) she has taught so much more.
I mentioned back in the day (Blog 16) the lesson I learned from her about wearing a bra so my boobs don’t sag...I’m wearing one now mom ☺
But there are some key elements that my mom has taught me about life as well...
EDUCATION
My mom has been a teacher at the same school for like forty years or something, for me going to college was a requirement, I did not know why I was going to college, but knew I had too...to make my mommy proud. And while I still do absolutely nothing with my degree...it is my safety net in life, an area or field that I can go to when all else fails, an accomplishment in life that I can say I did, proof to my follow through and my ability to stick shit out...and while I don’t always talk like the most educated woman on the block...it’s in there...that is for sure.
TO BE LADY LIKE
My mom might question my “lady like-ness”...I do call people “chicken fuckers” after all...That being said, I always say “please” and “thank you”...usually bring a bottle of wine to houses I am invited to, treat my friends like gold, do not like to fight in public, insist on smelling good and am a dedicated and hard worker...I have learned that to be a “lady” is not only in how you carry yourself but in your follow through and your way of thought.
(Sunny Insight: Growing up, my mom only wore dresses, she only recently started to wear pants...so if any of you wonder why I rock the long dresses, it is cause my mom wore them everyday when I was growing up and I can think of no other lady that I would like to emulate)
TO BE STRONG
While my mother teaches me how to be a lady, she has never taught me to be weak, that’s not my mother’s vision of a lady. If I start freaking out about something she yells, “Calm Down, one thing at a time” and we go from there...I have never seen my mother meet a challenge that she has not overcome, I am sure she has failed along the road, but I have never seen it...I have only seen her grow, evolve...like a true lady should.
TO BE INDEPENDENT
My mom could have not worked when we were young, times would have been tougher, but she had the option...my mother often tells me, “she chooses to work”...that being a contributing factor to the relationship helps keeps her at an equal level with my father.
I have evolved to become an independent woman, and it gives me a strength I never knew that I could have...it ignites the fire inside my core...pushing me to desire greatness for my self...
THE IMPORTANCE OF FAMILY
My mother has taught me to never let anything come between family, that our blood is sacred and stupid trivial things hold no importance when it comes to the sanctity of our family.
I meet people that have parents like mine and don’t appreciate it and I ponder at their disillusionment...my family has had its shares of ups and down but my parents make a conscious effort to make us a unit...
To be honest, I don’t know how I got blessed with the mother and father that I have...I am fully aware of my luck, and am so fortunate that I have been able to move back to the city and soak in my parents love and take our relationship to a whole new level.
My parents have believed in me in ever endeavor I have taken, even if they question my actions, their support is always still there...they have watched me at my highs and at my lows, and their love for me has never faulted.
I am blessed to have the mother that I have.
I am blessed to have the father that I have.
Part of me never even considers having children for I have such big shoes to fill...
It is hard to follow in the path of greatness.
And yet I still walk my walk, as any royalty born from a King and Queen should.
DANCE MOVE OF THE WEEK:
MASHING THE POTATOES
Grab your potato, turn the sink on and wash that bad boy off, now grab your peeler and peel the skin off, cut our potato up into cubes and toss it into the boiling water...wait (this includes tapping your foot and looking as well as pointing to your watch) once the potatoes has cooked for long enough (you might have to put some other dance moves in the mix while you are waiting) take the pot off the stove, drain the pot and grab the masher and start to mash your potato, harder...add some cream and butter, start to whip that shit up, check your consistency...ohhhh, add salt and pepper, taste test, yummers!!!...time for the “making the gravy” dance.
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