Goal for 2006? Nap. It’s good to aim low

I sit here at my computer, thinking over 2005. Call me sentimental, but I love to take a moment to breathe in my year, exhaling things I need to let go of before the new one, and holding the lessons and experiences that will harbor me forward. Sometimes at this moment I get anxious from all the things I still need to learn. A pitter patter of how young I feel rolls through me as I take in another year forward. When I do this at my birthday I usually feel grounded and celebratory, but the changing of years tends to give me a sense of grading in which I fail or pass. But not this year!

This year I feel more alive than I ever have and reassured that my sense of direction lines up with the four corners of my life. What can I tell you? I sat in my home with a friend today smiling away at how complete I feel these days. I find myself ever more present minded. The things I need to let go of were let go of at the moment they were held (for the most part). The biggest thing I exhale is smoking in hopes that this time I am done. I let go of the need for reassurance from others, though I still hope to trust more the reassurance of others when given. Trust an extended hand as I trust mine extended.

Once upon a day in my life, an old wise crone of self-label told me to always go forward, accepting those who enter my inner circle must want to be a part of my inner circle and the ability to be present while there. In turn, I should also be so mindful when I enter the inner circle of others, I must want to enter and be present. This is my mantra for 2006. I find this mindset makes it so much easier to let go of defining things and holding onto seasons that must change.

Does that make sense or am I too far in my head today? hmm.

So onward I go through my journey, still collecting the beauty of myself as well as the beauty around me. Still flawed, still etching myself, still learning to love and be loved. Onward I arrive into life like a mystic in love with life and all its graceless beauty.
2006 will be a fine vintage!

One Goal for 2006: Give what I can, receive what I should and learn how to balance the two.

Happy 2006 plus one second more!

In the Confessional This Evening

Just finished watching season I of the L-word. I believe there are three categories of people who watch the L-Word, or at least for the humor of this post - 1) The woman who got the promotional card on her car at Festival and set her Tibbo* months in advance, 2) The woman who happened to be at a friends house and got hooked 3) someone like me who complained forever about how the L-Word had nothing to do with real lesbians only to borrow the DVD from a friend b/c everyone was talking about it and reluctantly watched. I still stand by my perception people, but Shane's nice...and Alice is so funny.

I think by episode 5 today, my guilt of wanting to watch waned into "she did not do that". A part of me still wants to resist and say this is me selling out and assimilating, but to what anymore, I don't know. What I do know is, tonight I stopped the DVD in order to make some dinner. As a side note, I made a wonderful dish of tomatoes stuffed with wild rice, mushrooms, corn, cilantro, and queso de blanco with a side of sautéed squash with red onions. I tell you this because as I finished the side dish I cut my thumb up pretty bad. And since I am telling all tonight I will also add that I did it while singing a high note as I closed my eyes for the effect...which one should not do when slicing red onions.

I cleaned myself; let the dishes settle as I nursed my bloody digit with the final episode. My mind set...if I was gonna need stitches then I might want to get the final episode out of the way before I go. Three band-aides later and the unsettling fear that I don't believe one should be able to shoot blood from oneself 6 inches into the air, I realized I would be okay... which meant I could totally focus on Alice, Shane, and the rest of the gang. The rule for getting stitches is the cut is either too deep or too open to heal on its own...

I called my friend for season II; I won't be cooking on that day.

I Will Not Be Afraid of Women

Once upon a time ago, I was at a crossroad where my outside world did not fit what was inside, and what was inside was something I had no connection to. Serious. I worked solely for money and benefits. Everyday, I woke up dreading going to work and wishing I were somewhere other than the place I was. So, I quit. I had enough money to last me two months for rent, food, and that was about it. I spent those months being as industrious as I could be, panhandling my plasma and working a part time job at a peace organization. I had no clue what I was doing or what the hell my next step was. Then, one day I came across an ad in a Lesbian Magazine for Michigan for a Bookkeeping Assistant position at a Woman owned and Women ran Music Company. If your a lesbian and have gone to festival, you know of the place I am talking about.

Once upon this time ago, a very confused woman started working with 13 independent and very different women and she learned hard lessons that were loving lessons. I spent today revisiting this important place I worked at for 3 years, counting CDs for inventory. I guess I am writing this entry for anyone who might need to learn from others experiences or maybe to write them out to remember them myself. I am also writing to Thank these women with a Capital T for giving me their love, experiences, and let’s face it, a big kick in the ass.

Sometimes I get so focused on my life, I forget to look up. I came into this place a primordial ooze of self, living out patterns taught by family, and complaining about everything. I knew I wanted something different, but had too much “poor me” attitude to know how to do it different. For those who have ever been around a group of women who know how to love one another and as Dar Williams would say, not be afraid of women, then you know the “poor me” had to go.

I learned to look up and see. See the women around me and love them as they were. See the beauty of me – a complex mix of strength and ingenuity…and I learned I can do pretty much any task laid out in front of me. I also learned I am a very resistant detailed oriented person. I am spoiled by my strengths and expect the world to see it my way. When I let go of these last two things, I am a better person. When I let go of these things, I can incorporate the flawed parts of self that are just as beautiful, and dare I say more beautiful than the parts who try to be perfect.

Even now, as I sit here rolling my thoughts over the time there, I am in awe of how much I gained from this place. I travel through the warehouse in my head where the shelves are covered with women musicians, as we counted them in and out for the world. Were the warehouse women taught me to stop seeing the world as a dead end trip. Down the East Wing my thoughts carry me where I worked with the number crunching pussy powered women who taught me that I need to appreciate my stubbornness, but also reel it in when the time is needed. Into the bathroom that was our congregation place for jokes written on the wall. We wrote our stories in drawings and words. How many times did I walk by to hear laughter while someone was taking their daily constitution?

I turn left in my head down the sales wing, where women let me learn from them what all this music means. Where my boss gave me a key to a car and told me to travel the country and sell this music. I took those keys and learned on the road how much life is a trip, and I am the driver. I also learned there is a dyke pretty much anywhere who will take you in for a night and good conversation. I move down to the last office where a musician co-worker/friend of mine played me her new songs as they formed in her world. Who also taught me to relax and just have a good time.

Thanks, Women of G, you gave me exactly what I was looking for when I decided to jump into my life. You taught me to not be afraid of women.

Love, GoGo

Cruched salt, Flowing Water, and Silence

Spending time pushing thoughts from my head, trying to let go of things I cannot change.
This is me trying to avoid a bad accident, one I cannot walk away from.

Took another walk, but my mind was too restless with it all, so I walked faster.
Step after step, I listened to the heavy thud of boot on cement, the water mixed with undisolved salt crunched underneath.
I asked myself, am I the salt, boot, or the self walking?

I am restless and I am not letting go of things I should.

Came up to the river, flowing slow and thick.
Asked the current what does letting go look like?
My heart beating too fast, it thumped with impatience.
Silence from the water.

I asked myself am I the river, the shore, or the self standing?
Threw a stone in the river...
I asked the current again, what does letting go look like?
Silence.

Half Baked Truths and Parliments

Went walking a silent town, down the street toward the river. Came across myself hanging from a tree, dirty pack of parliments imploded and all used up. I smoked parliments in the end to remind me of the first time, the first girl who got me to smoke. Because of that time when we smoked parliments with your granddad at your family cabin. I started to smoke to cover up the silence between us when all I wanted to say was, stay with me. See me, love me, and don't stop calling me beautiful.

The air was chilly, my hips hurt from the weight of my thoughts. It was your hips I fell in love with first as they peeked outside the brim of your pants. I loved them because it was easier than loving that laugh too much, how it roared out of your mouth in hiccups. I loved them because your brightness scared me and I thought if I could convince myself I wanted hips like yours on me, that was actually the desire beating in me.

I went for a walk and I honored the genuine side of me, that was not so genuine then. Remembered half baked conversations on the phone when I called you higher than the sky, wanting to tell you this is me trying to get close to you, trying to stay close to you. Remembered that tremble in your voice b/c what I believed kept us close was pushing us further apart. If I could tell you I loved you, I would never have stayed so high for so long.

I went for a walk and enveloped myself in the memory of you - of that night when we cried in the receiver repeating to each other "I don't know why I'm crying." I know why today. I cried because I could never tell you, how much I loved you and wanted you to stay, and you were crying because you got me high for the first time, taught me to smoke, and you knew I loved you and you couldn't stay. Indirect conversations and half-baked undertones, seem so much clearer now when there is nothing between me and this memory anymore. Nothing to hide me from you.

Half baked truths and parliments. Half of us were together while the other was on our way. Its silly you know. You've reinvented yourself in my days, from one girl before to a few more. Each time, I wanted to say, stay with me. See me, love me, and don't stop calling me beautiful.

Went walking a silent town, down the street toward the river. Turning the internalized into internal trips - down, into, through and out. This time, I know who needs to stay with me. Me. See me. I. Love Me. Self. And I won't stop calling myself beautiful...but i will always love you.

Diary of a Nonsmoker: Day 16

Happy pick a Holiday!

So, I've gone through the 3 day withdrawl. I've been through the first week of "want to start up at any moment quivers". I even came to the edge of rage and like the little girl (Charlie) from the book FireStarter, I fought back the desire to set the place ablaze....well a cigarette anyway. My body still wants the stuff! I wonder if all this physical need is just me not wanting to give up this bad habit? I'm just loosing patience with the thoughts that occur in my head...the feelings not smoking bring up. I want to be done quitting already so I can think about other things obsessively, okay. :o). Just laughed at myself.

Seriously though, I'm never going back if its this hard to quit...its more the want of it...because it was so a part of my routine. It is what I ran too when anything happened. Got stressed had a smoke, got happy had a smoke, got paid had a smoke, got a crush had a smoke, got an ephiphany had a smoke, you name the got I had the smoke with it. Now its just me, baby! Which I like, but its not an addictive substance for no good reason...its hooked me and its not letting go any day soon...but it does not have me anymore and what I got it can't have. I have most assuredly let go of smoking...its just gonna take time for the smoking to realize this. Poor smoking, its time to move on 'cause I don't want you...I'm a better person without you. There are other decaying lungs out there, let go of me.

Excuse me while I play "I Will Survive" in my head and shake my butt.

Diary of a Nonsmoker: Day 15

Quiting smoking means my heart beat is faster, my lungs are getting more oxygen and there is this thump thump thump mixed with a high hum in my chest. It means I am healing. It also means that I find myself besides myself ready to jump. My pulse and blood pressure are just fine, but my body feels this pulse that beats closer to living and is a little overwhelming. I'm not going to label it anything, except a beat faster than I am accustomed to. Maybe its that twitter of self-love brewing in my chest.

In any case, my heart is beating faster and it causes my hands to shake a minor key to it all. I am surprised at how I am not in the mood to over eat and in fact I have found my appetite has decreased these days. I still miss smoking, but I know what it gave me I can get from learning how to ground myself in other ways. Ways that take time and patience and a little bit of focus on my part.

Damn its hard and my days are two-folded. Fold one is me feeling through this shame and human flawedness that just wants to give into the fuck its and be less of myself. Fold two is me loving this self-care knowing its easier than lighting a cigarette. Wanting to be this person I am trying to be. This part knows my herstory and loves me for getting to this place. I am beautifully human and if smoking is the hardest thing I have to face these days, then so be it. But damn its hard.

Ten years with minor time off, I'll take a little tremble of heart and soul if it means I am coming closer to climbing that mountain I always wanted to.

5 things I intend to do now:
Climb a mountain
hand glide
run 1 race
Run and Play as much as I can
Learn how to sing better

Random Findings While Reorganizing

Monday, May 30, 2005 - 5:39am
Sitting here watching time go by
while writing these lines.
Watching people sleep
while cleaning their messes.
Tired of waiting for me
to get through this mood.

Today's to do tasks
awaits me when this shift is done.
Clean the house, clean the laundry,
clean my mind of the past.
Miss Ray and Chad all in the same day.
This mood has become my metronome
to my daily task - one beat, two beat, three -
missing something - the counterpoint to time.

A neighbor of mine had an epiphany again,
that everything happens for a reason.
She shares her mantra thinking every time
is the first time. I appreciate this
redudancy in insight and love how this
un-novel novelty reinvents itself in her.

I adjust my clock by her words, trusting
everything happens for a reason.
Everyone in my life is here for
a reason, even if they are limited to a season.

I trust that death and leaving offer
impermanence and impermanence
is what will make the next two years
doable. That doesn't stop the constant
beat in my head going on and on, when
will this sadness end. When will I stop
watching time pass and away from this mood?

The Neighborhood
Casual evening at home,
sitting on the porch,
watching the night go by.
My neighbrohood is city and lights.
The stop sign, covers the Rene's
in the hairshop sign,
and from the stop
grows the branches of a tree
that hangs under the street lamp -
street light falling on the road,
like a flood of orange
fading into shadows
covering me on the porch
in a casual night at home.
5/22/05

Ghost in the Chord
A ghost in a chord
Everything there long since mourned
I’d show you the key to unlocking
Your door…but not wanting to give
Just a little bit more.
I close my eyes to nothing there,
And realized there is nothing there.
Just the manifestation of a ghost in a chord
Nothing to see, nothing to hold, just
Me giving to you, me giving to you, then giving of me
to a ghost in a chord.
Take my silence as an epitaph, a final eulogy
To this ghost in a chord.
9/10/05

I Will Always Remember You.

I remember making fart sounds with Professor Fer Nakita and playing Peddidle.
I remember the moment The Nemesis called me a sheep that spurred me to take the risk and move already.
I remember laughing until I pee'd riding in cars with The Chief, Homeslice, and S.K.
I remember pooping in separate stalls with K.N. while laughing at the airy sounds and the fact that we felt the closest shitting together. TMI?
I remember listening to K.L. tell me her dreams of a coffee shop as we fell asleep one last night in my tent at festival.
I remember walking along the beach holding Black Widows arm that time we went camping together. I still have your story you wrote about us 5 dykes.
I remember watching the tele for hours on end with M.S. and that definable moment when we all learned that "Fish sure do swim good".
I remember the first time I met Lady M, and the picture I have of your suntanned feet.
I remember painting my hands on T's walls after breakfast.
I remember counting Toilet paper sheets with S.U. b/c neither of us would give up our stubborness and then laughing into tears from it all.
I even remember laughing at the bedump dedump sound my shoes made walking to the bar with K.P.
I remember all the good words, good times, tears, and times with so many people. So many things I let fall by the way into worry and stone cold selfishness. I will always remember each and every moment with all of you.

If there is a lesson in life, it is let go and just have fun in every minute and moment. Friends are a value that does not dwindled with time and memories should carry you forward, not hold you back. Friendship is not about what is given to you, but the opportunity to support and priviledge of having that friend in your life.

Chronicles of Deux

Had another good night of laughs with friends. It felt good to settle into laughter. I've been busy busy busy these last few months, its nice to just let myself laugh. Someone just reminded me to appreciate it simply by appreciating it. Hmm.

This GoGo is also starting her f%&k$ng period today, so I feel this overwhelming roller coaster ride of feeling. I can't wait for tomorrow when the crimson blood gates open wide and releases all of this tension I feel that gets in the way of my here and now. Was that TMI? If you've had PMS, felt like you were a wounded animal in the world, then began bleeding between your legs and suddenly you felt better, stronger, and fucking present...you'd be shouting it at the mountain tops...tomorrow my woo will release me.

Which also means the metaphysical whoo-da wrote that is going to disappear for another cycle. My God, I call feel my sarcasm seep back into me as we speak. I just watched way too much VH1 with friends and now know everything I need to know about the 90s. Watch out, I got material for this blogg.

Etch Me a Nonsmoker, Sketch Me Flawed

Sitting here on my couch, trying to be with myself and find something to distract me from this self all at the same time. I want a cigarette. It’s been days, but I still want one. I feel ashamed that I was a smoker. Ashamed that I let myself do it for so long, and know that this act of resisting the urge is self-love. Ashamed because I have a little brother who knows I smoked. Friends who asked me to stop over and over again before I did.

I put it here because again, it’s something I don't want to talk about, but need to bring it outside this self tonight. How many people call me to talk about their days, trials and stresses? I appreciate it when people in my life present themselves imperfect and flawed...its real. I am honored by the realness, honored to be with them. Why am I still at the place that putting myself out there all flawed and fragile is too human an experience? What a beautiful thing this electronic page. I am putting myself out there for the world and not, all at the same time. How many people create a mask of what they want to be on these pages? How many think this is actually who they are?

I am 29-years-old and know that who I am is an etch-a-sketch that changes when I get bumped, dropped or feel the need to add new lines. It’s the scariest lesson to learn and one most people won't do until they are left on their own by circumstance - the lesson being that who we are is more about the process of self-connection than anything we try to define ourselves with. I guess I am privileged to have a chance now to be introduced to this than years down the road...maybe. This perspective does make the road ahead both scarier and less scary all at the same time. Scarier because my invincibility is waning into something more tangent, flawed human, and real...vulnerable. I don't like this me seen, but want to now. Scarier because I know I'm gonna be bumped, dropped, and etched anew many more times over. Less scary because it’s relieving to know I don't have to be perfect and know it all now. That distance is the name of the game and I have come along way already.

I still want that cigarette and know it’s gonna take longer than a week to make that feeling wane longer than moments or hours. I want the long drag, the hold and release. Still choosing not to. Still wanting what I can't have. Still choosing me first and foremost. Still not smoking.

Put the Lime in the Coconut

I am in the back seat of a car riding home with friends after going to see a friend who moved out of town. My throat is sore and my sore body lies limp as we listen to Chris Pureka and Ani on the way back. It is dark out and I let myself melt into this exhaustion. I am sore from laughing too hard. My body convulsed non-stop for the last 6-hours and is completely spent. My throat is raw from laughing and laughing and laughing some more. This laughter was the kind that took your breath away from shear delirium of happiness. This laughter is me completely caught up in the moment. This laughter is a marathon that takes all of you when it is done. This was a very good day.

A Kiss on My Cheek

I am standing at the bus stop waiting for line 1 to make my connection in time for my meeting. My car is broken, so I hold strong to the familiar and useful public transportation system to get me where I need to go. I remember this is just the season of things, and appreciate the chance to be outside. This is the only time I intend to be out in the world today, and am grateful I am choosing to catch the bus than find a car to use.

It’s snowing. Whiteness falls all around me while droplets from snow melting on tree branches above me drip on my coat. The thud as the water droplets hit me then run down my coat coincides with the wet sound of tires rolling by on the street in front of me. It’s a constant slush from tire to cement in both directions of my ears. I close my eyes and listen. I feel snow collect in my eye lashes and listen to the sounds of the busy street. This is me out in the world.

The bus comes and I step on in usual form with I.D. ready and change to feed the meter. I ask for a transfer and turn to sit down. I am met with a casually crowded bus full of others like me bundled, slightly chilled, and appreciating the warmth of the #1. The colors of coats and hats and scarves all blend into one another; themes of black, brown, and dark blues usher me to my seat. I am grateful to see a bright lime green coat in the mix. The snow has gone from white to melted and is running down my coat. I sit down and begin to blend in with the wetness dripping off hats and scarves and coats around me.

I am only riding down as far as #25 to transfer to my destination, but while on this short ride I am met with more black, brown, and blue bundles joining us and leaving. Occasionally, someone would come in with a khaki this or red that. The woman in lime green leaves the bus at the shopping center as I continue onward. It’s silent around me and I am completely internal with myself. Today, I feel like I am with an old friend who has been with me throughout my existence. I realize that old friend is me and for the moment I feel in love with myself. It’s pure and true and comes from an honest caring place. This is me loving me.

I get off at my connection and walk a block up to the bus stop. The sounds of the cars singing chorus with the wet cement greets me as I cross the street median rebelliously NOT at the cross walk. I think about a letter I read earlier today. I wrote the letter to myself, it was to me and by me. I wrote it a moment before school started and kept it until this in-between time I have right now. The note met me with grace and kindness and told me that I knew me and knew where I would be at right now. The note reminded me of the goals I had for myself and that I probably would have both the easy way to these goals in my head and the challenging way. The note I sent myself reminded me the easy way wasn't what I wanted from life, even if I could take it.

I think of this note as I wait at bus stop #2 for the #25. The snow is wet and the street ushers in a chilly breeze, so I crowd myself into a door way of the sushi restaurant between a huge pot of flowers and the door. I feel like I got a love letter today and it is from me. I feel seen and heard, and like I know myself. I also feel like what I don't know, I will learn in due time and am excited at the chance. This is me getting to know me.

Bus #25 comes sliding to the stop and I get on using my transfer. Though I feel not warm but not cold either in my bundled existence outside, my face is red and I welcome the warmth of the back of the bus. I let the heat from the engine I am sitting next to kiss my cheek with its warmth. I like cheeks and suddenly look at the cheeks of everyone around me. I wonder what it would be like if we greeted each other with a kiss on the cheek. Who would feel it violated their space, who would welcome the expression, and which side would I be on?

I watch as the snow grows heavier outside as snowmen and shoveled drives fly past my view. I wrote myself a letter and in that letter I knew me and knew exactly what I needed to hear. I am very good at seeing other people - Supporting, comforting when I want to, listening, the list goes on. I like to do it. It’s a part of me. The letter reminded me that I see me too. It’s nice to support and comfort and to know I am actually listening to myself when my head rambles on. I get off the bus and go to my meeting...I tell the person that I am meeting with about the letter. I go home in more snow and noisy wetness. This is me with me in the world today.

Who Let the Boogie Whatever Into Rehab?

I decided to take a break from a rather productive crafty day. Like Martha Stewart's Bitch...I'm prepping material for a big day of crafting tomorrow. I have to say, its fun and I feel ackomplished and domesticated all at once. Crafting can be a grounding experience. I recommend it for others who have just come off of a four month sprint of multi-tasking while high on prodigious (huge) amounts of caffeine. In a sense, this is my little rehab day for me.

"Hi, my name is GoGo. I'm a grad student and its been 5 days since I either done school work, smoked a cigarette, or snorted coffee".

This has also allowed my mind to focus on my life and I've been walking through the landscape of my past in my head. Ran into parts of me who admit I walk away from people before they leave me. Met up with the coward who hides herself in direct communication. Some people are passive, some people are passive agressive, some other people are completely and utterly indirect with what they mean. Its a safe place. This GoGo, is direct and tries not to say anything other than what is coming from my mouth. I thought it was to avoid the above, but realize its just another way to be safe. How can a coward hide right in front of you? Its that old childhood trick we learn scared in our beds. Remember telling the boogie whatever your weren't afraid in your deepest non-scary voice even though you were afraid? Remember saying it made you less afraid...but being afraid still. That's this GoGo I suppose. I'm telling what I think when I think it to maintain control of the situation. Hmm. Why share? Why not. Its this or ten bad jokes I heard this last week.

All right, enough metaphysical insight for you all today. Remember to own your shit before it owns you. But deny it to everyone else.

Love, GG

Random Thinkings

I am at work doing what I do, which is work, and have been randomly thinking...

~Do famous people really die in three's, or do we just stop paying attention after the third one?

~What really did come first, the chicken or the egg? I just want to know already.

~I don't miss television, but I do miss tv shows...like the Simpsons. Remember when Homer was sucked into the blackhole and we are left with only his mouth repeating the words "crap, crap, crap, crap!" hmm, i miss you Homer.

~My left ass cheek and left breast are slighltly larger than the right side of each. Weird.

~In all the puppet weirdness that have come since my childhood, like teletubbies and barnie, I realize we kids of the 80s are totally cooler then kids are now-a-days. I mean, we'd never watch furbie things. We had sesame street and fragel rock, regardless of whether you were 3 or 6 years old, hah!

~I believe my right ass cheek is jealous of the left one.

~When I was a kid, and I couldn't sleep, I would pretend that my right side of me was talking to the left side of me. Both side's elected the hands to be the spokeshand for each side. Then I would move my hands and mouth words. Usually the conversation went like this:

Left: I'm gonna stay up all night
Right: We can't we need to sleep for school tomorrow
Left: Oh, all right.
Right: Goodnight
Left: Are you asleep yet?
Right: No, I just closed my eye
Left: My eye doesn't want to close
Right: Well tell it to close anyway
Left: You tell it, I don't know about your eye, but mine makes up its own mind.


I was a desperately lonely and creative kid all at once.

Thank goodness I don't use real names :o).

i get to go to sleep soon! tehe

Happy Birthday, Lady M.

Its late, or for those waking up, its early. I am tired. The kind of tired that solicits fantacies about curling up in bed and passing out. The kind of fantacies that promote excitement that soon they will be true. The kind of excitement that encourages delirious giggles and, let's face it, ya' just look silly. But at 6 am, when you've been up all night working and your eyes burn when they blink 'cause you went sledding last night instead of sleeping before your shift... its the best kind of excitement anyone can ask for.

I'm going to be sleeping soon
I'm gonna be sleeping soon...
sleep, sleep, sleep, sleep!

So happy.

Initial Letter to School June 28, 2004

Dear [Important Person],

I got your email address off the Social Work website as a contact person for questions regarding the MSW program[edit]. I hope you do not mind me contacting you by email. I am looking to re-enter school in the Fall of 2005 to get my Masters in Social Work. Though I have volunteered in paraprofessional crisis counselor roles, my BA degree is in English Literature. I realize that what really pulls me in life is counseling others in forms of empowerment, but I recognize I may need to do some preliminary course "catch-up" before I go for my Masters. I was hoping that I could set up an appointment with you regarding this and some questions I have regarding [edit]'s program. Please let me know the best way I might be able to make an appointment with you.

This was a big step for me, then. Now, its trying to organize all my articles and research into my two drawer filing cabinet. I might just need to let go and buy a bigger one. :-) ~GoGo

I'm Done, Now What Do I Do?

Classes are done. Projects are turned in.

Do you hear the crickets chirping? I do. I came home and stared blankly for twenty minutes, blinked, and realized I don't have to go to the library tomorrow. Now's the time to break down the layers of articles scattered through my house, washing ALL my clothes, not just the one's that get me through the week, and let's just say I'm not sure what is under that pile of books on the chair.

I have three goals for this break. Re-organize my home, recommitt to working out, and painting a mosaic on my wall. There's a forth, but I don't want to jinx it. Those are my priorities. Yep, just call me a nerd and slap a vote for Pedro sticker on my rump. This excites me...

By the way, the job lay off has been postponed due to beauracracy hard at work! I've asked my boss to not tell me anything in the future until I get the pink slip. What's gonna happen is gonna happen.

When You Don't Want to Talk About It But Can't Sit On It Either

Its snowing and this GoGo feels like she’s slipping and sliding all over the spectrum of mood today. To put it simply, I’m touching all the shades of self on this winter’s day. I woke up late for my internship since I spent my late night finishing my last project for this semester. Can I just say it’s a nice feeling to know I have reached that moment of done, its all lemony fresh and inviting to the senses. So, when I woke up at the exact time I should have been at my internship it didn’t faze me at all. I put on some backup clothes that matched my bed hair hat. I love this hat, it’s the kind a “Gramps” would where with a pipe between his teeth complete with rain coat and a line about race horsing or how they don’t make things the way they use to. I go to my internship, still feeling a grounded sense of self for the day…still lemony…still fresh.

Then I get a call from a friend, she’s leaving for somewhere else and though we rarely see each other anymore, my mood drops for a moment. I plunge into watery blues weighing my heart down like rain water on blue jeans. I want to tell her, I’m not ready for her to go. It’s young, I know, so I tell her I am happy for her, but she knows me and says she’ll miss me too. She’s one of those random people you pick up along the way who changes you…and she changed me for the better. I’ve always found it hard to tell her this, so I put it here in hopes she’ll come across it and excuse the passive aggressiveness of it all. Thank you.

Still did not loose that lemony freshness from being done with my projects and edging towards this semesters finish line. Even when my boss at my “paid” job called to inform me that tonight they are going to decide if I get bumped. What does bump mean? It means I might be laid off tomorrow in order for another union member who has seniority to get my job. Overall, makes sense to me. I support unions and this is the contract. But that lemony feeling has turned a little green…we’re talking minty green…and this GoGo does not like mint so much.

I’m a flexible, girl. In fact, I enjoy taking life for a ride and appreciate the process of it all. I like searching for the bigger picture and appreciate it when I overhear the undercurrent of life speaking. But today, I feel really small and its scary to think I might be loosing my job. As someone reminded me this year, this GoGo can be industrious when she needs to be. I’ll be fine. I happen to be a part of the Master’s in Social Work program at the college, and for any of you who knows about MSWs, they can help you out with the “system”. I’ve learned all about unemployment, community health plans, and food stamps this semester. School is paid for this year and I have a home to live in. In fact, it sounds kind of fun to go to school AND not work. But, with all that said, there is a tingle in my tummy like I just road one too many roller coasters today.

So, I guess I’ll give myself a little positive imagery and imagine this spinning is me dancing in a field of snow.

If Only Life Had a Delete Button

I am going to the same school for my master's as I did for undergrad which means I have the same email address from then until now. The problem with this is, I am a notorious email saver. With my various other accounts I have had, I have learned I will save emails until the day I let go of the account and then they are all gone. Which leads me back to the school email account...I began my undergrad in 1994, it is now 2005, people! That is ten years of pack ratin' digital crap. My account is getting seriously close to full and its time to work through the past so to speak.

Some of the excavation has been introspective and fun...I have followed email veins down memory lane, up argument avenues, and through darkened alleyways into lamp lit steets...and come across dead ends more than once.

Much of the stuff kept in files were forwards, though! I have no idea why since they are still not funny. Some were emails from friends, and are getting tossed unless they touch me or I still feel the need to keep them in case of blackmail. (You never know who might become president). Other than that, I really don't need to know that so-and-so saw me in the cafe and wanted to say hi, right? Or that so-another was going home early for the holidays...
All I have to say is...WTF.

So, I have slowly been clicking away at the delete button cleaning away my electronic yesterdays. My lesson in all this? I need to be quicker to delete, asking myself is this something I really want to carry with me.