Update 10/28/13

I’m not as tired as I should be.  At 4:30 this morning I awoke in halves. One half wanting to pee and excited for the day. The second half, annoyed and leafing through her dreams for the bookmark.

The first half won.  I got dressed in my new favorite outfit — a black hoodie, camo pants, and red shoes — and went to The Commons for breakfast.  No one else was awake and so I had the place to myself.  Though I love my commune (it’s not a commune) mates, it’s nice to have a space to yourself no matter how occasionally.

I pulled up the draft for my play, Sala Kakuhle, Mama and started to type.  I played music from some of my favorite artists and began to sing.  I wrote verses, monologues, and felt the rhythm of my story deep inside my chest.  It was nice.  I wasn’t stopped up by hunger, stress, or whatever else sits at my feet on occasion.

Hours passed and eventually I fed myself, joked with my neighbors, played with dogs, took a  walk, exercised, went for a run, and watched tv on Hulu.  I had an impromptu meeting with my boss and he offered me the job I thought I was going to have to interview hardcore for.  This job is so perfect for me right now because it matches my love of food — preparing it for the masses — with my love of the outdoors. Gives me the autonomy I’ve always desired as well as the responsibility.  I have a place to live on the ranch, for free, year-round.  I’ll work 8 months a year. That’s it.  I get time off to do work for Earthseed, and to just play.  Or, I could guide for the summer.

This is good for me.  I’m nervous because that’s my go-to emotion when awesomeness happens. I know. I know.

So, I’m moving to Tucson for 8 months out of the year, and then I’ll be living in Seattle for the other 4.  What makes me happiest, is that those four months align perfectly with Seattle’s beautiful summers.  I’m lucky. I’m happy.

Finally, someone I didn’t fall for

We met a few weeks ago. The details will remain vague because it’s important for privacy sake. We chatted. He seemed really interested in getting to know me.  I asked myself if I was attracted to him because he’s an attractive guy.  I figured out that, in time, I could be.  We hung-out a bit.  He invited me to go climbing  (I didn’t because I was running on fumes as far as sleep was concerned PLUS I was b-r-o-k-e)  He invited me to go to yoga (I didn’t because I was  (b-r-o-k-e).  During one of our chats he mentioned his girlfriend and I switched my lady parts to manual transmission.  From this point on, I assumed his interest was purely platonic.  Surprisingly, my heart was unaffected.

Fast forward a few weeks. Eventually a bunch of folks went out to dinner and drinks.  Upon returning to home base some people had had quite a bit to drink. I was sober.  I ended up sitting next to him on the loveseat and made a joke about how small it was.  I remember noticing his posture and thinking, “Wow, if he were anyone else I’d look at this as flirtation.”  He had his arm around me. His legs were touching mine.  We were sitting super close. I chocked it up to the size of the love seat. Also, I was wearing fleece pants that were 1,000 times to big and a flannel shirt that was equally as large. I wasn’t trying to be attractive or sensual. I was going for warm. Also, I had on wool socks.

The next morning, a friend pulled me aside and asked me what happened between the two of us.  Oblivious, I asked her to elaborate.  She commented on all of the things I just mentioned then said, “I expected him to be doing the walk of shame in the morning.”  I laughed.  When I finally saw him that morning he was a little weird but not too much.  I wondered if he had been flirting with me, but I’d just missed the cues.  I’m not cool with getting involved with a person who’s involved.  Nonetheless, I wondered why I missed the cues — if there were any. It came to this.

With my ovaries in manual transmission I wasn’t attracted to him.  Historically, I’m attracted to almost any guy who comes in box. If you’re into the outdoors, attractive and friendly, I’m pretty much sold.  Since returning from Morocco, I’ve changed.  I’m no longer worried if a guy is interested in me. I don’t freak out and get all gooey-eyed.  I’m more concerned with whether or not I’m into him.  That’s a HUGE difference.  With this guy, I wasn’t.  Honestly, if he didn’t have a girlfriend, I’m not sure I’d be anymore attracted to him even then.  That’s new.  I like that.  I’ve become more discerning in my old age.  Discerning is nice.