The riptide that is my life.

Today was spent sleeping in... Sunlight poured through the slats in the blinds and my mind desperately tried to hang onto some semblance of REM. Too many concerns are rolling around inside my head lately. San Francisco. Money. Him.

Sleep was intermittent as the heat pressed in on the afternoon, cloaking my world in its golden aura. I learned about the authenticity of taco shops over lunch. We spoke in Spanglish.

Later, the beauty of Del Mar and I finally became acquainted. The droves of devoted beach-goers brandishing surf and boogie boards. The happy dogs kicking up sand and surf. We stood side by side in the water, letting its lukewarm ease the summer heat off our bodies.

The waves crashed into me over and over, leaving me exposed for the majority of our stay. But I did not care. The salt water transported me to a time and place that only exists in my mind. A place where I don't have to care about the rest of my life's trivial details. He remained by my side, concerned I would be taken out too far. Only leaving to surf a few waves onto the shore, and then returning. I felt beautiful, standing in the Pacific, water cascading from my cut-off shorts and hair.

I grew tired, constantly recovering from being overtaken by the powerful waves. And so we swam in, huddled in our towels, and ate cherries, watching the sun dip lower. Our sweet snack a complement to the day's sweet endeavors.

After piling into the car, sand, salt, and skin, we headed for home. I cooled his shoulders with my icebox hands and tried not to fall asleep on the ride for fear of missing a moment.

I don't deserve any of this. But I do.

I am hopefully headed to San Francisco for an interview for a prospective job.

Lately, I've been spending tons of time con un chico especial.

I am addicted to TJ dogs. It is very sad, and also very awesome.

Tonight I will be rockin' out at 4th & B with Lauren and Holly.

Life is tenuous, but I am so fucking happy. My wonderful friends, my caring roommates, a special guy, and plenty of Mexican food in my life.

Ain't Nothin' But a Number

At least that's what I felt like upon being let go from Nuyo yesterday afternoon. Ah, the sweet, sweet burn of rejection. I was brought into the back to be given my haphazard 1-month evaluation.

The manager listed a myriad of reasons as to why things just "weren't working out". Most of them had to do with my apparent incompetence at putting the frozen yogurt machines together without error and how a month of scant, and unorganized training should have been more than enough to make me an efficient worker and manager. My mother contributes it so the fact that their very small business most likely realized they cannot afford to pay me.

Whatever the reason, the manager and the owner had their own issues with one another. From what I gathered from the current staff and the manager himself, he and the owner frequently disagreed on things. During my first interview, I asked the manager what he liked about the job and he replied, "It's a job." He also explained that they were looking for someone to potentially take over as store manager. As I look back on this after the fact, it further explains the manager's rushed methods in training me and shuffling me into a managerial position. That is not how it works and only sets new employees up for failure. The "sink or swim" method is really more like a "throw you under the bus and see if you can still walk" method.

I was told that they expected more from a person who has such a high level of supervisory experience. That is bullshit because all of my faults were nothing to do with being supervisory. They were to do with the technical aspect of building and maintaining machines that I'd never used before my employment with Nuyo. Knowing how to put them together doesn't mean that I can trouble shoot when there is a problem. And knowing how to trouble shoot doesn't mean that the machine won't have the occasional malfunction regardless. Apparently, at the first sign of trouble, I was supposed to call the manager or the owner and let them micromanage the situation via the phone. This is a waste of time and damaging to employee morale.

I received no training schedule or formal introduction to the staff. I was thrown into the shop, instructed twice on how to build the machines, once on prepping and cutting fruit, twice on the safe/deposit procedure, and once on how to take down the machines for cleaning. I was given lists created by other supervisors on what must be done upon opening and closing. Then I was told to open the store by myself. As a manager.

There was no look taken at how I accommodate customers. There was no look taken at how I support my employees/coworkers. All of my performance reviews were based on whether or not I could build and/or fix the machines in a timely manner while servicing customers and keeping the shop cleaned up after rushes.

No. No, thank you.

Love, life, lyrics.

Portugal. The Man "Colors" (acoustic) from Portugal The Man on Vimeo.

These guys and I have a date at the Belly Up next month. And if they play this song, I might cry. Okay, yeah, I will.

empathy.

“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another 'till I drop. This is the night; what it does to you. I have nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” - Jack Kerouac.

I feel as though Kerouac's words sum up my life at this juncture very perfectly.

Cashing in. Literally and figuratively.

I am very hard on myself at times. My elementary school teachers used to tell me to stop erasing so much as it made my papers illegible. I had a thing for perfection at an early age. However, this has slowly evolved over the years. At one span in my youth it took the form of extreme anxiety, in which bouts of depression and an ever-mounting work load would culminate in tearful distress. I still battle with this, though it is not nearly as awful as it once was.

Nowadays, I suffer small bouts of anxiety whenever I see my bank account balance, or when my bills start piling up. Most of this stress is centered around money. My family has a rough history with money and it was the source of my parents' stress and a large part of the reason for their divorce. This, in turn, told me it was something worth arguing and crying over. My anxiety was, in this sense, a learned behavior. I do not believe in indulging my anxiety anymore; however, after years of one certain behavior, it has taken great strength and a lot of patience to show my mind a new way of seeing things.

A large part of my ability to see outside of myself at this juncture is thanks to a young student of mine. This student has the constant task of dealing with the supposed life-long complication that is Bipolar Disorder. Helping him grow and develop as a person throughout this last year has been an amazing and exhausting endeavor. To see his physical and emotional response to stress was an eye-opening experience that inspired me to reexamine how I see myself. I was forced to really stare into the depths of my own heart and determine why I felt the need to indulge in my self-consuming behavior. Why do I want to be the victim?

(to be continued)

Yo vivo en San Diego.

Rolando.

I found this very interesting as Rolando is the current San Diego neighborhood in which I reside.

All these colors will change.

Little things mean big things.

All the time.

Pictures harbor memories. Stories create dreams. Everything in the world opens into a bigger, more vast collection of other stories.

I am an ever-changing creature, hell-bent on finding what is right for her. Is that a job? Is it art? What is it I want? What makes my blood pump? What makes the world look beautiful to me?

I can't pinpoint it. It is not something I can pick out and name. When people ask me what I want to do with the rest of my life, all I can respond with is, "What don't I want to do with the rest of my life?" I want to be a teacher, an adventurer, a humanitarian, a lover, an inspiration. I want everything. Where do I start? What do I do?

I equate this feeling with walking into a beautiful garden. So many beautiful flowers. I want to smell them all, but I have trouble distinguishing them from one another. Or the kid in the candy store. What do I choose first? I can't have it all right now. But I want it. The world is my candy store.

The possibilities are endless. Ever-flowering. Wilting, dying, cycling. I am collecting stories and scars. What is it for? Why am I here? I feel this serene sadness weighing on my heart. I am so enamored with life, and yet I feel stagnant. I keep meeting these amazing people. These wonderful, kind, welcoming people. This is a new chapter. I am changing.

I am afraid. And I am sad. It is time to let go of what was...

Bits and bits of cane, burning burning burning
bit by bit away
they grow as people grow
and glow as people glow