The Better In Me Got The Better of Me


At long last, the opportunity was there.
Ever since I moved in here and started taking Rube up to the roof to get busy, I have almost always looked for crackheads or especially dealers to throw bags of her poop at. The dealers are too far away on the same side of the street, so I can’t even see them from the roof, and very seldom I get someone looking up to no good, walking down the street looking in every car window, but most commonly it’s uneventful.
Not today.

Coming back from a brief walk with Ruby-Doo, I find a couple people – man and woman, packing up their crack pipes so close to my gate that I had to ask them to move. Go somewhere else. Just *try* to have a bit of class.
They were distracted, but mumbled something like ‘sorry’ and moved a good entire six inches so I could open the gate and let me & Rubes inside.

In the elevator up to my floor (leg is still stiff and painful) I decided that I was going to go up to my roof where there are a few recent bags of RubePoop, lean over the ledge, and drop the bags on or very close to them – just to let them possibly understand my disdain for those who smoke crack – especially in public, in broad daylight.
ESPECIALLY in front of my apartment building.

As I unlocked the door to my apartment though, something clicked inside of me – their lives probably already leave much to be desired. It’s been cold, rainy, and this is most likely as good as their day is going to get, which is already shitty enough.
Meanwhile, here I am, in a warm apartment with an awesome puppy & soft, clean bed, planning on making their day crappier just because I don’t like what they’re doing?

I see far too often anyways – people who just want to make others lives even more miserable than they already are. That is not my right, or who I am…
so go ahead, crack zombies, have this very brief moment of being able to forget everything else that is bad around you.
I won’t rain shit on you today.


one and a half legs (12.5.13)

(Backstory – I did something really bad to my leg over the Thanksgiving holiday, running around Dolores Park with Ellie & Ruby, playing on swings, climbing on everything, running up and down hills – something went wrong and I woke that Saturday with my foot & leg swollen like an overstuffed sausage from toes to knee. The bed on the house I was watching was on the floor, and I actually had to crawl from the bedroom to the living room, grab the corner of the couch and a stool, and lift myself vertical with my arms alone – like a toddler learning to walk.
This was written at my own home, a few days after.)


…swings around in bed, puts the feet on the floor, and carefully stands – testing each time for some ease in the shooting pain. Things look promising, and they are *far* much better than the first few days – at least I was able to bring the swelling almost all the way down.
I’m optimistic.
I bend my knees a little, seeing how far my left ankle can flex today. Not much, as usual, but it seems like the pain has subsided a bit. Maybe. I take a test step. Not bad. I take a few more with a bit too much confidence and OWOWOWOWW FUCKING OOOWWW!
Okay, maybe a bit too optimistic.
Looks like I’m cabbing it the 7 or so blocks to TJ’s, because I’m sure as not making it up that hill during daylight hours, even if I started now, and need to get some herbs and stuff. got a worried call from my Dr. yesterday about my bloodwork (which has nothing to do with my ankle, mostly) so did some looksing around on Los Interwebs and found out what was good.
He worries to much about me anyway. Think he would have learned by now.

To all of the amazing people who helped out in the fund for Ruby & I to get a car, THANK YOU!
To the Universe – I wanted my OWN car, not to rent someone else’s car by the minute, but still, thank you!

Filling in the Holes

December 4th (Edited from Facebook)

It amazes me that even after all the time I’ve lived here, I continue to be blessed by amazing new people coming into my life, heartfelt conversations with them, and the ease in which a special bond is built so quickly, so freely.
I remember in the past that though I knew many people, most were simply good acquaintances…and deeper into my past where I simply did not know how to talk with anyone – nor did I want to.
My, how things have changed.

As I look back in introspection, it seems that the most profound growth was in first finding, then finally meeting my Mother.
It was always there, haunting me, creating who I am, but seldom anything I could ever talk about with the depth it deserved. They wouldn’t understand, they couldn’t. If I began talking of my adoption, then everything must be kept on a mundane conversational level. “Nice Weather, yes?” I’m adopted and feel incomplete, unworthy, unwanted, broken, lost.” “Do you take cream & sugar in that?

Now, after a lifetime of wondering and 24 years of actively searching, I can simply say “I found my Birth Mother!” “I met my birth mother!”and don’t have to be afraid of making anyone uncomfortable, because it begins with a happy ending. They don’t need to find words that they don’t have anymore.
The hole that I had always needed to somehow navigate around has been filled.