I ran today. So I skipped Thurs­day and Sat­ur­day, but what­ever. It’s bound to hap­pen some­times. What’s worse is that I made cook­ies all day yes­ter­day. Haha. Good way to keep to the goal. But this morn­ing I woke up after hav­ing dreams of Star Wars and Sith lords, and I made myself go out for a run. It was later in the morn­ing than I wanted, but I did it any­way. The sun was out, it was past 60 degrees, and the Pan­han­dle was full of peo­ple. One rea­son I like to go out early in the morn­ing is that the park isn’t so full of strollers and dog walk­ers. They hog the path and expect every­one else to get out of their way. But I’m not going to rant. Pub­lic space is public.

I did my inter­vals, wish­ing I could do more than just a minute at a time, but my legs were adamantly opposed to any­thing my brain asked for, so I did just what I was sup­posed to do. I can’t hurt myself again and take six months off to recu­per­ate. It felt good, regard­less. My legs are a lit­tle sore, they’ve got that kind of warm feel­ing that sore mus­cles have. I don’t know that feel­ing too well, and I like it. Is this part of the “high” that peo­ple talk about? My god, I want my legs back. I used to have really nice legs when I was younger. I’m glad I built up that mus­cle tone in my youth.

While I was show­er­ing, two things occurred to me: one, sweat­ing is so good for your pores — my skin always feels so much more clean after I sweat; and two, I should really add walk­ing to the days when I don’t run. There is no rea­son why I need to take the whole day off, and even the experts (in my head) say you shouldn’t take a full day off unless you’re injured. Fur­ther, get­ting up at the same time every day, which I already do, will strengthen my habit and make it eas­ier to keep up the early morn­ing runs. If I left by 7 a.m., I would have plenty of time in the morn­ing to exer­cise and get ready for school. And I would avoid all of the other peo­ple in the park, except for the hard­core run­ners and the speed rac­ers on bikes on their way to who knows where.

In other news, grades for the fall semes­ter came out. I got two A’s and a B: health, his­tory, and phi­los­o­phy, respec­tively. So yay for me.

Today marks the 13th anniver­sary of my mov­ing to San Fran­cisco. On 28 Jan­u­ary 1998, I left the Mon­terey Bay for good, and moved to the dorms of San Fran­cisco State. And despite a pro­longed detour in the East Bay, I have con­sid­ered myself a cit­i­zen of San Fran­cisco ever since. It feels like a life­time, but it’s only been 13 years. Crazy.

Today also marks the end of the sec­ond week of school. It’s over, and wow do I have to con­stantly remem­ber why I am doing this. Span­ish is always fun and engag­ing. Just take that for granted. I spent another hour in the lan­guage lab, and one of the peo­ple who works there clued me in to the really great resource that it is. There is a DVD that accom­pa­nies the text­book and the lab man­ual, and they are a con­tin­u­ing story that evolves as our grasp on the lan­guage does. There is also a writ­ing pro­gram that helps us with our spelling and gram­mar. I was wor­ried that I wouldn’t be able to take up two hours a week con­stantly repeat­ing vocab­u­lary and silly in-text dia­logues. Now it seems that I don’t have to work so hard to fill two hours. It’s kind of exciting.

Ecol­ogy is going to be a chal­lenge, but really only to keep myself inter­ested and motivated.

Eng­lish? Fuck. Why? Eng­lish started out inter­est­ing and promis­ing, but with the pass­ing of our first writ­ing assign­ment, I felt like a total fail­ure, demor­al­ized and very dis­ap­pointed in myself. I worked very hard on that sum­mary. I spent the whole week­end try­ing to write what we were told to write, and I got a C−. In Eng­lish. A C−. I’ve never! Appar­ently, even though there were 4 A’s in my gen­eral vicin­ity, there were many oth­ers who thought they did well and received bad grades, and the judging-paragraph exer­cise was equally dif­fi­cult. Mine was kind of shit, because I’m not about to admit to a room full of strangers that I’m a judg­men­tal crea­ture, even though we all are, but I’ve already got a rebut­tal in place in case what’s-his-name decides to give me more crap about it. So, I guess I under­es­ti­mated my own abil­ity to write well. No, I know I write well, it’s this kind of writ­ing that I don’t do well. I need to learn. My sav­ing graces were my famil­iar­ity with MLA for­mat and a proper use of para­graphs. What I really have to remem­ber is that Eng­lish 1C is a freshman/sophomore level class, and most of these peo­ple are very young and inex­pe­ri­enced. The bloom is off the rose.

Today ends the first week of school. I’m tak­ing three courses this time, and I’m at Ocean Cam­pus every day for at least an hour. It’s kind of obnox­ious. And it’s total cul­ture shock to be here with all these teenagers. They’re filthy crea­tures: spit­ting, smok­ing, throw­ing their trash every­where. I ended up sick from expo­sure, but that’s good for my immune sys­tem. I guess.

My classes are OK. My Span­ish class is awe­some. The prof is really great and very pas­sion­ate about her lan­guage. I love her expla­na­tions of syn­tax and gram­mar. It is what I missed from Span­ish 1.

Eng­lish will be a chal­lenge, but I already see threads of what I learned briefly at El Estero Tech. I took an argu­ment class for a cou­ple weeks and dropped it for some rea­son that escapes me now, although signs are point­ing to my impromptu evac­u­a­tion from Clay Street. Any­way, argu­ment is argu­ment, I guess. This teacher is very cute, so it will be easy to pay atten­tion. I just hope I have what it takes to make rea­son­able argu­ments, being as set in my ways as I am. Ugh. Plus, I think I may have to take Eng­lish 1B next term. For some rea­son, I thought it was optional, but I’m get­ting the feel­ing that it is required. No big­gie, just some­thing else to do. Along with speech. Fuck me.

I haven’t had my ecol­ogy class yet. It’s only Mon­day nights from 6 to 9 at the Mis­sion cam­pus. Good times.

I don’t want to be sick any­more, please and thank you.

1. “Panic” — The Smiths
2. “New Friend” — No Doubt
3. “Que Mas Da” — Ricky Mar­tin
4. “Song for the Lonely” — Cher
5. “Trust Me” — The Motels
6. “Come into My World” — Kylie Minogue
7. “Survival” — Madonna
8. “I Drove All Night” — Céline Dion
9. “Si tu m’aimes” — Lara Fabian
10. “Another Girl’s Paradise” — Tori Amos

So, V&I are now offi­cially domes­ti­cally part­nered in the state of Cal­i­for­nia. We have talked about get­ting mar­ried some day — if this coun­try ever gets its shit together and joins the rest of the civ­i­lized world — and being DPs is the first step in that direc­tion. It’s not at all required, but in the mean time, we can get a taste of the legal rights the state will give us, which don’t seem to be all that many. And since I’m not work­ing full time enough to have ben­e­fits, it was the only way for me to be put on his ben­e­fit plan. So, I will have health and den­tal and vision again.

It’s kinda weird. For years and years, I never had health ben­e­fits, and then even when I did have cov­er­age I never used it. I went sev­en­teen years with­out see­ing a den­tist, and my teeth were in great shape. Since I was laid off six months ago, I’ve been with­out cov­er­age, and it’s in the back of my mind that if any­thing hap­pened to me, it would be a finan­cial dis­as­ter wait­ing to hap­pen. So, all of a sud­den, I feel a sense of respon­si­bil­ity to the one I love to get my shit cov­ered so nei­ther of us is put in an unnec­es­sary posi­tion. And you know, I totally blame the United States of Amer­ica for this bull­shit. I’m not going to go all polit­i­cal about this because there are plenty of other places to find that, but hon­estly, we are sup­pos­edly the last remain­ing super­power on the planet, and we can’t pro­vide basic health­care for our own cit­i­zens with­out cries of social­ism or com­mu­nism from the igno­rant and scared — who would be the most to ben­e­fit from such mea­sures! If we lived in the UK, this wouldn’t be an issue. If we lived in Canada, France, Nor­way, Fin­land, even Peru and Brazil, this wouldn’t be an issue. It’s sad and depress­ing, and I don’t know what it’s going to take for this coun­try to wake up to the lies and dou­ble­s­peak that are being fed to them by the obnox­iously wealthy greedy power-hungry moth­er­fuck­ers who run this place. Cap­i­tal­ism will be the demise of this coun­try. Oh my fuck­ing god.

So, V is sub­mit­ting the paper­work today, and I should be cov­ered as of Octo­ber 1st. That’s good news. But at the same time, I feel like Jacky in Howards End. The for­mer pros­ti­tute who was wait­ing for her non­com­mit­tal lover to marry her was always wor­ry­ing about money and how they were going to sur­vive. She didn’t work, Len did that, and not that well. So she wor­ried for good rea­son. At one point in the movie, she’s a lit­tle des­per­ate in her lacy naughty bits, and she asks: “Len, are you going to make it all right?” That’s how I feel now. I’ve cho­sen to be a stu­dent and get my edu­ca­tion squared away, and in exchange for that, I’ve given up my full time career — such as it was — to work part time-ish and spo­rad­i­cally. I feel like I’m start­ing to rely on V for more and more, even though that’s not the case. I have my own money, I pay my own share of things. We don’t have a joint account or any­thing, and I don’t think we will any­time soon. So, basi­cally, I’m being melo­dra­matic about it all, and well, there’s noth­ing new there.

So with that, it’s Fol­som week­end here in beau­ti­ful, sunny San Fran­cisco, so put on your leathers and har­nesses and get out your chips, dips, chains, and whips (no can­dle wax on the nip­ples or witch­craft, tho), and go out and have fun!

1. “Starman” — David Bowie
2. “The Right Thing to Do” — Carly Simon
3. “Think­ing About You” — Norah Jones
4. “Beyond the Invisible” — Enigma
5. “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea” — Diana Krall
6. “Coloured Bedspread” — Annie Lennox
7. “Twi­light World” — Swing Out Sister
8. “A Good Year for the Roses” — Elvis Costello
9. “Lost of Sea” — The Bangles
10. “Incom­plete With­out You” — Swing Out Sister

Last night, we went to the Lone Star for DJ Beary­oncé, and in the process drank way too much. It was a beer bust, so it was Rolling Rock on tap, which is light years bet­ter than Busch or Bud or any other yel­low beer, but still yel­low beer, and I’m a lit­tle sore this morn­ing. I’m not tore up, but I’ve got that dull pound­ing in my head that makes me wish I could sleep all day. I just can’t do it. I’m a busy, unem­ployed per­son, and I’ve got stuff to do. Like deposit my social­ist hand­outs and such like that.

I’m offi­cially reg­is­tered for the Fall 2010 term at CCSF. Yay. Voy à apprendir español. Or some­thing like that. I’m also tak­ing an Eng­lish class, and I’m excited about that. The lit­tle bits of writ­ing I did for sosh last term (in which I scored a full, legit­i­mate A, thank you — see, I am smart after all) reminded me how much I enjoy writ­ing and how much I’ve missed it. Give me a sub­ject and I can go all expos­i­tory and turn stuff out, yo. And I’m tak­ing an Amer­i­can cin­ema class, at a dis­tance, which means I can watch TV at home and get credit for it. Sort of. I don’t know how it works just yet, but it sat­is­fies a require­ment, and that makes me happy.

I’m so excited to move on and com­plete my degree. I think my first foot­steps at SFSU were side­tracked by the whole drama with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who turns 53 tomor­row. But now that I have a sort of vision for my future and my edu­ca­tion, and now that I have non­judg­men­tal sup­port from the peo­ple around me, it feels like fun and I can’t wait to get started, I mean, really started. This GE stuff is for the birds, hon­estly. I’ve been por­ing over the IGETC require­ments and trans­fer cred­its, and it’s like an annoy­ing, drawn out puz­zle. “Will this his­tory class work? Or maybe this astron­omy class instead of biol­ogy? Oh wait, do I still need a lab?” Ugh. It’s annoy­ing. What’s even more weird, is that when I talked to an advi­sor about my trans­fer plan, I was told that the classes I took at SFSU can be used as trans­fer cred­its to go back to SFSU. That just seems a lit­tle cir­cu­lar to me. I mean, yeah, I did the work there, so I guess they still count. What­ever. My head hurts too much already. I can’t wait to get into it deep and dirty. Yeah. Il me tard beau­coup de par­ler français toute la journée, tous les jours.

What else.

Oh, I upgraded to Word­Press 3.0. All by myself.

I guess that’s all.

1. “Spring Can Really Hang You Up the Most” — Bette Midler
2. “Home” — Sheryl Crow
3. “A Cure” — Blonde Redhead
4. “We’re Hav­ing All the Fun” — Fun Boy Three
5. “Should I Laugh or Cry” — ABBA
6. “This Must Be the Place I Waited Years to Leave” — Pet Shop Boys
7. «C’est si bon» — Bar­bra Streisand
8. “Misfit” — Curiosity Killed the Cat
9. «Tout porte à croire» — Lau­rance Jalbert
10. “Runaway” — Deee-Lite

JS from Lon­don is here vis­it­ing. We went out last night and drank it up. I don’t do that any­more, and I’m pay­ing for it. What­ever. I’m offi­cially unem­ployed now, so who cares? I even got my EDD paper­work in the mail yes­ter­day. That was fast.

I also got my Fit­Bit, and it’s pretty cool. It’s the cutest lit­tle thing, so small it could get lost, but it’s unob­tru­sive and fun. They have a great track­ing sys­tem that is per­sua­sive with­out being preachy. It makes me want to go walk 10,000 steps a day. That’s crazy talk.

I’m reg­is­tered for three classes in the fall term. Yay for me. I am step­ping things up a lit­tle to get this shit over with. I have been string­ing it along and it’s time to make it work. I just woke up, so my com­po­si­tion skills aren’t exactly warmed up, but I have a paper to write, so I needed to do some­thing. It should be a good term, and after this one, I think I have three classes left before I trans­fer out. I should hit the CSU in Fall 2011. Wow. That’s pretty damn awe­some. When I started this in Jan­u­ary, I thought I would be stuck at CCSF for another two or three years, but since I’ve made the com­mit­ment, it will be eas­ier. More work, less time, harder and eas­ier. Whatev. I can’t wait to study French all day every day. I can’t wait for an excuse to spend six months in France study­ing French with the French. I can’t wait for a chance to live and work there full time. Go Secret, go!

Looks like I’m gonna be work­ing for RJ again soon. I e-mailed them last week offer­ing my ser­vices, and they accepted the offer. I swore off being a con­trac­tor so many years ago, but this time, I have a more clear vision of what it’s all about, and even forc­ing myself to save half of what I earn for taxes only, I’ll be able to make it work and sur­vive in the city while I go to school. If this does turn out for me, I could do it all the way through school, so I can go full time, day classes and every­thing. It’s a win/win for all of us, really, so why not?

That’s all.

V is my hero. My cuter, younger, hip­per boyfriend has come through time and again, and dur­ing this move, he has become my super­star. Last July, his room­mate moved out and fled to the East Coast. I left my apart­ment on Colling­wood to fill the empty space and cover half the rent. Then, just last week­end, we moved to a new apart­ment, a smaller apart­ment, and we’ve had to get rid of a lot of fur­ni­ture that just won’t fit. If it were up to me, I would call the Sal­va­tion Army (as much as I would hate that) and have them come pick it up in their super­huge truck. And thank­fully, it wasn’t totally up to me, because V has stepped up and posted every sin­gle piece of fur­ni­ture on craigslist, and so far, every­thing has sold. So instead of donat­ing (to a mostly wor­thy cause), we are actu­ally mak­ing some money off of it all. Well, he’s mak­ing money off of it all. We incurred so much debt mov­ing into this place, what­ever money he makes off of any of the fur­ni­ture goes directly to him to pay off what­ever is left. And that’s OK, because I was going to give it away for free anyway.

And I’m going to say right here and now — on the record — that I do not want to move again for at least ten years. I know, I know, ten years is a super long time, but hon­estly, I can’t stand the thought of pack­ing up and mov­ing again. So maybe it will end up being three, and we have a really cute new apart­ment with a fab kitchen, so maybe it will be seven. All I know is that mov­ing is the worst, and I can’t think of doing it again for a long long time. No more Uhauls, no more new fur­ni­ture. No more schlep­ping dusty boxes up and down stairs. I will grow to love NOPA and my cute lit­tle neigh­bor­hood, and the 5 stop right around the cor­ner, and I will deal with laun­dro­mats and no park­ing again. And I will save lots of money so I can buy a condo and never rent again.

And with regard to debt and all the evil that comes with it, I’ve had to drop my Eco class on Thurs­day nights because I can’t afford the fuck­ing text­book. Can you believe that shit? For three years, I lived on Colling­wood, shar­ing a $2000 apart­ment, and I had a lot of free time and money. Then I move to Henry Street, and I split a $3000 apart­ment, and I had a lot of free time and absolutely no money. That was the cat­a­lyst for mov­ing. We were both so broke that we couldn’t sur­vive much longer. And this whole school thing started up before I had a chance to reap the sav­ings of the new and cheaper apart­ment, even though the school thing was in place before we decided to move. Ugh. It’s so stu­pid. A text­book. Granted, they’re more expen­sive than they should be — I mean, why should an Intro to Ecol­ogy text­book cost ten times as much as Stephen King’s lat­est tome? And where’s the fuck­ing Kin­dle ver­sion of these text­books? It’s bloody high­way rob­bery, I swear to god. Oh well, les­son learned. I thought that work­ing full time and hav­ing a steady pay­check would make return­ing to school easy to afford, but return­ing to school as a 38-year-old work­ing adult is not easy in any regard.

So, another Mon­day, another week. It’s the end of Jan­u­ary already. Hahawhat? Jesus on the cross, Kathleen.

Fur­ther on the quest of higher edu­ca­tion, I’m wait­ing out­side of a locked class­room at 9:18 on a Sat­ur­day morn­ing. This is my soci­ol­ogy course, which should be inter­est­ing enough. Thurs­day night was my Intro to Ecol­ogy (yay) class. I still have to won­der why I’m doing this. It is in my best inter­est, I know.

Last night, V&I went out to a fab din­ner at the Green Chile Kitchen which is so con­ve­niently around the cor­ner from our new digs. So good. After that, we stopped by the Lone Star for DJ Beary­oncé. We got appro­pri­ately drunk and cabbed it home. He missed his run this morn­ing, and I’m sit­ting in the halls of the Mis­sion cam­pus, out­side a locked classroom.

What­ever. My week­ends are gone this month any­way. We’re still clean­ing out Henry Street, which is more tedious than I thought it would be. We’re in our new place, and I want to keep mov­ing for­ward. This seem­ing anchor to the old place is annoy­ing at this point. Patience, please.