Things are moving

People are coming to me for email advice and phone sessions.

I started teaching again on Wednesday. There are only two people in my workshop. But it feels really good to be teaching. The nervousness is gone; all that is left is the joy of sharing what I believe in. This is a huge step for me because for a while I had been afraid that I would never teach again due to my fear of the spotlight.

This guy I work with IM’d me the other day and said “The only reason I work is so that I can write and make films.” I love that statement in and of itself, and it made me look at him in a totally new light. And then he said that he is working on a film right now that involves a taxi scene and he asked if I wanted to be in it. I said that I would love to.

On Thursday two people from my ex-roommate Joe’s company came over to do some research for a new product. They didn’t tell me about the product but they asked me all kinds of questions about my various creative projects. It made me feel very important and very creative and interesting and cool. One of my fantasies is for somebody to come over to my apartment and interview me and then publish a magazine article about all the cool things I’m up to. This felt almost like it. There won’t be an article (yet) but still!

I just self-published a Psychic Journal on lulu.com. Yay!

I love when that happens

When I took the Muni to work this morning, it couldn’t go underground for some reason and we all had to get off the train at Market and Church, five stops from where I was going and way too far to walk. The Muni conductor told us to take the F train instead. But when I saw the hundreds of stranded Muni riders trying to get on the F, I decided that that wasn’t such a great option. I heard someone say “I’ll just take a cab.” And I thought “Hey! I could take a cab. I love cabs. I’m a cab driver.” But I realized that I didn’t have enough cash on me so I went to the Safeway at Market and Church to get some money out of the ATM. So I got my money, then I called the cab company I work for to order a cab, and then I sat outside the Safeway and waited.

After a while this guy walked up. He said “Hey, what’s up.” It was my co-worker Alex! I said “Did you just get out of Muni and can’t get to work?” He said yeah. I said “I just ordered a cab. Do you want a ride?” He said “Sure. Perfect.” So we waited together and then we took the cab together and chatted up the driver, who I hadn’t met before, and then we got out at the office and went to Starbucks together and then to work. I love when that happens.

Just so you know

Antti made me feel perfect. With all this talk about me not feeling perfect, I just want to clarify that Antti had nothing to do with it. This can be summed up with the description of one moment: One day not long ago, Antti was having drinks after work with some colleagues. He asked me to stop by, so I did. When I got there, he was slightly drunk. There was this guy who I sort of knew because hey, I used to work for that company too. That guy said to me “What do you do again now? Are you like a palm reader or something?” I explained to him that while I did do psychic readings, I did not actually touch people’s palms during the readings. As I said this I looked over at Antti who was standing next to me. His head was leaning in so he could hear what I was saying, and he was smiling a little bit, and his eyes said it all: I was perfect. His eyes expressed equal amounts of admiration, adoration, pride, and curiosity. I will never forget that moment. It was perfect.

Fearless

VERONICA MARS!
Originally uploaded by NYCviaRachel.

I inspire to be fearless. Fear is the root of all evil. I am scared shitless about having posted what I just posted. But I posted it anyway.

There is something else I’m going to need to do that I am very scared of and therefore very hesitant to do. But I’m seeing these posters everywhere, and they are inspiring me to be fearless. I will keep you posted when I take that step. I don’t even know who Veronica Mars is.

Excuse me while I feel my feelings

My weekend was hell. Even though I really wanted to spend the weekend entirely with myself, I decided to go to a campout instead because I was sure that I would be glad I did. And I am sort of glad, but in a different way than I expected. I had pictured myself writhing around the speakers in hot pants, but instead I writhed around in my hot tent wielding off demons.

I spent the entire weekend beating myself up. I kept asking myself questions like
- Why aren’t Maryann and Brendan spending more time with me?
- Why am I not the cool fashion designer girl whose outfits everyone wears?
- Why am I not the cool psychic girl who everyone goes to with the stuff they’re working on?
- Why am I not the one wearing the coolest dress?
- Why am I not the one dancing carefreely with her friends?
- Why am I so quiet without caffeine?
- Why did my relationship have to end?
- Why am I not the girl with the feathers in her hair who seems to not have to apologize for anything she is or was or has ever done?
- Why am I not the hot girl DJ?
- Why am I not the one with the cool DJ boyfriend?
- Why do I seem like the most woo-woo person here?
- Why do I have to be the understanding counselor type, why can’t I be the mysterious artist type?
- Why do I care more about my internal than about my external appearance? Maybe if I switched it around, I would be cool like all the other people here, or at least people would THINK that I was?
- Why did I leave this community?
- Why am I now coming back to this community?
- Why can’t I make up my mind?
- Why can’t I just belong?
- Why am I not one of the organizers of this fabulous event?
- Why do I like spending so much time by myself?
- What is wrong with picking a community and sticking with it, it seems so simple, why can’t I just do that?
- Why do I have this fear of social commitment?
- Why am I an observer, not a participant?
- Why do I keep ending up heart-broken, over and over again?
- Why do I suck so much?
- What is wrong with me?

On Saturday night I ate a mushroom to spend some quality time with all of that. I was in my tent by myself by about 10pm, trying to answer those questions with a little help from the mushroom goddess. Of course I just ran around in circles that slowly sunk lower and lower, and eventually I gave up and said “Mushroom goddess, please just let me sleep now.” And I surrounded myself with nothing but pink glittery love. I learned how to do that when I was 17, and when I do, I can sincerely look at myself as if I was the most lovely and lovable creature in the entire world, I can look at myself as if I was perfect. So I laid there and pretended that I was perfect. And then this voice came roaring in, and it was fiercer and angrier than ever before, and it screamed WHO EVER SAID YOU’RE NOT PERFECT? And it kept repeating that and got louder and louder. WHO EVER SAID YOU’RE NOT PERFECT? WHO EVER SAID YOU’RE NOT PERFECT? WHO EVER SAID YOU’RE NOT PERFECT? And the roaring, fierce and angry voice would have been scary, except that I knew it was on my side, I knew it was there to defend me against all the demons in this moment of self-hate. And then I went to sleep.

I am glad that I was able to cut my taxi shift short today and stay at home painting and crying all morning. I cried over all the ways in which I have beaten myself up, in which I have felt inferior to others, in which I have felt that I was not perfect. I sat in the field of sun coming through my windows, like a cat, and I cried until I was done. I cried until there was no more imperfection to cry about, I cried until I was perfect. I cried until I understood how perfect I was and always have been.

And I didn’t really feel sad or bad, I felt good. It was a beautiful couple of hours. I listened to the same song over and over again because I noticed that it really triggered me, and I just let the tears flow, out into the tree and the sky who were happy to absorb them. It felt so good to feel my feelings.

And I wondered why I hide from my feelings so much. I hide from them with caffeine, by reading, by sleeping, by leaving events early when I feel uncomfortable. It’s paradoxical, considering that sometimes I fantasize about being in a rehab-like treatment for a month or two where I do nothing but feel and process those feelings. That sounds like heaven to me.

And that paradox made me realize what is going on: Even though I want nothing more, I hardly ever have room to fully feel my feelings. All my life I have been told that I should not be sad, that I should not be angry, that I should not worry, that I should not be bored, that I should not be uncomfortable, that I should not be scared, that I should not be tired, that I should not be jealous. Those are not good feelings to have, so don’t let anybody know that you have them. And sure enough, when I spilled myself out to the wrong person at the campout, I felt even worse than before. He wasn’t willing or able to give me room to feel my darker feelings. He wanted me to be happy and cheery and confident, not insecure or in a bad mood.

And it’s like that a lot – friends get uncomfortable when I cry in front of them, I can’t be tired anytime I want to because I have to work or do this or do that, I can’t be in a bad mood because I will bring other people down. I constantly have to keep my feelings in check; I hardly ever have permission to really feel them, especially if they are not positive. But this morning I had room to feel them because I am lucky enough to be able to take a “short shift” as a cab driver if I need to. And I’m so glad I took that time to feel my feelings, and I intend to structure my life in such a way that I am ALWAYS able to feel my feelings as they come up because I can feel that that’s the healthiest way to be. Thank god for people like Antonio or Trish or Daniel who make me feel like ANY part of me or ANY feeling I might have is always welcome.

Nice to meet you

At a Wednesday lunch with a big group of people I sort of know

Girl 1: I forgot your name.
Me: I’m Vera.
Girl 2: Vera is a fortune teller.
Girl 1, beaming: You are?
Me: Pretty much.
Girl 1, looking at me excitedly:
Me: Do you want my card?
Girl 1: Yes, please.

It feels like I have been waiting for ages for somebody–anybody–to react that way. Finally, somebody did.

Once

Once, I used to keep a stack of flyers with information for underground dance parties for the next few weeks on my orange-pink painted-fuzzy cubes. I don’t do that anymore.

Once, I used to get a call on my cell phone towards the middle of every taxi driving shift I was working, to see how my day was going. I don’t get those calls anymore.

But now. Now I keep my sewing machine out all day. I didn’t use to do that.

And now. Now I walk around barefoot in my apartment. I didn’t use to do that. I always used to wear my slippers.

More confessions

• Today I saw a very young blond boy at a coffee shop, and he was so beautiful, I wanted to cry. And the way he smiled and touched his girlfriend’s hair and kissed her was so beautiful, I wanted to cry too.
• When I was in Finland recently, I once woke up in the middle of the night and woke Antti up and said “What does lapsille mean?” And he said “for children” and sighed like a child and went back to sleep. I stayed awake and cried because I knew that we would never have children together.
• I cry every day, and I always feel better afterwards.
• Whenever I eat Tasty Bites, I always dip three graham crackers in it first, and then I eat the rest with a spoon.
• I am in the process of pitching a cab column idea to a local newspaper. I have been writing sample columns for it. I have also been fantasizing about writing a fictional column in which I fuck another cab driver. A young and cute one, of course. It starts like this:

  Him: Are you heading out?
  Me: Yeah.
  Him: Can you give me a ride downtown?
  Me: Absolutely.

  I like the way fantasizing about writing this makes me feel. It’s not a sexual feeling; it’s a feeling of angry and reckless rawness.

• I used to adore Drew Barrymore until I read her book, Little Girl Lost. I have not been able to respect her since. I miss admiring her. Thank god I have people like Ariel now.

My confessions

• I actually like that Usher song.
• I am convinced that a new world lies in our future where humans communicate with each other telepathically and where humans create objects, such as houses, jewelry, or basketballs, by willing them into existence. I hope I will be alive to see that world. I heard there once was a world like that before and it was called Atlantis.
• I am secretly paranoid that all my friends are thinking to themselves “Oh, NOW you want to hang out with us again, NOW you want to camp with us at Burning Man, NOW you want to hoop with us, NOW that you don’t have a boyfriend anymore, huh? Well, it’s too late and where were you when I needed you a year and a half ago, and fuck you!” Actually, it’s really only one friend I’m really paranoid about.
• I would have loved for my name to be Vera Piira because it rhymes but now that Antti and I broke up, the chances of that happening are very unlikely.
• Today I said out loud to one of my passengers “I would be a full-time cab driver but I actually can’t afford it.” It’s true, it pays so little that I need to keep another job that pays much more in order to afford doing the job I actually want to do. I also “can’t afford” to work at a coffee shop even though I would like to. The concept of not being able to “afford” to have certain jobs is really kind of funny and really kind of sad too. Anyway, that passenger gave me a 140% tip.
• Despite my gripes about still staring at a computer screen in exchange for money three days a week, my schedule is actually pretty awesome. Two days a week (on the days I drive a cab) I get the afternoon off and get to hang out in coffee shops. Two nights a week (the nights before I drive a cab) I have a legitimate excuse to go to bed at 9pm, which I actually love doing (in fact, I once considered getting the word BEDTIME tattooed somewhere on my body). And three days a week, on the days I stare at a computer screen in exchange for money, I get to sleep in until 8. The whole week is really pretty nicely balanced.
• I’m on daily doses of mocha again. My excuse? I’m just doing it to boost my mood until I feel “normal” again after this whole break-up thing.
• Almost every time I make a social commitment, especially one that involves more than one person besides myself, I secretly fantasize about cancelling or skipping it. But I usually end up going and I usually don’t regret it.

You don’t know what you have until it’s (almost) gone

On June 12 I had a very small accident while driving a taxi: I backed into a parked car when leaving a retirement community I had just dropped people off at and was now going to drive another old couple to a doctor’s appointment. Luckily the woman whose car I hit came out of the building right after I hit it, so I was able to exchange information with her. From my training I remembered that I had to report any accident, no matter how small, to the taxi company, or I could lose my lease. What I didn’t remember from my training was that I had to call for an accident investigator to come to the scene before I did anything else. Since I already had two new passengers in my car who were eager to go to their doctor’s appointment, I exchanged information with the woman whose car I hit and then took my passengers and left. I then drove another lady somewhere else, and THEN I returned to the taxi company and said “I had an accident.” That’s when I found out that I was in trouble.

I was told that before my next shift I would have to speak with the general manager of the taxi company. I was pretty sure that she would give me a break because she is happy to have another female driver (we are very rare). But of course there was the chance that I would lose my lease due to a violation of one of the company’s accident reporting rules.

There was a part of me that thought that losing my lease would be a blessing in disguise, and that that’s what I actually wanted. It’s a pain in the ass to get up so damn early to drive men in suits and bad moods to their jobs in the Financial District. It’s a pain in the ass to make $10 an hour, including tips, on a good day. It’s a pain in the ass to arrive at that crummy office under the freeway with the crummy-smelling bathroom and have male cab drivers either check me out or try to patronize me. It’s a pain in the ass to drive a crappy car with 300,000 miles and 100 other cab drivers’ sweat and tears on it. It’s a pain in the ass to risk getting into another accident. It’s a pain in the ass to owe the cab company $96 every single Monday and Friday. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to lose this pain in the ass job.

But that was not true actually. It would have sucked to lose this pain in the ass job. Because despite its annoyances, I love driving a taxi. As soon as I start picking people up and dropping people off and talking to them and hearing their stories, I forget all about the crummy bathroom and the crummy car I’m in and the crummy looks from other cab drivers. When I’m driving from point A to point B and chatting with passenger C about his boss or cancer survival, I remember why I’m doing this. I’m doing this for the people. And with that I present to you some of my favorite cab driving moments so far:

- When the young gay boy told me that he was on his way to Carl’s Jr. were he works, to meet with his boss and his boss’ boss because his boss had called him a faggot and his boss’ boss didn’t want him to press charges, and when the young gay boy told me that he really hopes for a happy ending because he really loves his job at Carl’s Jr.
- When the black woman let out a sigh of relief after having taken off her shoes and then said “This is better than sex!”
- When the lady with the heavy Mexican accent got into my car first thing in the morning and said “This is for you!” and handed me an energy bar.
- When the three women from Indiana or some other faraway state asked me to stop at Starbucks and asked if they could get me a coffee or anything.
- When the guy with the British accent got into my car and said “Wow! This is great! You’re smiling!” and would not stop talking about what a delightful and friendly driver I was.
- When the old lady told me that the cute green house in the Castro I dropped her off at had cost her and her husband $8,000 fifty years ago.
- When the guy with the walker who could barely move and who I assumed was on disability, told me that he is a lapidarian and makes one of a kind jewelry pieces “for rich people.”
- When the girl from the Haight saw the name Vera on my Starbucks cup and said “Are you the dragonfly girl?” at which point we both realized that we had a mutual friend Ryan.
- When I picked up a girl who had just had an interview with the company I do freelance work for.
- When a woman and her 13-year-old daughter had me drive them to four different errands, one of them was at See’s Candies, from which they brought me some milk chocolate.
- When a few weeks later I picked up the guy who lives in the house next to the woman and her 13-year-old daughter and who told me that a lot of times cab drivers won’t come to pick him up because they think the cab is for that woman who lives next to him because, he said, a lot of cab drivers don’t like taking her on her errands. I did though.
- When the girl I drove to a casino in Colma around noon told me that she goes there every day because she needs “something to do” and sometimes she wins a few thousand and sometimes she loses a few thousand.
- When I was driving a woman down California Street and thought to myself what a beautiful street it was and when the woman said as she got out “I’m really glad you took California. It’s such a beautiful street!”
- When I suddenly had this urge to go to Battery Street and when, on the corner of Battery and Broadway, there was a man with a suitcase who needed to go to the airport and who had been unsuccessfully trying to get a cab for 20 minutes and who told me that his daughter is into Jessica Alba.
- When I drove a white man from South Africa who told me that one of the languages he speaks is Zulu.
- When a woman took my card on a Friday and then called me for two rides on Monday and talked about how “fear-based” the work environment in Corporate America is. Amen, sister.
- When one morning three or four people in a row told me that they had overslept that day.
- When friends or loved ones call me for a ride.
- When I run into people from my old office and they look at my cab and say “Wow. You’re doing THAT now? Cool!”
- When the hip-looking guy who–no surprises here–usually rides a bike to work said on his way out “I like your lego tire ear rings” just to make a point of showing me that he got it, he knew that they were lego tire ear rings, not just any old tire ear rings.

I meet people from all walks of life, and everybody has an interesting story to tell, and almost everybody has been really nice. Plus, I now know the exact order of all the major streets in the city, and I know all the one-way streets and which way they are one-way. That has got to be worth something. AND when I tell friends old and new that I drive a cab, people love me. They couldn’t be happier if I told them I was the inventor of sliced bread.

So the manager did give me another chance. She also kept my $500 deposit, and I had to come up with $750. And I’m really glad I’m still driving a cab.