An important decision
As I had mentioned before, cab driving has been very miserable for me since the beginning of the year. Business has been slow, and that means that not only have I been making only an average of about $7 an hour, if that, but I have also been fucking bored out of my mind. I have been feeling so bored and miserable that even when I did have passengers, I haven't felt like talking to them. I have been a total grump. This, of course, only made the situation worse because passenger interaction has been what has made cab driving joyful and interesting. I could tell that I was really falling into an abyss of negativity when I noticed the hatred I was feeling for other cab drivers. Every time I pulled up to an area where other cab drivers were around, such as a hotel or the airport, I immediately started scowling and thinking things like "What are you looking at?" or "Don't even think about talking to me." What I really wanted was to talk to my passengers and to smile at other cab drivers, but I just couldn't bring myself to snap out of the hole. All of last weekend I dreaded the thought of Monday because Monday was when I was going to drive a cab again. This had never happened before.
On Monday during my shift I called my aunt to wish her a belated happy birthday. I told her how much I hated driving a cab right now. She asked me "Why do you keep doing it?" So I listed the reasons I had been telling myself and others for the last few months. And she popped the bubbles of reason one by one.
I said that I wanted to publish my taxi stories and that I didn't think a publisher would take me on if I wasn't actually a cab driver anymore.
"I'm not so sure about that."
"Plus, I'm still on the Board at Green Cab. I just don't feel I can leave right now."
"You can stay on the Board. You can even still fill in as a driver once in a while. Just don't have any scheduled shifts for now."
"But this is the only regular source of income I have."
"What income? You are wasting your time sitting on your ass for ten hours."
"It's true. I could be making the same daily income with just one counseling session."
Suddenly things were crystal clear to me: It was time to take a break from my two scheduled shifts a week. After saying good-bye to my aunt, I immediately called the manager and told him that I wanted to be on-call for a while. I felt so happy and relieved about the decision that for the rest of my shift, I chatted with all of my passengers and smiled at other cab drivers.
In the future I will know that when I find myself falling into animosity, it is time to get out.
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.: posted by Vera 
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For the hatred of small talk
Sometimes I think that when I developed a "mental illness" at age 10, I was really just rebelling against small talk and polite banter. Maybe I just wanted to stop being polite and yell and scream and cry instead because that felt more real and honest to me.
One time a boyfriend took me to meet his mom for the first time. She had been drinking and, shortly after our arrival, started crying and complaining about my boyfriend, his brother and his father, asking how she deserved to have such a dysfunctional family. I was stunned and at the same time fascinated and appreciative of such an honest outburst of emotion. I'll take her teary tirade over small talk any day.
When I run into somebody I know, especially if it's in an unexpected place, I feel somewhat obligated to talk to them. What I prefer to do is to simply say hi or wave and then move on, unless I have the time and/or desire to engage. Most of the time, especially if it's someone I don't know very well or haven't seen in ages, I'd rather not stop in my tracks just to exchange the obligatory "So, do you live around here?" In that case I'm a big fan of the wave-and-dash. Unless one of us has a compelling conversation topic, we really aren't obligated to more than that. I would like for myself and the rest of the world to remember that.
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.: posted by Vera
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Change on the horizon
Ever since coming back from Germany in March, I have wanted to move or at least live somewhere else for a few months. This desire went on the back burner after my post-vacation depression subsided and I started getting really busy with work.
But I'm still feeling a pull, a pull away from San Francisco. I drive around this beautiful city with my taxi, and I feel like there is nothing left I need to discover. As strange as it sounds, it's almost like I have everything I have always wanted now, and so it's time for me to move on. I have a great apartment and great friends, I have an amazing relationship, I have lovers and opportunities to do photoshoots and performances, I have work that is varied and infrequent enough to let me breathe. I have lived here for seven years.
I drive by Dolores Park on a sunny, busy day, and I can't get away from it fast enough. I see tipsy girls walking home after their dinner in the Mission, and I feel judgmental. I see all the same old coffee shops and the same old clubs and the same old faces at the BART station, and I know that there are thousands of faces in this city that I have never seen before, but that is all I see. All of this is telling me that I am bored here now, that I want something else.
Last weekend at a birthday party I talked with a lovely couple for a while. I had seen them both around and talked to one of them here and there, and I had no idea that they lived in Santa Cruz. They talked about trees and rivers and hiking and coming back to San Francisco/Oakland about two weekends a month.
So this morning I said to Kean "I am starting to think about the possibility of moving to Santa Cruz."
And he said "I had been wanting for this to come up in conversation, and here we are. I have been thinking about that too."
So now Kean and I are thinking and talking about moving to Santa Cruz. And somehow it feels real.
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.: posted by Vera
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More pictures from Friday's alien invasion
The very talented Warren DiFranco took some.
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.: posted by Vera
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What I did last night
I participated in a butoh alien invasion at the Bently Reserve.
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.: posted by Vera
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