Made For Walkin'

Well, my fellow hostellers came home drunk tonight and woke me up at 2:15ish. Not that I mind; they were hilarious, and it turned into an international slam-fest as the Belgian took giggling shots at the Dutch, the Canadian at the Belgian, and the American made fun of everyone--including herself. We've agreed to meet on Facebook, and I'll include my MySpace address. The Belgian, Karen, and the Dutch, Fammke (not sure on this one) are headed to LA tomorrow and then onto Vegas. I told them to ring me (their term) if they're ever back in SF--they're welcome to stay wherever I am. They're a riot...I even introduced Twitch's favorite term, Walla Walla Gorky, to the rest of the world. I thought Winnipeg (her name is Brenda, but we were picking on everyone's home country and therefore identifying them by it somehow) was going to fall out her bunk when I said it. She said it was more fitting than her favorite, "Woolly Bully"...

So I am awake because I was hungry. I hate that. But I had started this blog hours ago and broke off to talk to Mouse (Hi, Mouse!) and kinda gave up on it. So here it is again:
I was in a parade today, in These Boot Weren't Meant For Walking. I think I have mentioned this footwear before to some of you; they're cute lil boots but they can't handle the amount of mileage I am putting on shoes these days. I figured, however, that I would never live it down with Twitch, Diesel, and Mouse if I was caught in the Dyke March wearing white Skechers with my black sleeveless and grey cargos. Not only that, but I thought that might fall into the category of a jacket (soft Spanish J) tied around the waist. Apparently this last is capital offense, as I am told by Twitch that every time I tie my jacket around my waist, a fairy dies. Since there were a a slew of fairies around me tonight, I thought I would spare them an untimely demise by adhering to the wishes of my fashionista bitches. (That almost rhymed.)

I was surrounded by women tonight--THOUSANDS of women of all ages, races, 'types' and abilities. There were people wearing leather, people wearing nothing on top, butches, femmes, no few trannies (the f-to-m types), two mommy families, andros, leathers, BDSM's, and everyone in-between. I somehow ended up in the middle of them, marching a really long way before I broke off and headed for home. The best part was listening to the Dykes on Bikes rev their engines; there were enough bikes to sit side-by-side and fill two sides of a full block. Hundreds of bikes went by; it was cool to see women acting badass and getting away with it. I honestly think they were short one Twitch, though...I told her yesterday that she needs to come out here and show them how its done. LOL

That was the funny thing. I missed my girls. I was literally alone in this massive crowd. I didn't know ANYONE there. It sucked for that part, though I have to admit that I had fun waving at people and cheering. People took our pictures and videotaped us. It was RIDICULOUS! (Those who know me know the inflection I just gave that word...) There were people throwing beads, people on top of buildings and in windows, screaming and cheering like crazy. I heard a girl remark that it was the first time she felt like she belonged to something. I take it she aint from around here, either, as it it so casual here as to be a non-issue in most places. There were people from all over the US and the world here this weekend for this thing. And the big parade isn't until tomorrow (this morning) at ten am. This was just the girls tonight...
I'll try to post some of my pics from my camera...

In addition to this whole thing, I am still riding high on the thought that I may have actually done it. I arrived at this hostel with two dollars in my pocket Sunday night. I now have my job, my first paycheck, and a place to live in under a week. It hasn't been easy this week--shared bathroom, shared kitchen, shared bedroom and a bunk mate and a laundry list of mistakes that I have learned from, but I think I may have done it. I think I have opened the door on my new life. And I did it by myself. I negotiated coming back out here with my boss. I found the hostel, booked the flight, rode the subway from the airport, caught the cab that rbought me here, rode the subway to work, walked an honest mile (EVERY DAY) back to the subway station, found housing listings, negotiated with my new roommate, found my way to the dyke march, and took the taxi home when my feet got too tired.

Me. Nobody else. Never once has it occurred to me as I was it doing that I couldn't. I have found in my life that that philosophy works best; put your head down and keep moving. Like the sheer side of a hill, it's only when you pause to look around you and question whether you can make it that you lose your forward momentum and start to slide. If I had worried about this week last week in any more than a cursory way, I never would have gotten on that plane. I would have panicked and frozen. And I would have been lost, I think.

Anyway, enough deep thinking for now. Just think of it this way: look back at your life and ask yourself if you would have known what it was going to take to get through this and that thing, if you would have thought you could do it. ANd now that you have, don't you shake your head in wonder at what you are capable of? You can live in your car, leave behind everything you thought you needed, have a child out of wedlock, break the cycle of abuse and not be like your parent(s), get divorced, survive an overdose, run nine miles before breakfast, keep your sanity when your kids are driving you crazy, move away from everyone you know for the one you love, survive the death of your best friend and sibling, be proud to be the black sheep, follow your favorite rock bands for a living, make your art your focus, overcome your fear of heights so you don't miss out on something really cool, survive prison with your sense of humor intact, come out of the closet really, really, late in the game, believe in love again after being burned one too many times, stay clean and sober, become a manager at 23, survive the pain that comes from being the one left behind when someone else commits suicide, tell your abusive partner to fuck off, and most of all, love yourself when all the reasons you have to do so seem gone.

We can do all of these things--every single one of us. It's in all of us, just waiting to be exercised. You're all proof of it...because I just named all of us back there...

Love you all,
Squirrel