Sunday, December 13, 2009
I worked 12 hours last night/ this morning, and in two hours am going in again, hopefully i'll be done before 130am or i'll miss the last bus to vahr/far.
Padi's Pit, the irish pub by the central station is underground, compact, dimly lit and crowded. Maneuvering through the crowd with heavy trays of beer pitchers and glasses can sometimes feel like a mini mosh pit only there are expensive fragile and poorly balanced goods in my hand. Waitressing is a non-stop systematic on the feet job, predictably unpredictable. Drunk people can be really funny, big groups of people singing and laughing, or boys confessing their love to every girl that walks past. The other night there was a gregarious german boy who dubbed me his glorious beer queen, not perhaps the title that my mom would ever have wanted for me but a job is a job, and it's hard but I do derive a satisfaction from doing a job well, especially a difficult one. And it's rewarding to work with people, and there are people from all over the world, mostly europe. The hours are unfortunate, every friday and saturday night.
I've been thinking about a lot of different things that i feel somehow should be synthesized into a cohesive whole, but my essay skills are rusty. Actually a lot of my skills are rusty. Since moving here I've been struck with vivid clarity all the things that I want out of myself, that were somehow glazed over in a fuzzy haze in UT.
I want to spend my time better. I think my whole entirety could be summed up in a struggle to not give in to wasting time. My dad gave me that metanarrative.
I believe there is meaning to life, and a point. I've been wondering lately if it's not connected to the idea in learning to love the process and journey and viewing that as the point. The point was to see, feel, love, take risks, choose experience over safety, help yourself to help others. I think sometimes the most meaningful help I've been giving was to see someone else living well and the most helpful we can be to someone else is to give that same gift.
No one can tell me how to lift myself up, to define identity and reality and meaning it's a journey and a challenge I have to engage in with my whole soul and alone.
I find these paralyzing blocks that I run into, some weird inner freeze holding me back and it makes me realize I have such a tenuous grasp of control over myself. It's a thin line that stops me from scurrying into a comfort cave and being comfortable and safe, warm, numb, and dumb. Remembering that I'm always this close (small teeny amount) from giving into my fears and longing for comfort hopefully will keep me motivated to move forward.