I'm off planet.
That's as far as I got the other night when I tried to blog while I was...well...off planet. I think I wanted to write about being frustrated with the media and our culture's obsession with the most trivial things...blah blah blah. It doesn't matter anymore. I ended up falling asleep looking at pictures of puppies and around 3 am someone gently removed the computer from my lap. Thank you.
It still isn't officially winter yet (9 more days I believe) but it's now too cold for me to want to get out of bed on my days off. If you want to know the truth I only got out of bed for a couple of hours today (grocery shopping). The rest of the day was spent under the covers planning a trip to Europe in June. A birthday present for us june bugs.
I'm going home in 10 days and I can't wait. There really is nothing like going home. It will refresh my soul and prepare me for the winter ahead. Andrew went home yesterday and I must admit that I'm jealous he gets to spend so much more time there than I do. I'm going to go to Midnight Mass with him this year. My first Catholic service ever! I've been craving a bit of spirituality lately and although Catholicism isn't quite what I'm looking for but I think the atmosphere will be nice all the same. I'm rambling now and my spiritual yearnings are to be saved for another post so I'll just stop there.
After listening to the Pharmer EP 5 or 6 times, I've moved onto Cindy Woolf and The Promise Ring because they remind me of summertime and long drives and coy glances. Mmm...I love those perfect moments. Ok, I've got to get up and do some crunches or something before I get bed sores. Peace!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Peanut Shells
I work in one of those restaurants where you can throw peanut shells on the floor. You can come in and trash the place without any fear of being reprimanded. I can't blame them but it's hell to sweep up. I'm writing this on the back of a server's notebook in between forays to the tables. I work like Charon, ushering our patrons into empty graves due to high cholesterol levels. The country hits that are (over)produced just 20 miles to the west play on the jukebox, occasionally punctuated by Credence, Jimi and the DBT. I live for these 3 minutes of sanity during my work shifts.
The restaurant is located in sleepy Smyrna, TN where nothing much has happened since Sam Davis was hailed "The Boy Hero of the Confederacy". In 1982 a large Nissan factory was built here bringing in a plethora of jobs and now the population hovers somewhere around 30,000. Our clientele is made up mostly of old families and the trickle down from Nashville. Country music star wannabes and Nissan factory workers. I don't quite know how to classify Middle Tennessee. To the East are the Appalachian Mountains and although they are a different breed of hill folk than is found in my beloved Ozark Mountains they are hill folk nonetheless with a proud and distinct heritage. To the West is the Mississippi Delta and sweet, beautiful Memphis. I love this city and it's people and I hope to make it my home soon. So where does this leave Middle Tennessee? No man's land I suppose. "Dear Nashville, stop trying to dress your shortcomings up in fancy, rhinestone clothing and maybe we'll take you more seriously.Get back to your roots for God's sake. It's never too late." But I digress. I believe I was telling you about my job.
Working here has once and for all given me the motivation to go back to school. It's not that I hunger for money. I live happily on the little money I have right now. I am able to pay my bills, I never go hungry and I can afford to buy the books and music I want. I just can't stand the atmosphere. Quiet desperation and people turned old at the age of 35. Everyone is tired and burned out. Some of us have seen better days and some of us are still waiting for them to come. Dismal and bleak accurately describes my work environment. My mood is easily affected by those around me and working here has lowered me into a depression that I have to fight from following me home. Although I am looking for another job, I have to stay at this one right now because of those goddamn bills. They tell me I should consider myself lucky to be employed but they obviously don't know me very well. So I will be awash on a sea of peanut shells until further notice and for now I will find a moment of joy in watching a baby on a leash eating the shells off the floor in the lobby.
The restaurant is located in sleepy Smyrna, TN where nothing much has happened since Sam Davis was hailed "The Boy Hero of the Confederacy". In 1982 a large Nissan factory was built here bringing in a plethora of jobs and now the population hovers somewhere around 30,000. Our clientele is made up mostly of old families and the trickle down from Nashville. Country music star wannabes and Nissan factory workers. I don't quite know how to classify Middle Tennessee. To the East are the Appalachian Mountains and although they are a different breed of hill folk than is found in my beloved Ozark Mountains they are hill folk nonetheless with a proud and distinct heritage. To the West is the Mississippi Delta and sweet, beautiful Memphis. I love this city and it's people and I hope to make it my home soon. So where does this leave Middle Tennessee? No man's land I suppose. "Dear Nashville, stop trying to dress your shortcomings up in fancy, rhinestone clothing and maybe we'll take you more seriously.Get back to your roots for God's sake. It's never too late." But I digress. I believe I was telling you about my job.
Working here has once and for all given me the motivation to go back to school. It's not that I hunger for money. I live happily on the little money I have right now. I am able to pay my bills, I never go hungry and I can afford to buy the books and music I want. I just can't stand the atmosphere. Quiet desperation and people turned old at the age of 35. Everyone is tired and burned out. Some of us have seen better days and some of us are still waiting for them to come. Dismal and bleak accurately describes my work environment. My mood is easily affected by those around me and working here has lowered me into a depression that I have to fight from following me home. Although I am looking for another job, I have to stay at this one right now because of those goddamn bills. They tell me I should consider myself lucky to be employed but they obviously don't know me very well. So I will be awash on a sea of peanut shells until further notice and for now I will find a moment of joy in watching a baby on a leash eating the shells off the floor in the lobby.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Stuck in the Mud
The Winter Blues are creeping up on me again. I had hoped to avoid them this year. I set a precedence in my childhood for bad winters which I unfortunately have not yet managed to break but in Spring I will bloom like a flower. I can promise you this. Shake it off, shake it off.
Sleep only comes easy in the daytime now. The same old worries are still keeping me up at night. I try and lie perfectly still and let a calm wash over me but inevitably I end up tossing and turning until I worry myself to sleep. I'm afraid that I will never be content but I am trying to convince myself that this is not necessarily a bad thing. I always feel as if I am perched on the edge. On the verge of something big. Dr. Seuss would say that I am in the waiting place. For God's sake stick with me through this one. It might take us off the charts.
We lie naked under the blankets in an attic so cold that we can see our breath in front of our noses. We have mastered the art of getting warm. We are smart enough to not emerge from beneath the covers until well into the afternoon when the temperature has risen to a reasonable degree. Like Native Americans snug inside our wigwam, underneath what must be at least 30 stars. When will you leave me for The Hunt again?
Ok, Old Man Winter...hit me with your best shot. I've got a few new tricks up my sleeve and I am anxious to see who emerges the victor in this battle of wills.
Sleep only comes easy in the daytime now. The same old worries are still keeping me up at night. I try and lie perfectly still and let a calm wash over me but inevitably I end up tossing and turning until I worry myself to sleep. I'm afraid that I will never be content but I am trying to convince myself that this is not necessarily a bad thing. I always feel as if I am perched on the edge. On the verge of something big. Dr. Seuss would say that I am in the waiting place. For God's sake stick with me through this one. It might take us off the charts.
We lie naked under the blankets in an attic so cold that we can see our breath in front of our noses. We have mastered the art of getting warm. We are smart enough to not emerge from beneath the covers until well into the afternoon when the temperature has risen to a reasonable degree. Like Native Americans snug inside our wigwam, underneath what must be at least 30 stars. When will you leave me for The Hunt again?
Ok, Old Man Winter...hit me with your best shot. I've got a few new tricks up my sleeve and I am anxious to see who emerges the victor in this battle of wills.
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