This week has been a sordid affair. Quite. Coming into new terms at work. Some evolution positively but also some challenges. Bitched at least once to each boss that I wanted a high (and rightful) rank, even though I hardly work the floor. Now, ranked 12 of 3 score or more, it's time for me to step up. Start working doubles. Stuff the savings account.
And I wrote an article that's still in motion towards some wayward destiny in some such a publication as I-Don't-Know-What. Also released the latest Crofty Affair on Youtube which instigated somewhat frequent off-hand commentary from both co-workers and Regulars. (God, please) someone give me a euphemism for that word: I hate saying it "reg-u-lars"). hey! First feelings of being recognized without me bringing up what I do. I can thank Face Book for that.
So with being a generally productive week I still feel anxious that I'm not keeping all this in perfect balance. There is a challenge ahead to pick up shifts and even get another paying job to start funding A Great Journey (starring Lady Croft!). On the other hand writing must become a constant habit, not even a weekly thing but a daily thing. I know I'm capable of producing a lot of material on many subjects, keeping several research projects going at once, while still hanging in my PJ's all day while the budgies fly around, drinking millions of cups of tea if I want to, while playing the harp between computer screen eyeball meltdowns and writers block. It lets me lead a life where I ask questions all day and find answers in a restful sanctuary of my creation.
Plus, there's always a chance I'll get a writing gig. Always a chance.
So I'm in a good place yes? I feel like this stability has to have some catch to it, surely!? But no, each day I get up feeling pretty good. Ready to work when at work, and ready to follow my inclinations at home. But a Reg-u-luuur at work got me thinking last week.
He sat at the end of my bar as a slow day shift winded down and watched me get slammed right before my relief came in. I was cheerful but especially so because this Reg-u-luuur is right there at the top of the Favorites List. And he asks me, in his unbelievably enchanting accent, if I am ever sad and that I can't possibly be this happy all the time. Then he proceeds to ruminate on on what I must look like when I'm upset or angry.
Was is true when I told him I rarely show emotions such as these?
He goes on to insist, lengthening his vowels so as to sound both astute and marginally flirtatious that "you can't be like this all the time, you must get solemn and serious too." And I've been thinking about that conversation ever since.
During the quiet moments this week I give my brain a chance to sort through the Daily Stimulus Package that is Reality.
Sleep is often slow in coming. I lie awake for ages decompressing all the input or anxiously going over The Plan. Whenever I let myself sit quietly without a book or something to do my mind usually rests on my deepest concerns. And these, are quite often deadly serious things.
Sunday morning, for example. A "serious moment" occurred while driving through Midtown at dawn with the music off and the windows down while a mist gnawed on the tops of the skyscrapers and the only specters on the eeirly deserted streets were the homeless stirring with ever-hungry stomachs. Yeah, thats how serious it gets.
Or how about this? The other night, after heaps of time assessing (obsessing) over numerous personal matters and anxiously going over the next few days schedules, I found myself crying. I don't cry very much when sappy movies aren't involved. I felt a deadly serious ache prevail over all other senses and all I could think of was how wretched it was that I have spent so little time with my grandparents. I sobbed to think of them wishing they could see me more, the only being that carries on their seed. I grow sad and serious thinking of it now.
Go Figure.
At work, I enjoy being positive and upbeat, and take it as a challenge to uphold that veneer even when I feel bad inside. Being unflappably friendly and unerringly kind becomes a kind of power to wield over others, in my opinion. But optimism, cheerfulness, and hope aside, there is a time also for the "unemotions"- the feelings that don't move, and aren't moving anywhere. The ones that linger in shadow places of the heart and whose echoes are heard enduringly inside the skull.
I know we all have these. I'm going to be brave and talk about it, but I know that every one has regrets-a darkside, if you will. I guess my reg-ul-uuur just had to reassure himself of that handy little piece of wisdom I just gave ya. I must have pulled off a pretty convincing I'm-just-always-this-happy-act" But he was right.
I think I find the balance between my bright side, and what I suppose we'll call "my dark side" the same way I balance what I don't like doing and what I like doing, namely working and writing. Patience.
I'm not sure the source of the wellspring, but I believe its calming waters help keep things in perspective. Patience allows me to face work each day with zeal for a goal more than two years away. Patience let's me ride out bad tips, incompetent people, and long days on the feet. Patience tells me that waiting for true love is worth it and this wards off heart-sickness and loneliness. She assures me also that some children never grow up, and that many adults are frustrated, stunted children; if I am patient with them, and show them love it could help them a little little bit. Patience says to me that worry is wasteful, and this I live by.
When is the next Croft Masterpiece coming out, you ask??? PATIENCE PATIENCE my dears!!! All in due time!
Cheers to those who have helped me so much in my writings, and to those that inspired this entry. (u know who u are!!)
Cwoft
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