working through...

i don't feel much like writing.  tonight, i just want dreamless sleep. for the past several nights my dreams have been fueled by nervous energy and fear.  tonight, i don't want to dream or think about a thing.

it's hard to even lose myself to a book.  i suppose that's normal.  after all, there's a lot to worry about and my brain has hit its threshold for accepting new info.  the new info must cycle through.  my mind and body are doing what they can to acclimate to this surreality.  maybe in a few days i'll have some sort of insight to share but tonight all i've got to offer is camaraderie.

it's hard to know what to do.  it's hard not to be afraid.  somehow, being asked to stay home is simultaneously the simplest and most difficult request to fulfill.  morbid fantasies about the unknown future we are all stepping into can take hold quickly once the sun goes down.  i'll say this much: i'm so fucking grateful i set down the drink before a world-wide pandemic struck.  i imagine myself trying to contend with this insanity with a hangover and a completely drained bank account and feel a massive sweep of gratitude to have changed my ways early enough ahead of this unforeseen circumstance to be able to weather it with a bit of calm decorum.  and with hope.  that's actually probably the most important thing i've gained since last fall when i finally decided to truly clean up my act: hope for the future and for myself.

strange to think that it was a week ago - friday evening last week - that i worked what ended up being my last shift at The Finch, the restaurant i've been a part of for the past 2 1/2 years. that's actually the longest stretch of time i've worked for any restaurant.  somewhere around the year and a half mark, waiters and bartenders get a bit restless and nearly any change of scenery will do. the steps of service themselves don't really change.  once you know the dance, you know the dance.  but i never got to that recurring and familiar point of irritation and agitation that generally propels one to look for employment elsewhere.  i mean, waiting tables isn't easy.  engaging energetically and hospitably with the public - all those unknowable, unexpected personalities and needs that walk through the door on a nightly basis - can take a lot from a person. just think about the worst people in your family or at your job for a minute. but The Finch tended to attract a more easy-going, respectful, and appreciative clientele than most other restaurants i'd worked for in New York City.  people seemed to genuinely love being there.  in addition to reveling in the food and drink, they seemed to truly like US.  and we absolutely, undeniably, without a shred of hesitation or self-consciousness, liked each other.  i was planted.  there was no reason to look for a different NYC family.  i'd found mine.

not that i intended to go on waiting tables forever.  i didn't and don't.  though that last point is mute.  the entire restaurant industry in New York, as well as the nation, has collapsed.  each and every last one has been shuttered and i have a hard time thinking that two weeks from now restaurants across the city will re-open.  we're in for a bit longer of a break than any of us has publicly mentioned.

and so i look myself in the mirror and ask "now what?"

what was it i envisioned i'd eventually leave the restaurant industry to do?

who did i want to become?

what is the goal and the dream?

how does this surreal moment change or aid the dream?

one thing i've learned this week is that we currently inhabit a moment where setting up plans for the future feels a bit like a fool's errand.  every day we skip further and further away from what was very recently considered normal human existence and interaction.  my daily life - and the daily lives of millions of people - has profoundly shifted in the last 7 days. the next 7 are sure to bring even more unfathomable change. it is no longer at all dramatic to begin asking oneself the big questions:

what do i want to do with my life?

what matters most to me?

if i were given a year to live, how would i choose to live it?


be honest.