The shop job wrenched its u
You begin to see when you start anywhere or begin anything with anyone that it’s you and your filter that corrodes rather than a world that is breaking down. Suddenly, I feel all too aware of frayed relationships, of tensions tightening, of matriarchs clashing, of things seeming very important like holes in garments or the need to purchase a black dress and only finding one that certainly cannot be the fulcrum upon which the rest of the universe swings.
I have dramatized it all in my mind. The placement of scarves set by one person is critiqued by another in their absence. A reminder regarding a regular task is reiterated to my fellow staff member by management. This August is not meeting the expectations of sales against what is held by all to have been a gangbusters August of last year. Friends have unexpectedly passed away. A plethora of orders have arrived on one day creating a backlog of work.
It is just the way life goes, innocuous, simple, but not the stuff of Shakespeare. It is not worth building a narrative around so that the next time I hear a sigh, I compile it and suddenly, I see rivers of upset. I see plots. I see impending shame. I see gasps to fill Grand Canyons and Grand Canyons in the meringue. I see blistering upset with me. I see an Eden defiled, an Elysium darkened, a grace sputtered out and running down the gutter.
This is how so much of my life, as I recently put it, feels like an overdue library book. Every movement forward courts catastrophe. Or so it seems.
When it is just factual discomforts, surrounded by unseen factual comforts. When it is just how shit goes in the big city. It goes up and it goes down and you’re okay riding the waves because you’ve never been still – not ever. Something disturbs the water because this is where we all live and even on our best days we cough, we sigh, we skip a rock and we ripple the fuck out of someone else’s peace.
The right to perfect serenity and static emotional states may exist but it has never been implemented and we would destroy it with our horror were we to ever experience it. It has to be let go of.
I am drinking rum and feeling wise because I have a load of laundry running. Ping! It has to be moved into the dryer. I have to be moved into the bathtub. I am pleased that there was no eating out for dinner and instead, I tried one of the stuffed jalapenos that my sister made. This is good – a choice that I needed to make and it got made. There’s just an extraordinary relief in that. Now, tomorrow, we have some sort of group-cooking situation at my mom’s and that will be another opportunity to just not be in the sodium pit and the caffeine mines for half a second. We’re going to cook some wontons and be grateful for the lives we have.