Thursday, April 15, 2010
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
One year ago today ...
One year ago today I was saying my final goodbyes to all my friends. A bouquet of bright yellow flowers sat on the dining room table. Usually when someone left the restaurant, my co-workers would cover the person’s car in saran wrap or attack them with whipped cream at the end of their shift. For me, they all pitched in and got me flowers and a card.
“Good luck in Seattle,” Jeremy wrote. “Don’t kill yourself.” Jeremy and I had come a long way since our first shift together when we were yelling at each other.
“Have fun in Seattle,” wrote Evan, the sixteen-year-old busser who reminded me of Sam. “I’ll visit you in two weeks.”
“You, my dear, are one of a kind,” said Mel, my manager.
“I’m going to miss my Sunshine!” Kelly wrote.
I kept the card, of course, but I’m quoting these from memory. I read it over and over again my first week in Seattle.
In a way it felt crazy to walk away from such an awesome group of people. I was happy there, and I had no guarantee I’d be happy in Seattle. But I knew, deep down, that I needed to push myself beyond the boundaries of my hometown, and home state.
And I’m really, really glad I did.
Author's note: More to come on the big one-year anniversary...
“Good luck in Seattle,” Jeremy wrote. “Don’t kill yourself.” Jeremy and I had come a long way since our first shift together when we were yelling at each other.
“Have fun in Seattle,” wrote Evan, the sixteen-year-old busser who reminded me of Sam. “I’ll visit you in two weeks.”
“You, my dear, are one of a kind,” said Mel, my manager.
“I’m going to miss my Sunshine!” Kelly wrote.
I kept the card, of course, but I’m quoting these from memory. I read it over and over again my first week in Seattle.
In a way it felt crazy to walk away from such an awesome group of people. I was happy there, and I had no guarantee I’d be happy in Seattle. But I knew, deep down, that I needed to push myself beyond the boundaries of my hometown, and home state.
And I’m really, really glad I did.
Author's note: More to come on the big one-year anniversary...
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Saturday night at The Dub
It’s getting close to closing time at The Dubliner, a dark-wood panelled bar with emerald-green interior walls. A flock of animals enters the bar … well, 20-somethings dressed as a variety of creatures ranging from an eagle to a giraffe and/or cow.
My friend Matt chats up a girl in a penguin costume and finds out she and her friends are doing this as their own, unusual way to celebrate Mardi Gras.
“What would possess a girl to walk into a bar dressed as a penguin?” I ask.
“Well, she got my attention,” Matt says.
The bartender, a pretty girl with a booming, throaty voice saunters over and asks us what we think of the barnyard dance going on around us. (Two more penguins have started slow-dancing on the stage that is usually reserved for karaoke and open mic).
“I'm so bummed I forgot my alligator costume,” Matt says.
“Yeah, then maybe you could’ve gotten Zebra girl over there,” says our bartender, gesturing to the stripey girl who is shimmying to the beat of a nameless song.
“Only if she gets too close to the water,” Matt replies.
The eagle, who appears to be the leader of the pack, has just bought $80 worth of shots. The bartender pours a dark, purple liquid into ten, tiny gleaming glasses. Her friends help cart the shots over to their table because even a predator can’t carry ten glasses in two hands. They whoop and holler and I can’t understand what they’re toasting.
I take a gulp of my own beer. Here’s to Fat Tuesday.
“I'm so bummed I forgot my alligator costume."
My friend Matt chats up a girl in a penguin costume and finds out she and her friends are doing this as their own, unusual way to celebrate Mardi Gras.
“What would possess a girl to walk into a bar dressed as a penguin?” I ask.
“Well, she got my attention,” Matt says.
The bartender, a pretty girl with a booming, throaty voice saunters over and asks us what we think of the barnyard dance going on around us. (Two more penguins have started slow-dancing on the stage that is usually reserved for karaoke and open mic).
“I'm so bummed I forgot my alligator costume,” Matt says.
“Yeah, then maybe you could’ve gotten Zebra girl over there,” says our bartender, gesturing to the stripey girl who is shimmying to the beat of a nameless song.
“Only if she gets too close to the water,” Matt replies.
The eagle, who appears to be the leader of the pack, has just bought $80 worth of shots. The bartender pours a dark, purple liquid into ten, tiny gleaming glasses. Her friends help cart the shots over to their table because even a predator can’t carry ten glasses in two hands. They whoop and holler and I can’t understand what they’re toasting.
I take a gulp of my own beer. Here’s to Fat Tuesday.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Homesick
I know it's wishful thinking, but it seems like just 15 minutes in the hot, Arizona sun would beat all my worries out of my troubled head. We all know how brutal it can be, maybe I could put it to good use. My stomach is grumbling and Mexican food seems like the answer, although I didn't even eat much of it while I lived down there.
It's not just the weather and the food I'm missing ... it's the people. I think I need a coffee break with Eli more than ever right now. Sure, Seattle has the best coffee in the world but I'm getting tired of drinking it by myself. I'd happily take a Vanilla Bean Frappuccino over a Caffe Vita Americano if it meant I could sit and talk with my big brother again. He's not the only one ... I miss you all.
It's not just the weather and the food I'm missing ... it's the people. I think I need a coffee break with Eli more than ever right now. Sure, Seattle has the best coffee in the world but I'm getting tired of drinking it by myself. I'd happily take a Vanilla Bean Frappuccino over a Caffe Vita Americano if it meant I could sit and talk with my big brother again. He's not the only one ... I miss you all.
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I get these crazy ideas…
“Right now I just want to build a life for myself in Seattle.”
“I’ve done the Europe thing, I think it’s time for me to explore other parts of the world.”
“I think I want to focus on visiting places in this country.”
These are all statements I’ve made in the last year, and they were all true at one point. But the continent that was my home for under six months has been calling to me again, this time the sun-soaked shores of the Mediterranean.
I got an email from my friend Cassandra the other day with merely the word “Europe” in the subject line. It read, “Emilioso... I have been contemplating a trip to Spain, I think we should go and teach English … would be an adventure!” It was like she put ants in my shoes and now I’ve got itchy feet again.
In March 2007 I spent about 24 hours in Barcelona, and I’ve been wanting to go back ever since. I want to check out the Sagrada Familia, take a side trip to Valencia and relax on one of the country’s lush green hillsides with a bottle of red wine. When Cassandra and I first met, we figured out we had this shared interest in Barcelona and threw around some ideas for a possible visit.
Today I decided my ideal itinerary would be something like this:
Four to six weeks in Europe, escaping the gloomiest time of year in Seattle (some point between New Year’s and spring). Spend a decent chunk of time in Barcelona and/or the rest of Spain (Pamplona, Seville, etc.).
Then take a train up to Marseille and backpack through Provence and the Cote d’Azure, for a chance to use my French and see Van Gogh’s sunflowers. Then down to Naples (or Napoli, which I think is more fun to say) for the incredible, food, scenery and potential love affairs. Then I could take a ferry back across to Barcelona.
Now this is an idea I can get excited about. Suddenly the idea of working two jobs doesn’t seem so bad … not if a Mediterranean Odyssey is the payoff.
I’m not saying this will happen for sure. But I’ve learned that with all the dreams I’ve had, it’s important to pay attention to the ones that make your heart beat a little faster.
For additional reading, check out my blog post from my first trip to the Mediterranean.
“I’ve done the Europe thing, I think it’s time for me to explore other parts of the world.”
“I think I want to focus on visiting places in this country.”
These are all statements I’ve made in the last year, and they were all true at one point. But the continent that was my home for under six months has been calling to me again, this time the sun-soaked shores of the Mediterranean.
I got an email from my friend Cassandra the other day with merely the word “Europe” in the subject line. It read, “Emilioso... I have been contemplating a trip to Spain, I think we should go and teach English … would be an adventure!” It was like she put ants in my shoes and now I’ve got itchy feet again.
Suddenly the idea of working two jobs doesn’t seem so bad …
In March 2007 I spent about 24 hours in Barcelona, and I’ve been wanting to go back ever since. I want to check out the Sagrada Familia, take a side trip to Valencia and relax on one of the country’s lush green hillsides with a bottle of red wine. When Cassandra and I first met, we figured out we had this shared interest in Barcelona and threw around some ideas for a possible visit.
Today I decided my ideal itinerary would be something like this:
Four to six weeks in Europe, escaping the gloomiest time of year in Seattle (some point between New Year’s and spring). Spend a decent chunk of time in Barcelona and/or the rest of Spain (Pamplona, Seville, etc.).
Then take a train up to Marseille and backpack through Provence and the Cote d’Azure, for a chance to use my French and see Van Gogh’s sunflowers. Then down to Naples (or Napoli, which I think is more fun to say) for the incredible, food, scenery and potential love affairs. Then I could take a ferry back across to Barcelona.
Now this is an idea I can get excited about. Suddenly the idea of working two jobs doesn’t seem so bad … not if a Mediterranean Odyssey is the payoff.
I’m not saying this will happen for sure. But I’ve learned that with all the dreams I’ve had, it’s important to pay attention to the ones that make your heart beat a little faster.
For additional reading, check out my blog post from my first trip to the Mediterranean.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
In good times and bad
Yesterday, while working a very slow lunch shift, I caught myself thinking that things have to get better soon. Well, the truth is they may not get better and they could get even worse. I’m referring of course to the economy and its impact on my income.
Times are tough, and not just for me. Everyone I know is feeling financially strained in some way. But I paid enough attention in history class to know that this is just a recession, and a full-on depression would be ... I don’t even know. I try to imagine what it would be like if I couldn’t find any job and ended up homeless and standing in a bread line. It’s a long way from my current situation, but I think it's foolish to think this is as bad as it can get.
But it seems to me that, even given the bleakest scenario, I would survive somehow. That’s what people did during the Great Depression, right? They got by, they survived.
Having dinner with my aunt last night, it was clear early on that neither of us had any exciting news regarding our professions, travel plans or future goals. But I thought to myself, that’s not a good enough reason to be depressed. In spite of all my worries, doubts and limitations, I just think there are other things in life to celebrate, enjoy and discuss.
Laura and I ended up talking about family history and our shared love of coffee. Best of all, she passed along to me a necklace that had belonged to my grandmother and a brooch that had been my great-grandmother’s.
I’m not trying to be pessimistic by saying things could get worse. I’m just trying to be realistic. And I think that cautious optimism should be part of a realistic approach.
In the meantime, I think I need a second job.
Times are tough, and not just for me. Everyone I know is feeling financially strained in some way. But I paid enough attention in history class to know that this is just a recession, and a full-on depression would be ... I don’t even know. I try to imagine what it would be like if I couldn’t find any job and ended up homeless and standing in a bread line. It’s a long way from my current situation, but I think it's foolish to think this is as bad as it can get.
But it seems to me that, even given the bleakest scenario, I would survive somehow. That’s what people did during the Great Depression, right? They got by, they survived.
Having dinner with my aunt last night, it was clear early on that neither of us had any exciting news regarding our professions, travel plans or future goals. But I thought to myself, that’s not a good enough reason to be depressed. In spite of all my worries, doubts and limitations, I just think there are other things in life to celebrate, enjoy and discuss.
Laura and I ended up talking about family history and our shared love of coffee. Best of all, she passed along to me a necklace that had belonged to my grandmother and a brooch that had been my great-grandmother’s.
I’m not trying to be pessimistic by saying things could get worse. I’m just trying to be realistic. And I think that cautious optimism should be part of a realistic approach.
In the meantime, I think I need a second job.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
So, what are you reading?
My new friend Tina uses this question to strike up conversations. So I was a little nervous when she sent it my way because a) I’m not reading anything at the moment and b) the last book I read was a silly bit of chick lit by British author Sophie Kinsella. But as I was explaining the book to her, I realized it’s not quite so silly.
The book is about a “high powered” corporate lawyer in London who, after making a mistake that effectively destroys her legal career, runs to the country and takes a job as a housekeeper. Free from her old workaholic lifestyle, she learns to relax, bake bread, make friends and fall in love.
It was crazy reading this book, because I basically went through the same transformation in 2007. I left journalism temporarily to go to France, and when I came back I couldn’t bring myself to go back to that stressful lifestyle. I started waiting tables and I learned to relax, make friends, date, etc. I did not learn how to bake bread, though.
Every now and then I feel pressure (from myself, mostly) to take up some professional path. I don’t know why. I genuinely enjoy waiting tables; it’s a good way to make a living.
It’s really scary to be 18, 19 and 20 and making decisions that you think will affect the rest of your life. What school am I going to, what am I going to study, how am I going to support myself after? I see my younger brother Sam going through the same things in the near future.
If someone had told me I’d go to college, earn a degree and then go back to waiting tables I would’ve laughed at them. But it turned out to be a viable alternative to my own workaholic lifestyle. And I can honestly say I’m happier because of it.
The book is about a “high powered” corporate lawyer in London who, after making a mistake that effectively destroys her legal career, runs to the country and takes a job as a housekeeper. Free from her old workaholic lifestyle, she learns to relax, bake bread, make friends and fall in love.
It was crazy reading this book, because I basically went through the same transformation in 2007. I left journalism temporarily to go to France, and when I came back I couldn’t bring myself to go back to that stressful lifestyle. I started waiting tables and I learned to relax, make friends, date, etc. I did not learn how to bake bread, though.
Every now and then I feel pressure (from myself, mostly) to take up some professional path. I don’t know why. I genuinely enjoy waiting tables; it’s a good way to make a living.
It’s really scary to be 18, 19 and 20 and making decisions that you think will affect the rest of your life. What school am I going to, what am I going to study, how am I going to support myself after? I see my younger brother Sam going through the same things in the near future.
If someone had told me I’d go to college, earn a degree and then go back to waiting tables I would’ve laughed at them. But it turned out to be a viable alternative to my own workaholic lifestyle. And I can honestly say I’m happier because of it.
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