Fortunately my mind is elsewhere

I woke up early to the sound of rain falling hard. I snuggled deep under the covers for a few more minutes of slumber before I reminded myself of the harsh reality that is my job. I got up and looked forward to the trek from the backdoor to my car. The air was fresh and clean and full of water. I walked quickly to sneak into the shelter of my car and thought about how tent like cars can be. Everywhere except for my little canopy was soaking wet, but I was safe inside. I drove, not thinking about my destination, but imagining myself waking up in a tent to weather like this. (In my head, my tent was super waterproof, since it was quite rainy.) I thought about the plans I would have made to get up early and start hiking. I smiled just like I would have in the tent when those plans went out the window. If I woke up to the sound of rain hitting my tent, I would have smiled and snuggled deeper into my sleeping bag, letting the sound of the rain lull me back to sleep.

My creativity level is at an all time low

I've been working diligently on a story that is close to my heart. I have put myself into the characters and my best ideas into the plot. I've been more dedicated to the outline of this story than I ever have of any term paper for school. If I worked this hard at school, I totally would have gotten all A's. But, last Saturday was the first time in over a month that I've written anything on it. Even then, I only wrote a couple of paragraphs. My main character feels more like a stranger than a close friend. Her strength is fading and she's the hero! I need her to be creative and strong. But, how can I expect that of her when I can't bring any of it to the table. I feel her flittering around my subconscious every now and then. She wants to be let out. She really wants to fly. It's cabin feverish in my brain and that really doesn't feel good.
Bleh...even this blog post feels a little sluggish in the creativity department. It'll have to do for now.

It's all finally paying off, I hope

I've worked overtime everyday at work for the past three weeks. I've learned more little annoying details only managers should deal with in that same time than I have in the 8 months I've worked at the cafe. I've dealt with moody men, childish customers, and jerks for HR people. I've had to give direction to the managers filling in for my boss who's baby decided to come into this world three weeks early. And now, someone is seeing all the work I do. The Columbus area manager gave me a huge compliment today by asking if I could clone myself. He saw how hard I was working to keep the cafe afloat while he looked for a new manager. He now knows how long I work each day and he saw me handle difficult situations. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that I rock and now people know it.

My work environment reminds me of Haiti

How harsh does a work environment have to be to constitute me storming out? I wanted to storm out of the kitchen a couple of times this week. I am not an overly unkind person. I would never leave my boss with all my work, the extra work I'm picking up because of my lazy coworkers and all her work. Not only because she's 9 months pregnant or that I'm trying to ask for a raise and a transfer and a month long leave of absence, but also because I like her and I think she deserves good employees. If two out of the four employees she's got are unreliable, moody and really unskilled in the kitchen, I'll step in and pick up the slack. Men don't belong in this industry anyways. We should just fire these two men. The three women there really do all the work anyways.
If that wasn't quite enough, I had to deal of the corporate portion of this job today as well. Nothing says "Leave this company as quickly as possible!" as a surly HR manager who has no people skills. So, as soon as I find the time to step away from my tasks big enough to tackle 2 1/2 large men, I sit down with the Columbus regional manager and the midwest regional HR manager. We need to discuss my possible transfer to a cafe in Chicago. The gist of this conversation was her telling me why I couldn't make it in Chicago without her coming out and saying, "You can't make it in Chicago". Should I tell her the reason I'm limping is because of the shin splints I'm getting from running around this ill designed kitchen? No. Should I explain to her that I'm working with two punks who can't tie their shoes without me telling them where their laces are? Should I say I know more about this kitchen than she does about her prestine HR office, but she'll never see it because she's middle management and her life goal is to make people feel smaller than her? Never. I say nothing and like a pansy, I let her tell me that the pace in this cafe is quicker than I've ever seen, that the areas in Chicago I'm looking at are too expensive for me and that I probably won't get a raise big enough to live in Chicago. What a punk. I should've let her know how I deal with punks in the kitchen. (which really isn't much, I just ignore them until they notice, but I like to think I'm tough)
I've got agencies that would pee their little pants to get me to work for them. I don't have to deal with corporate punks and kitchen punks. I think it's time to cause people to pee for me.

Spring is here...?

I'm sitting on my porch, barefoot, trying to contain my excitement caused by this warm weather. The wind is still blowing and with it, it brings memories of a bitterly cold winter, but I stubbornly sit through it and accept the goosebumps. The air smells like Spring and that's all I need to convince me of its arrival. I can observe people's differing reactions to the weather and it's completely predictable. Some have completely embraced the notion that Spring is here to stay. They are wearing shorts, riding their bikes or taking their dogs out for walks without care, or a jacket. Others are a little more sceptical. They have jackets, but they are holding them or wraping them around their waists. I've seen people still wearing their winter coats, pretending as if this fluke of a day isn't really happening. They don't want to get their hopes up, so they hide their head until the snow is back.
Oh, snow. Come to think of it, I can't remember snow. I've blocked it out of my memory. I'm embracing the notion of Spring and even though the forecast calls for snow tomorrow, I will be completely surprised to see the white stuff. I'm secretly hoping the heavens grew tired of dumping bitter cold on us, making our days gray and glum. The birds, thousands of which join me in the outdoors, are agreeing with me and that's all I need.

Music

I'm currently listening to the soundtrack of Pan's Labyrinth. It was a haunting movie, and so the soundtrack is haunting as well. I find myself listening more and more to soundtracks, because of the message they portray. You can tell a lot about the movie by listening to its heartbeat. That, for me, is what the soundtrack is all about.
Another soundtrack I've been listening to is to the latest Pride and Prejudice movie. The song that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy first dance to has a magical melody. When I listen to it, I cannot imagine any other tune exists. The only two things that exist, in fact, is the song and myself. Then the song ends. Mercedes' Lullaby from Pan's Labyrinth comes on and my whole existence shifts into a dimension where I cannot feel any other melody except this particular one. I try to imagine myself dancing to another tune. What other tune is there? I think to myself. There is none but this one.
Rachel Zylstra's "Another Again" comes on, and the same phenomenon occurs. She hits me a again with "So Fair" and by this time, I've visited so many dimensions that emotions have piled up on top of more emotions and tears well up. I'm in the middle of a fast paced kitchen cutting fruit and I have to move to onions to cover up the fact that I'm crying for no apparent reason.
I don't bring new music into my regular listening library. I have to obsess about certain ones. I have to dance with them, cry with them, and let them tell their stories to me. I often write stories to them, or movies. I do this even for the soundtracks, because a note or a melody speaks to me a completely different way. Too much music would mean that my head would explode from all the emotions.

My most recent weekend

I didn't mean this to be a blog about my weekends, but they seem to be the only things I want to talk about. I went to Chicago to visit Zach, to visit my Goshen friends and to see Morgan play. It was bliss. I didn't see much of Chicago, or do any tourist-y things, but I feel like my visit lacked nothing...but more time with Zach....next time maybe.