Proletariat Life

Yes, it's an unusual life I lead. I travel a lot. I've done a lot. I've learned not nearly enough.

My latest in Nomadic endeavors brought me back to my home in the San Francisco Bay Area. With the help of ever faithful friends, work quickly materialized for me, and now I'm living a lifestyle that I never would have expected. Skills long ignored are suddenly the core of my occupation as I embrace re-entry to the service world.

I have two regular gigs. The first one is on the Ferry, as a concessionaire. I pour wine, open beer, enthuse tourists, and empathize with commuters. It's not a bad gig. I realize that views I see as part of my routine, represent life long dreams for some who board my vessel. It's not hard work. I like bringing a little relief to commuters and fulfilling expectation for tourists, and the tips aren't bad either.

My second job reaches way back to the very beginning of my work history when I worked for First Street Foods in Benicia. I'm working as a prep cook. Mostly I cut and store a lot of vegetables, but I also make sauces, dressings and marinades. It's good steady work that provides method into my routine. I work with a cast of characters out of an Anthony Bourdain book, but it works for me. I'm comfortable in a kitchen. 

When I get off work I'm often tired and maybe a little sore from being on my feet, but I'm not upset. I don't feel misused, or helpless. I just go home, get ready for another day, and go to bed. I like it. It's simple. 

And yes, I'm not making a ton of money, but I know now that I can do so much more with so much less. I drive less and I buy less, and I feel like I'm living so much more. 

I don't regret years spent pursuing education and a career, but I've gotta say, there's a lot to be said for being a proletariat. 

The Bunny Menace

I admit it. I got tired of it all. I got tired of polishing my resume, constant competition and the overwealming requirement to be awesome and amazing. Everywhere I worked in my career excelled, and I thrilled my employers with great feats. I've been called a force of nature and a miracle worker, but the problem with labels like these is it sets the bar too high at the get go. When going into a new situation with an extraordinary performance level, it tends to leave you know where to go. 

This is what I have learned: I love to work. I love to be efficient, and creative, and innovtive. But, I always wear myself out when I come in too hot, and then my employer is disappointed that that amazing level of high performance I am capable of is not sustainable for 100% of the time. 

It's hard to balance, but at the age and this stage in life I'm finally beginning to understand that slow and steady wins the race. No wonder I dislike rabbits so much.

Occupations

I started a new job today. It's not a fancy job, or one that has a lot of responsibility, but the views are pretty nice.  I've been back in California for a little more than a week and things are moving along at a brisk pace. With the help of friends, I have enough work to keep me busy and fed. It's different work, not professional, and I honestly don't mind a bit.

At present I have three jobs. Just few days after my return, I jumped into the festival season. I work for a small security company that specializes in festival culture. We go, we camp, we check wrist bands, work the gate, and watch for trouble. It's not a bad way to spend the weekend, and often there's good music too.

Today, I started my Ferry gig. Basically, I float about on one of the boats that goes to and fro, working at the concession on board. I open a lot of beer, and serve coffee mostly. It's mellow, the view is nice, I can totally get into it.

And a week from today, I will start my third job, as a prep cook at an east bay restaurant. This job is probably the one I'm most excited about. Though I haven't worked in a kitchen for many years, I know it's a place I'm comfortable, and I trust that I will find my rhythm once I'm there. 

In the Bay Area it's not uncommon for people to start a conversation with, "What do you do?" And often, the answer is something cool, or techie, or creative or awesome.  I don't think I can say any of my current occupations fall into those categories, but I'm OK with that. I'm good with what life is bringing me right now. I'm not exceptionally concerned about my future, because I know that at some point I'll end up in a good place. 

Hell, I'm in a good place right now. I'm getting paid to cruise the San Francisco Bay. It could be worse. 

Lost & Found

Yes, I believe I was lost. Somewhere a few years back, I took a wrong turn, and then another, and another, all the time thinking that I knew where I was going. And I did know, but I was maybe going to the wrong place. 

I've stopped trying to impress people. It's not easy, but it's worthwhile because if people are disappointed with who I am, it's their problem not mine. I've also stopped wanting things! tiny houses and chickens aside.  I've gotten to a point where I can really appreciate the things I do have and welcome the challenge to figure out a work around for the things I don't. 

My future is still rather uncertain. My work visa for Canada is delayed, so I'm back in the Bay Area. I have a bit of work unfolding here, and hen the Burning Man season later this summer. Plus I have a  number of loose ends to tie up, so that's my primary mission while I'm here. 

My first few days back have been good. I'm figuring out what has to be done, one step at a time. Slow and steady wins the race. It's time to be methodical and purposeful. I know that, and that's what I will be. 

Living More With Less: Sewing

Remember sewing? If you came up in the seventies and eighties it may have been something they still taught in school.

I learned how to sew from my mother, who learned from her grandmother, who taught her to sew on a peddle powered machine. We always had the sewing machine set up and ready to go. My mother made us costumes and prom dresses, and we would do our own hems and peg leg our jeans before they were called "skinny."

As my mother told the story, Chula, who lived through the Mexican War, said, "you can always have work if you know how to sew." In her opinion, you could always set up a sewing machine under a tree and do some mending. It's not a bad idea. Thus, I grew up with the understanding the sewing is a good skill to have.

In fact, when I was in my early 20's and in the Army, my mother brought me a sewing machine and Chula's words rang true. Before I knew it, I had a line of people outside my barracks room door of fellow soldiers who needed mending done.

I've had a number of machines since then. I've found that the newer ones aren't very sturdy, and jam pretty easily. I was lucky enough to find an old Kenmore machine recently. It weighs almost 20 pounds, but I'm betting it can take four layers of denim no problem.

So now, once again, I sew. I enjoy the act of mending. I fix popped seams, pockets and belt loops all to make what I have last a little longer. Sewing is something that connects me to my past, but is done with the future in mind, and it reminds me that with a little know-how, worth can be restored. I take pride in being able to fix what others might throw away. And if it can't be fixed, then it can be repurposed. More on that later...

Drama and Trauma

I am here to talk about Trauma and Drama

When I was eight years old,

I saw a children's performance

And remember going straight to my mother

To say "I want to do that too."

I was impressed with how everyone

On stage was able to sing and dance

I just wanted to be part of the syncopation. 

And Thus began many years in performing arts

I was in multiple productions,

Took ballet and tap, and even did a little Shakespeare

All before I was 13

Simply because I loved being part of anything

That created movement and sound.

And despite personal traumas

I always had drama to take me away from it all

My performing days ended

In adulthood and thereafter

Very few in my grown life

Knew of these things

But in that world,

I watched of a different kind of drama

Of those who never

Had the same escape

Their trauma was acted out

In daily antics.

You see, it never occurred to me

That being up on a stage taught me to cope

I never realized that sweating through makeup

Under bright lights, would enable me

To to see the daily act so many put on,

Where comedy and tragedy are

wWoven into a daily play called life

I – was just performing

But from those performances

I learned to silo my emotions for

Easier access on stage

Because there I could sing, dance

And even cry on demand

I learned how see what was real

And what was contrived

Trauma, is a very real thing

It takes your soul, steals away pride

And robs you of personhood

It can be a sudden interruption

Of peace and calm,

That rips what you thought

A secure life was,

But it can also be a process

That wears you down, eroding will

With every concession you make

And every heart you break,

Even if it's your own

I feel lucky because

I can see the relationship between the two

From my perspective, trauma is what gives us pain

And drama is how we act it out

And if we have no other place to perform

No place to sing, to dance to

Recite truths in iambic pentameter,

We act it out in our lives

With no no stage no lights, no orchestra

Only makeup and costume changes

Crisis or Apex?

Conventional wisdom tells us that when we reach our middle years, realizing that we're half way through our life journey, we go into crisis. The stereotype for men is a snazzy car and even snazzier arm candy. For women, I suppose it's plastic surgery. But, I think there's a lot of ways to react to the midlife apex. For me, midlife is less about being older and more about being wiser.

I'm beginning to understand things I've gotten wrong, like looking for happiness in the wrong places. As recently as two years ago in this blog, I wrote of endless ambition, of always wanting to achieve more. It was never for glory that I wanted to achieve things, but for happiness. I thought accomplishments would bring me happiness, and they did, albeit short lived. Every time I achieved something, as soon as the accomplishment was relished, I'd have to look for the next high. In a lot of ways I was an addict.

I don't regret my accomplishments, but maybe some of the time spent in pursuit of them. I'm lucky right now, because I've had a chance to really slow down and appreciate simpler things.

I like to think I'm growing. It's hard to rid myself of the goal orientation, so I'll try these words: my new path is seeking more life with less things; simplicity. By learning to relax some, I've learned it's ok to live a contented life. I still love adventure and doing extraordinary things, but included in that realm of extraordinary are simple pleasures.

So what's the difference between a crisis and an apex? Well if you're in crisis you may see the apex as down hill in all directions. But, from my perspective, the apex is where I get a much better view of everything around me. It's a start.