Alternative to What?

So apparently I live an alternative lifestyle. I had no clue. I just kinda do me.

So, yeah, I don't have a regular 9 to 5 type of gig, and occasionally step outside my box to try something new, like cooking, but I do work, a lot. I just decided not to let my job define me. I like trying new things, and have a great safety net job that allows me to do just that.  I appreciate the freedom my work choices give me. What's so alternative about making decisions based on having a good life? I'd rather live a good life, that's interesting, comfortable, and adventuresome.

And, I don't live in an alternative space such as a wharehouse or a tiny home, but my childhood home has been gradually converted to reflect the lives of the Morales girls. We use power tools to make the space work for us, and I admittedly have grandiose plans for the kitchen and back yard. Chickens will be a thing this year. So looking forward to fresh eggs.

Like many Americans, I buy things on Amazon, but admit, that retail is not my first choice for most purchases. In general, I keep a thrift store list for durable goods, and do my best to make due with what I have on hand. And in truth, the things I get on Amazon are usually purchased there to avoid going to malls or shopping centers. But it's all part of a frugality regiment. I like saving money, and would rather have savings than expensive things. Is that so strange?

And, I like to eat good food, which translates into making a majority of my food from scratch. Processed stuff makes me sick, and it's cheaper and healthier to make your own. I still buy bread, but am looking to buy loaf pans for sandwhich bread. Also, having worked in kitchens from time to time, I know how easy it can be. Eating well is essential to well being from my perspective.

It's true, my life is not status quo. My goals are different than the standard American Dream. I've curated a vision of the life I want, and slowly but surely I am achieving it. I don't want all the things. I don't want status. I don't want bling. I don't want more debt.

I do want to live well, have as little stress as possible, go on adventures, spend time with loved ones, and to not spend my later years wishing I had I done more. If this is an alternative lifestyle, so be it. The other options just aren't that appealing to me.

Another Week in the Kitchen

Well, I've survived another week in the kitchen. It was a bit of an effort. Holiday season means busier nights and large groups of friends who meet up for an annual gift exchange. There are office gatherings, shoppers and also groups of tourists who continue to stream in on cruise ships. People want to eat. I'm there five nights a week to facilitate that.

I'm starting to feel competent in the kitchen. I've mastered things that previously eluded me, like frying chicken and boiling eggs properly. I know it sounds funny for a now professional cook to be excited about these things, but being able to do it correctly with consistency is a matter of pride. I know how to cook a perfectly boiled egg now, so it's absolutely creamy when you bite into it. I can also fry chicken drummettes that results in a hot juicy explosion when you bite into them. These things matter if you enjoy food the way I do. I like food that's an experience, and like sharing that experience with others.

I started thinking about why I like to cook so much tonight as I was chopping Brussel sprouts. First I cut off the end of the sprout and then cut it in half. My muscle memory has improved to the point that I can glance around while I do this, and not cut my fingers. I look up and see a vintage street car whiz by on the Embarcaderro. I watch one of the regulars greet his meal with an appreciation that comes from familiarity, and realized how much I'm enjoying this familiarity myself.

I thought about how I enjoy working with food. How it is so multifaceted. Working in a restaurant is very physical work, but also requires technique. It requires patience, waiting for fries to fry is the worst, but also immediacy, salt those fuckers and get me out. You have to plan your movements and the steps it takes to prepare, sometimes multiple dishes, at the same time, thinking through the best method to get it done as you are doing it. 

Cooking is also creative. Not only do you create a presentation, but sometimes you can tell a story with how you put a salad on a plate. Most of the time you just want to get it out and move onto the next order in an effort to keep up with the expiditer. But these other things do cross my mind.

Am I romanticize the process? Of course I am. And maybe that comes from the satisfaction I'm getting from this work. All I know is that I like what I'm doing, and love it when I'm doing it right.

The Dinner Shift

I've moved up in the restaurant world to start working the dinner shift. About a month ago, the Chef told me I'd be working nights. I took it as a good sign. Now, instead of waking up at OMG o'clock, I sleep in every day. It's lovely, and by far the best perk of the job. I almost feel like a woman of leisure. 

But the work is a bit harder, faster, more complex, and I finally feel as though I'm getting up to par. I now split my time between two positions. One position does the salads, appetizers and desserts, the other does the fryer and expedites the pantry side of the line. The latter is a bit more complex. Both require immediate reaction, muscle memory and complete focus. There's no time to daydream, or really ponder anything. An order comes in and I have to know how to deal with it. That means either waiting for the rest of the order to be ready before I fire (begin) my part, giving it to the other pantry cook, or firing it right away. All the while I have to keep watch of other orders that may be in various states of process, and keep track of other orders coming in. Sound confusing? It kinda is, but when I get in the zone of making it all happen, it's a pretty great feeling. 

Working fryer has its drawbacks though. For one, I smell like fryer grease by the end of the night. I also have multiple burns on my arms, and the tips of my fingers are becoming calloused from plating hot fries that just came out of 375F oil. When I'm not on the Fryer, I come home smelling like salad dressing. 

And then there's the transport costs of driving into work, which are considerable. I pay two tolls and for 3 hours of meter parking plus gas. I could in theory take Bart, but the cost would be about the same and the commute would take at least an hour more, each way...so not worth it. 

I like what I'm doing. Last night I was clearly in the zone and it was both fulfilling and fun. And somehow, working at night feels less like a job. The shift goes by pretty fast when we're busy, and I generally don't have a problem getting to sleep at night. I also feel like I've turned a corner in this whole process of becoming a cook. I've noticed I'm not as sore as I use to be. My knees and ankles seem to have adjusted to the physicality of the work. I feel well liked in the kitchen and appreciated for my contributions. It's a good feeling.

Life 3.0 is a Go! I'm liking this choice more and more. 

Shit Show, It's Contagious

What is a shit show you ask? It's when the shit is always hitting the fan, an excess of drama and bullshit that some people put out in the world, making everything around them a "shit show."

I do my best to avoid this kind of crap, but sometimes it creeps up on me. When it does, it's a lot harder than you might think to not become part of the shit show yourself. Because you see, shit shows are like tornados. They pick up everything in their path and deposit them willienillie. And suddenly, for no reason you can't, or don't function in the normal way because you're so busy reacting to all the shit thrown your way. You can't concentrate, things get lost, you forget things and make lots of simple mistakes because you are unable to pay attention to details when all you're doing is dealing with the shit that's constantly thrown at you, hitting you and mucking up your path.

So what does one do when in a shit storm? Cover up the best we can in protective clothing? Pretend it doesn't bother you? Fight through it to do what you've got to do while saying to yourself, "I'm so tired of this shit!" It's hard to say what the best response is. 

With some people it's easy to say, "stop, lets regroup." But others are really committed to their bullshit and are going to cling to it like their life depends on it. And then there's the stealth bullshit too, that comes from those who make a show of being put together, but are really just flinging shit.

Honestly, for me, I try to distance myself as much as possible from all the shit. It's like I use to tell my kids, "no stupid." Don't do stupid things, don't hang out with stupid people. I think the same rule applies to bullshit and correlating shit show.

Avoidance is possibly the only solution.

Foresight

I I think I've come to the age of foresight. I think about my future a lot more than I use to.

When I was younger I never worried about what was to come. I knew I had time to do it all over again. I had an infinite number of restarts and do-overs. While I don't fear restarts or do-overs, I don't waste such efforts carelessly. 

I feel as though I'm gaining strength back, physical, mental and emotional. After years of stress from my relationship and work, I thought I just couldn't deal anymore. Now, working in what many consider a high stress job, I seem to be doing fine. I just needed a time out to reset and do-over.

And that brings me back to foresight. In my 20's I just wanted to get to my apex. I climbed, I struggled, I fought my way up a mountain of achievement. (I know, that's a lot of metaphors, even for me.) in my 30s I was mired by my own expectations of achievement as well as the expectations of others. I had a reputation of doing the impossible, but those feats came at a cost. I would ruin myself to make shit happen. 

Now, in my 40's maybe I know better. I pace myself. I set better expectations for myself and I'm much more forgiving for my own failures. In fact, while I don't strive for failure, I embrace it when it happens. I know there's a lesson to be learned. Maybe this is the beginning of wisdom. 

If it is the beginning of wisdom, then I hope it serves me well. I believe it will. And maybe that's the value of foresight, being able to see what good that failures can produce. 

Doing well-ish

I was feeling good. Real good. All the things seemed to be going well, but the universe is funny that way. All my things are still going well, but the rest of the world it seems is in chaos. I can't help but feel guilt for not doing more, not caring more than I do, and for distracting myself from the horrors  others must face right now. I just want to be ok.

I'm feeling centered for a change. I feel like I'm on a good path, but still have options. The cooking thing is hard physically, but I noticed this week that I've turned a corner. I'm not all body sore at the end of my shifts now, and I can get through a night with minimal errors. I'm coming into my own as a line cook, learning some best practices and employing skills I've honed for years. It feels good.

And, although I'm not in Canada this year with my beloved, whom I miss like crazy, I know that time on my own is important. He knows that too, and doesn't fault me for my decisions. I'm so very lucky that way.

Life overall is good for me right now. I think this is why I feel so guilty for not being involved in some way, for not doing more or saying more. But what can I say about a situation that is so multiply layered and complex? Of course I feel empathy for the people of Paris, but also for the people of Afghanistan, and Beruit, and Syria and every other country that lives with terrorism and the instability it causes. But we don't tend to mourn all of those lives in the same way, and I hate that in the same way I hate that people of color are treated differently by law enforcement officers in many places.

For us to be better people, for us to show the world how great we are, it's not always about showing military might and a use of force. As a people at least, we would do better to show that we can have empathy for those that don't look like us, and who don't share trends in music or fashion. We would do better to show that we mourn for every life that's taken or the sake of an agenda or ideal. 

I'm doing really good right now. I wish the rest of the world was doing the same.

Do Things Make Us Whole?

We got a delivery yesterday. Mine and Wyatt's portion of the household goods from what we left in Japan. Having moved more than a few times, I know this ritual well. Packages arrive, and all of a sudden it's Christmas. There's unwrapping, and "oos" and "oohs". The euphoria of reuniting with possessions is soon followed by confusion. First there the physical confusion. Labeled boxes everywhere holding things you've been doing without. But, that leads to another confusion that makes one wonder, "why do I have all this stuff?"

This particular reunification is ironic, because it's a metaphor for the end of a former union. It's one of the last remnants of two lives that were once bound and now are going separate ways. Looking at what arrived, most of these things are steeped in my own memories as opposed to those that I shared with my spouse. 

In some ways I feel like all these things coming back to me is a final step in becoming my own person again. But I know that things do not make me whole. I've been on this journey, back to myself for a long time. I'm glad I found me again. And although things can be reminders of how I got here, they don't define me. I am who I am because of all I've experienced, and all I've endured. I've made mistakes and learned from them. I've also made achievements and learned not to mistake them for happiness or life satisfaction.

Part of the unpacking process will be deciding what to keep and what to donate. It's a good exercise and an even better reminder of what's important and what's clutter.