Working for a living is inevitable, whether intentionally creative, or not. Understanding where I am and how I got here is like reading the cover of a fantasy novel. The desire to stand up and shout at the top of my lungs, finds me every morning. Without fail. Lacking surprise. Filled with purpose.
So far, I have had more than enough reason to scream in San Francisco. The Giants won the World Series and I enthusiastically lost my marbles with the rest of the city on Monday night. Dancing to “We Are The Champions” with a shit eating grin, surrounded by people that were smiling helplessly at the night, will most certainly be taken down as an optimal way to express my inherent, mildly subdued craziness. Climbing onto a moving fire truck and hugging a cop can also be comfortably added to that list. As they say, why the fuck not?
Thinking about where I was not even a month ago is like trying to tell a three year old that they are going to be fifty someday; it seems completely unlikely. But, despite what seems real or unreal, here I am sitting at a desk in a job that is paying me to write. Not too long ago I was ready to tear my boss apart, limb by limb, and throw coffee on the customers that forgot their brains at home and only brought their assholes: being a barista was a fun, but truthfully unfulfilling occupation.
Being fulfilled is the goal, but lately I prefer to carelessly forget that goal and just appreciate the abnormal amount of sunlight I have been experiencing. Or pay attention to the fantastic amount of smiling I have been accomplishing. Or how much I love the sound of trains in the morning, something that I had no concept of until I started riding one to work every day.
Really, the moral of the story at this point, is that it’s entirely up to me, or you, or some combination of the two. The hard side is ever present; it shows up in car break-ins, unexpected diseases, the loss of important ID cards, delayed trains, missing Ipods, and lack of clean underwear. Some are perhaps worse than others; on a rotating schedule of sorts, but the best part, the most fun part, is seeing how well everything fits into a day. Like a glove.
