I don’t know what drugs to take
To successfully alter the state
That my mind has been in as of late
Something is eating away at my brain
There’s an elephant in the back of the room
And it’s standing in plain view
Everyone can see
That it looks just like me

I’m roaming through the hills
All alone
I’m trying to find my direction home
A question of space
A matter of time
I follow the stars until the first light

You know, I’ve been known to spiral over thoughts. Lately I’ve been spiraling in a way that I am not familiar with. I don’t know how I got so lost, or how I get back to where I’m supposed to be.

My sister told me about a study she read, death caused by alcohol in women is up 35% in the last 10 years or something, I’ll be honest I was only half listening. I paused, and I asked her if that makes me a bad person. That means since I’ve started serving drinks the number of women dying from alcohol is up 35%. Now obviously that is not all my doing, sure I’ve made thousands of drinks, hell I’ve had nights where I made over 400 in a single shift, and that was common for a couple years of my life.

She assured me it does not make me a bad person, still I wonder. The only difference between me and a drug dealer, is the drug I deal is legal, and regulated. Otherwise it’s the same, no?

I don’t get too lost in that thought because, well, for the most part the people I serve drinks to are just trying to have a good time, take the edge off, and my intention in that interaction is almost never about the drink itself, except for the occasional need to feed my ego with some drink that everyone can’t take their eyes off. My true goal in serving drinks and food to people, is being around those people long enough to connect, and hopefully they leave our interaction better than they were when it started.

Which brings me to where I’m really lost.

For the last 10 years I’ve worked mostly front of house in restaurants, occasionally helping in the kitchen, either for my own education, or because in the chaos of service you do whatever needs to be done to make sure everyone gets through it in one piece.

For the last 10 years I’ve spent more days than not serving guests, hoping to just be better than I was the shift before.

I feel like I’m in debt to my boss at Alcove, for all he did for me over the last 9 months, and to not go back would be a slap in the face of a man I have so much respect and admiration for.

But there’s this opportunity, to go work for a family friend, at a very small cafe, baking for him, helping him roast and package his coffee, having a chill job, with no pressure, that would allow me to be creative and explore things I never thought I was interested in before. Truth be told I’ve been doing a lot of baking recently, it relaxes me, it makes time pass differently. It makes life feel, light, like everything will be okay.

So my dilemma comes in two parts.

1. The crippling guilt of telling my boss at alcove I wouldn’t be coming back.
2. Taking an opportunity that is less stable that I know nothing about.

Truth be told I’m less worried about the fact that I don’t know a lot about baking and now I’d be baking for a cafe that’s pretty busy. I’m more worried that the relaxing vibe of that job wouldn’t be good for my head.

I love restaurants because of the controlled chaos, because during the busiest nights a single mistake can take the night from manageable to fucked. That if every move you make isn’t with intention, and efficiency, you’ll fall behind and ruin someones night. I love it because in a lot of ways it’s a thank-less job.

When you finish a shift on the bar, and you have to clean everything, restock everything, take the trash out, mop, all the stuff nobody sees, there is no thanks for that. Most of what goes into service for a successful bar, the public never sees. They don’t see you organizing the 160lb kegs in the 35 degree walk-in. They don’t see you do inventory, counting and writing it all by hand. They don’t see you cut their garnishes, or juice their citrus, make the syrups and infusions for cocktails. They don’t see most of the prep and hard work. They see you pour 4-6 ingredients into a tin or a mixing glass, and stir or shake, before putting it in a glass and graciously setting it in front of them. Off to the right of them because to the left would be wrong. They don’t see you polish plates and silverware they eat from, or the way the salt and pepper shakers are always facing a certain direction. They see the swan above the water, but they don’t see its legs flailing below to keep it going.

One job sounds more relaxing and like I could learn a lot, but I’m afraid that I’ve lived in chaos and uncertainty for so long that I’m addicted to it. It’s where I’m comfortable. It’s the devil I know.

I’m unsure what to do, and I’m not sure where to look for the answers. I’ve decided I’ll go to the woods tomorrow, maybe nature can offer some advice. If not perhaps I’ll flip a coin and let that be the decision.

And I’ll fight to survive
Through this thunderous life

Where the skies are gold not gray,

J.