I asked for espresso, and like, toast.
And that's what happened. Seriously.
There were d'anjou pears and fresh jam and a piece of twice-baked challah all up in my plate. Apparently it's all organic and local too, on top of being so motherfucking delicious. FTW.
It's my only sort-of day of being unemployed, and even then not so much. I've got to meet with the HR department at ISB (my new digs) today at 10 for some informational stuff, and from what I gather most of next week will be much of the same. So I decided to make the most of it, and get up early, and come and have a little nosh at Grand Central. I also wanted to bring Summer a few cds and get some writing in.
Writing. I felt like a kid going to the bathroom before a big trip. You know, just in case, even though you don't really have to go. And with a quiet mind for the first time in who knows how long, I realized that I didn't have a hell of a lot to process. So here we sit. Here. In this cafe. Where one of my friends is the manager -- my friend, you know, because I live here and all. Where I'm spending my early morning-time on my only day off, because I got a job. Or more accurately, the Universe decided to hand me a job. On a platter. With a side of benefits and some rad. And like, yoga classes. And a transit pass. I think they might like, give me a phone and a laptop and whatever. What the fuck. Really. Seriously!
It's cool to take your meds with espresso, right? Awesome.
Yesterday was my last day at BioMed, my eight-month anniversary in Seattle, and the first time I had been to Caffe Vita to write since before I started going bonkers in the last two months or so with the job anxiety. And I was just kind of running back in my mind how it felt as I was writing, and I wondered how much clarity can ever possibly come in real-time. A few months ago, I felt bonkers, and I can look back at it now and see what all the bonkers was, but then I was feeling like I was doing alright in light of all the bonkers from a few months before that. But now... I'm kind of starting to feel a little calm. And okay. And it's mostly as a result of trying on the I-Think-I'm-Okay pants more often than not -- you know, being in a situation where I'd normally freak out or be scared or whatever, and going, you know what? I think I'm just going to act as if _________. Like whatever it is is fine, or that I don't feel ugly, or that I'm not the stupidest person at the table, or what have you. It's working. It's really, really working. But there's still a part of me that wonders if I'll look back at now six months from now and go, dude. Good thing all that passed. I suppose it really doesn't matter much.
Straight adult man in Utili-Kilt, stage right. Sorry, left. He's inside now. Apparently he drinks decaf.
The other thing that's making my life exponentially better is doing RAW edits in Lightroom as a result of some help from Laura & company. I've managed to take all the good stuff I've been able to filter from Kristin's vast database of knowledge and use it to start learning Photoshop basics, and then all that technical knowledge integrated with Lightroom help from Laura = me doing some bad-ass shit. I no longer feel like a complete fraud. I stand up straight and look directly at people now when I tell them I'm a photographer.
I thought I had so much to say this morning, but my head is pretty quiet, and I'm pretty present. I'm trying to trust in the flow of things now when stuff is good, so that I can remember that things are as they should be if things decide to get bad. Gloria reminds me a lot that it's not good or bad, it's just change, and it's all the way it should be. Gosh, all this sanity, if you can call it that, is pretty unfamiliar. Cue me putting on the Maybe-I'm-Sane pants and walking around for a while. They kind of feel like they fit today. I'm going to do my best not to fuck with it.