Reality comes for us all.
I moved out to Seattle to do something different. That must be why I have a job waiting tables (like before) at a sushi restaurant (like before). After the initial discomfort of failing to acquire employment and the inevitable (though brief) poverty that came with it, I am back in my holding pattern. I make more than I spend, I have three days off a week, I drink and eat as much as I want, and I am oh so bored.
The shiny newness factor has wore off and Seattle is just another city that I moved to. I can add it to a list that includes such greats as Memphis, Tampa, Buffalo, Long Beach, and Alexandria. The weather is different and so are the people – but – everything is really just the same.
Guests at restaurants are still very much like those in Tampa were; needy, entitled, obliviously vacuous cheapskates. Some are great, most are just fine, a lot are badly behaved. None of them seems to have a clue. Nothing new here.
The bar scene here seems very similar to Tampa now as well. At first I was impressed with how many bars knew how to stir a classic cocktail. Now I realize that no matter how fancy the drink, after enough of them everyone becomes a drooling piece of trash, stumbling up the sidewalk, knocking things over, and being loud and creepy. This is certainly the case with me. Whether I’ve had gin martinis or PBRs, I still eventually break something.
Last week I knocked over a champagne flute in my bedroom. It took me until yesterday to sweep up the shards, and that was still three days after I stepped in it and bled all over myself. My behavior is not any better or worse than it was in Tampa. Weird. So, is the lesson that changing places doesn’t change the person? Okay, okay. I get it. Now what?
Don’t get me wrong. I am much more content with myself than I used to be. I’m just getting bored with it all. Simply being content with being a bit of a slob, or a guy with some chemical dependency issues, is no longer as exhilarating as it once was. Now I’m starting to feel this gnawing urge to do something more. Perhaps to change for real? Like, to start doing something that will reward me more than drinking and eating whatever I want and making easy money waiting tables.
It feels like most people solve this issue for themselves long before they wake up being 34 years old. I used to be convinced of this. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe all you people who have it figured out are the crazy ones. Maybe none of us knows anything but some of us are much better at feigning confidence and going about their business as though it had any true meaning. Maybe there really is meaning. I can’t tell.