The clank of dishes and echos of small talk swim like open-mouthed fish in the air around me. I cross my arms and lean back, watching the dining room fill and my section stay empty.
$2.13 an hour + tips, taxed.
My tables feel haunted, chairs floating in their potential, heavy with their loss. I take a deep breath through my nose, feeling the air wash down the back of my throat, pushing my shoulder blades off of the pseudo-historic wood wall behind me to find something to clean, something to fill.
The world in soft focus, I glide from task to task as I side-step, swivel around, and joke with other employees doing the same. Together, we get the damn thing done.
I enjoy being a part of the hive mind that enables the production of a restaurant’s Saturday night. Much like I enjoy the bobbles and bits that come together to create the machine which allows the production of a film.
I’ve been letting myself sink into that joy more these days as I let go of the “shoulds” that my charismatic personality and unique skillsets have saddled me with. The expectations I took on that I should start this or lead that have motivated me for too long. Since the pandemic, the business of being a business has become a looming monster over every somewhat capable human being. YOU CAN MAKE SIX FIGURES BLEEPING BLUPPING ABOUT BLOOP! ALL BY YOURSELF! NEVER HAVE TO LEAVE HOME OR RELY ON OTHERS AGAIN!
The thing is, while I enjoy filmmaking in part because I fit in and get to shine, I mostly enjoy it because I get to be a part of something bigger. Something that is only achieved through immense work from many people who all pour their trust, communication, time, effort, heart, and soul into it.
I enjoy relying on X so my Y can turn into our Z.
I don’t want to monetize my X so I can invent a Y so someone, somewhere, can get their Z.
Being a modern entrepreneur has never sounded as sparkly to me as it does to others. I don’t want to be the face, neck, and body of the beast that feeds me.
I want to be the hand. Or the torso. Or the lipstick.
What can I say? I am a caveman. I have an essential need to operate as part of a bigger system.
And I’ll be damned if this independence-obsessed era fools me into living out a righteously lonesome hell I know just ain’t for me.
A friend of mine said he read one of my newsletters and described it as sad! I told Alan, and he, in turn, described it as dour. My goodness, perceptions aside, I hope y’all are as okay with this supposed gloomy writing as I am. Not that I should have to say this, but I promise I am okay. The Skinless Grape! I am here to share my truth, and so it is.
I just want to take a moment to say thank you for reading my words. Crafting them into a shareable piece of writing brings me great joy.
I am a depressive, and that is just fine with me. Hiding it is the opposite of helpful. It’s fine, I promise. It is what it is. I can be both joyous in my soul and gloomy to the touch. I am layers of an experience, as are you. Like parallel universes stacked unto infinity. And all of them are perfect.
Don’t mistake the facets for the gestalt.
It has taken a lot of work to be okay with who I am. Both the whole of me and the facets that comprise “me.” Perhaps this space feels so safe that I use my melancholic crayons more often than not; thank you for that safety. But, my gosh, I am not here to spread gloom! Certainly, the opposite. I find that one’s own truth, be it relentlessly severe or frivolous, bold or rote, blooms the very best of human possibility. I am here to plant the seeds of my truth with hopes of such blooms. Your eyes passing over this text is like water to our garden. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
And especially my subscribers, thank you for trusting the nuanced process of this here blooming!
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A hui ho,
Julia