trade you my empire for ashes

listening to: "middle cyclone" - neko case

Got good and churched this morning. I always go to church when my brother and sister come home. That's pretty much the only time. Other Sundays I'm more or less allowed to sleep. Usually the pastor of my parents' church is loud, quick-talking, and abrasive. He would be at home in a used car lot, I think. I generally find his sermons offensive and condescending. Today we had a substitute pastor who lacked the oomph of the original but was just as condescending. The sermon was on the woman caught in adultery from John 8-- She is caught in adultery by several high-ranking religious men who ask Jesus if they can stone her to death, as the law demands, and he basically says whichever one of you has never sinned, he can throw the first stone. After I'd caught on that this was going to be just another sermon about Jesus forgiving the whore (that's the usual gist of these things) with no mention of the asshole who'd gotten her into the situation in the first place or the fact that women are still stoned in several countries for lesser transgressions, after I'd caught on to this, I basically zoned out. I noticed that there was a bird stuck in the sanctuary of the church-- the enormous auditorium, the Jesus emporium-- and was swooping to and fro, trying to find an out. He flew down one of the organ pipes, and landed briefly on many of the hanging lights. I followed the flight of that poor bird for probably ten minutes until the final address of the pastor caught my attention. The exact phrase that drew me back in was, "how many of you have ever been tied up?" Wow, I thought, never heard a sermon like that before... Unfortunately it was just an illustration of forgiveness, instead of a foray into more engaging conversation, but Emily and I exchanged a glance all the same. Altogether it was a pretty boring church adventure-- usually I leave that place burning with some kind of heathen irritation or anger, but today I just felt slightly dull. It has been that kind of a week. And that kind of blog entry, looks like.


shalomshalom.

i do my best but i'm made of mistakes

listening to: "i'm an animal" - neko case

It's March! Springtime! This is the second day in a row of beautiful weather, though I am unable to take advantage of it today. Yesterday was Saint Patrick's Day, and last year around this time I was with Jeremy and Kristi, romping around downtown Chicago with all of the pretty green Irish-for-a-Day crazies, listening (and getting more excited than anyone probably oughta) to the bagpipers, and drinking Tullamore Dew. This year was more subdued, but still nice. It was seventy degrees outside, and Mike and I sat out on the deck of a bar for hours in the sunshine. Everyone had their dogs out and the locals were all done up in green-goth-garb. It was lovely.

It's been a hard month for me at work. At the coffee shop I feel torn between my desire to interact with the customers (who are the reason I work there in the first place) and the pull of the ever-increasing politics of the business. I can't seem to do anything right. No matter what. Last night I fell asleep and dreamed I was at work. I helped customers, I talked to my regulars, I had coaching conversation, and when my alarm went off at 4:15 I woke up and was surprised to find that I wasn't already at work. I got up and went in, and worked what felt like my second shift of the day.

As far as the other job goes... I can't keep it up much longer. My heart races as soon as I sit down in my car to drive the 14 miles to work. By the time I get there, my hands are shaking and I'm having a hard time breathing. There's no real reason for these mini-anxiety attacks. The job isn't stressful, not really. It's just waitressing. But even when I try to tell myself, Megan, you know your reactions, breathe, try to breathe through it... even then, I kind of wig out. I need to quit my job, but I've never quit a job before for any reason other than moving to a different state or graduating. Never.

I know I'm lucky to have jobs at all, even two jobs that occasionally feel stupid. I just want to, first and foremost, be healthy and happy, and also I would like to enjoy what I do every day. I also know that I am young and that I do not necessarily get to do what I want to do. Millions of people are unhappy at work. I am willing to work a job I am not passionate about if, in exchange, I have the time and mental-well-being to work at my writing. Right now I don't have that. When I talk to my friends, I feel guilty when they ask me about my writing because when I tell them I haven't written in months, they know as well as I do that I am screwing myself over with no real result or reward.

There are good things in my life, though. Mike and I went to see Umphrey's McGee last weekend-- a two-night show at the Egyptian Room. Both nights were amazing and we had so much fun dancing around like crazies and drinking terrible beer. I was recently in Michigan and got to see my buddies, and have gotten to talk to a lot of faraway friends in the past several weeks. It's springtime, finally, and I'm in loveloveLOVE and I can drive with my windows down and I'm reading David James Duncan's The Brothers K again and starting David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest and I have almost completely cut caffeine out of my diet and Neko Case's Middle Cyclone is awesome. Life is not so bad after all, it seems.


shalomshalom.