Thursday, January 17, 2008


The Vocation of Servitude

In a perfect world I wouldn't have to work a job like this. In a perfect world my family wouldn't have fell apart the year I was trying to attend college. In a perfect world I would have been able to handle the stress, strong enough to continue to go to school, to follow my dreams. I probably would not have chosen this professional life. But this is not about choice. This is about making the most of what you have. This is about striving every day to do the best you can, even if it's serving someone a cup of coffee, making copies, cleaning up after messy, careless people. In order to do this I have to pretend every day to give a s*it. Let's just say I deserve an Oscar for the performance I put on every day.

Serve. Always hated that word. See, I'm not really a server per say. I am more of a serv-ee. I enjoy being taken care of at home, as I take care of people all day at my job. It's in my nature, my blood. I've grown up around a whole harem of women servers. Maybe server isn't a politically correct word. But I've grown up in a world where women are the fixers, the merry makers, the make rights. We live to be taken advantage of, to be thrown out without a second glance, our feelings never considered. Perhaps that is why I am so strong and why my mother, aunt and Grandma were so strong. But we're also crazy and mental illness runs rampant in my family.

It's a hard life always pretending and keeping your feelings inside. I get tired of swimming upstream and against the current. It's something I work on everyday, something I strive not to do. But it's hard to be yourself and not tear others down.

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