Much has happened over the past weeks. My first year of university is over and now it is summer time and I have returned back to 'family life'. Although that may connote negatively for some; I am enjoying it. Mostly it is that food is everywhere and I don't have to worry about starving (although Hemmingway says starving helps the creative process, so perhaps it was not a terrible thing after all). I also enjoy that I do not have the agency to be too irresponsible (though this seems to hinder the creativeness as well). As I've been home I have focused my attentions mainly on working, working out, and working on a tan. The working part is going well so far. I am in training to be a server at my parents restaurant currently, but I begin officially on my own tomorrow (cross your fingers for luck). I like the work though because it keeps me attentive mentally and engaged in activities I would rather not be. For example a lot of the time I have to smooth talk my way around to be successful. This is nearly my least favorite adjective and verb. I usually am not one to beat the bush and I just say the plain Jane truth. I am not an elaborator to those I am not familiar with and am not comfortable being anyone but the stubborn girl I was raised to be with everything worn on my face, plain. I was told once that this is the key to getting through life and sucess- I suppose it is good I am practicing it so much now.If I may drop all the masks though, working is actually good. I suppose the best part is that I get to observe it all- this lifestyle, this culture. It honestly would make a killing if they put it on television. Oh and the things people say to me! -thankfully it is kind. This older woman (this is Sequim we are referring to after all) said to me the other day: 'My you have a lovely bun! It must help you get all the boys!' or 'You have very attractive eyes.' Completely worded as written! Being awkward about compliments (and just about everything else) I try to find a honest way to say thank you but it never feels right and the cycle of my verbal inadequacies continues. It is not enough that I work all afternoon, my body craves physical release from the stress of the day and it is off to the gym. Thirty minutes of hard cardio is all I need until I get home and have twenty minutes of yoga and eight minutes of ab hell. As for working on my color, I am currently seeking artificial assistance- hopefully in a month or so I will be able to have organic sunshine and a couple more dollars in my billfold. When the work is done there is plenty to read and admire. The local scenery is beautiful and it makes me forget why I tolerate months of desert. Obviously I have been reading Hemingway (hence the formality of the composition and perhaps even tone). A Moveable Feast has grown to become dear to me and Hemingway a strange, lost friend found through the cracks in time that literature provides.
Life is the same but different. I have a lot of time to myself and none at all. I am independent but entirely not. And everything is an oxymoron and I am not barely grasping it at all.