Chaos Redefined

So...the title to my blog has begun to take on a whole new meaning to me. When I describe myself as negotiating with chaos, it is usually in regards to things going on in my own head...that chaos I create for myself.

Well, I am diving head first into a whole new definition of chaos now.

The chaos of two jobs. Two jobs that could not be more polar opposite from one another. I feel like, in the 15 minute drive down Broadway, I have to tuck my bleeding heart away, turn on my oh-so-proper and polite act, and switch over from passion-driven energy, to hard, cold, money-making motivation. It's a metamorphises of some kind that my mind and body is most certainly not used to. And I've noticed myself dealing with it in different ways. Yesterday, I shut down at the restaurant. I went through the motions of serving what looked to me like plates of money being inhaled by overindulgent Boulderites. I barely spoke, blamed it on being tired, my boss noticed. I couldn't shake the skin of the shelter and jump into the skin of L'absinthe fast enough to make it work.

Tonight, it went the opposite. I cried my way from one skin in to the next. I let the chaos roll through me, and found out, it's better that way. I shadowed a 6 am shift this morning, where I got to run into some of the regular residents and some of the situations I am going to have to learn to deal with on a regular basis. Turning away a young man who walked miles up hill for a plate of food, but was too late. Looking out the window and watching him take deep breathes and try not to cry. Turning away an older man because of alcohol related restrictions and seeing that he knew it was coming, and nervously tried to get in for breakfast anyway. Watching a previously perfectly coherent and able man suddenly forget what he was saying, and sputter out a trail of non-sensical, half sentences, that left even himself confused and alarmed.

Tonight I arrived at the restaurant slightly delirious from lack of sleep and coming down off of high-flying emotions. So I decided to lean on that and work with it. And it worked for me. I had my tables laughing, relaxed, and tipping well. Go figure, delirious, slightly out-of-it-Lauren pulls one of the best nights she's had in sales and tips. I'd like to keep her around. I don't know how long that's physically or mentally possible, but the overindulgent Boulderites seem to like her.

But I like the girl I am at the shelter more, or at least the girl I hope to be there. I'd rather dive head first into big and overwhelming situations that I may not be expecting or prepared for, and see where they take me. I'd rather put myself out there, and give the energy I do have to something that is going to soak it up. That way I know it's going somewhere, somewhere worth sending it, and I don't have to expect anything back. There is no anticipation of reward, or of mutual feeling or of returned effort. There is just plain and simple giving. That I am comfortable with, and that I am confident in, because there is always one constant...they will always be there. No matter where I am in the world, in my life, in my chaos, they will always be there. Those who need, those who will soak up what is given by those who will give it. It's an understanding. No other expectations involved. Some succeed, some change, some progress. Those are the exceptions, the "feel good" stories at the end of another long, heartbreaking newscast.

It's a new sense of chaos, one my mind is slowly wrapping itself around. I like it. I was told the other day, the shelter is an amazing experience and place to work, as long as I'm ready to "take the journey it will lead me on." I feel I've also been riding out the L'Absinthe guided tour into a whole world of people, ideals and values I wouldn't of touched with a 10 foot pole had I known it was where I was headed.

It all makes this weird, fuzzy sense to me. All the people, and the stories, and the contrasts and the circumstances. They all play off each other like the funny little blobs in a lava lamp. They merge and crash and bounce of each other, but all stay in this steady constant flow of unpredictability.

It all melts down to one solid piece in the end.







Let me know when Boulder starts to really "hippify" my concepts here... Lava lamp? It's late. Go with it.

"Things always just work out for you..."

Words from the wise. Also known as my lovely sister Kasey. Who just admitted to me that she was glad I was struggling with the job search in the beginning, because "things always just fall into place" for me.

So far, I've come to the conclusion that I should listen to Kasey more often. She's usually right in dishing out her advice to me, whether it be "Lauren, shut up and get over it" or the much needed, comforting, "Hang in there, things will work out, they always do." And coming from a girl that won "Most brutally honest" (which I have also witnessed on my own account) as a superlative in high school, her advice holds a lot of weight with me. Crazy little siblings and their unexplainable knowledge.
Well, not completely unexaplainable...I guess she had some not so shabby footsteps to follow in.

RIght? haha.

So she's right again. Things have worked out. I got that job at the Homeless Shelter, as an on-call Part-time worker. Sounds menial, but I think it's perfect for me right now. They tell me that there is opportunity to get up to 30 or so hours on-call, its al relative to how ambitiously you sign up for open shifts. Either way, after my meeting in training today, I have no idea why they even hired me. The backgrounds of the people surrounding me, blew mine out of the water.

Three girls were in Americorps for two years at least, two of them as supervisors of a program. One girl went to school for social work and has worked in shelters as a case manager all over. Others have worked up from volunteering to be where they are, and others have experience in all kinds of programs and other shelters and non-profits. I guess they understood you need to start somewhere, and took me under their far more experienced wing.

I cant think of any other way to describe how I feel right now other than...WOW. Wow i can't wait to dive in there. Granted, I have only been to one day of training, and have two weeks to go, but everything I hear, just gets me more and more and more excited to be a part of it. Even the bad and the ugly and the scary situations they warn us about, I cant wait. I feel like I was built specifically for this. I hope I'm right.

On my way out with one of the other girls by the name of Liz, we ran into a woman who was coming in for the night. She stopped in her tracks in the hallway, smiled, and stuck her tounge out. When we approached her she held out a drawing she was working on, what looked to be mostly a scribbled, somewhat frightening face with arrows. She went on to tell us that her husband's father died, and that this was a drawing of how she remembered him. And explained each part of it. And we just complimented her as she went on. She held up her pen and said "all I have is this" and I said, "well you're doing a pretty amazing job with it". And she put on a huge ear to ear grin and asked "Really?" And Liz told her again, we said good bye and I walked to my car.

Like I said, Little things. I can't wait until they start to pile up. They take the weight off the awful things, and the heartbreaking things that are going to be handed to us in bulk. But it's ok. I think I'm ready for it.

Things always work out for me anyway, right Kase?





P.s. i just tried Sushi for the first time. Eel and Avacado. Lesson learned: I'm awful and slightly dangerous wth chopsticks...and when what i was caling the "safety" rice falls off the Eel...it's much harder to pretend it's not what it is. Points for trying?

Securing my mask

"It's like, in an airplane with the oxygen masks, when they say 'Always secure your own mask first, before helping others'".

This weekend, Lindsay and I flew home, and surprised both of our families. And I think it is one of the best decisions I've made in a long time. We threw the cash down, got on a plane, and walked in our front doors completely unexpected. My Mom and Dad's reaction was bigger and better than I could have ever hoped for. My brother and sister gave up their first weekend at college, and we all rolled into Lobsterfest together to rock the joint. There is nothing more amazing than knowing I have that to come home to.

This weekend solidified everything for me. That home, is home...is home. And home is what means the most in the world to me. Home is my mask.

I love to travel, I love adventure, I love new and exciting challenges. I love just getting by, and making it on my own. I love it all. And I will love Colorado while I am here.

But man, do I love home. I know now, that it is most definitely where I need to be. No mountain or hike or "exciting adventure" can replace what I have where I came from.

I realize now that I am just going to need it more and more as I further myself in my career. It's not an easy one, it's one where I am heading warnings from all directions. I got the job at the Boulder Homeless Shelter and I begin training on Thursday. I am extremely excited. I am also extremely aware that it is going to put some wear and tear on my heart and my passion for this kind of work, and I'm ready for that. After this weekend, long talks with my dad, and my mom, and trusted friends, I have complete faith that I have what it takes to make it through, and to be ok. Because after this weekend, I know I have my mask. And it's securely on.

It's the Little Things

It is. The little things, that is. That's it.
When things get carried away, and stirred up and can feel overwhelming, it's the little things that offer you a breath of fresh air. One of my favorite little things is rather simple, and probably pretty rediculous to most people. But it's one of those little things that I hold on to, to catch my breath.

When people say "excuse me". That's it. That's all. For me.

So tonight, we went into Denver for the Taste of Colorado Festival. They had vendors of all kinds, food, jewelry, bags, posters, shirts, you know, the usual chaos of the festival scene. They also had stages set up with all different types of music floating in and out and over tents and crowds of beer-holding, burrito eating, stroller-pushing people. The main stage gave us America, which I was pretty excited about. Mostly for "A Horse with No Name" because, well, it's one of those little things.

For some reason, that song is significantly tied to my childhood, and my dad. I know he played it on the guitar, and I always requested it. And I think it's one of those things that probably means a lot more than he ever even knew. I just remember always feeling as if that was my song, for me and my dad. And it's one of those breaths of fresh air, one of those comforting moments, when I hear it. And there I am in Denver, and there is America on stage, on a lawn, on a beautifully sunny, crisp day.

So Lindsay and I are sitting there listening to America, and loving it. And there is this man behind us who appears to be homeless, dirty, alone and slightly in his own little world. But let me tell you, he was loving the music. He was singing along to himself, saying "yes...yes, this is great, yes." He knew all the words. And he seemed to be speaking to anyone who would listen, about how amazing this band is and how we should all be listening, and loving it.

Then Horse With No Name comes on. I'm in my glory, I call my dad and leave him what probably sounded like pieces of America, cheering and old man rambling on his voice mail. The man behinds us gets more and more excited and he notices that I notice. And I just sort of smile at him. And he says, "Oh, I'm sorry, I just...I just love this song, listen. I'm, I'm practicaly teary-eyed I'm sorry." And I say "Oh, don't be, I love it too." The song goes on and he stands up and is singing along and smiing ear to ear. Finally he comes over in between Lindsay and I and puts his hands out as if we should hold them and sing along. So I do, and so does Lindsay, and we sort of sway and sing along to Horse with No Name. And then he lets go and sort of retreats back to his spot behind us. When the song is over and America is done, he comes over to us in his haphazard sort of unsure way and says "Thank you girls, really, thank you." And sort of wanders away.

I think a little piece of both Lindsay and I's heart broke in that instant. Because he was obviously wandering away to nothing, and no one. And just holding his hands for 30 seconds, to his favorite song, was a little thing to me, and probably a much bigger thing to him.

So...it is the little things. It's the little things I try to hold on to, because you never know when they may be a much bigger thing to someone else.

Like...saying "excuse me." Sometimes we just need to catch our breath.

The Generation of the Inexperienced

So my uncle Mike tells me I should write a book, and maybe I will. And I will call it "The Generation of the Inexperienced and the Quarter-life Crisis", because I think this time in a person's life...is not harped upon enough.

This, in between, half grown up, half too young, quarter-life crisis is unavoidable. At least that is the conclusion I have come to.

I thought I was escaping it. All my friends that had already graduated warned me, "it's so weird", "it's scary, I miss school", "just wait, you'll see...good luck." And I thought to myself, Ha, I have you all beat, I am one step ahead. Because see, I don't even like my school, so I'm not attached, and I'm over the college scene, so I won't miss that either. And THEN, I'm going to move to a beautiful place and start fresh and not have to worry about all the calamities that come with being freshly graduated.

And I'm sure, you all laughed at me under your breath. All of you who dished out the warnings and shared your crisis-related knowledge that I so arrogantly disregarded.

I said, Oh, I'll just work at a coffee shop. Then the coffee shop asked me, "well, have you ever worked in this business before?" And I thought, by business do you mean pouring a cup of coffee...perhaps a cappuchino?? C'mon. I think if you showed me what button to push, and where the cups are stored, I wouldn't burn your "business" to the ground or anything.
If I get one more phone call with the oh-so-sweet response of "We have chosen a more qualified candidate, but we would love to keep your resume on file for future reference." Uh-huh, sure, you do that. I have my own conclusions about what "on file" means.

So, really I'm just venting because I got a coffee the other day, and walked out laughing at the fact that after 4 years of college and working, I am not qualified to work there.

In reality, I landed a pretty solid job at this restaurant that I have been mentioning, and I am now waiting tables. My boss says I'm doing an amazing job and that I've learned very quickly. Weird, when you train a person, they learn...maybe other local "businesses" should write that one down. Because this inexperienced, underqualified, "on files" around the state girl, is making 20% tips in a fine dining restaurant when she's never even served food at her own dining room table.

The other part of the Quarter-life crisis is the pull between the college scene and the slighty more sophisticated idea of what "going out" means. We went out the other night downtown. We were meeting up with some people we know, and they lured us to this bar that lended out plenty of reasons why I should not enter it, right off the bat. The music was Kiss 95.7 style screaming from inside out to the line of black dress, large, glittering jewelry-wearing, stilhetto-ed girls bouncing around in line. For all you ECSUers, it was Sports Bar on speed. And we know how Lauren felt about Sports Bar, haha.
Inside, I took a front row seat to the stage, where people were dancing. I couldn't take my eyes away. It was one of the funniest things I have ever scene. One girl in particular was the epitome of the Dane Cook joke, "I just wanna dance....no guys, put our purses in the middle, take off our shoes and just DANCE." And to watch the guys try to bust a couple moves with her, was enough to keep me entertained for the rest of the evening. They couldn't keep up, and they tried so hard.

Needless to say, the pull toward the college scene of packed bars, sweaty dancing, and cheap well drinks, has turned into more of a people-watching project for me. It's definitely a slice of life worth investigating...from the outskirts.

My own slice of life has taken a bit more shape here. And it's getting colder. Only about a month and a half until the rain turns to snow, and my life here takes on it's intended purpose.