Monday, January 12th, 2015

now browsing by day

 

the grind

And we find ourselves, as per the usual, back again at Monday.

Today wasn’t quite as intense as last Monday.  Work still felt like I was wading through quicksand — really difficult and really slow.  But I didn’t shake all day.  I got things done, slowly and quietly crossing things off the list.

As I was driving home, listening to my most favorite app, audible.com, I began to think about who I am as a person. Don’t worry.  It didn’t come out of left field — it started with my upcoming business trip.  A quick trip to LA to eat some good food and help to bring shape to our newest restaurant concept.

We’re staying at a very nice hotel.  Apparently, it has quite the pool scene (I imagine the MTV beach house — but that’s probably my imagination and my age).  No spa though.  According to the website, it’s 2 miles from a lot of things.  I’m sort of at a loss as to what I’m going to do with all my free time.

This is where the afore-mentioned thought process began.

I’m a girl — woman, whatever — who listens to books about King Arthur on audible.  I’m not listening to the ‘cool’ books, or the ‘trendy’ books.  I’m listening to historical fiction or gentle portraits of a human’s life.  There’s nothing edgy about me,  I watch Newsroom on repeat, am currently binge-watching Madam Secretary [and wondering why I don’t do work every day that has a bigger impact on the American experience], and I love LoTR, Star Wars, Batman and Rocky. I go to bed before 9.30pm most nights.  I like to talk about football, current events, history, food and books.  I have never done drugs.  Like, for real and I went to school for theatre and have been in the restaurant business more than half my life.

And I’m okay with all of that.  I like me, I like the things I like — I find comfort in the choices I make and the things I enjoy.  I’m not delusional enough to think that any of it makes me cool, or trendy, or cutting edge (which would help out in the business that I’m in).

But sometimes, I feel like a square peg in a round hole.  As though I’m in a world and profession in which I don’t belong.  My husband listens to my rambles and attributes it to my occasional, intense struggles with SAD.  I’m not sure what it is — maybe just having a moment of detachment,  Who can say for sure?

Maybe I’m just having a case of the Mondays.  And that’s okay, right?