pacified

Working in a restaurant I now realize there is a very small percentage of people in the world that know how to behave in a restaurant atmosphere. Humans in general are not very nice. I say that with a bitter attitude because in my work place I go to do my job. My job, simply put, is to seat people and clean up after them. I don't really care if you like the booth I put you in, I have my reasoning you don't need to know and frankly would not understand even if I attempted to explain them. Also, if I take you to a table it is for a reason, 90% of the time because you do not fit in a booth. So please refrain from complaining about how chairs are bad for your back because I know that booth will not hold you and your extra pounds.
Needless to say, I am bitter about the people I encounter in the work place. But what do I do? Nothing. Nothing at all. Well, that's not entirely true, I do go home and vent about those individuals to my well informed husband. But other than that, I do nothing. Because that is what I have to do. We cannot always confront our problems or annoyances because ultimately it would get us in trouble. If I were to say to the overweight guest, "No, you cannot take that booth over there because you are too big." She would not only be embarrassed, but probably talk to my manager and make sure I was removed from my position. Either that or she would cry her way out of the restaurant, through the lobby and out the door, never to eat fish and chips again. Which would do her good to go on a anorexic binge for a while....
OK, that was uncalled for.
A person is a person, no matter how big.
What I mean is, sometimes we are pacified. Like babies that cry, their mothers are not sure what else to do, so they eliminate the sound that keeps them up at night. We pacify ourselves and cannot speak what we think. I have learned that as I grow up I realize more and more that silence is maturity. Those people that never let anyone other than themselves speak are foolish and immature. They need to shut up and listen. Maturity comes with listening and gaining knowledge from others, not listening to yourself ramble. Believe it or not, no one is impressed; in fact, they secretly want you to stop but can't get a word in to break the news to you.
My husband and I have been going to this church group on Sunday evenings lately. Just a twenty some crowed of twenty somethings discussing Jesus and how we can understand Him 2000 years later. A lot of discussions and I do put in my two cents fairly often. But I would rather sit and listen, soaking in everyone else’s words rather than spitting out something I already know. Maybe that is selfish, to refrain from speaking my thoughts that others might learn from so I myself can learn instead. I'm not sure... But I do know I learn. I would rather learn than teach I suppose.
Working in a restaurant you hear a lot of interesting conversations. My favorites are the old women that can't hear each other so they shout. Or the business men talking money and how to get on top while crushing everyone in their path. Or the hopeless woman pouring her soul out to a friend that doesn't entirely understand. Restaurants are the meeting point of all the messed up people in the world. Everyone dines out every once in a while. Its sad really, I hear these people all the time and rarely interject my opinion (usually because they don't know I'm listening). Lets face it, everyone listens in on other peoples conversations, especially when they are bored and at work. So there I am, wiping down a table, and I hear a conversation get interesting.
"I just feel like I don't fit in with the world. I have my christian friends that are just boring, and my nonchristian friends that I can't entirely relate to. I'm stuck; I'm depressed all the time."
How awful. This woman needs hope, or at least a hug. And the woman across from her, surprised and caught off guard says, "Well, I umm, am not sure how that feels."
Pitiful.

I feel bad for people I can’t help. I want to make a difference to people in the world. Someday I want to partner up with Bono and save some kids in Africa. But even more than that, I want to affect people. That woman was empty and lost. I wish I could go back in time and stop by her table, rag in hand, and say, “I heard what you said, and I’m so sorry for eavesdropping, but your friend didn’t do a damn thing about it. Can I give you a hug? Would that freak you out? I apologize. I just noticed how empty you are and I ache for you. I want you to feel love and emotion. Everyone needs to feel needed and you clearly have that missing in your life. I’m so sorry.”

However, I am pacified again, both willingly and reluctantly. I don’t want to make matters worse, and I really know nothing about this woman other than the two minutes I heard her heartbreaking speech. She could just be having an emotional pity party. It could just be that time of the month. Nevertheless, she said those words for a reason. And I wiped my table.

Life is fragile. Everyone knows that. Life is beautiful and scary and all together a wonderful mystery that only God Himself knows the full depth and meaning of it all. I am glad I am not God. I am glad I do not have to create and weep over these made to be perfect people that tangle themselves in an endless web of mistakes.
"What goes around comes around". Karma is a bitch. We find that in order to justify what is going on we blame something or someone, often times something that is fictional. Karma. We made it up to justify the outcome of or own choices. Or to explain the unknown.
Life is more than a series of events. Life is more than chance. We cannot plan life, it happens to us. We experience the joy and the laughter and the pain. Lived moments cannot be planned. I feel like I might be rambling... I apologize. All I mean to say is life is God's. I am starting to realize that I can think up something for dinner and I can go to work. I can kiss my husband good night. We can make plans with friends on the weekends. But ultimately He created us for today and that is all we really can know. "We can make our plans, but the Lord determines our steps." Thanks God. I'm glad you know me better than I know myself.

Number 1

Well, here it goes... its official, I am a "blogger".

I did this for myself. Not so other people could read my thoughts an critique my inner self by sending judgmental opinions through a computer screen. I am doing this to get all my thoughts in order, my ducks in a row. I chose the name "aborigine" because I'm new to this. I know I'm not the first one... but then again what if I am. The first ever Super Young/New Wife/College Dropout/ Work All I Can - Not Because I Want to But Have to/Scared of What the Future Might Bring/So in love it Hurts/Wish I Could Really Help Someone in Need, girl. There may be someone out there that was the first aborigine to this land I have recently encountered, but so far I have found no sign of other living creatures in this very soil I stand, nay, swim in. I am not wallowing in my situation. On the contrary, I love my life. I love my wonderful husband who cares for me deeply, I love our outdated plumbing that makes the showers scorching hot if the toilet is flushed, I love our dinners that we make for each other... I chose this.

and I love this.

But this thing I love I also find that I am getting lost in it all. I'm lost in doing everything I can to find my identity. I'm no longer holding my father's name, I have a new identity to everyone around me. No more than two months ago I was allowed to spend the night at a girlfriends house. But now I am married. Socially, I am turning in my sleepovers for laundry and dishes. Not that my laundry and dishes are awful, they are accompanied by kisses and conversation with my favorite man in the world. Its just new. But new is not bad.