‘So what’s the dream?’
The man who asks is sitting opposite his wife, his deep dimpled grin is fixed as I pour his water and silently pray I don’t spill any on his creased Chino-ed knee.
I smile knowingly, and then do something stupid…I answer in the worst way possible.
Look, you may think that what I said was totally plausible, and true, but really it’s ultimately wrong, and I just want to kick myself afterwards. I knew what I was doing, and I needed to be pulled up about it.
I was deliberately trying to separate myself from the common folk? Making out I was somewhat different, that I had a plan, that I was worthy of more than taking menial orders, that I had in fact signed myself up for.
But I didn’t listen to that part of myself did I? I listened to the hasty, MUST justify my humble plate carrying work for the good of the long term cause…I could’ve feigned all understanding to the man who was now waiting to be ‘comforted’ by the fact that he wasn’t being waited on by a -wait for it- person who’s ambition was NOT doing exactly what they were doing right now.
‘I’m a writer’ I say idiot, me, me I’m the idiot.
Why? Because in recent years my ambition has deliberately changed, and although I’m a trained Pilates teacher and have been teaching for 8 years or so, I’m trying to listen to what it is I need, and knowing that writing is very much a singular activity- similar to that of my freelance work…For me working in this Cafe, is more than about fulfilling any dream.
It’s what’s going to keep me alert and connected, even more so since most of my time is spent sitting at a desk, throwing a hammer at my face. I’ve been longing to be part of the workforce again, not so much for financial gain but for mental stability- it sounds far out, maybe even on the cusp of the ridiculous, especially when I have the choice of being my own boss, but it’s the daily hum drum of working with others that’s been lacking; and for a bubbly, loquacious soul like myself I’ve felt not only isolated, but quite alone….
Ok, ok let’s not get ahead of ourselves, waiting tables is not the dream and I guess it’s not the forever job either, so maybe I did answer correctly. But the truth is I found myself appeasing this toothy mouthed man, because I wanted him to know that I wasn’t hopeless.
And it’s ok that from where I stood, it wasn’t filled with a firework of fairy lights and unicorns, trout pout selfies, or having the best time of my life stuffs. But feeling like I was part of a team was, and combining that with my teaching work suited me just fine. Not only that, a couple of days ago I got a call about job, to tell me that I didn’t get the job haaaaa yep, another rejection.
It was for the proof reader position that I applied for some time back, anyhow they wondered if I’d like to contribute to their online paper as a writer instead, paid.
‘Er….Yes’ I said ‘Yes I’d like that very much’
Groundhog day at the Cafe
‘So, what’s the dream?’ said the man working his fat tongue up and down the front of his tooth, to retrieve part of his dinner.
‘I don’t believe in dreams’ I said.
‘What do you believe in?’
‘Me, for the first time in a long time, I believe in me’
True but cheesy I know, not as cheesy as Leonardo and Kate but close….
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Do you have any writing goals, or indeed dreams you’d like fulfill? I would love to hear from you :-]