I feel clever when I wake up early. I like to be doing something before the pace of everyone around catches up with me, from 9-5 routines on the road to those I live with. Maybe it’s because I’m a sneaky person, or because I am easily distracted.
If I get a head start, go to the the gym before others are awake, drink coffee and listen to music, go into a project,… I feel I’ve won the day. Then, when it’s 3pm, I am so sleepy I can’t do anything other than listen to an Italian lesson and take a nap.
Either mom or Noah will come home from respective jobs serving the 1% and that will wake me up. I’ll put on my work costume (-$120 from 1st paycheck for tie + cufflinks, -$140 for slave-cotton-French-cuffs + pack-ass-charcoal-slacks), walk to work (gravel on the dirt road prematurely ageing my vegan oxfords), and set tables in a trance before the baristas come in and brew coffee. As I fold napkins I drink some of the coffee.
Then I spend 6+ hours walking around an old adobe house (1756) pouring ice water into cups so that it may be dumped into the sink; using silver tongs to place bread onto plates so that I may de-crumb the tables onto said plates; scooping butter into the bin with a broken rubber spatula; scooping sauce into the bin with a broken rubber spatula; scooping cuts of corpses of select creatures, marinated for 24 hours in a special sauce, seared by the expert hands of chefs for whom english is a second language, into the bin with a broken rubber spatula. Silverware is actually silverware. It goes into the murky water.
I have one of the most coveted restaurant jobs in Santa Fe because I write a good cover letter, I am a fast learner, and I am a hard worker. My good attitude is only marred (in my thoughts, in my diary, on my blog) by criticisms of a system built on animal brethren’s bloodied tribe, by my internal dialogue about how almost all labor, by most people I know, including myself, goes into serving and making more money for the 1%.
It’s not trickle down, it’s trickle-up. We’re the ground water.