Enjoy your fries with that.

My current profession isn't impressive; it is not glamorous, and it is not always fun--it's not even really my profession. I like to think I haven't discovered that yet, simply because I'd like to be so passionate about what I do that it's contagious, and I am not that passionate about setting plates of food in front of hungry people. Waitressing can often suck the energy out of me, it sucks the good mood from my bones, and it sure sucks up my time. I've come home tonight, more exhausted, more beat down, and more melancholy than I have in a while. Plates went out wrong, fries were cold, and my status as a woman seemingly demoted to that of a servant. But it happens. It's all part of the business, just as screw-ups and mishaps and bruised pride are all a part of life. And amidst all the shortcomings of the night I find myself softly declaring that I'm grateful for my waitressing jobs, because it's not all bad. Not by a long shot. 

I could sit here and write to you a list of conditions that those dining out should meet, as well as a list of condemnable atrocities I have witnessed. But I've resolved to make this less about what my job lacks and more about what it possesses, because as I sat at table 123, running sanitizer over my menus and filling salt shakers, I thought of what this year of serving in a restaurant has offered me. 

                     Everyday I get to meet a plethora of new people. I get to interact with, share a smile with, and assist those who sit at my tables and it may sound silly, but I like that. I like meeting new people, even if I am merely a means to an end: food. There is a responsibility attached to the knowledge that I can influence a couple's date night, or a family's celebration, and don't we all like to feel a little responsibility? It makes us feel important.

                      It actually is fairly lucrative. Despite the sometimes inconceivable sum that a misguided bill-payer will pass off as a tip, I've made great money.  There are great tips, and there are terrible tips, and each often come along with great stories, but most tips are simply average. But average, when all accumulated, can certainly pay the bills. And on the occasions when I've taken the time to figure out an hourly wage from my wad of tips, I learn that--for an hourly, part-time job--I'm not doing half bad.

                     Stories. Boy, do I have stories. Perhaps this can coincide with meeting new people, but I always come away from a serving shift with at least one story to tell. So many types of people enter eating establishments that it's impossible not to encounter a couple nut jobs, a few entitled snobs, a hilarious comedian, or even a kindred spirit. The possibilities are endless, and therefore so are the stories and the memories. 

                     I've learned that more people are genuinely kind and friendly than aren't, and most do not understand the extra stresses they cause when they ask for obscene an amount of change, or when they order multiple drinks instead of one.  I like to think that I've learned the value of patience not only in a time-oriented sense, but in a personality and people kind of sense as well. In any job you must deal with the personalities of your co-workers, but only in the restaurant business must you deal with a personality and an appetite simultaneously, and it is not always pretty. 

In hindsight, I've had worse days. I've had days where my best lines, my fastest pace, and my every effort didn't turn out to be enough. But I've also had days where my jokes provoked a laugh, my poise and speed knocked a couple extra bucks my way,  my efforts resulted in conversation, and I was ultimately rewarded because of my hard work.  More often than not, I've dealt with a mixture of each scenario during a shift. The ebb and flow of these opposites constantly reminds me of the fleetingness of all emotions, of all circumstances, and of all occurrences. The sting of that bad tip will go away, just as the all money you made during a shift will inevitably slip through your hands, too. The lady who barked at you to refill her drink will walk out the front door in half an hour never to be seen by you again, and that glass you broke in your haste will be replaced by an identical one tomorrow.

So, to the passive aggressive woman who left me a short novel on the back her receipt this evening: Thank you. Thank you for explaining the reasoning behind your poor tip rather than simply leaving an unacceptable percentage and walking out (even if I could have fixed all your complaints had you simply voiced them as they occurred).  And to the four teenage gentlemen who pleasantly surprised me with their wit, kind manners, and humble generosity, thank you for reminding me that not all are as fault-finding as my dear pen-scratching lady a few tables over. 

Ultimately, each day is a coin toss for who will sit at my tables, who I will rub shoulders with, and how well we'll get along.  Some will be good, some will be bad, and each have the potential to be famously memorable or infamously memorable. Sometimes I will earn my tip, other times it will be a flat rate, handed to me regardless of my performance.  But always, it will be my attitude that sustains me, and I will seek to make it a good one.

Day 8: Favorite Color

I love colors. 
I love them so much, in fact, that I do not have a favorite one--I just can't choose. It changes on an [almost] daily basis. 
So, I thought a picture of my color-changing snowflakes would be appropriate. (Thanks Aunt Beth!!) I love that they are as fickle as I am in their choice of color; I could probably stare at them for hours.
I'm drawn to colorful things. Even the pens aisle at Staples reels me in effortlessly.
It's such a simple thing, really, but the presence of color in my life makes me happy. Don't get me wrong, I love 'I Love Lucy' reruns, and The Andy Griffith Show can only be watched in black and white--the absence of color in those situations is purely acceptable, required even. But I'm so grateful we don't see like that.
And I'm grateful that I'm surrounded by colors.
I'm grateful that I can paint my nails crazy colors (regardless of the fact that lasts only two days)
I'm grateful for my snowflakes.
I'm grateful for colorful flowers.
I'm grateful that colors add dimension and vibrancy to ordinary things in life.
I'm grateful that there are myriad shades of different colors.
I'm grateful for COLOR. 

"The purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love color the most."

~John Ruskin  

Day 7 (kind of): Funny Things

Yes, it has been several months since I began this endeavor.  No, I did not live up to the declaration that I would post something I'm grateful for everyday. 
 I'm turning over a new leaf, now.

These pictures make me grateful for several things: 

      ONE, that I had my camera out at this choice moment.

      TWO, that my roommate had the guts to give her boyfriend a purple-nurple.

      and THREE, that they still make me laugh--every. time.

Side-splitting laughter is my favorite, and if you can make me laugh- I mean REALLY laugh-then I'll hang around you forever.  Fortunately for my friends (or unfortunately...that's up for debate...), it's not too hard to accomplish. 

The old adage, "laughter is the best medicine," is one that I believe whole-heartedly.  Nothing can change a mood or lighten a burden quite like a laugh can, and as a wise woman who spoke at BYU once said, "If you can laugh at it, you can live with it." Laughter, especially when shared with someone else, morphs into a unifying force that can conquer the troubles heaped upon us; laughter isn't only a bodily action, but a facilitator of attitude change.

So, I am so grateful for the funny moments in my life that ground me, and bring me back to reality when I  blow circumstances out of proportion. 

 I'm grateful for the attitude boost they provide, and the perspective they offer during hard times.

But most of all, I'm grateful for the people that provide such funny moments for me, intentional or not.  They have no idea how much strength I derive from them.

 

Day 6: Books

I've always loved books.
I've always loved the smell of books, and the calming effect it seems to have on me. (Go smell one before you judge me, please)
I've always loved getting lost in a story and escaping for a little while.
But since coming to college books have taken on a new meaning and played a different role in my life.  Not only are college books expensive, but the material they teach seems to suck time and stamp out all possibility of me reading the books I, myself, choose.  I don't read for fun as often as I used to, or as often as I would like anymore, and perhaps that has increased my gratitude for books and novels and authors who painstakingly and diligently sit down to write them--gosh knows I never could. 
It may sound silly, but books have gotten me through some rough patches in my life.  They've allowed me to outrun, whether for good or for bad, my own problems, if only for a short amount of time, and let me exist in a different world.
So, thank you, books.
I do still enjoy reading my textbooks most of the time--particularly since I'm taking more classes for my major this semester--they provide great insights and tidbits of info that I love finding out about.  BUT I'll always love the tales and escapades more (and biographies...I've recently discovered my fondness of them).

"FEW THINGS LEAVE A DEEPER MARK ON A READER THAN THE FIRST BOOK THAT FINDS ITS WAY INTO HIS HEART.  THOSE FIRST IMAGES, THE ECHO OF THE WORDS WE THINK WE HAVE LEFT BEHIND, ACCOMPANY US THROUGH OUR LIVES AND SCULPT A PLACE IN OUR MEMORY, TO WHICH, SOONER OR LATER-NO MATTER HOW MANY BOOKS WE READ, HOW MANY WORLDS WE DISCOVER, OR HOW MUCH WE LEARN OR FORGET-WE WILL RETURN."

-CARLOS RUIZ ZAFON

Day 5: The Morning Sky

I've always loved mornings, but let's get something straight before I go any further: I'm really not a morning person.  I really only ever get up "early" when I must, and when given the opportunity, I'll usually always sleep in.  I just WISH I was a morning person.  
I don't know what it is about the morning, maybe it's the promise of 24 more hours to do and be whatever you want in, maybe it's the notion that you can make that day exactly what you want to, but something about the morning sky reflects that, for me.
The sun shines a little differently in the morning, as if its trying to infuse the hope of the day into the very objects it shines upon. So, along with my gratitude towards the morning sky and the hope it brings, I'm going to make a resolution--get up earlier. See that morning sky that I love so much more often.
The sky alight with the morning sun is exhilarating and a bit inspiring--it seems to breathe life into my lungs, and to motivate me to be active and verb-like during the day, alerting me of the possibilities each hour can hold, and the feeling of accomplishment that could be my companion once the sun sets.
Too often I think that I do not have enough time in my day, until that one day when I do manage to get up early. I realize the productiveness that seems to shadow me through the morning hours is a great gift when compared to the small price of rolling out of my warm bed a bit sooner than desired.
So here's to the morning and the sky that keeps watch overhead--it is a natural beauty I will never tire of viewing.

Day 4: Leaves

Unfortunately there aren't any vibrant fall leaves this time of year, because that's the state in which I appreciate them the most.
I don't know a soul who doesn't enjoy the colorful leaves of Autumn, or watching kids jump into a pile of them as a reward for the raking they've done. They are by far their most majestic when their array of colors replaces the uniform green of the summer, and I've been spoiled by the unrivaled New England fall for all my life.
It's the change of leaves with every season, though, that I've come to realize my gratitude for.  Without the repetitious slow fade from an unfurling bud to the brown crinkles that float to the winter ground, I'd get increasingly bored of my surroundings.  I love the fluidity of nature, the never-ending changes that promote a constancy all the same, and the way it so symbolically mirrors life.
I love that I live, and have always lived, in a place that has all four seasons; I can't imagine permanently relocating anywhere else.  I'm a four season kind of girl, any less will not suffice.
I'm grateful for the inkling of life that leaves promise in the spring, the shade they provide in the summer, the scenes they create in the fall, and the renewal they foreshadow during winter--I'm just grateful for leaves.

Day 3: Happiness

Finding happiness.  Isn't that the never-ending journey that every human being embarks upon in their lifetime?  Some start when they are young, some older, some find they need to be redirected every once in a while, or a lot, but we all seek it.  
I've come to learn, mostly from the wonderful examples I am blessed to call friends and family, that the illusive "happiness" really is just that--a never ending JOURNEY. True happiness comes in the small joys along the way--like winning five bucks on a scratch off.  True happiness is our willingness to appreciate and notice the small rarities, or the everyday happenings, as precious gifts.  The error of over-looking these is all too common, and I'm grateful that I have been taught--and shown--how and why to love the little things. 
There are so many quotes I've jotted down about happiness, I could smother you with them. But I think I'll settle for this simple one:

WHILE IN THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS ONE SHOULD STOP, AND BE HAPPY

I'm grateful that, right now, I'm happy.