El Condor Pasa

“I’d rather be a hammer than a nail/ yes I would if I could/Away, I’d rather sail away/ Like a swan that’s here and gone/A man grows older every day/ It gives the world its saddest sound/its saddest sound.” -Simon and Garfunkel

I feel very out of touch right now. It’s the best way I can describe it. When I feel this way, I feel the urge to create something. But not so much create something but to be a part of something creative. This feeling makes me miss working in restaurants. I miss the noise and the chaos…

You dread it every time. You pray to god that you don’t fall behind or it would be your behind! It’s just 3 hours. 3 measly hours of running, screaming, knives flying, and fire burning. It’s unreal; surreal. Your body goes into a different state of being. It’s fight or flight. There’s no time to stop and think, it’s all muscle memory from here on. And the masterpiece you’ve created on that plate is short lived as it goes out into the dining room; you know this. But another order has just come in through the ticket machine. That damn ticket machine! You wish it would shut up. It infiltrates your nightmares and the mere sound of it will haunt you forever.  The orders pile up one after another, sometimes they spit out so fast it snakes to the floor before you even complete a dish. It’s hell on earth. It’s like running a never ending marathon. You sweat. You cry. Will you get hurt? That’s a guarantee. You can leave, but like a bad relationship, you return. You can quit, but like a drug addiction, you crave it. It’s an itch; an urge. Because when it’s finally over; when you finally get that chance to breathe, the satisfaction is overwhelming.