So here's to the sailor in the middle of a dark sea... Who knows exactly where he's sailing to and what he wants when he gets there, but can't achieve either just yet, for he must stick out the last few nights away at sea, just him and the infinite stars and space above him. Just let nature run it's course. Yes, he may have faced the choppiest of all waters and roughest of all storms, but he's managed to feebely pull through. As if amoungst all the hysteria, the doubting, failures, he hasn't forgotten about what lies ahead for him. For a time he significantly doubted everything the future held, especially during the choppiest of the seas, and came to believe that he would never make it out of the stormy waters. But after a great deal of wrestling with his demons and riding out the roughest monsoons, has returned to a new state of hope, and with that new hope will get through the rest of his nights at sea, and will live out the future that contains his hopes, lovers, dreams, success, and friendships.
He will prevail.

That's how I feel right now in a nut-shell. As cheesy and steriotypical as that fable, short story, (call it whatever)is.

A Typical Night At Work...

The endless noise of clanging dishes and hurried footsteps float away like a dream into the stratosphere. I walk with great stride as I take in the fresh winter air while simultaneously staring at the endless stars above me. With each step I am further and further away from it all…
One of my superiors has sent me next door to retrieve more to-go containers for awaiting customers, but at this moment in time, that is the last thing on my mind. For the brief few minutes that I have away from the immense stress, I make a point to myself to spend at least half of it staring at the night sky, this beautiful night sky, full of vast amounts of peace and nothing, which helps me forget about the tension that has consumed me like bees on honey throughout my shift.
I am wholly content. Nothing can freak me out now. There is no stress. There is no monotony. I have reached the ultimate “On the Job Nirvana.” I have set myself free…
JOHN!!! What are ya doin??!?!? We have people waiting for their dinners so they can leave, which gives us more tables for customers waiting to be seated!!!
Shit.
I hate when this happens. My brief moment of “job nirvana” is ripped to shreds. I am immediately hurled back into the whirlwind of working at a restaurant, and constantly being at the whim of other people’s wants and needs, and I hate it.
Before I can even open my mouth, my co-worker, Chris, is already inside frantically searching for the aluminum to-go containers that I was sent to find.
As I begin to look back up my view is blocked by a much stressed out co-worker.
Come on, I already took care of it. Just go back on the floor and bus, we just had three tables of six come in.
Okay.
Since all the other three busers are busy, you need to clean and set those three tables as fast as humanly possible. I need you to work harder than you have ever worked, John.
I say okay, but inside I am raging with fury. I am riding the emotional rollercoaster that I ride every busy night I work. So I do what I always do when I’m angry on the job. I work it off.
As I rush myself directly back into the kitchen, the sounds of slamming dishes and hurried, stressed out voices pour into me, almost too quickly, for before I can even take a deep breath I am instantly thrown back into the hurricane. The noise consumes me entirely as if it is alive and hungry for innocent prey. Man, do I love my job.
For the next five to ten minutes, I am a complete savage of my craft. Tables are washed like they are on an assemble line, and end up so sparkling clean that Mr. Clean himself would have to retire, and let me continue in his reign of power. I am a master of my job. As the customers sit down, I dash over to their tables, and set them in a matter of seconds. No one can stop me now. I am truly a working machine at this point. I live off the stress and the turmoil. Nothing can stop me as I walk as fast as humans can walk, straight into Tony, the owner of the whole joint. Boy, do I hate it when I get caught up in the moment. It was a good thing that I ran into him where I did, because all four soup cups and plates I was carrying have fallen, and lay shattered all across the kitchen floor.
Everything has happened so fast, I don’t know what to look at first; my extreme clumsiness, or my extreme clumsiness. I decide to look at my shattered plates, which are nothing but an indicator that I’m not superman, and then I look up at Tony, who is looking right down at me. Neither forecast looks too good. I say the first thing that comes to mind.
Shit, I’m really sorry, Tony. I wasn’t looking up at all
Yeah, I can see that. You’ve GOT to keep your head up, kid.
I know.
You know? Then why did you do it?
I don’t know.
Okay, just clean up the mess and get back to work.
Okay.
He walks away, I grab the nearest broom and bin that I can grab, and sweep away my failures spawned from my unavoidable bad luck, and thrown them into the garbage bin. When I look up, I am greeted by one of the kitchen workers, Cholo. Cholo is a good man, and we like to give each other a lot of grief. Being one of the nicest hard working people I have ever met, he is also one the funniest looking. With his left eye sagging at least a few inches lower than his right, he looks like a retired boxer, who happens to speak very broken English.
Hm?????
I know, Cholo, I fucked up big time.
He shakes his head jokingly in disgust, and quickly motions to the head Chef. He speaks both Spanish and English very well, so we often talk about life as it happens to both of us, and we also give each other a lot of grief, all in good fun of course.
John!!! What happened here???
I don’t know, Chef. I guess I blacked out.
Blacked out??? Johnny, you’re smarter than that! I know you!
I know, I know, it won’t happen again; I’ll put money that it won’t.
That’ll be the day, Johnny!
I laugh to myself as I walk back into the floor of the restaurant, and get back to working.
I am immediately flagged down by what one would call your “stereotypical pain in-the-you- know- what customer”.
Young man? My plate here is dirty. You see that speck? Yes, that one. Absolutely filthy. Can you get me an acceptable looking one? Oh yes, one more thing. My glass has water stains all over its exterior and interior. There is no way I can drink out of this.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Just as I’m about to walk away with only giving him a smile and a nod, he feels the need to give me a full out report on what he just told me, as if I’ll forget in my two second trip back to the busers’ station.
So if you could just get me a new glass and an acceptable looking plate, that’d be great.
Yeah, sure no problem, I know what you mean about those water stains, that’s one of my worst pet peeves.
God, I kill myself when I say stuff like that. If only he knew what I really thought about his stupid water stains and ‘filthy’ plates.
I walk away to somewhere out of the sight of this obsessive compulsive nut, and simply swipe the dried-out green herb off of the plate, and Wa-la! Good as new. As soon as I get a new glass without these so called “water stains”, I give the man exactly what he wanted: a cup completely liberated of water stains, and a clean plate. Little does this guy know I actually gave him the same plate back.
I am the ultimate B-S artist.
He thanks me in a snobbish tone, and I walk away…
…Back into the heavenly white light of the coveted kitchen, the nucleus of the whole restaurant. The beloved kitchen that holds everybody and everything together. My encounter with the snobby customer has left me far behind in my respectful duties as a bus-boy, and I’ve turned myself into the Tasmanian Devil to catch up.
My head is barely above water.
Tables need bread. Seven tables to be exact. We were out, but just got a whole batch, ready for action. Tasmanian Devil takes over my entire mind and body. I’m soaring in and out, out and in. I have just one more table to give bread to, and then I’ll be officially caught up. I begin to slice through the bread in a very fast motion.
My head is well above water, I’m practically walking on it.
Down to cutting the last piece of bread. Almost don—THITTTTTTCKSLICE!
OH MAN, THAT DOSENT LOOK TOO GOOD, JOHN.
I’m drowning.
What the hell did I do?? I feel no pain, just confusion. I quickly look down to discover a fairly large chunk of my thumb lying in a pool of red, thick blood. My blood. My own blood. Oh great.
Thank god for my compassionate co-busers. One can always rely on them in times of need, especially when a fellow comrade has fallen in battle.
Dude, move away, your bleeding everywhere!!
Alright, give me a break guys, it looks like I just cut a good part of my thumb off here.
Yeah, we can see that, and it’s really gross, just go bleed somewhere else away from the bread.
They had a good point, though. I WAS bleeding all over, and it was creating a bloody mess.
I quickly move to a nearby sink, leaving a trail of blood in my path. This isn’t good; I’m never good around my own. I’m going to pass out soon. I can’t look at that red, thick substance that is flowing out of me. Water on wounds is known to help. I’ll do that…. OW NO SHIT THAT REALLY HURTS…
Okay, new plan; just wrap it up, yeah good idea.
As I reach with my good hand for a paper towel, I look down and see Cholo staring at me. He starts to mutter something at me in slurred Spanish/English, and motions to the floor, which is a pool of blood with a chunk of thumb. It’s a horrible sight, and I’ve had enough. I stumble past him and make my way for the door leading outside. My vision becomes more and more clouded with each step I feebly make. Noises become muffled and nothing makes sense. Beads of sweat shroud my wincing face. Except for the door, all I see is white. Just pale, porcelain white. Now all I see is the door knob. Just the knob. My legs are jelly. Nothing can support me. Someone stops me. Why are they stopping me?? I’m trying to get the hell out fast, to fresh air, to the tranquility and endless expanse of the night, away from this. Before I can say a word, I fall into the arms of this unknown person.
As I re-gain consciousness, the noise of the kitchen slowly flows back into me, back through my bloodstream, to my brain, to all of my senses. I open my eyes, and the whiteness transfigures back into normal color, and the muffled noise becomes normal noise. I look around me, and notice that John, Cholo, and Tony are sitting across from me. John speaks.
We lost you there for a few minutes, kid.
Yeah, sorry about that, I was in such a hurry to cut that bread. Next thing I knew, I was staring at my own blood and dead skin. I’m no man for blood. Tony speaks.
I can see that. You’ve GOT to watch what you’re doin’, kid.
I know.
He smiles, shakes his head, and speaks.
I know you know kid. Just be a bit more careful next time.
I won’t let you down.
He laughs, pats me on the shoulder, and walks away. He is followed by John and Cholo. I don’t get up, just stare up at the beautiful night sky, and reflect the night’s events.
I have reached the ultimate “job nirvana.”

Nice

So it's official. I'm legally an adult now. The big 1 8. Boo YA! It feels pretty awsome. Last night was the Senior Party, and that was a total blast. It consisted of endless jousting, turbulent moon jumps, and endless flows of caffene and sugar. And No sleep, and enormous amounts of laughter, the kind that makes you hurt. It was one of the best times of my life, and I'll never forget the moments. Some main highlights of the night were at midnight, when I turned 18, and my good pals K-Hoff and C-Rice sang me happy birthday over the open mic. Thanks guys, you are the best. Tattoos. I got two to be exact, one of a vicious looking skullon my arm, and a dragon on my adam's apple. I spent the majority of the party hanging out with MattNicoCarolynDavidKevinConnorAnneDelbertEdKelsey soo many people so much time it was the funnest thing I've experienced in a long time.

Then theres after the party. Fully captivated by my new-found legal freedom, I was anxious to do something that only 18 year old kids could do. So I did what any person in my shoes would do. I bought some victory cigars. Nico and I were the only ones to smoke them, because Matt wanted no part of it. We went to Meyers at 3 AM to get them, along with Matt & Delbert making fun of me and Nico for even buying the Peach flavored Tabacco. It wasn't untill much later, however, that the cigars were smoked. We went to stake & Shake first, and it was fun times, good reflective talks about the night, and the events we had carried out, and lots and lots of good laughs.
Pretty much after Steak &Shake Nico and I smoke out Victory Cigars, and consequently ended up reeking of peach flavored tabacco for the majority of the night. It was a very fun night overall, and I'll never forget any of it.

Here is another amazing song, it's by Dylan this time, beatiful lyrics.

Well, if you're travelin' in the north country fair,
Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline,
Remember me to one who lives there.
She once was a true love of mine.

Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm,
When the rivers freeze and summer ends,
Please see if she's wearing a coat so warm,
To keep her from the howlin' winds.

Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
If it rolls and flows all down her breast.
Please see for me if her hair hangs long,
That's the way I remember her best.

I'm a-wonderin' if she remembers me at all.
Many times I've often prayed
In the darkness of my night,
In the brightness of my day.

Beatles

This song is one of my favorite songs as of now, and the lyrics are amazing.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Here She Comes Now

So I recently decided that instead of living in Chicago after College, I would really like to live In either New York City or Brooklyn. I've always wanted to see both cities, and I've always felt a sense of fondness for them. Living in Brooklyn would be sweet as hell, to simply put it. I could buy a "Stoop Apartment, get a job for some magazines and newspapers, jog every morning while simotaniously viewing the serene New York City Skyline. It would be the life. But, I'm only 17, my jeans are too short, I'm a busboy, not a reporter, and a struggling musician who everytime picks up his guitar isn't satisfied. I have the ambition of a lifetime, but dont exactly know how to use it. I think I'll just take life one step at a time for now... College first at NMU, where, by the way, I've decided is where I'm going. I really like the school, it's desolate, and very nature-oriented. It's a good fit for me, and I'll be rooming with a good friend of mine from Cross Country. After college, probobly internships and maybe grad school. But you know what??? Who gives a shit, right now is now, I need to live life by the moment, I suppose I havn't been very happy lately, and that is a main factor to that.

All I know is that on saturday I'm taking some photos somewhere in the area around here and that should be fun... I guess I'll take life from there.

IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH MR. BERRY? I CHANGED THE BACKGROUND COLOR AND SUCH... and it looks REALLY bad if it's repeated, so I only had it hang off to the left, okay? Tell me if you wanna change something...
-Matthias The Great