Make Something of Yourself

I waitressed in high school and one day called across the line to my buddy in the kitchen. I said, "Murphy, what kind of school'd you have to go to to work here?"

He said with his voice cracking, "What... what kind of school?!" and then doubled over laughing.
With one hand on his knee he pulled the arm of the grill cook and said, "Shannon wants to know... ha!... to know what kind of school we had to go to... (whimper) to work here."

The grill cook spit a laugh through his lips and they both buckled under the weight of their laughter as I stood watching them in my uniform collared shirt. The question was especially poignant that day (apparently), since I'd failed to notice that our dishwasher, another great guy, wasn't at work as a result of being jailed for cocaine possession.

So later Murphy at the salad prep says, "Shannon, you've got potential. You gotta get out of here and make something of yourself."

Yeah I've been trying to do that.
It's good, you know, making your life your own.
A precious luxury in this society.

This Friday I woke up in a bad mood. I said I'm tired of trying to be somebody. I've tried very hard to be important. It hasn't gotten me more love. In fact, love seems to be oblivious to this entire facet of pursuit in my life.

Today we all sat around eating together and telling stories and playing with the kiddos. Just had the best time. And in everyone's eyes was a sparkle that warms my heart.

You know- getting to love such precious people-
loving the wind as it makes me cold and the birdies flying like a school of fish- it makes me feel a part of something so profoundly good in this world that I feel like I already am something.