Corners

 

 

 

I’m caty-cornered at Trappeze right now in one of those amazing high wooden booths that give your table it’s own atmosphere. I love to be caty-cornered. It’s my favorite space of life, and I am alone.

Really 100% apart from anyone for the first time in maybe four months. I went from living with a team of eight-amazing people who take care of 100 high school kids on the Jersey shore to living in the Inglewood home of eight ladies. I share a Pier-1 rot-iron spiraled bed with Jesssica, and every other waking moment I spend with a wonderful man if I am not working a double shift as a bartender/waitress five nights out of the week. Sidenote: the number one drink I serve as a bartender is a kid-milk, so that should show you the type of establishment in which I “bar-tend.”

I laugh with people, I serve people, I clean up after people’s food, I sometimes eat fries off stranger’s plates, I shop with people, I even on occasion have bathed while people have shared my bathroom. For an extrovert, this is not usually ever a problem. I draw my energy from people, knowing about them, their hurts, their fears and their souls inconsistencies.  I love learning people’s habits, what makes them awkward, their strongest desires that make them cry in parking lots…

But, surprisingly even extrovert’s can hit a wall. The Lord will slowly teach me the beauty of boundaries, the beauty of schedule and the awe and wonder of this corner booth, where I am alone and free and independent. Also, I am thoroughly enjoying having a computer at my fingertips again that I can type about as quick as my thoughts.

He showed me this beauty of a caty-cornered aloneness today at work when I had zero-desire to speak to anyone, make them laugh or observe them. I didn’t even have a desire to judge-people, I was forced into an internal-reeling in an external environment, which left me teary-eyed and grumpy. Maybe it was spiritual, but really it just felt like a wall, a wall I must respect. Now, I am telling myself that it would be best if I would cut out only an hour and a half every morning to come to this place and write.

Goodness gracious, I love to externally process through writing, of all the things I do with people the one and only thing I must do alone is write. I cannot write in front of people even if I try… and I did try on Sunday night at the John French concert.  Judge, who I am able to be vulnerable with a great majority of the time, was peering over my shoulder as I was composing a piece on a Vietnam vet we met, and I got super awkward and could not continue. The Lord has recently showed Jessica that
I love our story, I love writing our story alone. dancing is his and her thing, and I think writing is me and God’s thing. It’s our story.

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