My mood’s been reflecting the weather lately. . . Dark and dreary, but warm, like it can’t decide to be spring and cheerful or wintery and rainy for a bit longer. One minute I feel inspired and revved up and ready to get to work and the next I feel sluggish and simply ready to sit down for a good long while and just do. . . well, nothing, really.
I really bear down on myself heavily when my momentum starts to lag, and yes, I recognize the way I’m chasing my own tail when I do this. It’s just part of who I am. But also part of the whole equation is my job. I work at a coffee shop, and while it isn’t as soul-sucking as some jobs can be, it still leaves me frequently drained. There’s something about constantly trying to meet other peoples’ needs for seven hours straight that wears on me in subtle ways. I especially think that customer service jobs can be taxing to sensitive folks, you know, the ones who are easily affected by the way others feel, who have a thicker and wider empathetic streak than most. It’s taxing to be exposed to so many different people’s issues and needs and wants; you walk a fine line between feeling like a barista and a psychologist/friend to these people, your customers. To someone who’s never worked in customer service this may sound melo-dramatic, but trust me, there is truth in my words.
In an effort today to get out of my head and away from my overly critical thoughts, I decided to take a walk through my south Berkeley neighborhood. I had to go to the post office anyways, the filling of two needs at once made my muti-tasking self happy.
One of the things I love love love about living here (as opposed to the well-coiffed suburbs where I grew up) is the abundance of overgrown flowers. . .
And while my neighborhood isn’t exactly the nicest in all ways, it’s charm has grown on me considerably since moving here a year and a half ago.