Lessons, Hard Won
Well, I'll just say it: I came into the world kind of an entitled douchebag. I didn't mean to; life gave me such and I never gave it a thought. Things were somewhat easy, albeit incredibly melodramatic, when it came to money. We had it, even if there was an emotional price.
Years later, I'd have set myself "free" of all this, and moved to Las Vegas. When I tell people this, in Floyd, it's often met with a certain amount of "ugh, I'd never want to go there," BUT here's the thing: there were many lessons to be learned there, under the glow, near the hotels, motels, and faux everything. I can't express to anyone, ever, how much I got from that experience. Everyone I loved there, will always be in my heart. I can't ever go back to live, but my heart may well be from there.
There's equality: people, even from a very middle class or less than middle upbringing, can make a respectable living with only a work ethic and a high school diploma. You really can't fault a place like that.
As opposed to San Fran or other world-renowned tourist cities, we keep our tourists on one 16 mile stretch. They barely veer off it. This is hard to explain to people who want to start business ventures in "the valley," but is an ultimate truth. Without LV Blvd frontage, you don't exist. Give it up.
For the townies, many opportunities for incredible feasts at a reasonable rate off the boulevard. For the visitors, only the "whatever or whoever is crazy popular on tv right now" crap. They can have it. It sucks and is way overpriced. If you know what you're doing in my town, you can have the world's best everything, as long as you know where to go.
I worked on the strip for several years. I worked for some amazing people, some amazing chefs. There are three kinds of people in the culinary world, people who've made it big. For me, as a waitress, here's where they diverge: in a calamity, where they are there, and a shitstorm breaks out, some do a) meander through the crowd shaking hands and smoothing things over, taking pictures with guests and making a genuine appearance which always shakes the crowd into not worrying how long it takes to get their steak, b) get into the ranks, working to do anything, no matter how shitty the job-- they'll take out the trash, help on the line, anything they need to do to help, or c) they phone that shit in and start yelling at the Maitre D, perhaps firing him on the spot to make a point, and continue screaming the rest of the night so that nobody in the joint suspects he's happy with this turn of events evoked by his presence.
The A group are the best; they understand their momentary celebrity enough to seize this opportunity; perhaps they're sociopaths in love with their current stardom, but who the heck cares as long as they're making the environment workable?! The B group are also the best, they're the Bourdains perhaps, people who don't associate with any star, or stardom, who just want to throw hands in and work to help make their venture a success. The C group just basically suck at life, and everyone who likes people yelling is totally fucked and doomed. It's that way with tv you know? The people screaming their point: I'm curious, is this your show or isn't it? If this is your show, obviously there's editing, in which time somebody could maybe make you look like not such a dick. I really don't understand these people who scream through their own show. Like, seriously? It's YOUR SHOW, surely you're not currently competing for anyone for air time, right? You could just say stuff, and if people agree, they could think, "thumbs up, that's right." So why yell? If I had my own damn show, I wouldn't want to yell, because I'd figure that was very ineffective.
So, that basically brings us to today, where I yelled at a coworker. I think I was offended. I think I'd hit my last bit of rope. People talk about this idea that millenials can't handle the world, to take it over. I always poo-poo that idea as ridiculous. But now that I work under one, I feel the frequent need to roll my eyes and say things like, "More work! Less talk about work!" I just got old somewhere along the way. I like action; I need it to survive. The more of it, the better. The lesson of Las Vegas was, thrive in chaos, mudder farker! I'm just a combination of my own upbringing, my own experiences, my own flaws and my own successes (if there were any). The older you get, the shittier you get in these terms. Because it makes you tense about what matters sometimes. Real world action feels like the important thing. I believe in these kids, that they'll find the answer, that they're loving and accepting of all fellow humans. I need and want to believe in that. But they're also going to have to learn from some of us old people, that real world action really freakin' counts. Unless you're able to leave your entitlements and hardships at the gate and just put shoulder to wheel, nothing comes. You can do all the thinking you want, and it amounts to jack shit. You put a dreamer in charge, who understands how to channel lightning, THEN you have it. It's not "success" in the way that success means something different to different generations, it's "it," the thing you want from your venture. Put multiple generations together and you get closer to "it," because we all have to have a say; we all have valuable input, and at the end of this weekend, I feel great. The rain's pouring down, and I know that every trash can has been put under the awning. I know that the grass in this beautiful place will rise again, after so many tires rode over it the last four days. I may go outside tomorrow and hug trees and even the grass and tell them thank you for everything. I'm not even weird; I'm just on the forefront, a millenial born too soon, who knows that when you combine hard work, progressive thought and gratitude, you can't help but win. I can still be wrong; I'll accept that. I need the milennials; I need the baby boomers too. We all create this place every single day by loving it, taking care of it, and being part of it. It gives back to us in spades when we make sure this land is taken care of. I'll believe that forever. The ground loves us, the grass, the trees, all of it, when it acknowledges that we see it and take care of it. I'll never be able to fully explain that, but it's the truth. If you don't believe me, spend one hour picking trash up off a highway and then tell me how you feel the next day. That feeling isn't a lie. It's grace. It's a perfect, divine gift.
Years later, I'd have set myself "free" of all this, and moved to Las Vegas. When I tell people this, in Floyd, it's often met with a certain amount of "ugh, I'd never want to go there," BUT here's the thing: there were many lessons to be learned there, under the glow, near the hotels, motels, and faux everything. I can't express to anyone, ever, how much I got from that experience. Everyone I loved there, will always be in my heart. I can't ever go back to live, but my heart may well be from there.
There's equality: people, even from a very middle class or less than middle upbringing, can make a respectable living with only a work ethic and a high school diploma. You really can't fault a place like that.
As opposed to San Fran or other world-renowned tourist cities, we keep our tourists on one 16 mile stretch. They barely veer off it. This is hard to explain to people who want to start business ventures in "the valley," but is an ultimate truth. Without LV Blvd frontage, you don't exist. Give it up.
For the townies, many opportunities for incredible feasts at a reasonable rate off the boulevard. For the visitors, only the "whatever or whoever is crazy popular on tv right now" crap. They can have it. It sucks and is way overpriced. If you know what you're doing in my town, you can have the world's best everything, as long as you know where to go.
I worked on the strip for several years. I worked for some amazing people, some amazing chefs. There are three kinds of people in the culinary world, people who've made it big. For me, as a waitress, here's where they diverge: in a calamity, where they are there, and a shitstorm breaks out, some do a) meander through the crowd shaking hands and smoothing things over, taking pictures with guests and making a genuine appearance which always shakes the crowd into not worrying how long it takes to get their steak, b) get into the ranks, working to do anything, no matter how shitty the job-- they'll take out the trash, help on the line, anything they need to do to help, or c) they phone that shit in and start yelling at the Maitre D, perhaps firing him on the spot to make a point, and continue screaming the rest of the night so that nobody in the joint suspects he's happy with this turn of events evoked by his presence.
The A group are the best; they understand their momentary celebrity enough to seize this opportunity; perhaps they're sociopaths in love with their current stardom, but who the heck cares as long as they're making the environment workable?! The B group are also the best, they're the Bourdains perhaps, people who don't associate with any star, or stardom, who just want to throw hands in and work to help make their venture a success. The C group just basically suck at life, and everyone who likes people yelling is totally fucked and doomed. It's that way with tv you know? The people screaming their point: I'm curious, is this your show or isn't it? If this is your show, obviously there's editing, in which time somebody could maybe make you look like not such a dick. I really don't understand these people who scream through their own show. Like, seriously? It's YOUR SHOW, surely you're not currently competing for anyone for air time, right? You could just say stuff, and if people agree, they could think, "thumbs up, that's right." So why yell? If I had my own damn show, I wouldn't want to yell, because I'd figure that was very ineffective.
So, that basically brings us to today, where I yelled at a coworker. I think I was offended. I think I'd hit my last bit of rope. People talk about this idea that millenials can't handle the world, to take it over. I always poo-poo that idea as ridiculous. But now that I work under one, I feel the frequent need to roll my eyes and say things like, "More work! Less talk about work!" I just got old somewhere along the way. I like action; I need it to survive. The more of it, the better. The lesson of Las Vegas was, thrive in chaos, mudder farker! I'm just a combination of my own upbringing, my own experiences, my own flaws and my own successes (if there were any). The older you get, the shittier you get in these terms. Because it makes you tense about what matters sometimes. Real world action feels like the important thing. I believe in these kids, that they'll find the answer, that they're loving and accepting of all fellow humans. I need and want to believe in that. But they're also going to have to learn from some of us old people, that real world action really freakin' counts. Unless you're able to leave your entitlements and hardships at the gate and just put shoulder to wheel, nothing comes. You can do all the thinking you want, and it amounts to jack shit. You put a dreamer in charge, who understands how to channel lightning, THEN you have it. It's not "success" in the way that success means something different to different generations, it's "it," the thing you want from your venture. Put multiple generations together and you get closer to "it," because we all have to have a say; we all have valuable input, and at the end of this weekend, I feel great. The rain's pouring down, and I know that every trash can has been put under the awning. I know that the grass in this beautiful place will rise again, after so many tires rode over it the last four days. I may go outside tomorrow and hug trees and even the grass and tell them thank you for everything. I'm not even weird; I'm just on the forefront, a millenial born too soon, who knows that when you combine hard work, progressive thought and gratitude, you can't help but win. I can still be wrong; I'll accept that. I need the milennials; I need the baby boomers too. We all create this place every single day by loving it, taking care of it, and being part of it. It gives back to us in spades when we make sure this land is taken care of. I'll believe that forever. The ground loves us, the grass, the trees, all of it, when it acknowledges that we see it and take care of it. I'll never be able to fully explain that, but it's the truth. If you don't believe me, spend one hour picking trash up off a highway and then tell me how you feel the next day. That feeling isn't a lie. It's grace. It's a perfect, divine gift.
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