Sometimes in life there comes a moment when you realise you need to slow down, because frankly you have lost sense and direction of all that is you. The screaming upper middle-class bimbo wanting a pair of 37 1/2s in pink (which we don't sell) has become more important than writing; the perfect cocktail and customer service more in focus than the travel plans. My dreams have been replaced by worries of gaining plus 80% in a unit that doesn't really matter, my fighting power transferred onto the tutor who decided to give me a pass and a plagiarism accusation. And all the treadmill running in the world doesn't make up for the fact that the spinning has taken a strong hold of you and is shaking you around like a Tom Collins.
Then one morning, after a long day and night of rain and calmness and priority, you wake up and remember why you are where and who and what. It becomes clear to you that your studies are the backup plan in your dreams; your work a necessity for making rent. It is a peaceful moment, because suddenly you are back in place, feeling that essence of yourself reviving and filling you up to the brim with purpose and happiness again. And then all the angry, crazy customers, failed cocktails and table service, minus 60% marks and inexperienced tutors can bite themselves. They become tiny fragments of nothing in a much larger picture.
I'm back, baby.