Waiting on Music

The elderly residents began shifting in their chairs. The receptionist was running around anxiously, and one of my co-workers were ordered to make phone calls to their friends who were a part of the high school choir, which was by now fifteen minutes late for their caroling performance at the retirement center. I stood with the rest of the servers, watching the scene curiously, bemused at the crowd of people without their entertainment.

I then heard the receptionist's strong but worried voice to my right. "Do you play piano?" she asked each server one by one. All shook their heads no, but when she came to me, I could not stop myself from smirking like an idiot and staring at the ground. "She plays piano!" another server exclaimed. I looked the receptionist in the eyes - she was desperate. "Okay," I sighed. "Is it fine if I just improvise?"

"Yes!" She pushed me towards the piano. "Anything!"

I sat down at the piano, oblivious to stage fright and happy for a break from standing up. I positioned my fingers in the key of D and played, only worrying of repetition and playing in the wrong key - neither of which I did. I grinned at the audience as my fingers danced on the keys, almost without thought or effort. I grinned even more as it dawned on me that no one else would know if I was worshipping God with my playing - at work - and I did so, to my great amusement.

Finally I decided that I was done, so I let my fingers slowly resolve in a D chord and got up. I bowed to the applause and walked briskly down the hall to my waiting turkey sandwich, hearing the receptionist's voice fading away - "and that was our newest server, Elisabeth..."

Mmm. I savored the first bite of my sandwich and chewed slowly as my coworkers congratulated me on how well I had played. I opened my mouth to take another bite of my sandwich, but paused as the door opened and a server walked in. "They want you again.""What? All I did was play a couple of random chords!"
"Well, it sounded really good, and they want you again.""Are you sure? Do I have to?"

"Yes."

I covered up my beloved and waiting sandwich. "Goodbye" I half-whispered, and went down the hall again.

I Will Remain Different

I started a job today. It's a job that several of my friends have had, and I haven't really heard rave reviews about it. I think I'm going to like it though.

To begin with, I really do like elderly people. I don't enjoy it when they ram into my car, but I am happy that God has placed me in a retirement community and will make the best of what I have here, while I am here. (It continually amazes me that it might only be two short years until I leave home...be it a higher degree at a different college, or whatever else.)

So I am working as a server in a dining room at a retirement center that I think is somewhat "high end." Tonight was my first night on the job. Tonight's co-workers (the younger ones) continually looked at me thinking "newbie - you'll find out it isn't so great." That was a challenge; is it possible to enjoy something without putting it on your face? Should I even try?

I absolutely loved meeting the 99-year-old lady whom I share a name with. And she loved me too. I enjoyed the nice atmosphere of the elderly people!

So what shall I do? I shall be different. I shall be myself. I shall not worry about what my younger coworkers think of me. If I appear giddy and novice, fine. Be it that way. God would have me to enjoy these people, and the job, and I do. It's okay to be different, though it is hard to have a good attitude about something when everyone else does it grudgingly.

I am new. A beginner. And I am sure there will be annoying parts of the job. (Such as back pain...and lack of time to do homework.) But hey, life is good, God is good, and I am exhausted.

The Hero: Late but Appreciated

"#%@!! I said %^$#!!!"

Three months of that.

He was loud. He was annoying. I knew more about his life than I ever wished to know.

He was proud of smoking pot. He hated Running Start students. And tried to hit on one of my best friends.

Three months of that.

It was the last day of school. Only one more day of riding the bus with loud [Name not mentioned on the internet]; only one more day of enduring such rowdy and disgusting talk so early in the morning. And only one more day of my friend and I looking at each other with raised eyebrows after hearing about the lost driver's license, or being a "favorite" with the bus drivers.

On the last day, the hero spoke:

"Hey you, there's women on this bus! Keep the profanity down! There are women on this bus!"

A marine. Sitting peacefully with his wife, one second of firmness and southern accent as he turned around and confronted the uncouth man.

One moment of that.

It made up for the three months.

It made up for the four hours of sleep I had gotten the night before.

It made up for the countless days of getting up at four am.

I felt quite blessed that day - not just by the wonderful marine, but also by a successful day of presentations and other major things at school.

What a climax to end the first quarter of college with.

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I absolutely have almost no time to post on my blog anymore. And it's hard to even spin out emails. I'm a wee bit more active on my Facebook, it is easier to keep up with people there. Yet I shall try to write another post or two in the next two short weeks of my Christmas break, to prove my existence. Look at my art website on January 2nd - 4th, most if not all of it shall be then redesigned, navigatable, professional, and updated.