New beginnings

My life is changing. A new job might not seem like that big a deal to most people, but when you've spent the majority of your adult life doing manual labor the transition to a white collar position can seem like walking through some kind of magical dream. The realization that life does not have to equal seemingly bottomless pain and stress is a very powerful thing when that's all you know. I will always carry the memory of pain. Every trial engraved in deep, slashing italics covering my hands, arms and face; The physical reflection of so many infinitesimal and infinitely massive hurts that have gone ignored and untreated in the name of just getting through one more week... one more night... one more service... one last 40 plate push until I can rest, and regain enough strength to do it for another week... another night...

I'm afraid of the "normal life" that I'm supposed to start tomorrow. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do when 'the boss' isn't yelling it in my ear. I've gotten used to gripping the handle of a hot saute pan with nothing but a towel and feeling my skin blister when the sweat has dampened it enough to conduct the raw heat. I'm afraid of losing the hard won callouses that hours and hours of knife work have constructed on my palms; I'm honestly more comfortable holding a knife than a pen. I take much more pride in the elegance of my knife strokes than in the legibility of my penmanship. I take pride in not only getting the job done faster than others, but with higher quality of technique and efficiency. I have a natural talent for getting things done, and I'm not entirely sure that it's something I can TEACH to others. I guess, as usual, all I can do is try...