Ode to you, Wise Bar Man.

Sitting in a coffee shop.

Eating a chocolate croissant.

Sipping on knowledge.

Not going to get sucked in to the pressure cooker of Berkeley.

Not going to get suckered into being a doctor, a dentist, a lawyer, or a JIP* housewife.

Not going to care what other people think of me.

I'm sick of stressing over:

a) Adult shit.

b) What comes next. Who the hell knows what comes next?

c) What I need to do to prepare for "my future."

d) What my parents will think of my career choice.

e) If this chocolate croissant will make me look bad in that tiny dress tomorrow.

f) If I'm really making the right decision concerning the (mister).

g) Stuff way to far ahead to stress over (next year? ha!)

I went to a bar the other night, exhausted after working a long day at another bar, (Waddup Bear's Lair!). Out of the blue, amidst the crowd of overeager frat guys with way too much testosterone & cheap vodka running through their shallow veins, a common man a wee bit older than myself said something quite revelatory for me. He said, Natalie- show me your tits. No, just kidding.. What he really said was,

Natalie, you need to make your own decisions in life.

Holy shit, who would of thought that you could get sound advice at a college bar?! Not I... I proceeded to give this fellow my digits (he was a social worker/family/relationship counselor) thinking we could be friends, but realized how naive this was as soon as I got the goodnight and good morning text hours after I left. Not so wise in that department, Wise Bar Man.

Anyvayyyz, first step in my c'est la vie attitude: focus on what's straight head.

Tonight:

Finish this tedious Global Poverty reading.

Smile at the Italian to my left.

Celebrate a three day work week.

Ciao beezballs!

---

JIP*- Jewish Iranian Princess.