After the Queek

There is no point during the course of the night in which it gets too dark to read by the light of the sky. There is something awe inspiring, mystical about that fact. There are no divisions between days save for the biological divisions between sleep and wake. When I nap, be it for 3 hours or 6, I proceed to create a new day, the next day of an ongoing march of decrepit spirit. There are a few girls here I find vaguely pretty, but mostly they are the sort that move not with their hips but their whole bodies, stiff jerks right and left, eyes cast down. The verb is not walk, but more appropriately, lumber. My schedule is ludicrous: either 7-3 mornings or 4-12 nights, but mostly split shifts, 6:30 or 7-11 then again 6pm-10. Between these shifts (which are the predominant ones I work) there is never enough time to get a full nights rest, so life has crumbled into a perpetual cycles of naps. Everyone is tired, some look really really tired. Working out here, so romantic in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, with a breathtaking view of the most magnificent mountain I've ever seen, feels none to far removed from a cheerfully plastic, voluntary gulag. Work and sleep and work.
Still, the atmosphere is dreamlike and profound. Maybe that's because I just finished reading a 600 page novel by Haruki Murakami that can only be described as dreamlike and profound and it's put me in the mood. But the twilight, and the mystique of the mountain, the swarms of mosquitoes, the remoteness and yet...5 star presentism of this place. Frank Sinatra and scratchy old jazzy camp folk music like what you find in cartoons from the 40s and 50s plays perpetually on repeat and everywhere sizzles the cold sterility of a retirement home. Every new conversation begins with "Where are you from?" "What brought you to Alaska?" I've met many people but am yet to encounter anyone who I've cliqued with in a way that leads me to believe a true friendship could begin. I talk to everyone when I'm in the presence, forget them immediately when I'm not. And I don't mind in the least. My reading and writing takes up all my thoughts and I feel a vague sense of relief when no one else is around. That's probably because when they are around, most people seem to be preparing to get wasted, recovering from getting wasted, or bragging about how totally wasted they were at some unspeicified point in the recent past. The crazy groovemeisters I dreamt about living with and learning from seem to be completely absent and instead I've met a huge slew of seasonal workers who move from resort to resort all across America building resumes to continue doing exactly what they're doing here.
I hate being a busser and I wonder very truly why I specifically applied for that job. I can't help but think about my degree from an expensive college and the fact that each of these hours of my youth, especially the year of 22 are worth a whole lot more than $12-$13 an hour. Though that is more than others here are making. The point isn't the money. It's the exchange of hours in which I'm gaining no return save money. It's exhausting and there is little time for any meditation or I don't know, character building of any kind. I feel like a corporate whore and each hour on the clock is making me utterly miserable. On the other hand, the scenery is exquisite. I can barely imagine a more beautiful place and the benefits for employees are stunning. Tiny 8-person planes that land on the glaciers of Mt. McKinley and cost tourists $350 per person are free to us if there's room. Rafting tours, fishing tours, anything and everything is completely open to us...if only we had more time off of work. Also, if I quit, then I will cease to make money and return to spending it. Up here I fear I'll spend it terribly quickly and thus feel like I have no choice but to stick it out until I find another option that involves minimal living expenses and maximum wages. In those moments I look to my degree with a wistful eye, then return to the knowledge that I came here in search of something and since I am in fact already here, I might as well open my eyes. I don't know yet. Sometimes it seems, to just wait and see is the best option. I'm going to try to take advantage of the employee benefits asap, just in case I feel I need to bail next week. If that's the case, I will at least have captured a few "precious memories." (yes, memories are like fish)

All my love,
Theo