Independence Day!

I quit my job on Independence Day. It was quite the declaration.

Actually, I didn't quit, but I gave them notice that this Sunday will be my last day. The following day, however, Timmy did quit and he burned his uniform then returned it to our manager in a plastic bag. A little groovier than my polite "it's time for me to move on and pursue my dreams" speech.

So why did I quit? First, I hate my job here. Though the money is good enough, and I have no guarantees that I'll be able to find anything better around here, I've decided that life is far too short to spend doing something you despise because "the money's not bad...nor are the benefits." I realized how stifled and horrible I feel in this corporate atmosphere where precious memories are manufactured and there is a hierarchy that requires better service the richer the customer. There is something generally sleazy about the whole situation out here that I feel creeping deeper and deeper into my bones and it's time to get out, even if I shoot myself in the foot and am unable to make a dime hereafter.

I came to Alaska for the experience of the state, for the locals and the scenery, for the attitude that comes with choosing to live in a strange place like this. I'm tired of the thousands of conversation with Southerners about how nice their cruise was and how they always wanted to see Alaska and are finally getting their chance before they die. I'm tired of the "where are you from?" conversation that comes with the expectation that it's certainly not here. Otherwise it is the rich and unpleasant, or the incredibly supportive who want to know all about my degree and Ireland and everything, but even they are wearing me out now. It's a matter of that conversation again and again and really I don't want to talk, I want to work and learn a new skill and at the moment I'm doing a horrible mindless job full of pretensions with no space to learn and only mistakes to be made. There is no good job to be done, only a bad job...that is, you either get your job done or you drop the ball, there's no concept of a stellar performance. If, somehow you do manage a stellar performance, you might be rewarded with the recognition that comes in the form of a new pin to put on your shirt, a symbol of superior customer service and elevated character...though I decided if I ever won one I would refuse to wear it out of socialist tendencies.

The thing that makes me the saddest about quitting though, is how many people wistfully responded to my announcement by saying, I wish I had the courage to do that. I'm writing this not to brag of my courage but to illustrate what it's like here. So many people hate their jobs, but they are scared they can't get another one. This one is safe and easy. As long as you keep your head down and show up on time, you've got room and board, steady paychecks, good enough tips, and transportation to a lot of places on your day off. But there's something so summer campy, so insular cultish about the whole operation that so many so desperately want to leave, but are terrified of the implications of that. I know one girl who would leave bu if she did, wouldn't have enough money to fly home and so would be stranded in Alaska...maybe even for the winter!

But I'm not one of them. My dad told me to give it a month and come Sunday, so does a month. I've paid for my airfare and a little extra and now it's time to go out and let this adventure really begin. I'm writing a travel blog here but all I have to report is that I'm rotting away bussing tables at a corporate resort. Well, starting next week, I have no fucking idea what is in store for me. Starting next week, I'm giving myself up to whatever fortune brings, whatever jobs, whatever people, whatever element of the real Alaska I run into and however it happens to choose to treat me.
Right now, all signs are pointing to Homer, in the south. A town of 5,000 it's known not only as one of the centers of the state's fishing industry, but it's also apparently a town of hippies, artists, and scientists. I've heard it's gorgeous and (like usual) as soon as I set my mind on it, I opened Finnegans Wake and within a page found a reference to the poet Homer (whom I assume the town is named after).
I will head to Homer in search of a fishing job even though they are having a 20% yield for the season and fishing in general is at an all time record low. Even though I'm far too late in the season and I know nothing about fishing whatsoever, I will give it a try. I've been told that the way things operate around here is not submitting an application and waiting to be called back, but meeting some fly brother in a bar, getting drunk, then declaring your need for a job. In the morning he wakes up hung over and vaguely recalls having hired some random guy the night before. There's also apparently a job placement office in Homer I can stop by if need be.

I also have a few back-up options in Anchorage as arranged by my friend Michele who I couchsurfed with when I arrive originally. One option is selling fruit at a farmer's market which I would rather do 1000 times to bussing at this bullshit place.
Anyway, these are the ideas as they are taking shape. Hopefully things will turn out for the best. Today I electronically submitted my first payment on my student loans.

All my love,
Theo