I’ve passed the two-month mark. It dawned on me while I slithered blindfolded through the narrow escape hatch leading up to the forward lounge settee from my closet down in the foc’sle during a safety drill. With hands smothered in grease during my losing battle with the stubborn metal latch, I used blunt force to shove the heavy door aside and awkwardly lift myself up into the lounge, just to find the entire crew staring blankly at me. My graceful emergence into boat life continues.
So two months later – what’s changed? My lower back aches more than usual, my hands look weathered and wrinkled, and my head throbs from endless clanging of the bow thruster and the low-lying metal beams above my bunk. But as ridiculous as this may sound, I have started wearing these changes as a badge of honor.
And to be quite honest, I secretly enjoy physically and mentally trying circumstances. I will cloak that enjoyment in complaint, but I will enjoy it nevertheless. My Polish professor once joked that Poles always rise to the occasion in times of struggle and foreign conquest. It’s when they don’t have any battles to fight that they become relatively ineffective and bored with life. So for now, I will both equally resent and relish in feeling of chaos and blame that tendency on my Polish ancestral blood.
The one change I’m still resenting is the lack of writing inspiration. Now that each day feels the same, coming up with new entries is easier said than done. This entry alone took my entire afternoon break to write because I couldn’t think of anything new to say. So I will end this here while I go polish some silverware.
The silverware always needs polishing.