It's often frightened me on some deeper level to go and wait on people. People bring their egos, their collection of aggregate I's, in and throw them down noisily on the bar like a set of keys at the end of the day, announcing them all. Even the kind people. This is why people are so horribly confused when they come in, even if they might think they know what they want, all the inner arrogant voices piping their desires. I go off to work, the light brigade. "Into the valley of death, rode the six hundred." We have a few specials from the chef tonight.

My job is the find, to liberate in some way, the essence of a person, to call out the true part of themselves out of that labyrinth.

But of course my efforts must be flawed as I am providing them with what their egos are calling for in fits of pleasure and comfort seeking. And the focus on egos tends to take me down with them, as I am no stronger than they.

Beethoven's Ninth works for taking us through our egos, personified by the themes of the early movements, then finally, after the low strings somberly weigh them out for what they are one after the other, liberating that essence with the simple folkish Ode To Joy, then the quiet processional hopeful march forward, the battle never done.

Many people, though, are very sweet, their egos tame, and it gives one faith in the educational system and larger things native to humanity. I can't complain.