It's Lonely At the Top

So I just got this new job about a week ago working at a ski mountain in North Van. It's completely this tourist-y place, and I think I've concluded that I'm not much for tourist-y places. Don't get me wrong, the job's all right, but the whole "tourist spot" thing just kind of creeps me out somehow.

Anyways, I'm up at the top of the mountain for this shift, literally all by myself. The odd janitor (odd as in random, not as in weird - I don't know him well enough to say that quite yet) is walking by, but everyone else seems to have left. And I still have an hour left on my shift. I did just step outside, though, and saw the most gorgeous view of the city I've ever seen. The whole thing is just layed out down there like thousands of glimmering jewels (seeing as it's dark out). The moon's out and reflected in the ocean, too. This also offers me a new perspective of the moon, seeing as everything else just looks tiny down there, but the moon is the same size, if not bigger, as when I see it in the city. It just has this permanence about it.

I'm sure I could draw some sort of metaphor about, I dunno, that being like how the problems in our life are and when you're able to gain a different perspective everything seems a lot smaller and less significant, and maybe even beautiful when you see it all come together. I could also draw some comparison to God's unfailing presence in our lives being like the moon or something, but obviously I'm not developing that quite enough, and it's pretty cliche to begin with. Anyway, if you like where that's headed, figure it out for yourself, cos I'm done. I gotta go count some stuff.