Here I am, at the Marlene and Nathan Addlestone Library. Blogging. You heard it here, my life has now reached a new ultimate low. I am not only a blogger (how nerdy), but I am a blogger without a computer. It's hard to say what exactly happened to my computer mostly because it has lived a long and difficult life. For a little over a year now, I've been having trouble even getting it to start and it finally kicked the proverbial bucket and sits on my desk staring at me with a haunting black screen that I know will never shine down upon me ever again. (My best eulogizing is reserved, of course, for my machine.)
I called my dad and told him I wanted a Mac. He told me he would loan me money to buy a computer, but I would be paying him back. Being in debt already, I think this is a terrible option. So I'm just going to "rough it" for two or three weeks until I can afford to buy myself a new machine on my own. It will not be a Mac.
Last night ended up being a bad idea, as most nights are turning out these days. I worked my first official shift behind the bar and it went pretty well, thankfully we were slow as molasses. Erin decides she wants to go to Tommy's and get drunk. I decide that I can't get drunk, but I will go for one beer.
Who am I kidding?
No. Really. One beer? I should know myself better than to think that is ever going to happen. As soon as we arrive we order a shot of Rumplemintz, a red headed slut, and drinks. This is not going to be a "one beer" night. Oddly enough, I think it was a two beer night. It was the shots that got me. Stupid shots. I think I need to find a new haunt, though. Getting drunk at Tommy's is probably one of the most unprofessional things in the world that I could do. I mean, aside from getting drunk at Purple Tree and having Seth carry me out of the bar after I've spilled a beer on my general manager and fallen on the floor...
Speaking of which! Seth was in town this weekend and we went out to dinner and then went to see Erin at Shuck's. The most amazing part of it was Erin looking at me last night and saying, "Seth sent me a text! How cute is that? I'm very excited." I looked up at her from over my Newcastle and asked, "Did it have to do with this weekend? It had an exclamation point and said something about how it was nice to see you?"
We both grabbed for our phones to verify and there it was. The same text. Sent to both of us. Who knows how many other people received it. Seth, if you are reading this, you are a mass-text-sending dirty rotten scoundrel. I'm pretty sure that Erin was heartbroken.
Yesterday I stood at the host stand. It was boring and slow and I was in a bad mood. To cheer myself up, I planned my marriage to Mark. So far I've decided that our party favors will be white m&m's and we won't even have to buy those ridiculously overpriced (and tacky!) personalized ones because the m and the m will stand for Mark and Moira. I've also decided that our first dance will be to "I Can Feel it Coming in the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins. Finally, somebody asked Mark how he felt about all of it. His response was a shrug, probably involved the word "cunt" but mostly was to the effect of, "What happened to you in your childhood that made you so annoying like this?"
I've done lots of thinking about that question. Because seriously, what is wrong with me that I insist on having people like me when they clearly do not? Tune in next week for the answer.
Monday, March 24, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
Party up!
Completely accidentally, I clicked the "Party Shuffle" button on my iTunes. After my computer hummed and paused and flickered on the brink of death for a few seconds (if you'd like to buy me a new one, leave your name and number after the beep)-viola! I can't remember the last time I made the same mistake, I know I've never intentionally clicked on that button because I'll make my own mixes for my parties, thankyouverymuch iTunes! Anyway, what resulted was one of the most diverse short playlists my computer has ever seen. I found it interesting, so I will share it with myself... on a blog... in the public forum. I suppose that means I'm sharing it with more than just myself?
17 songs, 1 hour, 68.2 MB
1) Gone- *NSync
2) House of the Rising Sun- The Animals
3) Accidentally in Love- Counting Crows
4) Wild World- Cat Stevens
5) Do You Remember- Jack Johnson
6) Pink Moon- Nick Drake
7) A Boy Named Sue- Johnny Cash
8) Eternal Flame- The Bangles
9) Death of an Interior Decorator- Death Cab for Cutie
10) Superman- Five for Fighting
11) Say It Right- Nelly Furtado
12) Rehab- Amy Winehouse
13) We Rule the School- Belle and Sebastian
14) Don't Stop Till You Get Enough- Michael Jackson
15) Lonely No More- Rob Thomas
16) More Adventurous- Rilo Kiley
17) Caress Me Down- Sublime
After looking through the vastly different songs, I realize there's a reason they're all in my iTunes, even if I don't listen to them very often. I don't think I would've been the same person I am now if the summer after my senior year of highschool wasn't spent listening solely to Belle and Sebastian and Death Cab as I drove between work at Target and Dress Barn. Honestly, how could I be the same person without that experience?
I don't think there's anything that sums this summer up better than drunkenly singing "Rehab" with Brody at Aromas. Yet the thing that kept me (reasonably) sane through it all was the entire More Adventurous cd along with various excerpts from Nick Drake (though I'll admit, it isn't exactly party fare, but I think that's why it kept me sane).
"Gone" by *NSync, I mean, c'mon... we all know I don't need to go down the highschool road except to note that "Accidentally in Love" reminds me of the absolute innocence and glee with which I (the 17 year old nanny) danced and sang at the top of my lungs along with Ethan (the 4 year old being nannied) every day for the summer of my Junior year. Which then reminds me of being the young child, watched by my sisters, laying on the couch singing "Eternal Flame" in our little house in Florida.
Music makes weird connections. Every time I listen to a song on this list, another comes up, I've in the time I've written this blog added "Ripchord" by Rilo Kiley and "Trouble" by Ray LaMontagne. And I could say so much about Ray that it would take four blogs just to summarize it.
Side note-Did you know that "House of the Rising Sun" is about a whorehouse?! I think I read that on AOL radio.com or something similar. I had no freaking idea. I always figured it was a drug den. In fact, I think that at some point I asked my parents and they assured me that yes, it was. Better to have your young child think a song is about drugs than prostitutes.
I could go on forever... I'll stop myself...
17 songs, 1 hour, 68.2 MB
1) Gone- *NSync
2) House of the Rising Sun- The Animals
3) Accidentally in Love- Counting Crows
4) Wild World- Cat Stevens
5) Do You Remember- Jack Johnson
6) Pink Moon- Nick Drake
7) A Boy Named Sue- Johnny Cash
8) Eternal Flame- The Bangles
9) Death of an Interior Decorator- Death Cab for Cutie
10) Superman- Five for Fighting
11) Say It Right- Nelly Furtado
12) Rehab- Amy Winehouse
13) We Rule the School- Belle and Sebastian
14) Don't Stop Till You Get Enough- Michael Jackson
15) Lonely No More- Rob Thomas
16) More Adventurous- Rilo Kiley
17) Caress Me Down- Sublime
After looking through the vastly different songs, I realize there's a reason they're all in my iTunes, even if I don't listen to them very often. I don't think I would've been the same person I am now if the summer after my senior year of highschool wasn't spent listening solely to Belle and Sebastian and Death Cab as I drove between work at Target and Dress Barn. Honestly, how could I be the same person without that experience?
I don't think there's anything that sums this summer up better than drunkenly singing "Rehab" with Brody at Aromas. Yet the thing that kept me (reasonably) sane through it all was the entire More Adventurous cd along with various excerpts from Nick Drake (though I'll admit, it isn't exactly party fare, but I think that's why it kept me sane).
"Gone" by *NSync, I mean, c'mon... we all know I don't need to go down the highschool road except to note that "Accidentally in Love" reminds me of the absolute innocence and glee with which I (the 17 year old nanny) danced and sang at the top of my lungs along with Ethan (the 4 year old being nannied) every day for the summer of my Junior year. Which then reminds me of being the young child, watched by my sisters, laying on the couch singing "Eternal Flame" in our little house in Florida.
Music makes weird connections. Every time I listen to a song on this list, another comes up, I've in the time I've written this blog added "Ripchord" by Rilo Kiley and "Trouble" by Ray LaMontagne. And I could say so much about Ray that it would take four blogs just to summarize it.
Side note-Did you know that "House of the Rising Sun" is about a whorehouse?! I think I read that on AOL radio.com or something similar. I had no freaking idea. I always figured it was a drug den. In fact, I think that at some point I asked my parents and they assured me that yes, it was. Better to have your young child think a song is about drugs than prostitutes.
I could go on forever... I'll stop myself...
Friday, March 14, 2008
And they're all made of ticky tacky...
You know, I've been thinking today about the nature of blogging. Generally, I avoid any sort of meta actions, with the general belief that if you're thinking too hard about doing it, you're not doing it. Now before you get all up in arms about how things must be considered for what they are to even know what they are, I will acknowledge that I believe in studying the things that I do. I love the craft of writing, the art of fiction, whatever you will call it. I love those silly little books with ridiculous writing exercises that are made just to further the craft. I love reading what other people have to write and seeing if I can apply any of that to my writing. Yadda yadda yadda.
What I do not like is sitting down and treating the things that I personally do as if they are worthy of being put on the slide of a microscope and dissected with minds that have better things to do. My own mind included. I do not take myself too seriously (I hope), I certainly don't take this blog very seriously, and in general, I like to let life come at me as it will.
But recently I've been thinking. What makes me even write this blog? And why does it seem like compared with the things I used to write, everything has gone into the shitter?
I think a lot of this has to do with my passion for writing and, quite frankly, my passion for romance. When I look at the blog I had toward the end of my highschool years, the writing was callow and sometimes extremely rude, but it was funny. My words had a punch, enough so that Caroline used to share it with her co-workers at the Governor's office. I was, in my own tiny little insignificant readership, an entertainment.
These days my blog has to do mostly with myself. But it's not even funny! Has all the humor left my life? I like to think not. I mean, honestly, if I can't laugh at myself, I'll have nobody else who's nearly as ridiculous at whom I might laugh. So. Why aren't I laughing?
I don't quite know. This part, I think has to do with my writing skill. I used to write daily, if not on the blog, on pieces of loose leaf paper tucked into an old maroon folder that I had previously used for math homework (what a long life that folder lived). These days I write far too little and perhaps this meager blog is too late. I need to have some passion for my writing, I suppose, but right now... it's not there. I thought the blog would foster it, but sometimes I just look at the blank screen and my mind gets even more skittish than it was before.
Perhaps, I need to get back to the basics (look at the cliches I write in these days! Oy va freaking voy!) and start writing again on paper. When I have that down, I'll be a better blogger? We'll see.
I think maybe it's much to do with the purpose I hold these days. In writing this blog, I have no real purpose. Back then I had a very clear one. Mostly, it was to make Max like me. Yes, I agree, this is a terrible reason to have a blog. But honestly, reading each others blogs was our sort of courtship (along with text messaging). This may have had a monumental effect on the eventual dissolution of our relationship. Text messaging is great, lengthy discourses on life and love and everything in between are great, but there's a certain point to which you need to learn something other than the insides of somebody's mind.
What somebody thinks is one thing, what they do is more often than not something different. Perhaps not entirely different, I think that as a whole current generations are obsessively intent on remaining "true" to themselves. But that doesn't mean that we don't all suffer lapses (suffer could be a harsh word here... it's not always wrong to go against our gut feeling). It also doesn't mean that knowing somebody's brain, picking apart their every thought, will make you compatible.
How do they walk? How do they talk? How do they treat waitresses? What do they wear? Do you like their friends? Do they like your friends? Do they have any weird eating habits that make them prone to outrageous bouts of halitosis? Will it bother them if your room isn't tidy? Do they clean the hair out of the drain when they are finished using the shower? What kind of deodorant do they use and does this make them smell good or is the scent too strong or does it still leave them with pit stains when they've got on a blue and white striped oxford?
Dear readership, be aware that these specifics aren't necessarily ones that Max and I struggled with. But there are specifics that can't be learned. And I thought, at that time, that learning all these specifics through the internet was possible. It's not. It's really not. I don't care if somebody says "I use right guard plus with the aloe strip in the middle that Bam Margera advertised a few years ago." You still don't know what that means!
Mark told me the other day that I am the most [expletive] annoying, nosy thing. I think this is a little inaccurate, but mostly a lot misunderstood. I think that in some way, lacking every detail in every relationship I've had in the past has made me ravenous for them now. I ask a million questions, I expect them to be answered. But mostly I look around. I notice your prescription or your pictures or your blanket or your toothpaste. It's not a good thing, but I don't think it's so bad, either.
"I like to be vague," Moe said as we were walking the other day. It came shortly after him saying, "Jesus Christ! Mark was right! You are annoying."
I don't mean to be annoying bloggership. Maybe I should stop writing about me and what I do and start writing about the things I observe. But then if I do that, would it be intrusive upon those whom I observe? Should I start writing fake names. Moe will become Gilles or Laurie will become Kristy (she would never be a Kristy)... I don't think that's quite life. But parts of me worry that writing beyond the trivialities of life will be too much for those whom I write about (here you can thank Bloggergate 2005. Anybody who's been reading my blog for these past three years, I laud you in ways I can't express over this computer). I suppose I could write observations about people I don't know, but then I'd be so limited. It's like reading a blog to know somebody, you don't know them unless you know them.
...This is going nowhere. But does anybody feel me?
What I do not like is sitting down and treating the things that I personally do as if they are worthy of being put on the slide of a microscope and dissected with minds that have better things to do. My own mind included. I do not take myself too seriously (I hope), I certainly don't take this blog very seriously, and in general, I like to let life come at me as it will.
But recently I've been thinking. What makes me even write this blog? And why does it seem like compared with the things I used to write, everything has gone into the shitter?
I think a lot of this has to do with my passion for writing and, quite frankly, my passion for romance. When I look at the blog I had toward the end of my highschool years, the writing was callow and sometimes extremely rude, but it was funny. My words had a punch, enough so that Caroline used to share it with her co-workers at the Governor's office. I was, in my own tiny little insignificant readership, an entertainment.
These days my blog has to do mostly with myself. But it's not even funny! Has all the humor left my life? I like to think not. I mean, honestly, if I can't laugh at myself, I'll have nobody else who's nearly as ridiculous at whom I might laugh. So. Why aren't I laughing?
I don't quite know. This part, I think has to do with my writing skill. I used to write daily, if not on the blog, on pieces of loose leaf paper tucked into an old maroon folder that I had previously used for math homework (what a long life that folder lived). These days I write far too little and perhaps this meager blog is too late. I need to have some passion for my writing, I suppose, but right now... it's not there. I thought the blog would foster it, but sometimes I just look at the blank screen and my mind gets even more skittish than it was before.
Perhaps, I need to get back to the basics (look at the cliches I write in these days! Oy va freaking voy!) and start writing again on paper. When I have that down, I'll be a better blogger? We'll see.
I think maybe it's much to do with the purpose I hold these days. In writing this blog, I have no real purpose. Back then I had a very clear one. Mostly, it was to make Max like me. Yes, I agree, this is a terrible reason to have a blog. But honestly, reading each others blogs was our sort of courtship (along with text messaging). This may have had a monumental effect on the eventual dissolution of our relationship. Text messaging is great, lengthy discourses on life and love and everything in between are great, but there's a certain point to which you need to learn something other than the insides of somebody's mind.
What somebody thinks is one thing, what they do is more often than not something different. Perhaps not entirely different, I think that as a whole current generations are obsessively intent on remaining "true" to themselves. But that doesn't mean that we don't all suffer lapses (suffer could be a harsh word here... it's not always wrong to go against our gut feeling). It also doesn't mean that knowing somebody's brain, picking apart their every thought, will make you compatible.
How do they walk? How do they talk? How do they treat waitresses? What do they wear? Do you like their friends? Do they like your friends? Do they have any weird eating habits that make them prone to outrageous bouts of halitosis? Will it bother them if your room isn't tidy? Do they clean the hair out of the drain when they are finished using the shower? What kind of deodorant do they use and does this make them smell good or is the scent too strong or does it still leave them with pit stains when they've got on a blue and white striped oxford?
Dear readership, be aware that these specifics aren't necessarily ones that Max and I struggled with. But there are specifics that can't be learned. And I thought, at that time, that learning all these specifics through the internet was possible. It's not. It's really not. I don't care if somebody says "I use right guard plus with the aloe strip in the middle that Bam Margera advertised a few years ago." You still don't know what that means!
Mark told me the other day that I am the most [expletive] annoying, nosy thing. I think this is a little inaccurate, but mostly a lot misunderstood. I think that in some way, lacking every detail in every relationship I've had in the past has made me ravenous for them now. I ask a million questions, I expect them to be answered. But mostly I look around. I notice your prescription or your pictures or your blanket or your toothpaste. It's not a good thing, but I don't think it's so bad, either.
"I like to be vague," Moe said as we were walking the other day. It came shortly after him saying, "Jesus Christ! Mark was right! You are annoying."
I don't mean to be annoying bloggership. Maybe I should stop writing about me and what I do and start writing about the things I observe. But then if I do that, would it be intrusive upon those whom I observe? Should I start writing fake names. Moe will become Gilles or Laurie will become Kristy (she would never be a Kristy)... I don't think that's quite life. But parts of me worry that writing beyond the trivialities of life will be too much for those whom I write about (here you can thank Bloggergate 2005. Anybody who's been reading my blog for these past three years, I laud you in ways I can't express over this computer). I suppose I could write observations about people I don't know, but then I'd be so limited. It's like reading a blog to know somebody, you don't know them unless you know them.
...This is going nowhere. But does anybody feel me?
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
I got to keep on moving.
According to the email I got from Delta Airlines tonight, it is ridiculously cheap to fly to Latin America right now.
VAMANOS, AMIGOS!
(Who's with me?)
From Atlanta, GA (ATL) to: | One-way Fare* | ||
|
| ||
Belize City, Belize, BZ (BZE) | $159 | ||
Bogota, Colombia, CO (BOG) | $289 | ||
Caracas, Venezuela, VE (CCS) | $369 | ||
Guatemala City, Guatemala, GT (GUA) | $139 | ||
Managua, Nicaragua, NI (MGA) | $139 | ||
Panama City, Panama, PA (PTY) | $139 | ||
Roatan, Honduras, HN (RTB) | $189 | ||
San Jose, Costa Rica, CR (SJO) | $139 | ||
San Pedro Sula, Honduras, HN (SAP) | $159 | ||
San Salvador, El Salvador, SV (SAL) | $159 | ||
VAMANOS, AMIGOS!
(Who's with me?)
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Suddenly Albi wasn't racist anymore!
I was reading Facebook bumper stickers to Laurie, you know the ones that girls post on their best friends' (or sorority sisters') walls, the ones that go something along the lines of "Well behaved women rarely make history" or "If you break her heart, I'll break your face!" and are written in pink and black with little hearts. As I read them, my voice was dripping with sarcasm and mockery. Laurie said that she was going to post one on my wall.
L: Good friends are like balloons...
...Once you let them go, you can never get them back.
M: Huh, I thought you were going to say "You have to blow them up."
I think this admission on my part might point to me not being a very good friend... A few minutes later we were talking about the time that I "tooted" freshmen year. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing I've ever had happen to me in my entire life, and I didn't react well. After reminiscing, La looks at me
"Good friends are like balloons, full of gas." (Where's my drumset?)
The weather here has been so beautiful that I've been enjoying my spring break, despite not going anywhere. The other day I stayed in and cleaned the apartment. Moe's comment when I told him, "Does it not smell any longer and I can finally come over?"
It doesn't smell. You're all welcome over at any point. BYOB unless you want my left over Budweiser Selects.
I've also watched "Law and Order: SVU" marathons (Dear Elliott, I love you.) and "Sex and the City" marathons and "Flight of the Conchords" marathons, too.
So far my "What I did over Spring Break" essay sounds vastly uninteresting. I've also enjoyed lunches with Moe and Erin, talked to Krystina for a good while on the phone, hung out with my sister, celebrated Scott's birthday, gone roller skating, drank, and worked. There's always work.
...Speaking of work. Erin today told me something that she thought would make me mad. A brand new server, but one that Richard and Brenda knew at Applebees was training behind the bar (no prior bar experience) because Richard thought she was cute.
I was not mad, I was dumbfounded. And hurt. So, on my walk to work, I thought about what I was going to say to the managers. By the time I got to work, I started teetering on the brink of tears while I was telling Laura how I felt. It went something along the lines of this, "Why was somebody else promoted above me? I've been here for two years. I don't complain when I am given host shifts, I try to help other servers out, I work my tuckus off for this place and I feel extremely undervalued. If I am not appreciated here, I think I need to put my two weeks in. Not being cute enough to be behind the bar isn't an excuse."
I think my reasoning, though probably too impassioned (it's my style to get worked up), was not flawed. I have been there longer than two weeks. I do work very hard. I have been asking to be put behind the bar. So Laura goes and finds Brenda and tells her. Brenda finds me, takes me into the walk-in and talks to me. She was displeased with me for getting in a tizzy and not talking to her about it. Which is understandable. It is also understandable that I didn't want to talk with her because I was so worked up at this point that I would start crying. I did start crying. I am the ultimate professional.
Anyway, Brenda tells me not to get worked up, to get the full story first, and if I wanted to come in on my own time and train behind the bar then I could do that. Later they go up to a manager meeting. Afterward, Frank comes up to me and takes me out to the butthole of the patio to "have a talk." I knew what it was about, but as we went out there, I shot Laura (server this time) a look and mouthed "I'm getting fired!" Anyway, the deal is that Frank is going to start me out as a "barback". I think it is their way of telling me that I'm not yet good enough to train as a full-on bartender (fair enough, I do not know many drinks) but that they are going to try to compromise so I do not feel like I am being left behind. I appreciate it a lot. I am not trying to conquer the restaurant industry, but to be at a place for two years and to see somebody else get a job you want when you are not offered... Nobody puts baby in a corner.
I read one of those "What does your birthday tell you" books the other day and my entire horoscope was about working. Capricorns are ambitious, Capricorns like to move ahead, etc. I worried that this leaves little room for anything else. Then I realize that I am somewhat flawed in relationships (a lot flawed in any relationship resembling a romance), socially awkward, and by no means athletic. Maybe work is my thing. And in that case, I sure hope I get into law school...
In other news, I downloaded India.Arie's version of Don Henley's "Heart of the Matter" because it is awesome. I always thought old Don's version was a little cheesy, and I ignore it when it comes on Shucks FM. But, I like India's version, so I went and read the lyrics. They're awesome. A little cheesy, but meaningful. One of those songs that you're embarrassed to admit to your friends that you find some sort of deeper message in, but you find a deeper message nonetheless. Good thing it was covered, any cheesy song is infinitely less cheesy when sung by a black chick (unless that chick is Dionne Warwick).
And one last bulletin from the world of Moira. I got my blackberry yesterday. I got the pearl instead of the curve because the curve reminds me of the oldschool "crackberry" that my dad used to have. The one that prompted Caroline to ask "Are you selling drugs, Dad?" Well, despite getting a little red cutesy blackberry, it's still a blackberry. I was expecting it to come with a hidden baggie of Pure Colombian Cocaine for me to cut with cornstarch and sell out to people. It didn't! So, world, even if you think that blackberries make people drug dealers by default, they do not. (For the record, Dave has never sold drugs.)
And I bid you goodnight, this blog has gone on entirely too long for somebody with nothing to say.
L: Good friends are like balloons...
...Once you let them go, you can never get them back.
M: Huh, I thought you were going to say "You have to blow them up."
I think this admission on my part might point to me not being a very good friend... A few minutes later we were talking about the time that I "tooted" freshmen year. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing I've ever had happen to me in my entire life, and I didn't react well. After reminiscing, La looks at me
"Good friends are like balloons, full of gas." (Where's my drumset?)
The weather here has been so beautiful that I've been enjoying my spring break, despite not going anywhere. The other day I stayed in and cleaned the apartment. Moe's comment when I told him, "Does it not smell any longer and I can finally come over?"
It doesn't smell. You're all welcome over at any point. BYOB unless you want my left over Budweiser Selects.
I've also watched "Law and Order: SVU" marathons (Dear Elliott, I love you.) and "Sex and the City" marathons and "Flight of the Conchords" marathons, too.
So far my "What I did over Spring Break" essay sounds vastly uninteresting. I've also enjoyed lunches with Moe and Erin, talked to Krystina for a good while on the phone, hung out with my sister, celebrated Scott's birthday, gone roller skating, drank, and worked. There's always work.
...Speaking of work. Erin today told me something that she thought would make me mad. A brand new server, but one that Richard and Brenda knew at Applebees was training behind the bar (no prior bar experience) because Richard thought she was cute.
I was not mad, I was dumbfounded. And hurt. So, on my walk to work, I thought about what I was going to say to the managers. By the time I got to work, I started teetering on the brink of tears while I was telling Laura how I felt. It went something along the lines of this, "Why was somebody else promoted above me? I've been here for two years. I don't complain when I am given host shifts, I try to help other servers out, I work my tuckus off for this place and I feel extremely undervalued. If I am not appreciated here, I think I need to put my two weeks in. Not being cute enough to be behind the bar isn't an excuse."
I think my reasoning, though probably too impassioned (it's my style to get worked up), was not flawed. I have been there longer than two weeks. I do work very hard. I have been asking to be put behind the bar. So Laura goes and finds Brenda and tells her. Brenda finds me, takes me into the walk-in and talks to me. She was displeased with me for getting in a tizzy and not talking to her about it. Which is understandable. It is also understandable that I didn't want to talk with her because I was so worked up at this point that I would start crying. I did start crying. I am the ultimate professional.
Anyway, Brenda tells me not to get worked up, to get the full story first, and if I wanted to come in on my own time and train behind the bar then I could do that. Later they go up to a manager meeting. Afterward, Frank comes up to me and takes me out to the butthole of the patio to "have a talk." I knew what it was about, but as we went out there, I shot Laura (server this time) a look and mouthed "I'm getting fired!" Anyway, the deal is that Frank is going to start me out as a "barback". I think it is their way of telling me that I'm not yet good enough to train as a full-on bartender (fair enough, I do not know many drinks) but that they are going to try to compromise so I do not feel like I am being left behind. I appreciate it a lot. I am not trying to conquer the restaurant industry, but to be at a place for two years and to see somebody else get a job you want when you are not offered... Nobody puts baby in a corner.
I read one of those "What does your birthday tell you" books the other day and my entire horoscope was about working. Capricorns are ambitious, Capricorns like to move ahead, etc. I worried that this leaves little room for anything else. Then I realize that I am somewhat flawed in relationships (a lot flawed in any relationship resembling a romance), socially awkward, and by no means athletic. Maybe work is my thing. And in that case, I sure hope I get into law school...
In other news, I downloaded India.Arie's version of Don Henley's "Heart of the Matter" because it is awesome. I always thought old Don's version was a little cheesy, and I ignore it when it comes on Shucks FM. But, I like India's version, so I went and read the lyrics. They're awesome. A little cheesy, but meaningful. One of those songs that you're embarrassed to admit to your friends that you find some sort of deeper message in, but you find a deeper message nonetheless. Good thing it was covered, any cheesy song is infinitely less cheesy when sung by a black chick (unless that chick is Dionne Warwick).
And one last bulletin from the world of Moira. I got my blackberry yesterday. I got the pearl instead of the curve because the curve reminds me of the oldschool "crackberry" that my dad used to have. The one that prompted Caroline to ask "Are you selling drugs, Dad?" Well, despite getting a little red cutesy blackberry, it's still a blackberry. I was expecting it to come with a hidden baggie of Pure Colombian Cocaine for me to cut with cornstarch and sell out to people. It didn't! So, world, even if you think that blackberries make people drug dealers by default, they do not. (For the record, Dave has never sold drugs.)
And I bid you goodnight, this blog has gone on entirely too long for somebody with nothing to say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
