Something just didn't feel right tonight.
I'm used to working insane hours on the weekend. putting in 50 hours in 3 days is routine for me, and i've stopped my bitching about it. what's the use? so i take it, take it all... the rude customers who think they deserve not only a meal for their hard-earned (yeah right) buck, but think a dollar can get me to kiss their ass for an hour or so, as they sit there and grin in their blue and white collars, downing a glass of our most expensive merlot, or cabarnet, and eating their club sandwiches or caesar salads, only to flag me down every thirty seconds to complain about how the lettuce isn't crisp enough, or the whatever is not hot enough, or heaven forbid, there is a water spot on their fork. even standing above them at their table, they find a way to look down on me. i'm nothing. i make $2.83 an hour to put up with their shit-eating grins, their lousy tips, and their arrogance. i get paid to be everyone's bitch.
but i adore my job. waiting on 10 white-collar pressed shirt stiff-tied Joe Shmoe gets easily made up for by the little old man who comes in by his lonesome, sits at a table by the window, orders a real dinner that he will eat alone while he humors me with tales of how beautiful and wonderful his late wife was... how beautiful the weather is, and the way he listens intently while i tell him about what my major is in college. and even though sometimes when he gets the faraway look in his eyes, he puts me at peace. and when he leaves me a crisp five-dollar bill under his neatly folded napkin, i dont even want to take it.
1:45 a.m.
the bar is closing, and the restaurant too. mixed emotions over a strawberry marguerita and half-cooked breadstick. a drunk guy falls off his stool and i cant even force myself to snicker. some sappy song comes on and i groan, but there is nothing left to hear but the words, and they leave me silent. i think of him, and wish i didn't. so i toss on my coat and stumble out into the cold. its so cold tonight. the parking lot seems so dark, so lonely. my windshield is covered in frost and its no joke, winter is here. my apartment is going to be cold that i will see my breath, and i shiver just thinking about it. no heat, no happy thoughts, and no one to hold. the usual night.
tonight i fired up my electric blanket and tried to fall asleep to the ticking of my clock, one of 5 clocks in my house that tells the wrong time. someday, i'd like to know for real, what time it is. i dont want to be early for everything. i just want to get there. seems so attainable, yet not. but as usual, the ticking of my clock is unbearably loud, and i turn my attention to the sound of 3 cats' nails click-click-clicking as they scurry across the cold hardwood floors.
2:10What's it like to fall asleep without trying? to have pleasant dreams race through your weary head the split second after it hits the pillow? What's it like to not find yourself writing, pouring out thoughts, night after night, sometimes until the sun comes up, and other nights... just crying until the tears wont fall anymore? i forget... what's it like to love someone who loves you back even if you dont give them your whole universe, even if you dont cook them dinner and pick up after them? what's it like to be the person, the snotty rude customer who can walk all over you for the low, low price of $2.83 and the cost of a glass of wine? what's it like to know you intimidate someone, a stranger, to feel, not just think, you are better than everyone else?
what's it like to be happy without trying, without having a motive, without having to endure endless tears first? what's it like to be thought of, and missed?
one can only dream...
------------------
E-girl
IM: tiggersgurl2067
"It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes a chance. It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give. And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live."
I'm used to working insane hours on the weekend. putting in 50 hours in 3 days is routine for me, and i've stopped my bitching about it. what's the use? so i take it, take it all... the rude customers who think they deserve not only a meal for their hard-earned (yeah right) buck, but think a dollar can get me to kiss their ass for an hour or so, as they sit there and grin in their blue and white collars, downing a glass of our most expensive merlot, or cabarnet, and eating their club sandwiches or caesar salads, only to flag me down every thirty seconds to complain about how the lettuce isn't crisp enough, or the whatever is not hot enough, or heaven forbid, there is a water spot on their fork. even standing above them at their table, they find a way to look down on me. i'm nothing. i make $2.83 an hour to put up with their shit-eating grins, their lousy tips, and their arrogance. i get paid to be everyone's bitch.
but i adore my job. waiting on 10 white-collar pressed shirt stiff-tied Joe Shmoe gets easily made up for by the little old man who comes in by his lonesome, sits at a table by the window, orders a real dinner that he will eat alone while he humors me with tales of how beautiful and wonderful his late wife was... how beautiful the weather is, and the way he listens intently while i tell him about what my major is in college. and even though sometimes when he gets the faraway look in his eyes, he puts me at peace. and when he leaves me a crisp five-dollar bill under his neatly folded napkin, i dont even want to take it.
1:45 a.m.
the bar is closing, and the restaurant too. mixed emotions over a strawberry marguerita and half-cooked breadstick. a drunk guy falls off his stool and i cant even force myself to snicker. some sappy song comes on and i groan, but there is nothing left to hear but the words, and they leave me silent. i think of him, and wish i didn't. so i toss on my coat and stumble out into the cold. its so cold tonight. the parking lot seems so dark, so lonely. my windshield is covered in frost and its no joke, winter is here. my apartment is going to be cold that i will see my breath, and i shiver just thinking about it. no heat, no happy thoughts, and no one to hold. the usual night.
tonight i fired up my electric blanket and tried to fall asleep to the ticking of my clock, one of 5 clocks in my house that tells the wrong time. someday, i'd like to know for real, what time it is. i dont want to be early for everything. i just want to get there. seems so attainable, yet not. but as usual, the ticking of my clock is unbearably loud, and i turn my attention to the sound of 3 cats' nails click-click-clicking as they scurry across the cold hardwood floors.
2:10What's it like to fall asleep without trying? to have pleasant dreams race through your weary head the split second after it hits the pillow? What's it like to not find yourself writing, pouring out thoughts, night after night, sometimes until the sun comes up, and other nights... just crying until the tears wont fall anymore? i forget... what's it like to love someone who loves you back even if you dont give them your whole universe, even if you dont cook them dinner and pick up after them? what's it like to be the person, the snotty rude customer who can walk all over you for the low, low price of $2.83 and the cost of a glass of wine? what's it like to know you intimidate someone, a stranger, to feel, not just think, you are better than everyone else?
what's it like to be happy without trying, without having a motive, without having to endure endless tears first? what's it like to be thought of, and missed?
one can only dream...
------------------
E-girl
IM: tiggersgurl2067
"It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance. It's the dream afraid of waking that never takes a chance. It's the one who won't be taken who cannot seem to give. And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live."
