Sunday, April 18, 2010

The Twitching Hour(s).

I think that between the hours of 12:30 and 2:30 at my job, I've achieved new states of boredom. I can't access Facebook on the business internet, which is unfortunate, but even then I think it would have its limits of any sort of entertainment factor.

Today has been exceptionally slow. Over half of a family reunion just checked out, and what was a group of 30 individual rooms is now down to around 10. They were all lovely people, for the most part, with nothing but good things to say. Which is rare given that in every family there are always the stcik-in-the-mud/no-way-in-hell-can-I-ever-be-happy types. Anyway, with those folks gone and very few arrivals today, my day has been spent doing little lame tasks just to stay active and keep me from standing still behind my desk. You can only mop, dust, and make a pot of coffee so many times before it just becomes redundant, you know?

The interesting thing about working in a hotel is that you get to see the real face of people. In retail everything is very simple; very transaction-based. Sure there are those customers that you really connect or bond with, but those are few and far between. In the hospitality industry you get an actual good sense of how people act privately as well as in public; it's not just their game face that they're wearing. I've met some very nice and kind adults since working here. I've also met some very spoiled, very self-righteous adults. The kind who can barely handle it when it takes an extra five minutes for a fresh pot of coffee to be made, or who can't follow simple instructions on how to log on to the hotel internets; they expect you to do it for them.

It's not just an American thing, either. Spoiled adults come from all nations, or so I've ascertained. Apparently there are no limits to how truly moronic one can be when they feel as if they've got no time to take a moment, breathe, and think something through before they complain about it. Can't get the door open? Stop shoving your card in, pause for a moment, and carefully/lightly swipe it one more time. Very simple if you just come down and stop acting like it's the biggest and most inconvenient thing in the world, ever.

I really do like my job, though. I don't see myself getting burned out on this industry as fast as I did retail.

Still, I hope that things perk up for me in the writing department. I've had a great time writing again for Mutineer and really hope it brings steady work, or at least work every now and then a few times a year. We'll see what comes of it . . .

. . . I really need a new pair of shorts. None of mine fit me anymore. But when you shoot from a waist size of 34 to a 28 or 29 in just a year, that's bound to happen. I really like this soft linen shorts I found at H&M; they come in khaki or in basic black and they're disturbingly comfy and very well-made. The next time I have thirty bucks, yeah?

I've successfully made the transition to a soda-less life, and I have to say it's been quite an experience. Not only do a find that soda is more convenient than a healthy alternative (seriously--this is another reason why America is obese), but that taste-wise it seems like they don't even want to make diet soda attractive in taste or visual aesthetics. Diet Coke is, I'm sorry, totally atrocious. Diet Dr. Pepper is fairly acceptable. Diet Sprite is my favorite so far in terms of taste. Diet Root Beer of the Barq's variety is absolute nonsense. And why do they even bother to make Diet Red Bull? It does absolutely nothing and, if you read the calorie count, has nearly the same as a can of normal Coke. Worthless! But I've stopped getting it at restaurants, and stopped buying it on-the-go for a pick-me-up, and we only have diet at home. And it's diet soda all the way at bars and clubs.

Speaking of, I really want to go dancing some time soon. Perhaps after I buy my new shorts? But shorts at a club is so blech, unless you're going for a beachy/nautical/I'm adorable and should be on a yacht a'la Nate Archibald from "Gossip Girl" sort of look.

My birthday is in two weeks. I don't know what's planned, but Josh assures me he has everything under control. The control freak in me wants to jump in and take over, but I really don't want to get in his way on this. I had a ton of fun planning his birthday last summer and Julie's birthday this past Novemeber, and I LOVED planning our Halloween Party . . . So part of me really wants to get involved, but it's sort of my birthday, which means I can't and shouldn't butt in too much. What worries me is that he's going to go overboard or stretch his mind and wallet so thin that it will depress him, and then put him in a shitty mood if everything isn't perfect. In reality all I want is just to be drunk with my friends.

24, 24 . . . Will it be different than 23? Sources say no, not really. I'll find out soon!

"Everyone's alive but ill.
Let's just take a deep breath,
And lock the doors so no one;
No one has to know.
I can say I'm doing well,
As long as, as long as I can see the room
From the graveyard shift."

Friday, April 16, 2010

Routinely Different

I just bought the following MP3s, which I'm sad to say I actually didn't have in my repertoire:

1. "In Circles" - Sunny Day Real Estate [yet I possess so much of their music . . . WTH?)

2. "Bang Bang, I'm a Burnout" - Dum Dum Girls [I liked them AFTER they became popular]

3. "While Oceana Sleeps" - Sparta [this album got all scratched to hell before I could back it up on the iTunes, so I'm starting to grab all of it again beginning with my favorite song off of it]

It's been a while since I wrote in this blog because so much change has been coming my way in the past month. March/April has ended up pretty rad and pretty much a bold step into the unknown as well. This strange existence I've made for myself in Seattle has yet to even out and become some sort of routine. Perhaps this isn't a bad thing? Still, I like lists and routines and day-to-day stuff. So perhaps the constant ebb and flow of change is just now part of my routine? I don't know. I suppose when ever I start seeing a pattern, I'll ease into it.

My closest friend from college Alli returned from Korea/New Zealand/L.A./Not-Living-Near-Me and it's been absolutely amazing to have her back. She and I spent an entire day together right off the bat hanging out and re-acclimating her to pervasive Western culture. She's mostly unaware of American pop-culture from 2008-2010, and it's hilarious and adorable. I explained the television show "Jersey Shore" to her, which was the most fun I'd had in days. She and I have already fallen back into our old relationship, and the ease at which we picked back up on each other's conversational nuances, witty banter, and finish-each-other's-sentences-style of interacting astonished me. It was as though she'd never left, to borrow a phrase from the rest of the everyone. She's beginning her search for a teaching job in Seattle and moving in with our friend Ellen and Kim, who is moving out of the apartment . . .

. . . Which is odd but pretty expected but still sort of weird as in I don't know how to feel about it? On the one hand I'm going to miss living with her, but on the other hand I think it'll be better for our friendship. When you live with someone there are bills and money and routines and who-gets-to-use-the-bathroom-first conversations and fighting cats, and that can put a tremendous amount of strain on a friendship. Not that I think it ever got bad between us or changed, but it still felt different sometimes. I'm sort of stoked that it won't be different anymore. I guess that's one strike against accepting the tides of change, yes? Plus this way Alli and Kim and Ellen can go be girly together so it's a good thing for all of us; I really truly believe.

I'm writing for Mutineer Magazine semi-officially now. The piece I'm working on has proven rather difficult, but once I sat down and chained myself to the desk for a solid two hours I found it was easy to get back into my normal writing flow. Everything balances itself out, I guess. Look for my story (hopefully) in the July issue of Mutineer. You can buy it nationally (holy shit). So please do.

We have to buy a couch now. IKEA looks promising. Not sure yet. I'll take pictures of it when we drop some dollars.

"You can't hear a sound,
When walls break down.
You've wasted my days,
Building on shaky ground."