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."