Night 4

Typically, when I write these blogs at work, I finish them relatively early. This evening was an exception and I’m not sure why. I feel lazy tonight. I really want to be at home in my comfy comfy bed with my man and my cat. Usually, I don’t feel that way, and I don’t mind being here, but I had a really awesome nap earlier and I really didn’t want to open my eyes.

Pandora radio has been getting me through work, but I’ve realized that after you listen to any single station for more then 3 hours the songs start to repeat themselves and you get the bottom of the music genre barrel in between stuff you’ve already heard.

Tonight my mind keeps wandering back to the same phrase of doing the bare minimum. That’s what this hotel is. It is eight people somehow doing the bare minimum and the place holds up pretty well. The housekeepers clean, and the front desk people do their check ins and outs. I sit on my ass after printing and analyzing some easy reports and despite the corporate training bullshit this place is making money. It makes me think that just doing the bare minimum to keep things running is acceptable and maybe even profitable. I would prefer to think that this isn’t the case.

I just finished folding a bunch of laundry that the housekeepers couldn’t get around to today during their shift. I was told by the general manager that I could “fold stuff if I got bored.” I wasn’t really bored I just thought I would help out. As I was folding towels into threes and then into halves it dawned on me that no one else here does this. Why am I folding stuff when I won’t get recognized or appreciated for it? I’m not getting paid to fold laundry or even to help out; I was told I’m getting paid to sit here just in case the place spontaneously combusts. In all actuality, I think I’m mostly here in case the fire alarm sets off, which seemed to require a lot of training on how to press five buttons sequentially to turn it off. Oh well, I got paid to learn how to press five buttons. I’m such a winner.

I’m really looking forward to Xmas this year. My boyfriend pointed out that I had to work both Xmas eve and New Year’s Eve. Not a big deal to me besides the fact that I’ll feel slightly left out when I know my man is out drinking, and I’m going to be here watching drunks. My boyfriend apologized for his comments the other day, in case you were wondering. When we first got together he said he hated talking through emails or chats because you can’t ever be quite sure what tone they are using. Now that I have issues with the tone of voice he directs towards me he writes me email apologies. I wonder if there’s a correlation or if it’s just a coincidence?

The other day I had an interesting run in with an old friend. I guess you can’t call it a run in since it was on Facebook, but nonetheless I hadn’t talked to her in a long time. I actually didn’t talk to her at first as much as I talked to her girlfriend who was raging at me because I called her woman hot. I understand her being slightly jealous, I mean, I am legendary, however her piss poor attitude and the fact that she was a total stranger did put me in a funk. I think it almost pissed me off when I found out that she was, in fact, my friend’s girlfriend. I know she’s a big girl and can make her own relationship choices, but I was still disappointed. I just want to make sure she’s happy, but the distance and the lack of contact put things immediately in perspective. I can’t do anything for her but listen to her talk about her crazy girlfriend and “dyke drama.” I don’t have any room in my life for that kind of noise, and I don’t know where people get the energy to be with people that they have to fight with over common courtesy skills they should have developed in middle school. I feel so old…I know I’m not, and people older then me would smack me in the head if they heard me say that out loud. Lucky for me I look and sound like I’m 17 years old, but this body has been through so much the past year. I’m so tired and over the dramatic aspect of life.

When I was in second grade I had a teacher that introduced us to these “choose your own adventure” books. The scene would be set for some bad shit to go down and you had multiple options with corresponding page numbers to continue reading about what happens to you. Right away I realized that the middle of the stories were all filler and boring, so I would skip to the end pages to read what the choices were and back-step my way to the beginning or until I lost interest.

I was catching up with my friend when I thought about those adventure books, and how my life is just like one of those. I didn’t really want to tell her all the filler, because the filler was depressing, boring, and to me uninteresting. I’ve had an extremely eventful year but regardless going through the trouble of rehashing it all lost my interest. I just wanted to say, “I’m fine, things are good,” and end with that. If it had been anyone else besides her I would have said that, but I care about her enough to let her know what’s going on in my life. When I talk about what’s happened to me this past year I wish there was a ‘skip to the end’ button. I think everyone would be much more relieved and happy, especially me.

While the teacher sat us in a big circle and read the stories he would let the class vote on what we did in the book. I always had read the book ahead of time, so I only raise my hand for the choices I knew ended in death. I wanted to skip to the end so I could go play with crayons instead.

Crayons are way better then choosing your own adventure. Telling children they could choose their own way in life seems like a lie to me now, and I think I knew that early on. Come on kids! Let’s go mess around with the deadly rattlesnake.