Argentina Is That Way!

So, I’ve been wondering lately if you can just decide you love someone. Like one day, you wake up and it scares you to be without someone, but all circumstances are against you… Well, most circumstances anyway. You just don’t want to try life without them, but that’s such a major decision like… I don’t know. I don’t want to give someone my heart like this, because if something horrible happens along the way and he falls in love with someone else (or I fall in love with someone else), I’ve given my heart away and it’s… Not whole anymore. How suck would that be?

I should stop thinking so much.

Hmm… I have a fun work story. I know I don’t have many of those, which was what this blog was supposed to be, but that’s ok. I don’t have many rules. This story is about a beautiful little girl named Madeline. Her family, which was about 20 people, came to the restaurant one day to celebrate Madeline’s grandmother’s birthday. They were distinguishable because the grandmother was like… 5″0 and weighed 95 lbs, and looked like she was just… I don’t know, like she couldn’t be satisfied by anything but success.. You could tell this whole damned family was dysfunctional… except for Madeline. She was just satisfied.

To explain how the day started out, we (me and a server named Brian, who doesn’t work there anymore but he was pretty much the coolest, most idiotic person ever) had a problem with working this table right when I got to work. Brian had only been a server for a few weeks and the Managers didn’t want to give him more then 21 seats, so they were going to give him a section of four 4-tops and a 5-top (which is actually 21-seats), but they wouldn’t let him have this 20-top party. Background information on Brian – he was fired from a Maggiano’s for having temper problems which means two things. 1.) He’s got experience from Maggiano’s which means he’s a good server (and he was rather good-looking, if I do say so myself), and 2.) He has a temper problem.

Brian almost got fired that morning because he got pissed off at our manager, Donna, and yelled at her about not getting enough seats. Now, it takes a lot for Donna to get mad, and Donna was just… pissed. Thankfully, Brian was given the party and he got to keep his job and together Brian and I made a good amount of money. And I got to meet Madeline.

So, the family got there, and I was folding origami. I do that a lot. Chips were already on their table because we knew they were coming. Madeline’s mother, who’s a manager at Forever 21, had a lot of requests. She wanted to move the party on the deck, she wanted the music from the front played in the back (because for some reason the restaurant plays really old pop music in the back rooms and John Mayer in the front. Because of the ambiance. No joke.), and she wanted the temperature changed. I think Mark, the GM, was really tired of seeing this woman by the end of the day. But I learned something from her, if you’re nice through all of the requests people will be nice to you and tip you more. And you get to hang out with Madeline.  I also remember this party because I got to eat cake. Cake just makes everything better, ok? If you’re going to a restaurant and you have a cake, leave a piece for the servers and bussers. 

Now, Madeline wasn’t even… a huge part of the story (which isn’t entirely a story), she was just awesome. She was about up to my hip with long red hair and freckles all over her face and that little-girl-smile that makes your heart squirm with happiness. She was with her two cousins and I made them paper stars, and we hung out a little bit. At one point, she came over with a piece of paper that said, “Will you be my best friend? Yes … No.” Of course, I circled yes and asked her the same question. And then her cousin asked me if I loved him, and I said sure, and this pattern continued for a good two hours. We just had fun.

Stephen King said something in “The Shining”, “Small children are great accepters. They don’t understand shame, or the need to hide things.” What he should add to that, is that they just… know. They’re so honest and … I guess pure is a good word for them. They’re happy, or sad, or excited, or angry without any complication. They just are. Madeline was so happy when I gave her that paper star and said I wanted to be her friend. She hugged me before she left. 

How pure is that?

End of story; party was a success, the mother (who was freaking out the whole time about how good the party was) was relieved and left cake, and I made a new friend. End of story moral; leave cake, and be nice.

Two-Dollar Bills

Ok, so I actually have a cool work story this time. I was working Monday night in a room I’ve only worked in one other time, which was a scary thing because I didn’t know how to close correctly, but it turned out to be ok. So, generally on Monday’s people don’t want to eat mexican food. It’s like a law somewhere. Apparently, last Monday was ‘Everyone-Eat-Mexican-Food’ Day and I got new tables until about 10 o’clock; which is unheard of. 

Now, let me set up for you my week so you can understand where I am in my head while serving these people. I have two college-credit term papers due this week (each worth 2/3 of my grade for the semester, I’m turning the second one in tomorrow), a test that determines whether or not I graduate (totally passed it today!), my father has a paralyzed diaphragm (he’s going to be fine), my great uncle Bill passed away along with the family dog (Freckle), I had a band concert on Wednesday, the ACT on Saturday (as well as work), and a band performance on Sunday. I’m totally fried when it comes to being not-stressed. I cleaned tables for 6.5 hours and there were two reasons it was worth it.

1.) I got paid. I got my 56$ paycheck and another 65$ in tips. 50 from my room and the other’s because I helped the bartender and patio waitresses. This was amazing, seeing that I have no money.

2.) I had another one of those tables that just touch you. I really do believe that magik is real, you just find it when you need it the most or you’re most open to seeing it. It’s not like fairy-magik, it’s things/people that catch your attention at the weirdest times. This table was one of them.

They were a couple that came in after the kitchen closed at about 9:45, which made me mad at them to start with because I can’t leave until they do. So, I bussed the whole room and folded silverware (which is really the servers job, but I’m awesome and I love the people I work with… And it gives me a chance to eat), and these people sipped margaritas and talked. After a while, everyone but them had left and I was cleaning my last table, secretly sending bad vibes at them and their margaritas, and they called me over. 

The man apologized sincerely for coming in so late and promised to leave, and you could tell he meant it. So I told him it was no big deal, I had to clean my station anyway and that will take a while, they really didn’t need to rush (I was secretly convincing myself too). He thanked me and then asked me where I went to school, what grade I was in, and what I was going to do after. I told him I was going to a university to do a dual-major in French and Music Education and both he and his wife were over-joyed.

And let me just say, I love artistic people. The man was a minister and was once a music teacher, he and his wife spent months on the Seine river on their friends winery. We talked about Paris and music and they said they were very proud I was going into a well distinguished program and choosing to go to Graduate school and going into Music and French. They offered to take me with them, back to the winery, and I would be their interpreter. And you could tell that they were the best of friends too, they shared everything with each other; their joy, their travels, everything.

I eventually went back to cleaning, and the man came back in the kitchen when he and his wife were ready to leave, and gave me a two-dollar bill. He said he wanted to make sure I got something, and wished me good luck in the rest of my life.

I think good people are magikal. That couple really helped me get through the night, and they’ve helped me get through this week, simply because they were nice.

Moral of the story; just be nice.

The Relationship Between Pants and Starfish

Ok, now that I hardly work at my mexican restaurant the title of this blog makes me sad I miss my job and my annoying yet funny friends from work. 

Stupid school. It’s a shame I’m going to be a student for like… the rest of my life. I guess it’s not such a bad thing though, you know? Learning is the gateway to a better life. And I like being well educated. It makes arguing more fun, and watching movies on people in the bible belt down south very frustrating. They make my education look glamorous.

Hmmm… I don’t have much to say really, I just feel lame without adding to this blog. People actually read it now to keep up with my life, I feel obligated to keep them informed. But guys, there’s not much to tell. I’ve got all the school work my college credit classes could push on me which is about two 10 paged, 400 point research papers, a 400 point sociology project, the ACT (again…) and the United States Constitution test. So… that’s my life for like a week and a half, and then we’re going to start reviewing for finals and the Missouri Constitution test and HALF OF MY SENIOR YEAR WILL BE OVER.

Not that I’m celebrating or anything…

Other then all of this schoolness… I’m broke because I’ve bought everyone christmas presents. I guess having money makes me feel like I have to spend it on other people so I do it all the time. It justifies the spending, I believe.

I’ve stopped drinking soda. And for those of you that don’t know, excessive amounts of stress coupled with pre-calculus and coca cola generally ends in a colonoscopy and a lot of nausea. I don’t suggest you put yourself through it. But that was last year, this year it’s just making me sick to my stomach so… I’m cutting the stuff and switching to Black and White Arizona tea. Which is pretty much crack cocaine, but healthier.

Ermm… I love christmas. Excessively. Our band concert is next wednesday and I’m stoked because we’re playing all christmas music. This is also the candy-cane (which goes well with tea…), watching-all-christmas-movies season. It’s pretty much perfect. Just cold.

I think that’s really it, for today. No cool story, I think. Just an update. Ta!

West Memphis Three

Ok, so my goal with this is to inform whoever feels the need to read this blog about this court case in Arkansas that is still going on today. Three boys (who are now between the ages of 33-35) named Damien Echols, Jessie Misskelley, and Jason Baldwin were arrested for the murder and sexual mutilation of three little boys.

The three boys were raped, mutilated and murdered somewhere unknown, bound by shoelaces and thrown into a river and washed up on a bank where they were found. It has been read in trial that the amount of blood caused by the wounds on all three was too much blood to hide and was away in the dark, which proves they couldn’t have been killed at the scene the West Memphis three were accused of. There was no blood found at the crime scene.

In there original trial, there was no evidence presented.

A ‘confession’ from Jessie Misskelley was played. It was a 45 minute recording, the actual police interview lasted 12 hours. Jessie Misskelley has the IQ of 72. He’s legally mentally handicapped.

Two girls, school girls who were like… 13. Said they saw Damien and Jason talking about how they murdered the three boys but didn’t remember anything else about the day they did. They also didn’t report it to the police.

There were a consistent bite marks all over the three boys, that was later tested after conviction in the first trial and never filed as hard-evidence, that didn’t match any of the boys dental records.

Damien Echols was sentenced with three counts of second-degree murder and given the death penalty (he’s still alive though, the case is continued today, and Damien was denied his latest plea for appeal in September), Jason Baldwin was sentenced to lief in prison with three counts of second-degree murder, and Jessie Misskelley was sentenced with life plus forty years for participating but not murdering.

This is a really biased website, but it provides a lot of facts about the case; http://wm3.org/ but it provides a lot of the facts and the most recent updates in the case.  And for an unbiased opinion, watch the video ‘Paradise Lost’ by HBO productions. We watched it and the sequel in my sociology class, because we’re discussing deviance and crime right now. And this case is ridiculous.

I highly suggest reading the case stuff. It’s interesting and it’ll drive you crazy with the need to fix it.

Ta!

Barack Obama

I’m sure I’m one of millions of people posting this right now, but I’d like to make a note somewhere in my life that we are living in a time that was unthinkable 40 years ago. I just watched (on the Daily Show + Steven Colbert of all places) the first black man, who I believe is also the better candidate, in American History become President of the United States of America. 

I lived during that. I’ve watched him not-entirely closely, but enough to know he really existed (and I’ve had a lot of faith in him) since he ran in Illinois because my dad made a big deal about how cool this guy is and now he’s president of the United States. He’s my president. 

I’ve never been excited to see what our government does in the next four years, and I can safely say that I am now. I love the difference he brings, socialist or not.

Can I point out that no one should really care if you’re a ’socialist’ or a ‘capitalist’, you should really just care about how the country is economically screwed over and we need to fix that and keep people above the poverty line at the same time. Who cares if other countries “envy our countries capitalism” (which I think was John McCain’s quote) if people in this capitalistic country are stuck in poverty. Doesn’t matter.

Pardon my opinion.

CONGRATULATIONS, BARACK OBAMA! I’M SO PROUD OF YOUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS, AND I’M EXCITED FOR YOU TO BE OUR PRESIDENT!!

Igor Stravinsky

“In order to create there must be a dynamic force, and what force is more potent than love?” 

I wonder what kind of love Mr. Stravinsky was talking about, because I don’t hear many great love stories that don’t involve people marrying for reasons other then love. I don’t even know how to decide to marry someone, but I’ve only had one truly amazing relationship. I wonder who Mr. Stravinsky composed for, if it inspired him to create his music passionately. I wonder if he ever told the person he loved that his music was for them.

See, I’ve been thinking about love a lot lately and age. I know being a teenager isn’t old yet, but people generally get married within then ten years from right now. And I’m like… old enough to think about it, I guess. Weird, yeah? Who knows what to do…

Around The World.

There’s no real significance to the title of this blog. I’m listening to ‘Around The World’ by Daft Punk and… it’s obviously the first thing that came to my mind.

You know how I said that I hate thinking of blogs like diaries? I failed to mention that I have slightly hypocritical tendancies. (Don’t you love saying ‘Hypocritical’? It’s so big. When you use it, it makes you sound so… bitchin’.) I’m going to write this entry as a… sort of diary entry for an update of my life again and it’s going to end up going into a story about something with a moral in the end.

Um… Well, marching band is almost over. For those of you who don’t know, I’m going to University to major in French and Music Education because I’m weird and apparently have no desire to ever make money in my life. This season has… kind of drivin’ me crazy, and for the record, I wouldn’t march next year if I wasn’t graduation. I guess I should send Griffin a ‘thank-you’ card for his timing.

HA! I found my story; Griffin.

Griffin is my ex-music teacher and at one point I believed, heart and soul, that he was this… Fantastic person. We were alike in many ways, I think. We both feel music, we both have a strong moral basis… I don’t know. I’d like to believe we were friends. Under his influence, we created a marching band program my sophomore year of high school that expanded into this… family. It stemmed a competitive drum line and winter guard and gave all of us the opportunity to expand musically. When he came, he set out a three year plan that he talked about all the freaking time and in this time we’d become this incredible marching band and be a threat to competitors.

He left for a bigger school in year two of the three year plan.

Look, I can understand the need for success. I really can. I’m currently enrolled in a high school with less then 260 people in it, and the web of community is focused on this school. About 3/4 of the kids that go to my school come from parents that went to and met their spouses at this school back in the day. Shit you not. I can understand wanting more.

But not if you step on people to get there and show no heart about it. At all. It kind of shakes things up, especially when I thought he had such a great moral base. You know? 

So almost everyday since then I’ve had a conversation with him in my head about all the same things we used to, and almost everyday I get mad at him for leaving me with the stress of being a Drum Major of a band that doesn’t want to do it. Hell, I don’t want to do it. And it’s his fault. He made me fall in love with it, and then he took it away deliberately for himself. I’ll see him for the first time in almost half a year next week on my senior night.

Moral -> Keep your promises. Don’t step on people to get what you want. You hurt people that trust and love you. That’s bad.

In Limbo.

So, I’m pretty sure life for me, as well as everyone else, will always be in limbo. Always. I have another blog that I started (and stopped) in my sophomore year of high school and it’s honestly the most interesting thing I’ve ever read in my life. Not like I had anything interesting to say, actually, but the way I expressed myself when I was a sophomore was incredibly different then now. For instance, I wasn’t afraid to give away any information about myself at all in my last blog. Which is nuts because I was freaking 15 years old and people like to kidnap 15 year olds. 

I guess I’m not afraid to give my information out… I just don’t. Maybe I think I just know better. I have a problem with that: thinking I know better. It’s not hard for me to say no to something (i.e. drugs, sex, cheating, skipping school, drinking. You know, what everyone tells you not to do.) And I’m not a straight-edge, ok? I’m not a prissy kid. I hate feeling like people think that about me just because I don’t do that shit.

Work story/opinion; There was one day that I went to work, and I don’t get to go to work everyday anymore because I’m at school. Let me clarify; I’m at HIGH school; which apparently makes me a lesser person even though I have more potential then half of the people I work with to get a better job so that I don’t have to depend on tip money for my alcohol and rent. I don’t understand why people can’t see past that and get their fucking act together.

Pardon my opinion. Back to the story.

Ok, so I get to work and I work with these two servers whom I’ve never worked with before, Andy and Jessica. They’re actually really cool, Andy’s a college student who is just… hilarious in his own cynical way and Jess is just nice. But this particular day at the restaurant was ‘Let’s Talk About Sex and Masturbation’ day in my room. Actually, I think it was that way all over the restaurant because Ryan asked me that same day if I wished I had more curves so that I could attract someone. I really think he’s insane, some day’s he’s nice, other’s he’s a total douche-bag that wants me to get wasted. 

Anyway, I mentioned to Andy what day it was an he says, “Oh no, kid. All restaurant employees are like this, you’re just too young.” 

Ok, as young as I might be, I’m really not an idiot. Or an innocent. Or some snippy, white girl that rides around with her daddy’s credit card. I don’t even live with my dad, by choice! There are absolutely un-innocent things that happen to me everyday. So how unfair is it that he would say I’m too young for people to talk about shit like masturbation in front of me? Did he miss all of high school? 

Sorry, everyone. I have a sore spot about people thinking I’m ‘just not there yet’. I made it through high school with relative ease, and I’m still at the top. I spent my time with the kids that can’t make it through college and I learned from them the dark parts of reality (and I’m still learning, thanks Jon and Ashley!) and I’m not suprised by people doing crazy things anymore. 

So, to relate all of this to the title of my post, I don’t think that I’ll ever be good enough, or apparently old enough, for people to take me seriously and I don’t understand why. 

Hang on, let me correct myself, I don’t think I’ll ever be good enough, or apparently old enough, for MOST people to take me seriously. I’ve got a few people that know I can handle information like my old friends doing X in their apartments and making their own acid and selling their prescription drugs because they’re fucking idiots. I can handle my real friend’s problems. I can handle MY problems. Ugh.

I really didn’t think I was this agitated today. I actually had a good day, probably because I had sociology today. I love that bundle of amazing. People are truly incredible.

Sorry for being a downer! I’ll post something more positive later.

How To Survive Being Driving Impared

To address the title; I don’t have my driver’s license. Now don’t freak out, I know it’s a bit taboo for a teenager to not want to drive like a maniac on the road all the time but I’ve got my reasons.

Reason 1: You’re in a two-ton hunk of metal with momentum and speed. Now, I passed honors physics by the skin of my teeth with a C. But I know that when an object’s in motion it won’t stop unless somethings acting to do so. That could very well be another two-ton vehicle with a higher speed and greater momentum. Though I’ll accept it when it comes, I don’t ask for death.

Reason 2: As much as I’d like to keep the economy afloat, I really can’t pay for gas money and insurance especially if I’m going to university. I actually prefer to think of it as other people are using my potential gas for themselves. I’m actually giving back. You’re welcome.

Reason 3: High cholesteral runs in my family. This is actually significant, see, because I walk two miles from school to my house everyday to keep myself healthy enough that my mom will lay off my eating habits. Which has gotten better, thanks mum. Walking is better and it’s not hard to set aside time in my day to reflect and get exercise. I don’t often complain.

Wanna know something ironic? I’m actually getting my license soon. My mother can no longer afford to drive me and the sibs to school and be at work on time. So, it’s my turn to give to the family. But don’t worry everyone that needs gas! My Geo gets like 26 miles to the gallon, I’ll only fill up every once and a while. I’m still thinking of you.

Penny wishing.

     So, I hate thinking of blog sites like diaries. It’s not really a record of what I do everyday, and I don’t really want it to be. I want to be able to tell stories to people that I don’t make up. I might over exaggerate sometimes, but that’s because I look for stories in really small places.

     Like work. I know the title of my blog is a little bit weird, so I should probably explain things. I work at a mexican restaurant that’s a three minute walk away from my house. It’s one of those places where you can pretty much always smell beer and laughter. You can eat outside the restaurant, in one of the four rooms inside or in the bar. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, really. I mean, the place is a little bit gigantic, but only if you work there and you have to see every room in the place. The building it’s stationed in was once a huge house and there are rather hysterical rumors about a girl dying in a well that’s now in the basement where we keep the soda. I learn all of this from my hottie friend, Ry. He makes my days at work interesting, but I’ll tell you more about him and my other friends later.

     I think I should tell you a bit more about me first. I’m seventeen and I bus tables. I’m one of those die-hard sober kids, who makes a point about not drinking alcohol, which is funny because I love and work with a group of people that absolutely love alcohol and, before they graduated, I hung out with a bunch of people that drank all the time. They weren’t/aren’t as cool as my non-alcoholic friends though . I’m really lucky to have them.

     I’m actually really lucky in general. I might complain a lot in these blogs about stuff, but really I’m quite a fortunate human being. I was accepted in the university of my dreams about 3 months before I had to start filling out applications and I’ll be off in about 10 months to go and fulfill my dreams of being the worlds greatest french teacher who speaks like three dead languages because I’m… strange. I’ll get great scholarships, hopefully, because I have over a 3.5 GPA and a 27 on my ACT. I have the ability to make 120$ a night at my job (though that rarely happens) so I’m monetarily well off. I’m just lucky.

     But back to my job. Because that’s where a lot of my life has changed.

     At this restaurant there are over 150 people employed, and for those of you who don’t work in the food industry that includes: bartenders, servers, managers, bussers, chefs, custodians, the guys who make chips and the guys that ship all of our stuff. I am a busser and it’s easily my job of choice. A lot of people find that a bit weird because scraping plates and cleaning tables isn’t necessarily… well, clean and sometimes its a bit gross. Whatever.

     The one thing people should get about bussing is that it’s a great oppertunity to tune out the world and do something necessary and laboring for decent pay. I don’t have to talk to customers, though that doesn’t stop me. I’m naturally talkative and I like to learn from strangers. It’s really quite a nice set up. 

     And I get to watch people. Not in a creepy, stalker-way but in an educational way which is quite beneficial for my Sociology class. It’s actually something I just like to do and the Soc. class makes it even more interesting, but whatever.

     My Fun-Work-Story-For-The-Blog is going to be the one about these two beautiful girls and the wishing fountain. I get these stories from the people I get to see and talk to, and this one is definitely one of my all time favorites. I was working outside for the dinner shift and it wasn’t quite the time of the dinner rush which is when you see a lot of the kids, and there was this one table out towards the back of the outside seating. This is my favorite places to bus and hang out on shift because it’s quiet. There’s this large patio with decently spaced tables and a great big fountain in the middle and it’s surrounded by Mark’s (who’s the general manager, and one of my mother’s best friends) exotic garden. I say it’s exotic because I don’t know half the plants in the garden, though they’re not finicky so they can’t be… that out of context… I guess. Whatever. His garden is amazing.

     So, anyway. This table. There were these two beautiful, little girls who probably weren’t over the age of six and their dad. One of them, the younger one, was slightly smaller and had blonde hair (the shiny blonde that only little girls can achieve) and the other was a bit taller and had curly brown hair. I remember that they really liked the chips. That’s another part of my job, other then the cleaning. I get people chips and salsa. These girls were with their dad (Who was nice… and incredibly creepy. He left me his phone number. I saw him about two weeks later, with his wife, and he remembered me.) and they were a nice family. You could tell that he really loved his girls. 

     I remember this family, and several others, because they talk to me while I’m bussing. I’ll be cleaning a table and having a good conversation with these people, and this small family was one of them. The dad talked to me about the weather and the garden and about his girls. Shortly after I went on an adventure to find some crayons for the little ones and continued my exciting extravaganza of cleaning. Whilst cleaning I found two pennies and not too long after the girls got up, ready to leave, and their dad was paying.

     Now, I’m one of those people that just wants to touch other peoples lives in a good way. I want to be the server/busser that people remember, not in a huge way, but I was that one girl that made origami out of someone’s check or made the kids laugh. And I think about doing things like this in my spare time. Really. I went up to the girls and gave them my pennies and told them to make a wish in the fountain. When you’re a kid, you know, you get to believe in things like magik. You do when you’re seventeen, too, but it’s a bit different for me then it is for them. Penny wishes are something I got to do on occasion and it was always special for me. I would always try to think of something that I didn’t have but I knew it would make my life better. I don’t ever remember wishing for toys, or stuff like that, I think I really just wanted… magik. And I wanted to give these girls magik too.

     Their eyes just… lit up when I gave them those pennies. 

     It’s so… cool. I can’t explain it. How awesome is it that these kids take such joy from a wish? A penny? Something we step on everyday because it’s so worthless to us. They were just excited to make a wish, that might not even come true! And I helped. 

     And they remembered me. The creeper-dad came back next week with his pregnant wife and called me over to their table and told his wife right there about how I treated his girls right and he was so grateful for me. How amazing is that?

 

     This is where I end my first blog/cool story. Do something nice that will touch someone else, yeah?