What do people do at four in the morning?

I’m up. Not just up, but wide awake. You would think that after a long, exhausting night at work I would have fallen asleep immediately. Instead, I’m tossing and turning, blowing my drippy nose, coughing, going to the bathroom, drinking some water, pushing my annoying cat out of the way of my face, then finally deciding to take a sleeping pill at around 4am.

After that, I went to the kitchen and got a Klondike bar, cookies and cream, and scarfed it down. Though I couldn’t taste it because I’m sick, so that didn’t really satisfy my craving.

Then, while I wait for the sleeping pill to kick in, I started surfing the web, but…there was nothing really interesting to surf through. So, here I am again, falling back on my blog to write another randomly, self-spilling, thoughtless rant that makes this more like a public diary for the whole world to see.

Not that there are that many people reading this particular blog. I know of only a few…

But seriously, I used to be a great sleeper, but now I find that my brain won’t stop spinning in crazy circles about solving THIS, or fixing THAT. And it won’t let me rest one bit.

So I’m gonna spill all the annoying thoughts on here so that maybe writing about it would help me vent out my brain so I can sleep, for the love of GRAPES! Yes, that is a very irritated and heated sentence. I would also like to point out that I’m writing this without my contacts so I’m relying solely on my fingers to not mess up while typing. Fingers lead the way cause I’m blind as a bat!

Hold on to yourself because I am going to write the next paragraph as one big run-on, thought flowing sentence so you can get an idea of how my brain would not SHUT UP! So here we go…

my cat is so cute all snuggly i’m so glad i brought him with me to california but i’d rather him not be in my face all the time when i’m trying to sleep i hate it when he climbs on the pillows while i’m sleeping it makes me think he’s gonna pee on them right on my face man i feel miserable man i hate being sick if my nose drips one more time i’m just gonna let it drip it’ll have to deal with it ugh i hate that feeling do i really have to blow my nose AGAIN yep okay so back to thinking about stuff that can help me fall asleep why hasn’t he called why was he so mean why do i feel this way did i do the right thing nope of course i didn’t i always screw everything up i can never do the right thing i always feel like i cant do the right thing with him i’ve apologized i think more times all together in my life to him than i have to anyone i think could be exaggerating but whatever that’s what it feels like i cant do anything right with him always making mistakes just like i treated chris oh no that’s how i treated chris made him feel like he never did anything right he always felt like he couldn’t do anything right with me which makes it obvious that we weren’t meant to be together but still i feel like i should write him a letter apologize i must be on an apologizing streak no that’s a bad idea let it stay in the past no need to touch it but wouldn’t that be okay wouldn’t it to just say i’m sorry to amend things to make things better yes and no and definitely not right now cause i’m being impulsive which i always am but when i’m impulsive with letters bad things tend to always happen i hate thinking about my ex boy am i lame could i be any lamer sleep sleep cat get off my fucking pillow dammit i hope i’m better tomorrow i wonder if he will call tomorrow i wish i had my best friend i wish i didn’t say anything how did he replace chris i hate saying i love you bad things always happens best to wait until its safe best to not do it thought that would be silly because then i would be a pathetic loser who couldn’t fall in love lame oh well and my period’s started so you would think i could think rationally nope guess not confused as always think i’m gonna close everything off now but still can’t sleep i feel nauseous damn period and stupid tampon i wonder if i’ve got toxic shock syndrome should i ever write chris an apology letter simple i’ve got it all worked out but why so i can be at peace with that but i can be by just letting it go two different states a new beginning a fresh start i can replace everyone and never have to look back again can i do that to him that text was so mean not like him that’s what i do to guys piss them off i really tried hard to focus on what i was saying i’m stupid though go figure leave it to me to say the wrong things i excel at that maybe he meant it as something else maybe he didn’t mean it to be mean always fucking things up over a text go figure i regret everything i shouldn’t have slept with my best friend i shouldn’t have let us get close like that i knew better but as always i think i’m above the norm outside the usual think i can survive it in the end i’m still human that keeps perfecting myself i must perfect myself must make things better with all people except for the ex should let that disappear under all the dust no need to uncover it wouldn’t matter apology wouldn’t matter his reaction would probably piss me off again again and remind me of things i shouldn’t remember holy shit its 4am fuck!

Okay, so there you have. If you were able to read through that entire jumble of pure unadulterated honesty, the window to my brain, then I applaud you. I’m finally feeling the sleeping pill kicking in…and it does feel somewhat better now that I’ve got most of that stuff off my brain. Aw man it’s 530am. You gotta be kidding me!

Already been done…aw, shit.

So my mom and I went to see Julie&Julia, which was a very cute movie that made me very hungry, and then afterwards, my mom gave me the news.

Apparently, I don’t have very original ideas when concerning my blog. I’m moving to California in three days and I was planning on documenting my adventures as I pursue my career as an actor. Because this career is particularly grueling, I thought it would be a good idea, not only for me, but for other actors who might want encouragement, to read about the trials, challenges, and sometimes positive outcomes that a working actor experiences.

Well! It turns out it’s already been done. Not that I thought I’d be the ONLY one writing about the shit actors go through, but not only has this already been DONE, but the girl who had written it is now famous and making a movie out of her blog!! Which makes my plans completely obsolete!

At least, this is what my mom had heard.

So if I continue with my plan on writing about my adventures as an actor, who would care, because somebody else has already beaten me to it. And making a movie!! A MOVIE! Oh, please. I don’t see how it’s going to be any good. Reading about it is much more entertaining than watching it.

In any case, looks like I need a fresher idea.

But…knowing me…I’ll probably just stick with my original plan. Unless anyone else has any better ideas…whoever you are.

Can I get you anything else?

 

*the names used are not real for privacy purposes
“Um, yeah,” says the boy, probably in his early twenties or late teens, sitting next to his girlfriend, staring up at me with one of those vacant expressions. “…can I get some ranch?”
“Sure,” I reply, smiling. Of course smiling doesn’t have anything to do with being happy. The table I was waiting on that day was one of those tables. It was one of those tables where the minute I greeted them, they greeted me with the infamous deer-in-headlights stare, staying silent for a few aggravating seconds as though I was some sort of alien deformity, then finally saying in quiet little voices, can I get a coke. It was one of those tables where they claimed to be ready to order, then lost their brains somewhere along the way when I asked what they would like, while I’m busy as hell and don’t have time to stand around until they finally retrieve their runaway brains and figure it out.
Being a good server takes a very special kind of talent: unlimited patience. Not to mention the multi-tasking brain of a computer. I consider myself to be a “good server” after being put to the test at *The Restaurant and Brewery where a server can be triple-sat (meaning three of your tables got sat at the exact same time) with six to seven-top tables (that means six or seven individuals) while the rest of your section is already full (that section being as big as seven to eight separate tables). A good server can handle all of this without freaking out and I have successfully passed this test. 
To be a server at The Restaurant and Brewery you must have a certain level of tolerance. The table I described earlier would be a type C (A being great, B being okay, C being tolerable, F being bad, bad, bad—there is no D). I have never understood why some people don’t speak up to servers and look them in the eye, as though they’re deathly afraid of us.
Thankfully most tables range from A to B and are very normal. And yet, I cannot seem to escape the annoying tables. Imagine a table with five women. They’re nice, but short with you, so you know they’re not in the mood to socialize. That’s fine; it’ll save you some time to visit your other tables without worrying that one will take up too much of your attention. They have ordered a round of beer, which you have already gotten for them, and all five of them are drinking happily. Then you pass by and ask if there is anything else you can get them. They don’t pay too much attention to you, even though your voice was loud and clear, but one lady does turn and asks you for a water. You smile and nod, saying to the other ladies, “is there anything else I can get you—nothing, okay,” then returning a minute later with a water, after you’ve already been pulled over by other tables needing something. Easy. So you set the water down and suddenly the rest of the four women turn to you, each one saying, “Oh, I’ll have a water too.” As they say this, you see that another one of your tables has been sat. So not only do you have to greet the new table and get their drinks, but have to make an extra trip carrying four more waters because these women didn’t pay you any attention. All you’re thinking is why couldn’t they ask for waters when their friend did?!!
Not that bad of a situation, really. Just irritating as hell. I would rate that table a B. Then there are the tables that don’t listen at all. Picture this: one person asks for a coke, and you respond with “is Pepsi okay?” The next person asks, “Can I have a diet coke?” and you respond with “is diet Pepsi okay?” Then the next person asks, “Do you have Coke?” and you say, “No just Pepsi products” when you really want to scream PEPSI!!! in their face.
I also love the tables that think you have eight arms. Here I am carrying two hot and heavy plates on my left arm and hand with another hot plate in my right. I set them down in front of the rightful owners on a table of six. I was only able to bring three plates on this trip. One woman says in a condescending tone, “Where’s the rest?” I look her straight in the eye, smile and say, “They’re coming.” But what I’m really thinking is, “sorry I left my other two arms back in the kitchen, let me reattach them just for you.” 
Then there are the F-type tables. These tables can be obvious or clever. And I hate them. We all hate them, and I know of some servers who claim to take revenge on them on their last day of work. There are many different types of F-tables. There’s the typical “something in my food” table, the incredibly rude and needy table that is impossible to satisfy, the table that complains about what we offer in the menu to either me or the manager, the table that leaves without paying the bill, the table that comes in automatically in a bad mood (don’t go out if you’re in a bad mood!), and then there’s the infamous “verbal tip” table. This is what I call the sneaky F-table.
This kind of table is what we all consider to be an enigma. Thankfully these tables are rare. However, they can really put you in the worst of moods. I had a couple once that, I thought, loved me. Everything was fast and efficient, and on top of that, I was “working it.” They also proceeded to tell me how wonderful I was, that I was a “great server.” After they left, I picked up the bill and gawked: four dollar tip on a sixty dollar bill. My initial reaction was to chuck the bill book across the room, hoping it would hit the exiting couple. But instead, I stood at the computer in a controlled, inner fury with a dash of sadness, my last thought echoing what the fuck! I certainly can’t pay the bills with a fucking “you’re great” tip. A totally irritating enigma! F, F, F!!! 
I try to remember the faces of those kinds of people for next time. However, I always seem to forget about it by the next day. I suppose that’s a good thing for many reasons. My job is to serve you, but remember, in order to get your food and drink, you have to go through me. 
Can I get you anything else?

“Um, yeah,” says the boy, probably in his early twenties or late teens, sitting next to his girlfriend, staring up at me with one of those vacant expressions. “…can I get some ranch?”

“Sure,” I reply, smiling. Of course smiling doesn’t have anything to do with being happy. The table I was waiting on that day was one of those tables. It was one of those tables where the minute I greeted them, they greeted me with the infamous deer-in-headlights stare, staying silent for a few aggravating seconds as though I was some sort of alien deformity, then finally saying in quiet little voices, can I get a coke. It was one of those tables where they claimed to be ready to order, then lost their brains somewhere along the way when I asked what they would like, while I’m busy as hell and don’t have time to stand around until they finally retrieve their runaway brains and figure it out.

Being a good server takes a very special kind of talent: unlimited patience. Not to mention the multi-tasking brain of a computer. I consider myself to be a “good server” after being put to the test at *The Restaurant and Brewery where a server can be triple-sat (meaning three of your tables got sat at the exact same time) with six to seven-top tables (that means six or seven individuals) while the rest of your section is already full (that section being as big as seven to eight separate tables). A good server can handle all of this without freaking out and I have successfully passed this test. 

To be a server at The Restaurant and Brewery you must have a certain level of tolerance. The table I described earlier would be a type C (A being great, B being okay, C being tolerable, F being bad, bad, bad—there is no D). I have never understood why some people don’t speak up to servers and look them in the eye, as though they’re deathly afraid of us.

Thankfully most tables range from A to B and are very normal. And yet, I cannot seem to escape the annoying tables. Imagine a table with five women. They’re nice, but short with you, so you know they’re not in the mood to socialize. That’s fine; it’ll save you some time to visit your other tables without worrying that one will take up too much of your attention. They have ordered a round of beer, which you have already gotten for them, and all five of them are drinking happily. Then you pass by and ask if there is anything else you can get them. They don’t pay too much attention to you, even though your voice was loud and clear, but one lady does turn and asks you for a water. You smile and nod, saying to the other ladies, “is there anything else I can get you—nothing, okay,” then returning a minute later with a water, after you’ve already been pulled over by other tables needing something. Easy. So you set the water down and suddenly the rest of the four women turn to you, each one saying, “Oh, I’ll have a water too.” As they say this, you see that another one of your tables has been sat. So not only do you have to greet the new table and get their drinks, but have to make an extra trip carrying four more waters because these women didn’t pay you any attention. All you’re thinking is why couldn’t they ask for waters when their friend did?!!

Not that bad of a situation, really. Just irritating as hell. I would rate that table a B. Then there are the tables that don’t listen at all. Picture this: one person asks for a coke, and you respond with “is Pepsi okay?” The next person asks, “Can I have a diet coke?” and you respond with “is diet Pepsi okay?” Then the next person asks, “Do you have Coke?” and you say, “No just Pepsi products” when you really want to scream PEPSI!!! in their face.

I also love the tables that think you have eight arms. Here I am carrying two hot and heavy plates on my left arm and hand with another hot plate in my right. I set them down in front of the rightful owners on a table of six. I was only able to bring three plates on this trip. One woman says in a condescending tone, “Where’s the rest?” I look her straight in the eye, smile and say, “They’re coming.” But what I’m really thinking is, “sorry I left my other two arms back in the kitchen, let me reattach them just for you.” 

Then there are the F-type tables. These tables can be obvious or clever. And I hate them. We all hate them, and I know of some servers who claim to take revenge on them on their last day of work. There are many different types of F-tables. There’s the typical “something in my food” table, the incredibly rude and needy table that is impossible to satisfy, the table that complains about what we offer in the menu to either me or the manager, the table that leaves without paying the bill, the table that comes in automatically in a bad mood (don’t go out if you’re in a bad mood!), and then there’s the infamous “verbal tip” table. This is what I call the sneaky F-table.

This kind of table is what we all consider to be an enigma. Thankfully these tables are rare. However, they can really put you in the worst of moods. I had a couple once that, I thought, loved me. Everything was fast and efficient, and on top of that, I was “working it.” They also proceeded to tell me how wonderful I was, that I was a “great server.” After they left, I picked up the bill and gawked: four dollar tip on a sixty dollar bill. My initial reaction was to chuck the bill book across the room, hoping it would hit the exiting couple. But instead, I stood at the computer in a controlled, inner fury with a dash of sadness, my last thought echoing what the fuck! I certainly can’t pay the bills with a fucking “you’re great” tip. A totally irritating enigma! F, F, F!!! 

I try to remember the faces of those kinds of people for next time. However, I always seem to forget about it by the next day. I suppose that’s a good thing for many reasons. My job is to serve you, but remember, in order to get your food and drink, you have to go through me. 

Can I get you anything else?

*the names used are not real for privacy purposes