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work, brain overload, rambling, but straight aglaia

16 July 2000

Swimming, drowning, perhaps I'm just treading water in my expectations pool.

It's that darn muzak (or however you spell it) running over and over again in my head, never escaping. Dreaming, I'm serving tables all night long, I toss and turn, and I awake to hear that musak. (The turning tape of music at my restuarant.)

What is this, hour 3, hour four? "Queen of Hearts" and Backstreet Boys not far ahead, give it a few and my favorite "surfer song" (I'm not sure of the title) will come bouncing through the waves.


It's been a whole week since I've seen Jeff.

Not because anything is wrong, or we haven't called--we have, but his cell is down--sizzled out in a miss-toss-- (and into his aquarium--haha) and that has always been our main channel of conversation. So first, he didn't have my number (it's in his cell) and I didn't have his house number (because I always call his cell.) So there went half the week, me calling twice (once leaving a message) and always receiving no ring and having it instantly go to voice mail (which made me think something was up.) We saw each other on AIM though (go internet) and I gave him my number, and we talked again.

I was really busy working late this weekend, so I was getting out late, and really tired, not up for doing anything too much, I also had to keep getting up early.

I'm also ovulating, and I don't even want to put myself at a situation where I may be having sex. Birth control or not, my mom's "whoo, whoo boogie man, we're a fertile family, you're a birth control baby" must have had an effect. Basically, if i'm going to get pregnant, these few days are probably it, I might as well be extra safe and stay away from the risk. (Seeeeee, I have self-control ;)

I think I'm safe again by Wednesday. ;) Wait. I lied. I saw him like on Thursday--or was it Wednesday. God, something is wrong with me.


You start living at work, and all of a sudden it's who you are. Not in a sense of your job takes over your life, (which it does) but all of a sudden I'm a step, a break-down a part of the cycle. I'm the lemonade (with lemon wedge) and a water (no ice, please) and an onion soup (early, not with the meal) and chicken tenders (fruit cup substituted for the slaw) and the windows being windexed, the computer being touched, pressed, verbally abused.

I am the tray being balanced, the menus being devoured, the screws unraveling, the specials being sited. I am the frustration at the bar, I am the girl being asked out by a lonely customer, I am the salad dressings each resting in their spot (small souffle).

Thank you.


And I like it. I really like serving. I like it so much that I stand behind that host stand and almost resent it. Resent my boredom, my lonesome stance, my lowly position, created in my mind.

I am dramatic. An exaggeration. Fingers at a keyboard, dust, slipping, no one, nothing, everything. One.

I am sick of pimples, of poor television shows (that I watch anyway). I'm sick of stress cankers (what could I possibly be stressing over?). I'm sick of my brother eating all the turkey, all the food, all the everything. (Calm down.) I am sick of the fact that I have renewed a book three times and am not even half way through it (I'll find a good quote every couple of pages, but the philosophy is either too ancient, too beyond me, or too many details--I don't do details.) I am sick of dreams (the kind involving firing neurons--lately annoying ones that wake me up, disturb my sleep, and drain me, instead of revive me.) I am sick of useless fantasies (a wrap up with Bryan, and a win) [Two points for me.]. I'm sick of getting up early.

I love this girl Jen at work, she's a doll. Well, not really. She's built strange, kind of like 6'-ish, really stocky, actually a reasonably attractive face, but she wears it kind of hard (when she whips out the "lipsmackers" it seems strange to see something so "femme") but she makes me laugh like nothing else, and I love her for it. She can say all of her 'line's so deadpan and dry, and I'm usually in the corner, hiding my face behind me hand, because I know it's twisted up in laughter. I should be her best friend because I'll laugh at any of her jokes. (Sort of like Heidi to me, thanks girl!).

Jen is actually pretty old, already graduated from college and everything, I don't know what she's doing serving, I forget what she said she majored in, or what her plans are. I feel like she's around my age though. Not because she acts immature (and not to say I am immature ;) but she doesn't act like my sister (but it's hard to act like a Banana Republic snob, unless if you really are one--like she is) and she's still got that college-youth get-go to her.

I did want to see Jeff tonight though. I actually got off reasonably early tonight (after doing a double--I made 75$ this morning! --But I hosted at night). And I got out at 8:00. Came home, finished watching the end of "Milk Money" with my dad, who then so very kindly made me some fried up chicken patties and fries (a greasy combo, most picky eaters will agree = good.) After that, I fooled around, checking email, watching the practice. Jeff wasn't home when I called. He called later (The Practice was so involving I totally didn't realize the phone was ringing....until it wasn't anymore. ;) Oh, that was probably Jeff!

And it was. Called him back. Had an uneventful conversation. Maybe one day I'll turn into a phone person, but I doubt it. I am definitly a read girl. I need to watch your eyes, feel your personal body language, use the atmosphere and surroundings. We've been blessed with sight and sound (for those of us who have it) I guess I just want to use everything I can.

I don't know if it would comfort us, or scare us if we could read each other's minds, or understand what's going on around us. I get so posi-negative sometimes. (Sometimes so optimistic about things, and the next moment I'm dooming it.) I mean goodness, what do I want from Jeff. What do I want from anything?

I don't understand relationships, or people, or myself. I feel so disconnected and unreal. I don't feel at all. I feel exactly as the restaurant, so inhuman, and blah, and just going, and nothing, and...nothing words could explain. Maybe a sense of uselessness. Oh, god, now I just had a wave of almost tears. I'm sorry, Aglaia, I just want....I want to have something. Okay, now I am crying, I told you I'm overly dramatic with myself. la la.. I do, I just want something, for myself, I want to have some thing and I don't know what it is. And fuck being young, and fuck everything, because it's just a mess and can't decide what to do with this bundle of body, mind.

I just...I like knowing what I want. I like fighting for a reason, a drive. I need a goal, I want to grow. I feel like there's Greece (which is a whole summer away) and that's fine whatever, getting ahead start, and there are plenty of things I can be working for to pay for, but I don't think that's what I meant.


But it's like no matter who I'm with or whatever, it does, just relationships. I don't think I really understand....their purpose. I don't understand what I should be doing (should I be doing something?) Is it for me, is it for him, is it for anything. Is it something to do, something to fool yourself, something, something.....

Is there someone out there, who can blow my mind away, be it this amazing guy, or a fab. girl, and I don't know. I know I can't be that different, I know it's the last remaining pieces of teenage "who am i, i'm the only one" junk, and I'm just wondering before I start, before, I don't know, what am I saying, blah (in the spirit of proven)jfkld;jakd;jlfka.

You know?


I can turn my brain off. Satisfy my needs.

I can open my eyes. Let my throat be always dry.

"I will....bring, water..,why won't you ever be glad, it melts into wonder! Oh Lord, I'm praying for you, why won't you run into rain, and let tears splash all over...you."

(Where is my water?)

[That's ice, no lemon.]






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