hi
I just nearly toppled off my bed in sitting position.
I'm tired.
But wait, there's more.
No, I guess this will be about how I'm tired. After all those (punishment) days off, the last few days have been a shock to the system and my body aches and my feet and my shoulders and midback and now, when I stand, the pain has kind of spread to the ankles which I do not see as a very good sign no I do not. I'm really thinking of investing in some massage sessions, hopefully with hot rocks and Brenda Chenowith. I hear she has magic coming out of her fingers for prostitutes and other working girls like me.
But this is all worth it. Because now I can add "amateur emergency sushi roller at Italian ristorantes only" to my job titles. Yes folks, in the midst of my double, I was summoned to roll California rolls because of the colour of my skin. No but seriously, yellow. Working in a restaurant, piece of cake. My body aches, but my mind goes boopadeeboopadeedo x fast and I don't complain, I do my shit and I do it well and I don't compromise plate presentation for speed because the person receiving the dish you're making doesn't give a fuck if you have X number of plates still to make. (I know because I'm that person, always that person). Its about training yourself to be fast and precise isn't it?
But I wish I had bigger dreams.
The leetle Korean boy I work with keeps asking me, "Banessa, do you think is it possible I can be famous chef in Toronto?" And also, "Banessa ... Soowhan ... that is good name for famous chef do you think giggle giggle" I haven't got the heart to tell him he won't make it what with the lamenting about long hours, late hours, the unwillingness to train himself to be a night person (uh hello), his inability to handle caffeine, his rigid fixation on staying put in Toronto, and how he's just too damn nice to push himself through all the asshole ego tripping chief wannabes to reach the top.
Oh Banessa, this is what you're good at eh? Dashing a poor immigrant boy's big big (and I quote him here) "American dreams" but never able to come up with any aspirations worthy of yourself. You never desire anything that might have to battle it out with your ceaseless "realistic" cynicism, huh. I always quit the game before it starts, I do. Lame lame lame, this is what a loser looks like.
That's not meant to sound self-pitying in the slightest. I just wonder where my imagination for my future is. Everyone else seems to have so many different ideas of where they want their life to go, but I always cross things out before they even start percolating (ew, who USES a word like that in eel-jay land).
Do I hate kids as much as I claim? Then why am I so excited planning out Christmas presents for my fellow employees' children? Why do I ask about trick or treating and Halloween plans and smile so big hearing about cute stories and why do I feel so mushy and NICE when I listen to fathers chatting to each other about their kids' favourite cartoons, observing THEIR smiles makes me even happier.
I fear I am revealing too much of myself here and this would be better off as an email to an intimate.
Which brings me to another issue. What is with this inability to open up? People are so ready to tell me their problems, their relations with other staff, to vent, to boast, but I feel no such desire. Take for example this encounter in talking about the passing week. My internal monologue aka what a normal person would share will henceforth be in italics.
Evan: Man, I can't wait for this week to end.
End? I just started the week
E: Its been rough. I've been at the hospital everyday.
Me aloud!: Oh no!
E: Yea, its my mom. She's getting surgery tomorrow.
Me aloud!: Oh no! What's wrong.
E: She's getting her breast removed.
Shit.
E: And then they're going to see how she's doing next week before they decide to do surgery on her back.
Fuck?
E: She has bone cancer.
My grandmother has cancer.
E: They got most of it out, but now she's really weak.
She was diagnosed last Labour Day. They gave her 3-6 months to live, but she's still around ...
E: Yea its messed up her back. They want to put metal rods in her spine.
Grandma's cancer's spread throughout her body ... in her hip and legs especially. She's on a lot of meds for the pain, but that doesn't do shit.
E: So I'm going to see her tonight. Its been really hard on my wife too.
Real time pause.
Grandma's gunna die grandma's gunna die it's only a matter of when which month week jesus.
E: Fuck, I just want this week to end.
Me aloud!: Yea.
I'm tired.
But wait, there's more.
No, I guess this will be about how I'm tired. After all those (punishment) days off, the last few days have been a shock to the system and my body aches and my feet and my shoulders and midback and now, when I stand, the pain has kind of spread to the ankles which I do not see as a very good sign no I do not. I'm really thinking of investing in some massage sessions, hopefully with hot rocks and Brenda Chenowith. I hear she has magic coming out of her fingers for prostitutes and other working girls like me.
But this is all worth it. Because now I can add "amateur emergency sushi roller at Italian ristorantes only" to my job titles. Yes folks, in the midst of my double, I was summoned to roll California rolls because of the colour of my skin. No but seriously, yellow. Working in a restaurant, piece of cake. My body aches, but my mind goes boopadeeboopadeedo x fast and I don't complain, I do my shit and I do it well and I don't compromise plate presentation for speed because the person receiving the dish you're making doesn't give a fuck if you have X number of plates still to make. (I know because I'm that person, always that person). Its about training yourself to be fast and precise isn't it?
But I wish I had bigger dreams.
The leetle Korean boy I work with keeps asking me, "Banessa, do you think is it possible I can be famous chef in Toronto?" And also, "Banessa ... Soowhan ... that is good name for famous chef do you think giggle giggle" I haven't got the heart to tell him he won't make it what with the lamenting about long hours, late hours, the unwillingness to train himself to be a night person (uh hello), his inability to handle caffeine, his rigid fixation on staying put in Toronto, and how he's just too damn nice to push himself through all the asshole ego tripping chief wannabes to reach the top.
Oh Banessa, this is what you're good at eh? Dashing a poor immigrant boy's big big (and I quote him here) "American dreams" but never able to come up with any aspirations worthy of yourself. You never desire anything that might have to battle it out with your ceaseless "realistic" cynicism, huh. I always quit the game before it starts, I do. Lame lame lame, this is what a loser looks like.
That's not meant to sound self-pitying in the slightest. I just wonder where my imagination for my future is. Everyone else seems to have so many different ideas of where they want their life to go, but I always cross things out before they even start percolating (ew, who USES a word like that in eel-jay land).
Do I hate kids as much as I claim? Then why am I so excited planning out Christmas presents for my fellow employees' children? Why do I ask about trick or treating and Halloween plans and smile so big hearing about cute stories and why do I feel so mushy and NICE when I listen to fathers chatting to each other about their kids' favourite cartoons, observing THEIR smiles makes me even happier.
I fear I am revealing too much of myself here and this would be better off as an email to an intimate.
Which brings me to another issue. What is with this inability to open up? People are so ready to tell me their problems, their relations with other staff, to vent, to boast, but I feel no such desire. Take for example this encounter in talking about the passing week. My internal monologue aka what a normal person would share will henceforth be in italics.
Evan: Man, I can't wait for this week to end.
End? I just started the week
E: Its been rough. I've been at the hospital everyday.
Me aloud!: Oh no!
E: Yea, its my mom. She's getting surgery tomorrow.
Me aloud!: Oh no! What's wrong.
E: She's getting her breast removed.
Shit.
E: And then they're going to see how she's doing next week before they decide to do surgery on her back.
Fuck?
E: She has bone cancer.
My grandmother has cancer.
E: They got most of it out, but now she's really weak.
She was diagnosed last Labour Day. They gave her 3-6 months to live, but she's still around ...
E: Yea its messed up her back. They want to put metal rods in her spine.
Grandma's cancer's spread throughout her body ... in her hip and legs especially. She's on a lot of meds for the pain, but that doesn't do shit.
E: So I'm going to see her tonight. Its been really hard on my wife too.
Real time pause.
Grandma's gunna die grandma's gunna die it's only a matter of when which month week jesus.
E: Fuck, I just want this week to end.
Me aloud!: Yea.