Sarcasm

Ask me anything.

Just don't ask me if I've ever used a vacuum before.

Because I have.

Charming

It's a glass charm. That older gentleman stopped by the front desk the other day. 

It's small, and I'll probably just put it on my keys. But just the fact that the man decided to fetch a little glass piece for me was a nice thing. Even if he's just trying to advertise for whatever glass business he owns. And maybe he is doing just that.

But sometimes people are just nice, still the same.

Tall

So, if I discover that I'm really 6 feet 1 and 1/2 inch, do I tell people I'm 6'1" or do I tell them I'm 6'2"?


Also, I just had a thought. Does it even matter?

What if I started asking average-height people how tall they were?

Shouldn't people asking me how tall I am

be as weird as me asking random shorter people how tall they are?

Should I just return the question when people ask about my height?

This is becoming problematic.

Familiar Again

I know why I'm not a rock (indie, alternative, etcetera) star.

Because I don't have red (red-orange, anything near it on the spectrum) pants.

I love finding lovely music. When a song just connects. Just fits snugly into place. When I wonder how it was that the song existed all those moments without my knowledge. When I choke as I realize there was a long stretch of time that didn't contain the song, at all.

It is exhilarating when you relate to those words and the familiarity of the melody; when you discover that another soul may have a similar piece of your experience embedded right in their clasp, even when you are not even sure you completely understand the experience. Or even the words, themselves.

But you still connect, all the same.

A Contrast

"I'm checking out," he states promptly.
I take the man's keys and ask the routine "Did you enjoy your stay?"
He is silent for a brisk moment. He responds with a jeer-draped and drawn out "Sure," eyes on the verge of rolling.




An older gentleman walks through the lobby with the luggage cart. We greet each other. He walks out the doors with the cart, and then returns a few minutes later.
"What's your favorite color?" he asks me.
I pause. "Yellow," I respond, only because I don't want to explain my love of diluted and rather specific color preferences; olive green, mustard yellow, antique pink, even coral.
"Yellow," he repeats. "That's not very common." He continues through the lobby. "I'll get you a piece."
I pause again. "What?"
He stops. "I'm a glass maker. Will you be here tomorrow?"
"Yes," I respond with question in my voice.
"Okay, I will bring you a piece."

à la danse

Today I started cleaning my room. It's still a work in progress.

But there was a small box under my bed that had some clothes in it. Like shorts. A spring shirt. Gloves from a high school dance. Ballet tights and shoes.

I put the tights on shoes on. I did some ballet things. And then I missed ballet even more than I recently have.

I may take some classes and catch up on what I have missed for years.

It's pending, for now.

But perhaps likely.

Tip

I got a twenty-dollar tip today. From one rockin' Argentine. Sometimes people are so nice. Like the people who read my name tag once, then they address me by Bethany every time they see me. And they don't have to read my name tag again.

Also it's weird when I'm at work and the guy I just checked in walks up to me and asks if I'm interested in earning some extra money. And he gives me his card for his phone business.

I threw it away.

In other news,

I'm so tired I could eat a horse. That doesn't make much sense. Either way, my eyes are drooping. And I have laundry to do. And one whole hour of the night is going to disintegrate into nothing and become forgotten and irrelevant. I am going to miss that little hour.

Also I'd never eat a horse.

Hotel Perks

Benefits of working full time at the hotel:

I don't have the time to eat my normal eleven meals every day.

I just eat four; breakfast, lunch, dinner, and binge session before (and) or after work.

I bring healthy things for my lunches. PB&J, chimichangas, chicken noodle casserole, yogurt, almonds.

And then I buy doughnuts from the vending machine.

I talk on the phone like a professional. I give long-winded greetings. I say, "One moment, please," rather than "Hang on a sec."

Even on my home phone.

I can fold towels like a pro. 

Three gigantic hotel dryers full.

I get to associate with people from all over the place. Denmark, Argentina, England, Sweden.

I get to pretend like I understood everything they just said.

I stay busy.

Even if that means putting nine people on hold, telling the seventeen people in line that I'll be able to help them in one moment, letting the six people who need blankets know that I'll get those to them in twenty just a couple minutes. Just so I can answer this one guest's simple question.

There's money in my bank account.

Even though I don't have much to spend it on, besides random trips to McDonald's for hot chocolate and smoothies, Village Inn for French toast, and soda for a friend who pays me back later that night, anyway.

Get a job at a hotel. It'll make you more suave. Because it's making me suave. And rich enough for McDonald's. 

Reflection

Why is it so hard to not do the things that you want to do

And so normal to stick with the hard things that you want to change?

P.S. Welcome, March. Just the fact that we're now in the same month as the first day of spring

 makes up for the fact that it seems like we're still in the same month as Christmas.