total fatigue
sunday i woke up at 2pm. went to bed at 3am monday morning and woke up at 5:45 to drive 1.5 hours to new paltz, in some of the heaviest rain i'd ever seen. was scaling cliffs by 9, konked out at 2:30. i said, please, no more, i'm out of it. realized i totally forgot all my toiletries, walked to the drug store up the street from the hostel, took a shower, walked around town so i wouldn't fall asleep, finally had dinner and then went to bed. i was sharing my room with one other person, a hard of hearing 80 year old woman. we went to bed at the same time, at 8:30.
tuesday, was up at 8, on the cliffs by 9, and climbed all day till 5, the latter part of the day with my friend who lives up there. all in all, it was an amazing time. but my arms and shoulders and back are so sore, and my knees and shins are all sorts of shades of bruised. rock climbers are NUTS. I was climbing 5.4 and 5.5s and some of the parts were hairy. you just don't think that these super sticky rubber shoes are going to stick to a piece of rock sticking out that's like half an inch big, but they do. still, what i was climbing was cake compared to the 5.10 - 5.14 that professional nuts climb. that's like climbing a chalkboard, let me tell you. okay, maybe a chalkboard with a tiny hairline crack running down it.
still, i feel so physically satisfied. my body has done some hard work and earned the 9 hours of sleep i got last night (and the 11 hours the night before). i could totally see myself doing this again, but really, how many hobbies and ways to recreate does a girl need?!
back to the real world. back to all the errands i have to run for my parents, who, by the way, called me for the second time yesterday. and YELLED at me FROM ACROSS THE ATLANTIC OCEAN. how depressing.
Wednesday, June 16, 2004
Sunday, June 13, 2004
damn weather
good weather is good for the club, because rain tends to keep the scantily clad, high-heel wearing prissies home. i think it's because the rain ruins their hair. so after some phenomenal weather this weekend, when i was either sleeping, chasing after obnoxious kids or trapped in the basement with giant rats, it's going to be hot humid and rainy all week. i'm supposed to go climbing in new paltz on monday and tuesday. my north face tent is quite trusty, but do i really want to camp in "dangerous" weather? more importantly, do i even get to scale cliffs under threat of thunder and lightning?
good weather is good for the club, because rain tends to keep the scantily clad, high-heel wearing prissies home. i think it's because the rain ruins their hair. so after some phenomenal weather this weekend, when i was either sleeping, chasing after obnoxious kids or trapped in the basement with giant rats, it's going to be hot humid and rainy all week. i'm supposed to go climbing in new paltz on monday and tuesday. my north face tent is quite trusty, but do i really want to camp in "dangerous" weather? more importantly, do i even get to scale cliffs under threat of thunder and lightning?
growing up
when i was young, sometimes, i'd eat fruit in the car. and having no garbage can and getting tired of holding the peach pit/apple core/banana peel in my hand, i'd give it to my mom to hold. and i always thought she was amazing because she'd hold other people's gross saliva-y masticated garbage. it'll come with having children, she told me. well, i think i've had a kid somewhere and not known it because i've stuck my hands in all sorts of disgusting things at the club. just imagine, fishing rock glasses out of other people's drunken crap. not literally crap, but a smorgasbord of food, cigarette butts and ashes, spit, backwash, leftover liquor, beer, water, juice, milk and god knows what else. eew.
when i was young, sometimes, i'd eat fruit in the car. and having no garbage can and getting tired of holding the peach pit/apple core/banana peel in my hand, i'd give it to my mom to hold. and i always thought she was amazing because she'd hold other people's gross saliva-y masticated garbage. it'll come with having children, she told me. well, i think i've had a kid somewhere and not known it because i've stuck my hands in all sorts of disgusting things at the club. just imagine, fishing rock glasses out of other people's drunken crap. not literally crap, but a smorgasbord of food, cigarette butts and ashes, spit, backwash, leftover liquor, beer, water, juice, milk and god knows what else. eew.
Saturday, June 12, 2004
lost and found
there is one thing my family has never been lacking. umbrellas. being in the restaurant/food & beverage industry leaves us with more umbrellas than we could ever need. i have just accumulated three in the last two days as we did a giant purge of all the crap at the clubs. one guy actually lost a shoe. *A* shoe.
there is one thing my family has never been lacking. umbrellas. being in the restaurant/food & beverage industry leaves us with more umbrellas than we could ever need. i have just accumulated three in the last two days as we did a giant purge of all the crap at the clubs. one guy actually lost a shoe. *A* shoe.
no title
i feel like a cartoon character, you know, when one gets really angry and he turns red from the toes up, resulting in steam shooting out his animal ears, or they twist up in a bunch. that's how i feel.
i'm trying to purge the racism from my head, the racism that has creeped its way in from working at the club. let's make this clear: i don't hate koreans. i just hate the ones that work at the club, and most of the customers.
i kinda flipped out tonight, and i feel bad for flipping out and yelling at some of the employees. i don't feel bad about why i did the yelling, but i guess i feel badly because I'M NEVER GOING TO GET THROUGH THEIR SKULLS and in their eyes, i'm just some bitchy daughter of the boss who freaks out every once in a while.
we had two new busboys today. we usually have three working between the two joints, but we had two. and they didn't have a clue as to what was going on, either. while we're frantically cleaning at closing tonight, i hear one of the more senior waiters saying, amigo, amigo, bathroom. as if that alone were enough to compel this guy who barely speaks english to go clean the bathroom. and the guy, well, he was working hard, trying to get the thousands of cups and shot glasses through the dishwasher. meanwhile, some of the other waitstaff were sitting on their asses, smoking and shootin the shit. so i kinda freaked and said, hey, he's a little slow, we're going to have to pull a little more weight around here tonight, ok?!
the thing is, some of the others had. the one who was bossing the busboy around ... he peeves me off to start with. and i understand that there's training involved, but it's the tone of voice he had, that he always has, like he's calling his dog to him, and then telling him to go eat a pile of shit. that completely demeaning, condescending, i expect you to do what i say as quickly as you can, no questions asked, bitch, kind of voice. and that's what got my goat.
working at the club and seeing this kind of stuff hurts my soul. it really does. the racism is so deeply engrained in all the employees, the culture, even in my parents. and the best i can do is give them a few extra dollars, be it by skimming the tips and when there are, a healthy cut of my own bar tips. but the dollars don't compensate for the demeaning, the ridicule, the feeling of working for people who make you feel shitty and lesser.
but then in my head i took a step back. sure i can sit on my highhorse and try and say i'm not like that, but in a way, i am. i shop at the gap. i buy clothes that are made in sweatshops in developing countries. i know this, but it doesn't always stop me. so indirectly, i'm contributing to the same kind of oppression and classism and racism that i so hate at the club. the other problem is that i've kind of had a rough few days. too much responsibility since my parents are out of the country and they always keep their affairs in the state of borderline chaos. i don't know how they keep it together. and i've been taking my frustration out on some of the people around me, the employees, because i guess in the end i know they can't do anything about it, nor do i care because i hate them so much.
i'm an awful person.
i feel like a cartoon character, you know, when one gets really angry and he turns red from the toes up, resulting in steam shooting out his animal ears, or they twist up in a bunch. that's how i feel.
i'm trying to purge the racism from my head, the racism that has creeped its way in from working at the club. let's make this clear: i don't hate koreans. i just hate the ones that work at the club, and most of the customers.
i kinda flipped out tonight, and i feel bad for flipping out and yelling at some of the employees. i don't feel bad about why i did the yelling, but i guess i feel badly because I'M NEVER GOING TO GET THROUGH THEIR SKULLS and in their eyes, i'm just some bitchy daughter of the boss who freaks out every once in a while.
we had two new busboys today. we usually have three working between the two joints, but we had two. and they didn't have a clue as to what was going on, either. while we're frantically cleaning at closing tonight, i hear one of the more senior waiters saying, amigo, amigo, bathroom. as if that alone were enough to compel this guy who barely speaks english to go clean the bathroom. and the guy, well, he was working hard, trying to get the thousands of cups and shot glasses through the dishwasher. meanwhile, some of the other waitstaff were sitting on their asses, smoking and shootin the shit. so i kinda freaked and said, hey, he's a little slow, we're going to have to pull a little more weight around here tonight, ok?!
the thing is, some of the others had. the one who was bossing the busboy around ... he peeves me off to start with. and i understand that there's training involved, but it's the tone of voice he had, that he always has, like he's calling his dog to him, and then telling him to go eat a pile of shit. that completely demeaning, condescending, i expect you to do what i say as quickly as you can, no questions asked, bitch, kind of voice. and that's what got my goat.
working at the club and seeing this kind of stuff hurts my soul. it really does. the racism is so deeply engrained in all the employees, the culture, even in my parents. and the best i can do is give them a few extra dollars, be it by skimming the tips and when there are, a healthy cut of my own bar tips. but the dollars don't compensate for the demeaning, the ridicule, the feeling of working for people who make you feel shitty and lesser.
but then in my head i took a step back. sure i can sit on my highhorse and try and say i'm not like that, but in a way, i am. i shop at the gap. i buy clothes that are made in sweatshops in developing countries. i know this, but it doesn't always stop me. so indirectly, i'm contributing to the same kind of oppression and classism and racism that i so hate at the club. the other problem is that i've kind of had a rough few days. too much responsibility since my parents are out of the country and they always keep their affairs in the state of borderline chaos. i don't know how they keep it together. and i've been taking my frustration out on some of the people around me, the employees, because i guess in the end i know they can't do anything about it, nor do i care because i hate them so much.
i'm an awful person.
Friday, June 11, 2004
at risk of catching the plague
my parents, the lucky ducks, are away. again. this time to europe, where i can't reach them via a simple phone call. lots of responsibility, lots of errands, lots of things to do to keep the club running. well, when i got there today to wait, yet again, for these electricians to do some work, i ran into a tenant from the apartments above the bar. he informed me that the hot water had been out all day. bugger. i don't know the first thing about lighting pilots, much less where the boilers are. i know they're in the basement somewhere, but our basement is quite large and windy and ... well, as basements are in nyc, full of giant cat-sized rats and just dirty. i mean, there are three restaurants who share the space.
i sit on the dilemma for a few hours before my friend convinces me that i NEED to call some plumbers. the problem may be as simple as re-lighting the pilot, but if i'm not going to try it myself -- i was afraid the rats were going to eat me and give me the plague -- i had to, for the sake of the tenants, call a plumber. and so i did. and i found myself waiting once again. they show up. i take them to the basement, follow them into the deepest darkest reaches of our subterranean hell, and we discover the boiler room in the basement area of one of the korean restaurants. it's in a very busy area, and no, it wasn't as simple as relighting the boiler.
they flipped a switch. really, a switch, like a light, only this one was on a red box that said gas. apparently, someone knocked into it while moving boxes, so says the restaurant's owner. although the plumbers tried to say that it was because there was noise, that some pump isn't supposed to make any noise. and that it needed to be replaced. whatever. still, the plumbers were pretty understanding, didn't make fun of me too much. but then charged me $125 FOR FLIPPING A SWITCH. they originally tried to charge me $150.
crikey.
my parents, the lucky ducks, are away. again. this time to europe, where i can't reach them via a simple phone call. lots of responsibility, lots of errands, lots of things to do to keep the club running. well, when i got there today to wait, yet again, for these electricians to do some work, i ran into a tenant from the apartments above the bar. he informed me that the hot water had been out all day. bugger. i don't know the first thing about lighting pilots, much less where the boilers are. i know they're in the basement somewhere, but our basement is quite large and windy and ... well, as basements are in nyc, full of giant cat-sized rats and just dirty. i mean, there are three restaurants who share the space.
i sit on the dilemma for a few hours before my friend convinces me that i NEED to call some plumbers. the problem may be as simple as re-lighting the pilot, but if i'm not going to try it myself -- i was afraid the rats were going to eat me and give me the plague -- i had to, for the sake of the tenants, call a plumber. and so i did. and i found myself waiting once again. they show up. i take them to the basement, follow them into the deepest darkest reaches of our subterranean hell, and we discover the boiler room in the basement area of one of the korean restaurants. it's in a very busy area, and no, it wasn't as simple as relighting the boiler.
they flipped a switch. really, a switch, like a light, only this one was on a red box that said gas. apparently, someone knocked into it while moving boxes, so says the restaurant's owner. although the plumbers tried to say that it was because there was noise, that some pump isn't supposed to make any noise. and that it needed to be replaced. whatever. still, the plumbers were pretty understanding, didn't make fun of me too much. but then charged me $125 FOR FLIPPING A SWITCH. they originally tried to charge me $150.
crikey.
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
i'm back
quick tiring trip to boston. but successful! if all goes well, and i get approved, i should have a lovely sunny one bedroom apartment facing the christian science center. sounds weird but it's in a great location. i'm really digging boston. it's got the hustle bustle feel of a big city but it's so easy to get from one end to the other, so it's totally manageable. i'm really excited!
quick tiring trip to boston. but successful! if all goes well, and i get approved, i should have a lovely sunny one bedroom apartment facing the christian science center. sounds weird but it's in a great location. i'm really digging boston. it's got the hustle bustle feel of a big city but it's so easy to get from one end to the other, so it's totally manageable. i'm really excited!
Thursday, June 03, 2004
not so subliminal message
have you seen that commercial for crestor, where there's this guy with high cholesterol and he's not allowed to eat anything with taste. he's shown wandering around a dingy, gray, hectic city. then he walks into a doctor's office, gets put on crestor, and passes through to colorful happy nirvana -- the suburbs.
right, and there, he'll drive everywhere because there is nothing within walking distance and get fat, even tho' he has great cholesterol.
have you seen that commercial for crestor, where there's this guy with high cholesterol and he's not allowed to eat anything with taste. he's shown wandering around a dingy, gray, hectic city. then he walks into a doctor's office, gets put on crestor, and passes through to colorful happy nirvana -- the suburbs.
right, and there, he'll drive everywhere because there is nothing within walking distance and get fat, even tho' he has great cholesterol.
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