Daily Archive

 (so i’m 22 in college, and this is my first paper to receive a grade.   i got an A-.  no big deal.  even though i am certain that it sucks, and like everything i write, lacks organization and any real point.  whatever. i got an A- and it’s double spaced… haha)

It’s ten to four.  The TV in the bar is blasting headline news, as men, women and wait staff, watch the helicopters fly past the screen.  There has been another school shooting, but this one is closer to home, in fact, only an hour away- Northern Illinois University, in Dekalb.  The shooter has already died, and the rest of the families and news crew are picking up the pieces.  Brittany, a slender, young bartender, walks through the double doors, smelling of smoke, and not looking anyone in the eye.  Her sister is in Cole hall, the same place that the earlier shootings took place.  Is she okay to work? It does not matter.  People are in need of their corporate, mid-grade Italian food on the second busiest day of the year.  It’s Valentines Day.

I stand up at the podium, fifteen feet from the front doors.  I look like a Catholic priest, dressed in all black, stationed behind a wall that looks more like a preacher stand then anything else.  The phone is ringing off the hook with last minute reservations, and I will say that it brings me great joy and pleasure to tell every last person that we are currently “all booked.”  “Better luck next year with the reservations,” Valentines Day is always on February fourteenth, It’s not like Hallmark didn’t give you fair warning.

I hang up the phone for the hundred and twentieth time tonight, when a young man walks up to me, and like a shy little boy, asking for seconds on chocolate cake, asks, “Is there a wait for a table?” I stare him in his pleasant, blue eyes, “Currently no, would you care to be seated?”  He smiles and says, “In a second, I’ve got to get my girlfriend.”  I sigh. Obviously he has a girlfriend.  Obviously, for the next three hours the only men to walk into this joint will be with a girl.  The average number of people per party will be two. And in about twenty minutes we will be on an hour wait.  It’s Valentines Day.

I would imagine that suburban, middle-class men and women in their twenties would choose Romano’s Macaroni Grill as a great Italian dinner, but not those white collar folks. But today, everyone looks classy, or looks like they tried, at least.  The cutest couples to be seen are the unfortunate seventeen year olds, who don’t know how to walk in tall shoes, and don’t know the proper etiquette, like holding the door open for the lady when she walks in. But I think in my head that they are mainly cute because they assume that this restaurant is nice.  And they would never assume that you don’t have to wear more than jeans and a t-shirt when attending an establishment like ours.   

Behind me people are eating.  In front of me, they are waiting; they are sitting on benches designed for this occurrence.  The wait for tables tonight is long; not too many couples will walk out and go somewhere else when quoted an hour for a table.  People respect their food, and will wait for it. It’s also cold outside and the majority of women are wearing skirts.  Once you’ve stopped in, you don’t really want to go back outside.  I watch the hand-holding, the smiling, and the communication that goes on between the different couples.  In my head I make bets, I bet myself how long each couple has been together.  I always win.

Sometimes between seating tables and answering the phone, I look into the bar and watch the news again.  People have died for no reason.  Then I am angry that people would choose to ignore this, and still go out on the town, and still take advantage of such an over-processed holiday. Not that the world should stop, but it does make me wonder whether or not it would be ethical for it to.  But now, an elderly couple, dressed up like it took them hours, come walking through the door, and I remember that maybe all of this is just a symbol of love.  And there is nothing wrong with an excuse to get dressed up, even if it is for a dining experience at a corporate restaurant on a hallmark holiday.  It takes a brave soul, to sit back and enjoy love, when the world around them is falling apart.

i think i need my head checked.

all of life is painful. i wish i could look at it and move on. i have a problem with justice. i think the evil ones should be prosecuted for their evilness. i think illegal aliens should be deported. i don’t care where their from. i think sex offenders should have to wear signs around their neck that say, ‘keep back. i had sex with a twelve year old,” or whatever their respected crime was. i’m not much of an individualist. more of a social cleanser. call me hitler. but i have a method for my madness.

kill all the human race.

we are all criminals. we should probably all be prosecuted. i have an unpaid parking ticket, and i made out with a couple guys that were in serious relationships. two years ago i didn’t do my taxes at all. take me away.

one day, we’ll all be seen for what we are. so if we’re all gonna find out eventually, i don’t mind showing you what i am, or what others are now. i guess thats why i am so bad with secrets. we all suck. if we could just be a little bit more honest, maybe we’d all gain a little bit more self-confidence.

i hate everyone running for president. i think obama sucks the most, because he talks like tom brady after he wins another football game. (props to rosey).

“the economy is bad and needs a change. i think we just need to go out there and change it. and thats what i’m gonna set out there and do. change it. like i’ve planned.”

i’ve been told i look exactly like princess caroline. her husband is ugly.