the voices inside your head drown out the tapping in your feet

I've just finished up at the restaurant for the brunch shift and I'm at the computer exhausted and relieved to be back in the waitressing saddle. One of the biggest reliefs of the job that strikes me every time I go in is that that somehow the food seems under control there. I mean, under control in the sense that I'm not sitting in a crawl-space somewhere with a mouthfull of muffins, but that I can pick and eat when I'm hungry, or just peckish, and suddenly when they call my order or someone is sat in my section I can realize that there's something to be done. And that never happened before. The idea of something needing to be done was never a priority, only the food was. It's kind of novel. I'm pretty sure had there ever been a situation during my dorm years where I was in the middle of a binge, and the fire alarm had gone off, it would have been a real debate as to whether or not I actually bother to file out with the rest of the dorm inhabitants, or risk crisping to death (if it's not just a fire drill) with food in hand. I don't know. It's just nice not to have such a loud head lately.

Kate and Eric and Dad came to the restaurant, Kate had the leek and bacon tart with more salad than tart, Dad and Eric had Eggs Bennedict, and they all had the cider donut special. And an apple dumpling dessert. On Sundays, Harvard Krokadillos a capella group comes to sing to the brunch croud. The wait staff hates them because they're pompous harvard assholes and we affectionately refer to them as the Krokadildos. Anyhow, they sang a round to the brunchers at the restaurant, and during their set they usually sing "what's your name" to a female in the restaurant. They sang to Kate, and what was so cute was that she twirled and sat on his knee and played along. And then like nine thousand people commented on how cute she was to me. "She's so poised!" "I think their tenor may have actually liked her!" "Your sister is really beautiful! And tiny!" Why yes, yes she is. It was also cool to hear these things said and be able to hear them as compliments about Kate only, rather than somehow hearing them as the things indirect insults, or all the things I am nt. As though the subtext to someone pointing out to me that Kateis poised is MOLLIE YOU ARE A DINOSAUR or her being tiny is MOLLIE YOU ARE A DINOSAUR. Or the tenor actually having a thing for her is MOLLIE YOU ARE A GREAT BIG DINOSAUR. I love Kate. I love her more when I like me. Does that make any sense? Anyhow, Kate Dad and Eric stayed in the booth for much longer than they needed too, tipped much more than they needed to, and sipped coffee while the Oktoberfest parade raged outside. Men on stilts, costumed liberals, giant spooky puppets on sticks and headless robed figures, and the din was made somehow eerier by the gray day and how insulated the sound was against the low clouds and cold air. I like days like that when it feels dark and close, probably for the same reason that I like natural disasters. We're all feeling the cold, we're all aware of the murky day, and all somehow closer for it. We're all sitting in the ballroom of this hotel eating ham and cheese sandwiches while the hurricane wails outside us and palm trees lie down in the dark morning. I like that.

I'm meeting Dad tonight at John Harvards for dinner. I'm anticiapting feeling tired and unenergetic, and I'm afraid he wants to talk about how the food stuff has been (he likes to know these things). Kate says he also wants to talk about the teaching fellowship with the bcc and what am I going to do with my life and what if I don't get into the masters programs (what if I do?!!)...the thing is, when I'm not excited about things, it makes him anxious and protective and over-involved. When I am excited about things, it makes him overly excited but equally protective and over-involved. I can't win! What could I do to make him say "Wow, Mollie, sounds fantastic; I'm so goddamn proud of you! I'm going to go make myself a sandwich, talk to you later!"

In a change of gears, I need an ipod. Not the tiny little 5g ipod, I mean I need one I can hold allll my mewzik on. I like to know that my entire library is at my fingertips at any one time. I think that will be my next project (although I should probably be more urgantly worried about a new computer. Mine's making the kind of noises one might expect from an ostrich. In heat.

Now to shower, and shortly to dinner with dad. Wish a fish luck...