we both scoffed at the thought of the valentine's day routine; the cards, the candy, the song-and-dance of romance, as defined by the people who make things that are often wrapped in red foil. Lupita and i went to the bar instead, where i sat and secretly contemplated whether i am romantic. she's not really a girly-girl(her students thought she was a lesbian until she mentioned me), and i wondered if the thought had even crossed her mind.
am i romantic? does she think i am...does she want me to be? don't all women, somewhere in them, want to be treated like a lady sometimes if not all the time? i assume that if a lady acts like a lady, then a gentleman will treat her like one.
she's more of one of the guys than a lady, but still, i thought about all the dinners i've cooked, the doors i've held open, the napkin i twisted into a rose and the chair i pulled out for her at the sushi restaurant; she walked past it, thinking i'd pulled it out for myself.
my mom trained me to be a gentleman more than her mom taught her to be a lady.
is this important? nope.
i wanted to read her a poem, so i handed her Brautigan's Rommel Drives On Deep Into Egypt and had her flip through it and randomly choose one for me to read. she chose page 11, "Love's Not the Way to Treat a Friend."
still, it's fun, and it all seemed fitting for valentine's day.
***
"That's impossible...just retarded," was Brad's(former Food&Beverage Director at a major hotel) reply when i told him that the acute genius of the management at my place of work had come to the conclusion that it was cheaper to buy bread than to have me make it. i explained to him that the place is run by(without getting caught up in finding fully accurate terms) hillbillies, and discussed the frustrations of once again working for people that have less training, experience and expertise as i do. i've learned that it will always be that way in this town, so i don't let it get me down much...i know that it will be different when i'm done here.
i've only had two bosses that i've truly respected, i doubt this town will produce a third.
***
brick walls.
little blocks of time, all chalky and dense, full of three flavors of obligations, one after the other, all held together with thin strips of sleep.
that's how this year looks so far.
i'm looking into installing a gate in this here wall.
until then, i'm slipping "sorry i haven't corresponded" notes through the cracks.
am i romantic? does she think i am...does she want me to be? don't all women, somewhere in them, want to be treated like a lady sometimes if not all the time? i assume that if a lady acts like a lady, then a gentleman will treat her like one.
she's more of one of the guys than a lady, but still, i thought about all the dinners i've cooked, the doors i've held open, the napkin i twisted into a rose and the chair i pulled out for her at the sushi restaurant; she walked past it, thinking i'd pulled it out for myself.
my mom trained me to be a gentleman more than her mom taught her to be a lady.
is this important? nope.
i wanted to read her a poem, so i handed her Brautigan's Rommel Drives On Deep Into Egypt and had her flip through it and randomly choose one for me to read. she chose page 11, "Love's Not the Way to Treat a Friend."
still, it's fun, and it all seemed fitting for valentine's day.
***
"That's impossible...just retarded," was Brad's(former Food&Beverage Director at a major hotel) reply when i told him that the acute genius of the management at my place of work had come to the conclusion that it was cheaper to buy bread than to have me make it. i explained to him that the place is run by(without getting caught up in finding fully accurate terms) hillbillies, and discussed the frustrations of once again working for people that have less training, experience and expertise as i do. i've learned that it will always be that way in this town, so i don't let it get me down much...i know that it will be different when i'm done here.
i've only had two bosses that i've truly respected, i doubt this town will produce a third.
***
brick walls.
little blocks of time, all chalky and dense, full of three flavors of obligations, one after the other, all held together with thin strips of sleep.
that's how this year looks so far.
i'm looking into installing a gate in this here wall.
until then, i'm slipping "sorry i haven't corresponded" notes through the cracks.
gogo:
so you're also a raindog uh? hello, holmes!