Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘Tray Taker’

It’s been a long time since I wrote anything here.  And while plenty has happened, I feel like there really isn’t any story to tell.

I’m fairly certain that last Wednesday was the last day I’ll ever see the tray taker boy, since the busy season is pretty much over now.  I’ve been in the Chase Room at The Restaurant for almost all of my recent shifts, which is nice since it’s a more calm room and I get tips from the bar.

I spent the last few days with my father’s side of the family up north.  My father’s brother’s only son’s family wasn’t there (they have four boys).  Only Lucy and her little sister for children.  They were great to have around.  I tried my best to be sociable with Lucy, who is now 10, as sort of practice.  I wasn’t that good at it.

And I just spent $500 on a new television.  I’m a spending junkie.  (And now my credit card is frozen because the bank is afraid of fraud after such a large purchase.)  I need to start making more money.  And I will soon, but I just sent myself further into the hole that I first must dig myself out of.

Today, while browsing Nifty, I came across a story title that felt like the first line to a poem.  So I tried to write the poem.  The line was “And then there was Joshua and Joseph.”  I corrected the grammar for my poem.

And then there were Joshua and Joseph,
Two boys of speechless wonder.
Their hearts beat furious and frantic
Within their narrow breasts.
Restless eyes failed to meet

And that’s all I could come up with.  Clearly, I am no poet.  But I’ve known that for a long time.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

I should be in bed, sleeping.  Instead I’m writing this.  I’m going to regret it…

Today at work the cute tray taker was back again.  For goodness sake, I can’t seem to let it rest with this boy, can I?  I don’t really know what it is about this boy that enchants me, but he does.  He’s not even beautiful.  I mean, not in the sense that boy models are, or that ordinary boys are.  In fact, in some ways (I hate to say this) he’s ugly.  That would undoubtedly be Boy Wonder’s opinion.  He’d say, “Wow!  That kid is a tragedy,” because he is over dramatic like that and exaggerates like mad.  Then I’d say, “no he’s not.  He has his own beauty, it just isn’t conventional.”  Except I wouldn’t because I wouldn’t be caught dead saying that about a boy IRL.

But despite all the traits that offend conventional beauty, he does have a unique alure to me.  He seems so incredibly…sexual.  Every time I walk by him I have to restrain myself from reaching out and touching him.

And adding to the strangeness of his attractiveness is his age.  He cannot legally be younger than fourteen.  And while fourteen is the upper boundary for my “age of attraction” he is not prepubescent.  His voice is unchanged, as I mentioned before, along with the fact that it is gorgeous, but he is clearly in the process of maturing, and not that far behind the average.

Perhaps he gives off a type of pheromone that I’m particularly responsive to.  ;)

Read Full Post »

Tomorrow is the new year.  For some reason, for the first time ever, the prospect of the new year excites me.  It’s not that I have dreaded the future before, nor that I’m eager for this year to be over.  I just never before saw any significance to the changing of a number at the tob of the calendar.  Regardless of the reasons theologically and scientifically for what the number is and when it changes, from a human perspective, it’s completely arbitrary.  Dec. 31 2008 is no diferent from Jan 1 2009.  If you lived in a cave in the middle of nowhere without a calendar, you wouldn’t notice anything changing between those two days.

But this year I’m looking forward to it.  Perhaps because of all I’m planning.  Even when I was in college, I had no plan beyond being in college.  Now I’m working towards a goal.  Even if that goal changes.  I may not take myself to England soon (on a permanent basis, anyway) for the sake of the new relationships I’m hoping to form here, but I still plan to get new computer training, advance my career, and form a deep relationship with a boy.  These are good plans, and I can only do so much to fulfill them on this side of the divide, and so I’m eager for the new year.

But that’s not why I started this entry.  It’s probably better than what follows, but…shrug.

Yesterday the cute tray taker was back.  I walked by his station several times (of course) and a few times I caught the sound of his voice.

It’s lovely.  I wrote before that it was unchanged, but I was struck yesterday more strongly by its sound for some reasons.  Every time I heard it my chest got tight, and I had the urge to close my eyes and just listen.  Very musical.  I think it all the time of other people, but he sould be a singer.  Not that he has much time left unless he’s like my two friends from back home who’s voices simply never changed during puberty.

Yesterday I was offered an extra shift.  As I was folding napkins, the scheduling manager came up to look at the schedule on the wall, seeking some people to take a last ninute shift.  She asked if I could, but I couldn’t.  Actually, I could have, I just didn’t want to.  But later that night I picked up a gig that would have conflicted anyway, so it’s a good thing I said no.  $250 for this concert.  (Tomorrow)

After I told her I couldn’t do it, she mentioned that she didn’t want to just post the shift for anybody to take, since the event was for a personal friend of the owner and she wanted to pick good people to work it.

So apparently, she trusts me.  Consideres me one o fthe better servers.  I’d been starting to suspect that anyway since she schedules me so often and is unhappy when I request off, and just generally the way the management acts toward me.  But it’s nice to have it a little more confirmed.

The thing is, I don’t like this job, as I have made clear.  Not only that, but I don’t feel particularly good at it.  I’m often among the last servers to get tables clear, I wander around before and after events, not really sure of what I’m supposed to be doing.  I’m glad they think I’m good at it (and maybe I am and my standards are just higher than theirs) since I hope to get a positive work refference from them when I quit in the very near future.

I’m done.

Seeing Sissy tonight before rehearsal.

Read Full Post »

I foolishly left my journal at home yesterday.  Well, not so much foolishly as forgetfully.  I meant to bring it, knowing I was working a double.  In actuality, though, I worked a tripple.  The AM shift had two banquets overlapping.

Anyway, The Restaurant seems to have hired a pair of children.  (I assume they are 14.)  The one is about 5’8″, red headed, changed voice, and slightly overweight.  The other, on the other hand, is 5’6″ (still tall for my usual taste), brown haired, skinny, unchanged voice, and has a very cute face.  And beautiful skin.  Quite attractive.  They were stationed by the dish washer to clear a la carte servers’ trays.

Also that day, in my second room, there was a boy probably about nine years old who looked a lot like a slightly younger version of the boy in the JCPenny’s comercials on Hulu.  (The Ice/Nice one.)  Every time I walked out of the kitchen, or carried a tray toward it, he would watch me openly.  He probably watched all the servers as they did their jobs, since the impression I got from him was one of strong curiosity.  He was very cute.  It seems to me that he was watching to see how the job worked.  Where we went, who was where, what we were bringing in/carrying out.

He’s not the first boy to watch me so closely while I waited tables.  Many weeks ago, near my beginning but after my training, there was a wedding when I had my tray stand right next to a boy I took to be around 10.  He also openly watched my every move.  I spent the whole time hoping he ‘d ask me questions.  He never did, of course.

With the dish boy in the kitchen and the JCP boy in the dining room, I noticed that I worked harder, more diligently.  I moved with greater purpose, made sure to smile, follow procedure, do everything with greater efficiency.  It’s something I’ve thought of before, and even considered writing about but never did, in part because I never had this tool –  the journal – that is so welcoming to such observations.

The observation being: boys inspire me.  I mean, really.  They have shaped me since I started noticing them.  While being a pedophile/boylover in an intollerant society has shaped me in various ways – some positive, some negative – the boys themselves have only ever been positive influences.

So many pivotal moments can be dated to when I was 13.  Christmas when I was 13 I discovered (rediscovered) my great-uncle’s colection of English men and boys choirs Christmas carol albums.  Those recordings inspired more interest in the other classical LPs in the basement.  I was drawn to them because of the boys’ voices, but in listening raptly I learned to love the music and the genre as well.  I’d always had an interest in classical music, but that’s when it became a passion.  In those other LPs I discovered Mozart, and then as my ears matured, Bach and Beethoven.

I bought from Boarders two CDs of boy music, also when I was 13 I think.  A compilation recording of Westminster Cathedral Choir and a Vienna Boys’ Choir CD featuring mostly solos by an also 13yo Max Emanuel Cencic.  The Cencic CD I loved, with its Handel, Mozart, Schubert and Strauss.  At first I didn’t like all the 20th century stuff on the Westminster CD, but again the voices inspired me to grow.  It eventually became my favorite CD.

A leadership position got me over my first hump in Boy Scouts (13 yo), but it was the boys (Candy, Orange Hat, Owl, CIA, N, Casper, Little Man, Fox, and finally The Beloved) that got me over the second, so I stayed to and beyond Eagle Scout.

Boys are the reason I joined the Citadel, and that has been an excellent post to have for many reasons.

I’m sure there are many more examples, but now I must eat, shave, change and go to work, yet again.

*I found some pages of skit scripts I wrote for skit night at music camp.  Kinda funny.  I was 14 when I wrote them, I think.  I had horrible handwriting.

Read Full Post »