Ah. Comments enabled.

Okay, then.

Guess I'll work on giving people something to comment on.

The hardest thing about writing any blog is trying to remember what you wanted to write about. I had a list yesterday. That list was longer than the one Sunday, which was longer than Saturday's, which was still longer than the one Friday. Each progressive day my list of topics to write about as soon as I got back to my computer grew even longer. I was going to enjoy writing out in detail every flaw that my fellow human beings possess. I might even start a new religion!

But then I finished my four consecutive days of waiting shifts (totalling thirty-six hours on the clock, which really isn't that much compared to the last few weekends) and forgot everything I wanted to write. The list disappeared along with all the short-lived problems of food-service quickness.

The list is there, though. I can feel it buzzing. I just can't pull it out, like it's stuck in a drawer. I hate metaphors. (But I use them, anyway, just like I use and hate razors.)

Now I have a nice pad of paper. And a digital voice recorder. My thoughts will never again be lost. Unless I run out of paper. Or my batteries die.

I'm starting to enjoy this blogging stuff. It's like an e-mail, without the direction. Or purpose.

Say, where's the space for people to comment? Not that anyone would comment on a blog that's only run for two posts. And not that I'd want to hear from someone who'd respond to a blog that only ran for two posts.

The days off seem more draining than the days on. When I'm there, I'm running and always on my feet, but I have an easily definable sense of purpose. On the days off, I have no guidelines on how to go about my day. It's days like this I see video games as a major addiction. I'm glad I don't have any, except that Snood game on my phone. I'm beginning to hate Snood.

The line was "I always wanted to be a dancer, but I could never get the shit off my shoes." Regardless of what you think of the author, it's a good line. That shit keeps piling up. My job to day is not to get rid of it, but put it in order. If it was an easy job, everyone would do it.

Taking orders and getting refills takes so much less effort.

Strangely, I don't feel funny. But this is my first post. I imagine I'll have to warm up to this method of writing. Sometimes, I miss my notebooks. Then I see them piled up in a corner of my closet, and wish I could just throw the damn things away. Here's hoping a website carries much less baggage.

Now I need a refill.