These past few days have been emotionally draining for me.

Yesterday was probably my worst service yet. 

There were super weird tickets, where the runner (who's slowly gradually becoming a good buddy of mine) reads a ticket wrong, a waiter goes in my station, and the lack of communication.  The lack of communication part really frustrates me, since I've already accepted the fact that most of them speak Spanish and I'm very inept at it.  Although I am very frustrated about it, I don't really care if you have a problem and disguise it with something else, but if it concerns me and my station, I don't want asking anyone for a translation of what just happened.  That ruins me, and if I really don't know what's going on then my progress is either stunted or will start going on a downward trend.

I also had thoughts that day that I was God's laughingstock and the reason of him keeping me alive after my accident three days before was that he didn't want people to live my example: An underachiever who almost died getting steamed buns from Carson.

I probably blame my only food intake then either being overstuffed by two wraps and a plate of fries, or the three cookies while I had during service....

This is probably why I wanted to go to the gym in the first place:  I felt good then, and whenever I went back to work, I felt like I could do anything.  Well, almost anything.

I guess this is what happens when I'm waiting for sheets to get done, I start to rant and then everything else doesn't piece together well...

But yes, USC lost today and UCLA won, woohoo!