Literal Translations

Last night, after I stood in the dining room waiting on my last table (the one that invariably refuses to pay their check, much less vacate the premises, even though the restaurant has been closed for over an hour, and either doesn’t grasp, or just doesn’t care that you might have a life outside of serving them their meal of saturated fat and sodium, because every chef’s secret ingredients are butter and salt), after I paced back and forth, painfully aware of the clock ticking off the seconds of my uncompleted-blog-post-deadline’s fast approach, after I sat down in a booth out of frustration, wondering how I was going to write about something interesting that had happened to me, when the current circumstances of my life pretty much guarantee that nothing interesting ever happens to me, and after I had counted the pittance that made up my tips for the evening, considering apprehensively if I was going to be able to pay my rent on time this month, something happened: I let go. I decided it wasn’t worth worrying about missing the deadline, because there was nothing I could do about it. I decided that I wasn’t going to worry about the fact that nothing interesting ever happens to me, because at least I wasn’t stupid enough to think that the banalities of my life were somehow interesting. I decided not to care so much about making the rent on time, because I wasn’t likely to be evicted. And with this decision to stop caring, I found release. Babies don’t sleep this good.

The night before, after you stood in the dining room waiting on your last table (the one that invariably refuses to pay their check, much less vacate the premises, even though the restaurant has been closed for over an hour, and either doesn’t grasp, or just doesn’t care that you might have a life outside of serving them their meal of saturated fat and sodium, because every chef’s secret ingredients are butter and salt), after you paced back and forth, painfully aware of the clock ticking off the seconds of your uncompleted-blog-post-deadline’s fast approach, after you sat down in a booth out of frustration, wondering how you were going to write about something interesting that had happened to you, when the current circumstances of your life pretty much guaranteed that nothing interesting ever happened to you, and after you counted the pittance that made up your tips for the evening, becoming apprehensive of whether or not you were going to be able to pay your rent on time this month, something happened: you let go. You decided it wasn’t worth worrying about the deadline, because there was nothing you could do about it. You decided that you weren’t going to worry about the fact that nothing interesting ever happens to you, because at least you aren’t stupid enough to think that the banalities of your life are somehow interesting. You decided not to care so much about making the rent on time, because you weren’t likely to be evicted. And with this decision to stop caring, you found release. Not even babies sleep that well.

That night, after he had stood in the dining room waiting on his last table (the one that invariably refuses to pay their check, much less vacate the premises, even though the restaurant has been closed for over an hour, and either doesn’t grasp, or just doesn’t care that you might have a life outside of serving them their meal of saturated fat and sodium, because every chef’s secret ingredients are butter and salt), after he paced back and forth, painfully aware of the clock ticking off the seconds of his uncompleted-blog-post-deadline’s fast approach, after he sat down in a booth out of frustration, wondering how he was going to write about something interesting that had happened to him, when the current circumstances of his life pretty much guaranteed that nothing interesting ever happened to him, and after he counted the pittance that made up his tips for the evening, becoming apprehensive of whether or not he was going to be able to pay his rent on time this month, something happened: he let go. He decided it wasn’t worth worrying about missing the deadline, because there was nothing he could do about it. He decided that he wasn’t going to worry about the fact that nothing interesting ever happened to him, because at least he wasn’t stupid enough to think that the banalities of his life were somehow interesting. He decided not to care so much about making the rent on time, because it wasn’t likely he would be evicted. And with the decision to stop caring, he found release. Babies don’t sleep that good.

In my pieces I don’t really notice much of a difference in tone, or meaning, though there were obvious differences in language usage. But, having read a few of the other post’s, I wonder if I may have taken the assignment a little to literally.
-Dennis