I’m having trouble collecting my thoughts, so I am not going to collect them. Instead, I will try something that would probably make me laugh and scoff if you did the same. I am going to tell you about my day, from the moment I opened my eyes until now, because I don’t have the energy or talent to do anything else. Besides, I think it might be interesting, because several boring details of my day seem to be the tips of icebergs of which I have been trying to skip along without really giving much thought. So why not do the same with words?
I woke up at 6.41 AM today, I remember the time so well because it was one of those awakenings that you realize that somehow, once again – something has gone wrong with the alarm clock, and you never heard a thing. I was panicked at first as I was thinking what the stated time actually meant, then slightly relieved that there was still time to get to work, which I did. I packed my new camera for work, but never had the time nor the confidence to get it out at any point during my shift. The only reason I brought it was because I think the fridge looks strikingly pretty every time I walk towards it with a bucket of cole slaw in my hands, and I figured if I had my camera with me, I would notice more such oddities. Drinking coffee and eating oatmeal at my place of work at 7.00 AM is quite a good feeling. The entire kitchen is mine and mine alone until 11.00 AM, and so long as I get my work done – it’s a pretty pleasant piece of time. I’m getting decent enough at caramelizing onions and slicing potatoes that I can actually do a little thinking. I can meditate, pray, listen to National Public Radio, or just listen to the sound of my work and the business of the world slowly beginning outside the back window.
Once 11.00 AM rolls around, the place opens, and ironically – everything slows down for me. No more rush, because by that time, I am supposed to be ready. And nobody really eats lunch at 11.00 in the morning, so that is as good a time as any to take my precious five minute break, but today I didn’t because the two cups of coffee I had a few hours previous wouldn’t let me. The rush comes in at noon and can last until 2.00 PM, the longer it lasts, and the busier it gets – the more fun it is, and the faster the time passes. Today I ran the cold part of the line, which isn’t quite as fun as slicing ribs and making sandwiches. Instead I got to portion out sides of slaw, cut cornbread and make sure the orders go out right. Today I noticed that I really enjoy making the dinner salads, because I have an eye for the pretty, and I like to think that each salad I make is quite likely to have a female predator, and its a plain fact that these females are more likely to appreciate the way I lay the red pepper under the cucumber in a way most men could not. Making those salads makes me happy, hokey as it is – because for that tenth of a second I get to stop thinking about being a better cook and remember that I was a painter two weeks ago, in a previous life.
I spent my last hour in the kitchen mixing the bean recipe that I will bake off tomorrow morning. The recipe is beginning to conflict me, as I am constantly astonished that I am mixing seven pounds of a life love, brown sugar, with two quarts of something that I have learned to like over the years, ketchup. There are plenty of other ingredients, but it is the melding of those two that really bends my brain, don’t ask me why – it just doesn’t seem right. When my shift was over, I went with Derin, one of my bosses, to recycle all our recyclable goods at Wal-Mart. If you are a regular reader, you recognize the irony, and I need not say anything more. The experience solidified my views, but I have to say that I and a slightly overweight six-year-old were the only two people at the place who got a serious rise out of throwing the glass bottles into their bins as hard as we possibly could. After that, Derin took me by his house so he could feed his dogs. He told me about how he wanted his computer room to have a slightly more bohemian color while I sat down for the first time all day. On the way back to Vermont St. we stopped by Cottin’s for I don’t know what, but after we left, we both noticed and commented on the fact that the entire place was run by young, attractive females. For me the attractive part was that the girl at the desk knew more about installing screen doors than I ever will. Now I remember, we were there for screen doors.
I had a haircut at 5.00 PM, but I wanted to at least change shirts and shave before I arrived, so I wouldn’t have to force anyone to breath the nearly solid air I float that is made of sweat and hickory – despite the fact that I haven’t really had any complaints as of yet. And I wanted to shave because I hadn’t in two days, and when that happens I get a bunch of hair on my chin, my sideburns get an inch longer, and I look like a thirteen-year-old on steroids. I’d rather look like a well kept adolescent. So I rushed home, and on the way Headmasters called and asked if I wouldn’t mind coming a bit early, so I told them I could come ten minutes early, which seemed dumb as they are always running about ten minutes late. I like Headmasters, and mainly for one simple reason. I like the building, and I like the smells. The lady who works behind the counter is also nice, but she’s from Chicago. During my cut, I dosed off with my head perfectly still and upright, I woke up to my hairdresser dude saying “You seem tired today.” Nice observation. I decided to be friendly and engage in conversation in order to keep awake.
After my cut, I went down to Henry’s to say hello to all and avoid going home, where I knew I would fall fast asleep instead of doing what I would like. When I walked in, Lindsey warned me about the e-mail she had just sent me, which essentially explained the ways in which I could be a friend that is more like the type of friend she wants and needs. In my confused and delirious state, I wrote her a lousy reply instead of turning around and saying something, which her friend Drana made fun of me for, with good reason. Both Lindsey and Molly seem to have richly established relationships with this Drana character, who I met last night – as she is visiting from Boston. Since I have met her, we haven’t really had a conversation. She has said roughly two very nice things to me, and about three mean things – that were somewhat funny, and undeniably appropriate. She is pretty and has a nice head of hair and interesting style. She wears a brace on her foot that looks like a sock with the toe cut off.
After Henry’s, I got Wilson and Molly to go get something to eat with me. We headed for La Parilla, but Wilson forgot something important and had to go somewhere, so Molly and I ran across the street and got a few chairs outside Zen Zero and thought it was really funny. Looking back, it doesn’t seem as funny. While we waited, we talked about how Wilson is always the guy that forgets something and gets dooped and ditched or something of the like. He’s a good sport about it. I also took a few macro shots of Molly’s goosebumbs, as I tried to learn my new camera’s sweet spots. Dinner was pretty good. Molly got annoyed by something I said and told me to shutup. Wilson said that I am less mature now that I have a job. And I realized he’s right, I try pretty hard at my job, and I admit that I’m not used to doing something I don’t know how to do for ten hours at a time. By the time the day is over, I want to be with my friends, but I also want to unwind, so I get sarcastic, silly, and repetitive. I realized that the hardest part of working fifty hours a week will be how I choose to act during the hours that remain. After dinner, Molly really wanted to go on an adventure. Wilson tried to remind her that we live in Lawrence, Kansas, and I tried to believe in her dream. Ideas of ice cream and movies were drifting in and out of conversation, but we basically just walked up and down Mass until we arrived at Vermont St. for smoked Bloody Mary’s. While we were there I got more tired, and resorted to talking to my coworkers and taking pictures, while intermittently turning to Molly and Wilson and attempting to have a conversation. I saw a woman sitting behind me with her legs crossed in a way that would be quite formally pleasing if the proper crop were applied, so I attempted to do so in a nonchalant way. If her legs were brooms, I would have acted in a similar way, but Molly seemed to differ. So she started speaking loudly and asking why I was taking a picture of that girl’s legs and if I was a pervert. She thought it was funny, I didn’t. In the added nervousness of Molly’s chatter, I only managed to capture the woman’s chest, which made my original intent seem even more lustful than it apparently appeared to Molly. I was surprised that she thought what she did, with her history in photography – and I started to wonder if she thought I was taking photos of her all night for the same reason. She was certainly more satisfied with those photos than she was the scandalous photos of the stranger behind me. After that, Wilson and Molly began poking and tickling each other, and screaming, yelping, and laughing. It was funny to watch. Right when one of my bosses came over to the bar to sit next to me, Molly started tickling me too. I was able to convince her with my non-reaction that I wasn’t ticklish, which was really hard to do considering the fact that I am, and if you even touch my rib I want to scream and giggle.
Lindsey and Drana showed up and insisted with Molly that I stay with them at the pig for their first drink. Lindsey and Molly always insist that I stay, which usually makes me feel pretty darn good, and usually keeps me. This time I was sort of astonished by the idea, as I couldn’t quite see why they actually wanted to sit around with my sad self a little longer – considering their recent statements of disapproval (each of which I could only agree with). Somehow, I found myself nodding yeah, even though I didn’t want to, but because I knew I didn’t have the energy to be the person they like me to be, much less the person I like to be. I was planning on spending this evening reading for once, maybe watching a movie, or even fixing my washing machine – and I knew I needed sleep if I was ever going to get good at this little routine. So I sat there for a bit, and realized I had no good reason being there, and tried my hardest to have a little fun before I left. I shook Molly’s hand and she pulled my finger for a good three minutes while I made fart noises, it was pretty silly, but also melodic and humorous. When I got in my car to leave (parked squarely in front of The Pig), I saw my pet alligator toy and impulsively decided to throw it at Wilson’s face whilst my vehicle was moving. This is the sort of decision I make. It ended up hitting Drana in the wrist, just as I realized it was a hard, unpleasant object – despite its small size and charming color. I realized I had to stop my car, get out, and apologize to the girl whom I had completely convinced to hate me. She was on the phone. At this point I realized the alligator belonged to my nephew, and I really wanted it back. I then engaged in a slightly humiliating staring contest with Lindsey, just so she would give it back. She lost the staring contest in half a dozen different ways, but it was clear to all that I was the loser tonight. I had resolve though, and I wanted that alligator back where it belonged – in the hands of three-year-olds (me first, then my nephew). Soon enough she gave it to me, and there in the street light, enduring a night that would have embarrassed me more if I had the energy, I noticed and immediately articulated that the alligator was a crocodile, and left without uttering a second set of pointless goodbyes.
When I got home, I realized there was a lot on my mind, and I decided to just write about it. In my laziness, I decided not to pick one particular point and instead battered myself and my readers through the bore of my entire day. It ended up being one of the longest, most worthless chunks of words I’ve ever crafted. But once it was all said and done, I was glad I did it – because for one reason or another, it seemed to finish the day, and reminded me that tomorrow can be a better one – so long as I go to bed now and remember to set the alarm.