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Waking up at 11:30 a.m.
Honey Bunches of Oats with Almond Milk. Grapefruit.
All day shift at China Wok.
While bagging the crunchy noodles I notice a familiar face walk in the restaurant. It's Aaron Lachman! He's with some Asian dude I don't recognize. Immediately I start chuckling directly at him. Just as I'm about to walk over and say what's up I have that uncomfortable awkward realization that it's not Aaron at all. Embarrassed, I don't say anything and turn back to what I was doing. The best doppelganger I've seen of Aaron.
Peanut Butter Bagel. Banana. Honey Green Tea.
On the down time in between the phone ringing and taking people's orders over the counter I'm able to read Anne Frank's The Diary of a Young Girl. I didn't expect this book to be so humorous. The writings of this articulate 13-year-old are entertaining even while the story unfolds during the travesties of WWII. I told Ana to read the last three paragraphs of Saturday, 7 November, 1942 of Anne Frank. Her writing resembles Frank's as it has a diary-like thoroughness and openness. Ana. Anne. Anna. Ane. Haha. Even the names have a similarity. Maybe they have shared souls.
Salt n Vinegar Chips.
While delivering I approach the intersection of First Colonial and VB Blvd. The light is green but a car is completely stopped in the right turn lane, where I wish to make a right hand turn. I come up behind them and honk the horn for a full two seconds. I'm a little annoyed. I can see through their back window the driver shoot me the finger. After we both make the turn a guy in the passenger seat starts flailing his hands in a rage out the window taunting me in such a manner that I just start laughing. He's saying stuff along the lines of, "Oh! You're such a badass," being kind of sarcastic. He doesn't take a liking to my laughing. I just wasn't expecting this extreme of a reaction. Most people might just give a few cold glares and say a few mean things behind the glass and move on. But these people are too excited and offended. At any rate we pull up to a stoplight. I decide to explain myself and roll the window down...
Me: "Sorry. Didn't mean to get pissy back there but the light was green."
The dude responds, "I know but my girlfriend was trying to figure out where to go—"
The girlfriend at the wheel interrupts in a defiant yell, "I WAS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT DIRECTIONS!"
Our light turns green and I conclude as they storm off, "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't know!"
Sometimes we forget how alarming and insulting a car horn sounds to people. If I knew their situation I might've only tapped lightly on the horn. But I didn't. And that's the point here; everybody is blind to other's situations on the road. There's a wall in traffic that blocks us from empathy. This is why road rage exists.
I get an order out to Brandon Road in Bay Colony where my ex-girlfriend Margot's grandma lives and where Margot used to live. I have countless memories of time spent together with her in the den. Temptation. Love. Sex. Anger. In my imagination I surrender to these mini time traveling episodes where she would come to me with that seductive look in her eye begging for ecstasy. I don't dwell on these thoughts for too long. But sometimes they feel important to mention. Even though she is far, far from my life now I still have my moments.
Off work and back home.
Hot and Sour Soup with Broccoli, Carrots, Rice, and a Spring Roll.
Downstairs, a casual bunch is lounging in the living room. I gather Ken and James into the kitchen for us to measure our beards that we've been growing from scratch since November 1st. Even with the tape measure our findings are inconclusive. But we allow Sasha to judge on the fullest looking beard at least. James takes the trophy.
Peach Greek Yogurt.
Watching The Iceman (2013).
Sleep 4 a.m.
[i] Image by me.
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