[i]
DREAM: I barge out of my room after just waking up to make
my usual breakfast, Hot Oat Bran Cereal. Before entering the kitchen, I see a
big pile of cat liter on the floor. It looks like someone tried to lift it up
and the bag broke. I notice on top of the stove, one of the spice jars has
shattered, possibly the coriander jar – broken glass just sitting on the
counter – the mound of coriander sitting on top of the stove still in a jar
shape but with no jar. Giant dirty bowls sitting in the sink. Elliott is there
the whole time – making jokes about the disarray. I’m complaining out loud to
him and I get progressively irritated. I open the spice cabinet – spices are
missing and toppled over each other. I get angry and tip over a few of them
myself and yell. In my mind, I assume its Elaina’s fault. This is my roommate
Kyle’s girlfriend. A bunch of people start walking in – apparently Show N Tell
is happening tonight and the festivities are starting early. I think Felix
wants to make pancakes. “Hey Ashley.” I say hi to Ashley V. I don’t recognize
her at first because she looks like Brianna a little bit. With a grin on my
face, “What are you doing?” She starts throwing some of her clothes in the
dryer. “I’m drying my clothes,” as if this is a completely normal thing for her
to do. An older lady is in the kitchen with me. She sees how flustered I am and
starts helping by putting all the dishes in the dishwasher. I explain to her the
dishwasher doesn’t work. All of sudden, a big rat crawls above the sink on the
window. “This has never happened to me before. I don’t know what to do.” She
reassures me that if I just keep looking at it and stand still, it will be
okay. I pick up a stick to poke it and hopefully shoo it out of the house. But
the rat seems interested in me – his big eyes look like a puppy’s. He acts
harmless but I don’t want to be near him because I’m afraid of getting
diseases. Every time I start poking him, he wants to get closer to me. I’m
yelling at him. I notice my Dad walking in. The rat grows bigger and turns into
a black dog without notice. I finally succeed in getting him out.
3 p.m. I wake up having anxiety from my dream.
Breakfast: Hot Oat Bran Cereal with Cinnamon, Brown Sugar,
Blueberries, and Milk. Orange Mango Juice. Zinc and Alfalfa.
Music.
I write a dishes decree for the house.
Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips.
Green Tea.
Quick stop at Taylor’s Do-it Center – looking for an Allen
wrench set. An older man with a permanently slouched back and a limping walk
signals for me to follow him. At the display shelf, he shows me my options.
“What’s the difference between these sets?” With his yellow notepad he writes
down “METRIC” and points to the correct set, then, “AMERICAN”, pointing to the
other one. I realize now, he is mute. I grab the American set and thank him.
Work at China Wok.
Delivering an order to the Memory Center off Old Donation
Pkwy. Of the many times I’ve delivered there, this time I have the opportunity
to see the inside – it looks like Disneyland or rather an airport with
superimposed businesses like The Tavern, The Salon, The Kitchen, and even The
Bank. Apparently, this gives the patients there the illusion of the real world.
The lady keeps repeating out loud, “I don’t got four cents!”
The total is $35.74. She hands me $35.70. Before arriving, I
had already prepared myself for no tip. But I couldn’t even get the full
payment. How ridiculous. With haste I go to leave. The lady follows me out so
she can punch in the security code.
Lady: “Are yall family or something at China Wok?”
Her ghetto accent is slightly funny.
Me: “Well, I’m not Chinese.”
…
Lady: “You been drivin around in dis hot heat…hold on. I’m
gonna get you your four cents.”
After retrieving money from her car, she hands me a dime.
Sarcastically, I think to myself, how kind of you!
Daniel and I discuss ways to ensure getting tips from
customers. Start off the transaction at the door with, “I risked my life for
your dinner tonight.”
Waiting for orders at the restaurant. An Asian lady in her
late 30’s wearing glasses and a pink salmon collared shirt walks in.
Lady: “So you’re the PR guy right?”
Me: “I guess…what’s PR?
Lady: “Public Relations! You’ve got the Chinese making the
product and you deal with the people.”
I sit down and continue to observe this lady. She talks to
Daniel about how impressed she is that “white” people work here. I’m fascinated
by her social confidence and her happy spirit. She has this engaging presence.
I watch her sit with her guy friend, husband, boyfriend, whatever he is. He
seems quiet and focused on his meal. She’s probably high maintenance behind
closed doors.
Towards the end of the shift, my Dad calls me out of the
blue. We talk and catch up on each other’s lives.
Leaving work, I get a call from Sal’s Pizza from down the
street. I forgot I had left my number for them in case they needed drivers.
Sitting down with the manager there while she eats her pizza – she gives me a
few days out of the week to work. A younger Middle Eastern lady with two little
boys walks in with her mother.
Her: “You remind me of my brother.”
Come to find out, her brother is the drummer of this band, The Sugar Report. Tokyo played
with them a long time ago.
Stretching, Yoga, Exercising.
Dinner: Penne Pasta with Sauce, Peppers, and Onions. Salad.
Texas Garlic Toast.
Watching Altered States (1980). Why have I never
seen this?
“You saved me. You redeemed me from the pit. I was in it,
Emily. I was *in* that ultimate moment of terror that is the beginning of life.
It is nothing. Simple, hideous nothing. The final truth of all things is that
there is no final Truth. Truth is what's transitory. It's human life that is
real. I don't want to frighten you, Emily, but what I'm trying to tell you is
that moment of terror is a real and living horror, living and growing within me
now, and the only thing that keeps it from devouring me is you.”
“We all live with it. That unbearable terror is what makes
us such singular creatures. We hide from it, we succumb to it, mostly we defy
it! We build fragile little structures to keep it out. We love, we raise
families, we work, we make friends. We write poems...”
Miscellaneous cleaning and fixing.
Oreos and Soy Milk.
I go to the storage unit.
Music and organizing.
Sleep around 7 a.m.
[i] Fred
Tomaselli.
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