Waking up at 11ish a.m.
Breakfast: Peaches. Strawberry Yogurt. Immune Defense.
Working for the China Wok king all day long…
This hot scorching heat is becoming redundant—my left arm, the driver’s arm, is constantly exposed to the sun’s rays. To prevent getting drivers arm tan I raise my arm out of harm’s way.
My throat pain seems to be residing.
During the slow periods, Ling gives me the task of snapping the ends off snow peas, a whole box of them.
Getting deep into this third DOOM novel. I really appreciate the effort the authors put into the details on the story of DOOM. They’ve found a way to take a classic simple shoot’em up RPG game and create an epic and realistic end of the world novel. I like this excerpt:
“The last time I saw Rita, we argued about anything and everything. Nothing was too trivial. After she exhausted the subject of my emotional failings, there remained the cosmic threat of my snoring. She failed to convince me that my snoring was on a scale with an army of zombies shuffling through the old community cemetery.
Somehow I had a last shred of feeling for her. When I reached out to touch her for the last time, she screamed that I was never to touch her again without permission.
I stormed out of there, leaving the next move to her. Here was the world coming to an end, and we couldn’t take a break from our own stupid soap opera…”
Lunch: Grilled Cheese on Sourdough Bread with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
One of the delivery drivers from another Chinese restaurant in the Haygood area brings in a bag of food, by order of Ling, who knows the people from the other restaurant pretty well. Ling shows me what’s inside: plastic tubs of soup. It’s a clear white fungus soup with these orange raisin-like things, served cold—it’s not even on the menu. He tries to play charades with me by gesturing the slashing of his arm, which he meant to signify blood. He pronounces it, “Buuud”. All that to say, this soup lowers your blood pressure. I can tell he loves the art of being a Chinese chef because whenever I ask him questions pertaining to any of the dishes he smiles and takes the time to do his best at explaining everything. He gives me a small portion of it to take home.
Driving down Laskin Road—waiting at a stoplight. A spritely girl in a yellow Volkswagen Beetle shouts out to me, “Hey baby!”
I wave awkwardly in response, “Hi!”
“How you doing?”
Our light turns green. I just smile and say, “I’m doing great!”
I strongly believe that love is a choice. Otherwise we would all be slaves to our feelings, which we all know can be wavering and fickle. Love was created in this way for a reason, or theologically speaking, love has always been and never had a beginning or an end. Love is eternal. And if you choose to experience it you will enter into a godly realm—the closest to the image of God you can mirror. This is your origin. Love.
I give in to the temptation of buying an Oreo blizzard. The cold sweet treat cools the inside of my body as if I just ate a bag of ice.
Finally home—enjoying a crisp Miller High Life. I’ve found myself desiring beer after a long hard day’s work—the workingman’s way of relaxation.
Elliott, James, and Angel stop by to grab a few freeze pops.
Playing Elliott in a game of foosball. “I haven’t played a challenging player in a while.” The stakes are high with the game point to both of our advantages. A quick brash shot from my goalie and it’s all over.
Margot loves True Blood and the third season comes out tomorrow, or rather at midnight. So I tag along with her to Wal-Mart. One of the employees there has a fresh box of the DVD’s open.
She eats cereal while I eat some leftover dinner—first episode on the TV.
Dinner: Pork Chop with Brown Rice and Mixed Vegetables.
Her: “I’m sleepy.”
She’s too tired for sex.
Sleep 3:30 a.m.