July 27, 2015
this weekend.
oh, man.
It’s really hard to write everything down.
It’s hard because there is so much I want to save. So much that needs documenting just incase I die and other people need cheering up and they find my writing. What if someone wants to live vicariously through my eyes the way I do through so many of you? What if I don’t get to save all these lust and love filled moments? Lust of the mind, of course. What did you think, that I’d spent all night curled in a stranger’s bed with a caramel colored man? Of course, not.
I quit my first job ever after a year of struggling. I got bad directions to a baby shower I never went to. I drove out to north east Atlanta in search of love, light and truth, and I found myself having a mini vacation.
A good friend of mine from school recently told me that it’s the psychological experience to think that one day is longer or shorter than another. He was so right. So, so accurate. Recently I’ve been trying to put that into practice by doing things completely out of the ordinary, and taking risks. Or stopping myself in my regular awkward tracks and take a different path. Like when one of my last customers spoke to me in a funny accent and accidentally said, “differente” in portuguese and I asked her if she was Brazilian. Most times I don’t mean to pry, but other times I really just want to make the connection. I mean don’t get me wrong, I hate small talk with guests at Chick-fil-A. It feels so inauthentic...I feel like I sound like one of our “sweetest” coworkers. Ha, ex-co-worker.
Back to my point: these past two days have felt like a vacation because I invited myself to try something far out of my routine. And thanks to that friend, my days go by very slowly. Even the nights.
Last night will go down in my books as one of the best in my life along with...I’m kind of sad that I don’t have a physical nor mental list of those nights. Anyway, I had veggie enchiladas with Naila and her half-white half-japanese person. The patio was full of vibrations and chatter and music and clinking. The entire tiny Mexican restaurant was an eccentric, white, clean space like no other Mexican restaurant I’d ever seen. I noticed there were no red, white, and green decor, nor were there any cheesy sombreros or serapes hanging on the walls. We had tortilla chips with cheese dip and salsa, and Naila’s person asked permission to shake salt on the chips. I laughed, naturally, because I’m a salt addict. The night went by as we ate our veggie-stuffed enchiladas and tacos. Kyoto asked to call me on Naila's phone, and I did to know whether he was on his way or not. After I spoke to him, Naila’s person paid for dinner and dismissed himself saying it was a pleasure to meet me with a Johnny Cash-like voice of “velvet southerness”.
The rest of the night was a blur of ordering Taco Bell like a first timer, eating gummy worms and drinking my favorite cheap red wine with my beautiful friend and teacher, my lovely boyfriend, and Naila’s frenzied older brother. It was the first time in a while I felt like I was normal for wanting to stay in. Naila’s brother had asked, “What’s the plan?”, and I cringed a little bit. There is so much pressure in that question. I really wanted to do exactly what we did, and he was okay with it. And so was Kyoto and Naila. We told stories of old men, intestinal diseases, creepy puppets and old and new jobs and schools. Eventually Naila’s brother and Kyoto slipped into a living room to play a video game called Destiny. Meanwhile Naila and I spent about an hour having the romantic pillow talk in her twinkly, whimsical room; or bohemian sanctuary as some might call it.
