Saving My Weekend 2

Today I made my second, ultimately abortive attempt to go up to the countryside to cycle. Last time I was thwarted by leaving my camera in the office, and by having to wait for a parcel to arrive at my home. This time the bus I thought was going to leave at 9.10 left at 9.03, and I knew that there wasn't enough time... I took my bike and cycled to the train station, but I didn't get there in time. There was enough time for me to board the train without a ticket, but I didn't want to risk it. Then I took a trolley to the main station, and asked about taking the Amtrak instead of the commuter train, and was informed that it would cost me 20 bucks. Well fuck that shit man.

Someone on the trolley was bitching about a homeless person yelling her head off, talking about Tourette's Syndrome. And then she was asking around about whether she had gotten to a certain station yet. Clearly too dumb to read a map. Finally, she said, I'll just get off here. I'm going to join a demonstration. (She looked around 60 years of age). Apparently she's supporting Trump. Of course she's dumb enough to.

Then I saw two veterans, they started talking to each other, but first they had to suss out that both of them were supporters of Trump. As with other veterans down on their luck, they would always talk about their tours of duty, as though that guaranteed them some rights. They'd talk about how they busted their ass for some military, and then they would come home and find nothing. I'm not even going to ask them about what horrible thing the wrecked on some poor guy overseas. And when they talked about Trump, a lot of that was “they are still trying to take him down”.

So this time I decided that I was going to Mexicotown, near the border. Somebody had ordered a CD, and I was going to deliver it, and at the same time I would go down to the border, which I usually do for 2 reasons: to eat more mexican food and to visit the premium outlet to do my shopping.

I went to this Mexican place that specialised in Birria, and it was packed. Had to wait 10 minutes to get inside, even though it was almost closing time. I ordered a big bowl, and a large taco. They fried the tortillas for you, and doused it in some weirdass oil. I got myself a coffee and hoped to drink it with my condensed milk that I carried around with me in a jar (trying to be more Singaporean). But they gave it to me Mexican style coffee, with milk, sugar and a layer of cinnamon on top.

Then the restaurant captain saw me struggling with a tortilla, and said, “they cooked the tortilla too hard. I'll get you a few new ones. He sat down next to me and asked me where I was from. I said this was my first time in the restaurant but not the first time with birra. I've had menudo, pozole, birria. I told him I was from Singapore and he said he watched the Netflix special and was pretty impressed with Singapore food. But I had to apologise to him and tell him that you had to go to another nearby more cosmopolitan city in order to get any Singapore Malaysia food, and then proceeded to explain that he and his brother (the chef) built this restaurant from scratch more than 10 years ago. Later on, the restaurant waiting staff were celebrating somebody's birthday, and that guy was 19 years old. Then first of all it struck me that a.) that was my ex-girlfriend's birthday and b.) it was 19 years since I tried to chase after women. I was going to clap for him, but after remember that it was also her birthday I said fuck it.

Another small victory to celebrate: I managed to use my transit card 11 times today, and thankfully I never had to wait too long at any one stop.

Things are clearing up somewhat. For the longest time I had been in some kind of a depression. Every time I went back to Singapore, my mood would improve, and then after that, things would slide back. But this time things were sliding in all directions. I was supposed to go for a friend's wedding, and I left all my planning and packing to the last moment. I don't know if my work suffered, maybe it did.

One way of getting out of your depression is to just force yourself to do one small thing, anything. And after the first thing you get the motivation to do something else, and then it just builds up from there. Things get a little easier. The problem is this: I used to be able to wake up in the middle of the night, chill out for 1-2 hours and then go back to bed again. But I can't do that anymore when I'm older. It's just harder to fall asleep when you're older, so your sleep time has to be planned more carefully.