It’s 5:00 PM on a Wednesday which means the weekend started an hour and a half ago. It has also been about a week since arrival and my comfort level has been as inconsistent as a narcoleptic. Which is sort of the way I feel, actually. I haven’t ever really felt fully awake since I got here. It might be the new, early to bed, early to rise sleep schedule, or, more likely, it’s the religious ganja indulgence. (Don’t call it weed because weeds are bad.) Each break, occurring at 9:30, 12, and 1:30 is a stoned, exhausted food grab and smoke-up. Some are more fun than others, and are entirely subject to my mood at the time.
It’s always the same casual talk about work, bugs, drugs, or Hawaii’s sacredness, and the atmosphere is light and laid back. I still can’t seem to talk to anybody during breaks, though. When I’m tired, hungry, and high I am generally less gregarious, but apparently the close proximity of new people has tripled this usually mild handicap I call Stevie syndrome. As such, I spoke not a word at work today as I increasingly became aware of my silence and consequently sank further into myself.
Melissa and Sharon have made friends, though, which now means they want to stay on the farm this weekend. An hour ago I was considering going to Volcanoes National Park alone just to get away for awhile, but after drinking a beer and loosening up a little bit by talking to—who would have guessed it—Eric, I’m not terribly upset about sticking around for a bit. It at least avoids a lonely and expensive trip to Safeway.
I think the Green Sand Beach is on the docket for tomorrow.
