June 19th at Mizu...

From my journal.

Wednesday, June 19, 2019.
4:55 PM.
Mizu Japanese Restaurant on Robinhood.

Writing workshop is tonight, and I have nothing ready to read, though I have written multiple times. But to read one of my journal entries from the past week would sound like gibberish, would it not? Snippets of various thoughts and feelings. Meandering and pondering about stuff that is indecisive. Some of which I even feel shame over.

But when I think of how stupid and unintelligent I might sound, I think of Trump. And then I think, "I don't sound that stupid."

I struggle almost daily, or at least it feels like almost daily, and if not almost daily, it is more often than not - that I struggle with being comfortable in my own skin. At least when I have to interact with people.

I sit here at a table in Mizu Restaurant. It is too early for supper guests. I am the only patron at the moment. I have finished my meal and put my leftovers in one of my reusable to-go containers that I carry with me in Edward the Explorer. My little contribution to help reduce non-rottables in the landfills.

At the Sushi bar, located not far from my table, sit six employees. All Asian, four females and two males. They are speaking, what I assume is, Japanese. A lively conversation with laughter. Two of the ladies are rolling silverware into cloth napkins. One male Sushi chef is standing behind the bar, quiet and listening with a slight smile across his face. All look to be in their 20s or maybe early 30s, except one female who I'd guess is about 10 years older. But I really suck at age-guessing.

No one is looking at a cell phone. They are conversing, communicating in oral words with inflection and tone. It's like a song, but not a song. I have no idea what they are saying, but it is refreshing.

I am in the minority at the moment. A Caucasian, monolingual female, sipping green tea. The conversation of this majority relaxes me.