I am going to die of burrito deficiency, no fuckin' joke. I dreamt about Mexican food last night and I woke up wondering what will become of my life if it is devoid of tortilla wrapped deliciousness. I am on the brink of tears as I think about every time I've looked for black beans in supermarkets, only to be disheartened by their absence. Sure you can get tortillas. Yeah, you can use kidney beans instead. Okay, so guacamole can be made easily enough... But there is nothing like walking into Gordo's or Picante (or walking up to a taco truck in Richmond) and ordering a burrito, then taking that first bite and savoring every single ingredient in that aluminum wrapped fast food cylinder. Oh, and don't forget the tamarindo Jarritos, guey!

Please, somebody! Anybody!! Hear my prayers for a super bean and cheese with guacamole and extra hot sauce! I have lost the will to live.

Song of the moment: "Burritos" by Sublime (I'm sure you could've guessed that one)

Indolent Cynicism

I slept all evening after work and woke up at 4 am staring into the darkness wishing there was somebody to talk to. Walking around the house aimlessly, I hoped to find sleep again. 

Since then the self reproach has been raining in torrents, interrupted only by laundry and attempts to bake. I'm finding myself awash with a feeling of embarrassment, uselessness, and overall gloom that has, until now, been avoided since my arrival in NZ.

I know exactly why I feel this way and I need to keep from drowning under my overzealous emotions. Left unattended, these thought patterns will give rise to the demons in my head and rapidly strip everything I've gained for the last 2 months. Get a fuckin' grip, Turtle.

Song of the moment: "Jigsaw Falling Into Place" by Radiohead

Out for Blood

Since today was my day off, the theory was that I would have a stress free day full of productivity and retail therapy. Unfortunately, like many of my theories, this one didn't last long before somebody had to shit on my parade. After a leisurely hour or two of doing errands and giving myself nice things to look forward to, I decided to sit down on a sunny bench and have a moment to check over my to do list. "Oh crap," I thought as I felt through my backpack. "I don't have a pen." This kind of predicament seldom happens to me; I always have a pen (or two or three) handy.

I didn't really think it through and quickly rushed to the nearby (20 steps maximum) fast food chain in hopes of borrowing one. I was probably gone for a little more than 2 minutes (there was a line and I didn't want to be "that rude pen stealing American bitch") and when I came back I quickly realized something was obviously strangely missing. My first reaction was to retrace my steps, try to clear my head and let it come to me but I distinctly remember setting my board against the edge of the bench after riding it across the street. There was no fucking doubt about it. My priced possession got stolen by some shit head lurking on Courtney Place. 

As soon as it registered I wailed out some profanities and stomped back into the fast food place. The guy behind the counter had an expression that said, "So you took my pen and now you have an angry face... What's your problem, bitch?" I explained the situation to and bothered him for some scotch tape and a piece of paper in order to post a letter for the thief.

"Dear skateboard thief,

You can be nice and return it by calling (my phone number) or I can hunt you down and make you really fucking sorry. My board has more sentimental value than you can imagine and I would love it if you would redeem your karmic debt. - Cecilia"

Luckily, if I happen to see that bastard riding around on my board, I can spot it a mile away. No other board in Wellington has a turtle on the grip tape, a spray painted purple deck, blue gel wheels, and hot pink Venture trucks. I just hope they haven't torn it apart and stripped it of its flamboyant glory.

Song of the moment: "Storm the Gates" by Hatchet