It's weird and nice how when you're with someone, all sorts of simple gestures and seemingly ordinary things turn into unshakable memories. Fanatical use of black pepper. Cups of sweet milky gumboot tea whirl-pooling over a sink. Loud fake indian accents in a quiet restaurant. The unmistakable chime of their far away accent on the other side of a store. A shallow belly button pulsating with laughter, sometimes lined with lint. Dark green lesbian soccer mom station wagons that seem to zoom past me a million times every day, their omnipresence pronounced by the solitude of a windy city street.

I met this pigeon when I was at the Te Anau Bird Sanctuary. I was retarded and filmed it sideways because I thought I could rotate it once it was uploaded but alas, I suck. The bird is pretty awesome though. I couldn't tell if he was performings a mating dance or a declaration of war.

There is a lot I miss about California. I don't think homesick is the right word for it because I don't really know where my home is anymore. I don't know if it's in San Pablo or Albany or Berkeley or somewhere I still haven't found. I miss Luno, I miss my family, I miss my crazy friends, I miss my bed, and my car. But I know home is still somewhere else. Somewhere further out waiting for me to stumble in unannounced.

Ruffled feathers

A customer creeped me out really bad. She had big, dull gray blue eyes and a small sharp face that was coated with a thin film of blonde hair. I was serving her at the last checkout counter when I asked if she had found everything she needed. Her reply started off meek, "Well, yes, I guess so. I would have stayed longer but I just don't like the music you play here. Do you like it?" 

I was a bit taken aback but, nevertheless, I attempted to conjure up a friendly conversation. "Well, sometimes I don't but, for the most part, I enjoy a wide range of music. What kind of music do you like?"

Her voice shifted forcefully as she hissed a wide-eyed reply, "I prefer music that sounds heavenly. I only like music if it sounds like what God would have wanted heaven to sound like. You know that Lucifer tries to get to people through any means? You see, there is evil everywhere and that's why the world is going to end soon. There's going to be a huge war and the governments are going to make everybody go to church. And you see, the Catholic church is starting to make a come back and that's baaaaad news. Here, let me give you this, I'd like you to read it." She slides a pamphlet onto the counter as her rambling takes a strained pause. 

I look up at the deranged spark in her eyes and try my hardest not to recoil and tell her to go fuck herself.

"No, No. I'd rather you keep that. Do you want your receipt?" I struggled to maintain a calm, polite composure. It wasn't until later that I realized that I should have told her I was a Scientologist lesbian who enjoys making porridge out of baby eyeballs on Sundays. But on second thought, she might have attempted an exorcism.

I feel like a greedy fat kid in a candy store with only enough pocket change to buy one thing. The pressure is killin' me. I'm torn between one candy bar that looks really really good, the wrapper is beautiful but the contents has yet to be discovered. The other is one, which I'm quite familiar with, has been hella good so far and I feel like it has the most to offer, yet I don't want to spoil a great thing by overdoing it.

5 months and 3 weeks ago, I was sitting in a terminal at San Francisco International Airport as I anticipated the commencement of my escape plan. After a long awaited bittersweet goodbye to friends, family, and habits, I threw myself into an abyss while clinging tightly to hope and the two cumbersome suitcases that rolled alongside me. I was face to face with a fear that I had never been acquainted with before. An anxiety that, for once, was natural and expected. This was the first time ever moving away from the house I've lived in since birth. And what better place than the other side of the Pacific ocean?

The three summer months preceding this careless abandonment of home had been marked by late night escapism, lazy afternoons with pot and good company, and, of course, that much cherished "light at the end of the tunnel" feeling. It simply didn't get any better than that. Making every day count. Making every hour worthwhile. Taking in all the goodness that life had to offer. Of course, those are just the highlights. The rest will unravel with more selective nudges.

For now, I live week by week and paycheck to paycheck. I have a job that I like and it keeps me on my toes. I finally recognize the "little things" that everybody talks about and welcome them, often appreciating their scarcity. I am nearly halfway through my one year visa and nervously pondering the options. What to do, oh, what to do?

I woke up late today and am still in my PJs, even though it's almost 7 pm. I finally got a new camera and have been experimenting with it all day around the house.