I'm totally stoked on having some days off! The Christmas ritual is lost on me but I will not pass up the chance to enjoy stuff and do something fun and liberating. Hopefully some sun, bike, beach and books will be in order. I'm being cheap so nobody gets presents from me this Christmas, but believe me, the money is going towards a good cause.
Next port of call: Hobart, Tasmania!

I'm also in the process about writing about orcas. Don't wonder why I'm such a nerd, just acknowledge that killer whales are fucking awesome and we can get on with it.

But before I finish I'll share a vegan avocado and butter bean spread/dip recipe I made up yesterday.

3 avocados, mashed
1/2 tin of butter beans (approximately 1 cup) mashed
2-3 Tablespoons extra-virgin flaxseed or olive oil
1-2 garlic cloves finely minced
5 basil leaves finely chopped (about 10 cilantro/coriander leaves can be sustituted)
salt and pepper to taste

Big, huge pile of crap doesn't begin to describe my room right now. I just moved again and this time I had more stuff than I think I've ever had in my life. No, that's definitely a lie, but still, 12 boxes full of stuff and 2 sarcophagus sized suitcases, not to mention my futon. Definitely more than any "backpacker" could imagine having. My new room is probably half the size of my last one (and nearly half the cost) so getting rid of shit is definitely priority #1. Waking up and coming home to this mess is really going to suck so I have to do a little bit everyday even if it means chucking some stuff out the window.

In other news, I am fucking gutted at what is going on back in the San Francisco Bay Area.

1. Another huge oil spill into the bay? Really? I mean, the gigantic one nearly two years ago wasn't enough of a "learning experience" for anybody? Of course, there's all this investigation as to why the response took so damn long (nearly 4 hours) and why it happened but come on, put your fuckin' gumboots on and go save some oiled ducks. There is no telling how many dead animals there will be since migration season is at its peak.

2. 15 year old girl gets beaten and gang raped while onlookers take pictures and videos with their cell phones. Reading this in the international section of a New Zealand newspaper was not the way I expected to start my Thursday morning. I couldn't stop thinking about it all day. I can't imagine what could compel some 20-odd students to spectate this heinous event and not think for one second that the victim was a human-being and didn't deserve the horrible things that took place. Sure, the men and boys got her drunk. Sure, there was shitty security at the homecoming dance that was taking place that evening. Yes, the attack took place in a remote and poorly lit area with no working cameras. But still, how could these people just watch and jeer as one of their classmates was seriously abused and dehumanized before their very eyes. They are sick and I'll expect there will be some serious karmic debt hanging over them.

Conclusion: I am incredibly home sick but hearing shit like this makes me want to never go back.

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.