Another week, another half inch

Not bad, especially when you consider this last week included Christ’s Mass Eve, Christ’s Mass, and Boxing Day; since the 21st, when I posted that 6 inches blog, I’ve gone down another half inch. Yes, that’s right, one week. I was 46 inches a week ago, and am now just a pinch below 45.5, and no, I can’t get more specific then that because I seem to have this annoying habit of breathing while measuring.

I have already begun reducing my Pepsi intake. In approximately another 19 weeks I should be totally independent of my Pepsico addiction. I was going to go cold turkey, but then I considered the possibility of detoxing. When I brought up the thought of me detoxing from Pepsi to Paul, his only thought was, “geez that sounds like some scary shit, I really don’t want to see that”. So, I’ve decided a de-escalation process would be best. I’ve taken my average consumption a day, and over the next few weeks, will cut one out until I’m down to nothing. Today was one of my 2 can days (as opposed to 3.) No headache. No shakes. Nothing to crazy out of the usual, but typing about Pepsi is really not helping right now. I never really thought about how much I really drank until recently. I didn’t think it was that much, but then again, I suppose that’s what true drug addicts say about their substance abuse also. The bad news continues, hot news agency girl (the New Zealander) …ya, got some more Intel on her. Underage, even by Australian standards... sigh… fail.

Holiday’s being over, I’m doing better. Managed to talk to 2 out of the other 3 turtles plus Andrew, so, that helped. Tomorrow Paul and I are going to a butcher with a “Moo-Map” to show what part of the cow we get Tri-Tip from. I’ve really really been craving Tri-Tip. I think that if I could just get a sandwich, it would help easy my craving for the ocean.

We are apparently going on a road trip in a week or so, in which! Yes… I will get to see the Indian Ocean. Not just the Ocean, the Indian Ocean. First time I will have gotten to see it. (Nairobi, Kenya was to inland for me to see it last time I was in this quadrant of the world).

Oh ya… and I started cooking again. Made individual pizzas last night and fried rice tonight. Pretty decent for having forgotten a few things here and there, nothing major, but enough for me to notice a difference.

I feel this was a fairly un-eventful, uncreative blog entry, though it did start off strong with my great news of progress in the quest for weight loss, so, I will leave you with this awe inspiring quote that ties in with that I am doing down under (which just happen to be said by a famous explore of this land)

“Do just once, what others say you can’t do, and you will never pay attention to their limitations again” –Capt. James Cook

Not About Rocky Balboa…

… Or George Forman, or Ali, or even Sugar Ray Lenard. Apparently, according to Wikipedia, Boxing Day is:

“Boxing Day was traditionally a day on which the servants had a day off from their duties. Because of this the gentry would eat cold cuts and have a buffet-style feast prepared by the servants in advance. In modern times many families will still follow this tradition by eating a family-style buffet lunch, with cold cuts rather than a full cooked meal. It is a time for family, parlor games and sports in the UK.

“The traditional recorded celebration of Boxing Day has long included giving money and other gifts to those who were needy and in service positions. The European tradition has been dated to the Middle Ages, but the exact origin is unknown and there are some claims that it goes back to the late Roman/early Christian era; metal boxes were placed outside churches used to collect special offerings tied to the Feast of Saint Stephen.

“In the United Kingdom it certainly became a custom of the nineteenth century Victorians for tradesmen to collect their "Christmas boxes" or gifts in return for good and reliable service throughout the year on the day after Christmas. However, the exact etymology of the term "Boxing" is unclear, with several competing theories, none of which is definitively true. Another possibility is that the name derives from an old English tradition: in exchange for ensuring that wealthy landowners' Christmases ran smoothly, their servants were allowed to take the 26th off to visit their families. The employers gave each servant a box containing gifts and bonuses (and sometimes leftover food). In addition, around the 1800s, churches opened their alms boxes (boxes where people place monetary donations) and distributed the contents to the poor.”

Though, today it seems like a Part II of X-mas (and yes, I said X-mas, in case you read the last blog, I’m emphasizing what it has evolved into) with stores open for shopping. It was alright. I’m a big fan of being around people, so, any excuses, even the slightest one, is a good excuse to be around people. It’s Christ’s Mass that worries me.

I’ve tried the last couple years to get into the spirit, and for the most part, I’ve done a fairly decent job of it leading up to Christ’s Mass, but then the excitement fizzles out by the time the actual day comes. I feel bad. I told many people, “Christ’s Mass away from home shouldn’t be all that bad, it’s not my favorite Holy Day anyway, and so, it shouldn’t affect me that much. But it did. To a surprising degree. I experienced home sickness for the 2nd time in my life. Then it made all the hard work I did to get myself in the spirit seems useless. My Aussie family worked so hard to make me feel at home and enjoy myself, and I feel bad as though I let them down in accepting it. Jan seemed to understand quite well, which made me feel better as though I had done my part in accepting all the hospitality. It did however concern me…

Will I ever fully like Christ’s Mass? Will I need to be visited by 3 ghosts? I hope not, not again anyway. Even the Grinch, whose heart was 3 sizes too small, grew to 3 sizes too big. It’s not even so much for me. What if I get married to someone who is an uber-fan of Christ’s Mass? What if I have kids someday? I want them to be able to enjoy Christ’s Mass. Even if I could just improve my acting skills so that NO one could notice a difference and everyone believed that I liked Christ’s Mass. That is the cheap way out I realize. I’ve been told that I have one of those personalities that radiates and affects the mood of others, which is one reason people have a hard time being honest with me, but I don’t want my negative attitude to change others. Especially others I care about. If I do get married and have kids, I pray that God will give me the strength to change, for them, not for me. I don’t think God even cares if I celebrate His birth on a specific date picked my some guy in Rome a few centuries ago to make everyone feel better about themselves for throwing a party, why? Because we can (and should) celebrate it every single day. But I would hate to be responsible for others to not thoroughly enjoy a day that is designed to be filled with such joy and celebration. A day that is so filled with the opportunity of family togetherness which everyone should take advantage of.

I guess it goes back to the theme of the last blog…

I want: to be happy at Christ’s Mass

I need: to show God’s love to others so that they may partake in the joy also…

“You can’t always get what you want, but if you try, you might just find… You get what you need” I’m sure this scenario is no different

God help any kids I have though.

Remember the Philosopher Jagger…

…Who once said, “You can’t always get what you want”. He did however continue and say, “But if you try sometimes, well, you just might find, you get what you need”.
The honest truth is; I’ve never been much of a fan of Christ’s Mass. I don’t want to be a downer, and go into my reasoning for why, but I will explain something that I usually get a lot of “what?”’s from.

Christ’s Mass

Why do I say it like that, and why do I always spell it like that?
Well, you see, we don’t truthfully know when Joshua of Nazareth (oh yes, I said Joshua, but that’s a different story) was born. It was most likely in the early spring late winter, like March-April time frame. The Holy Roman Catholic Church had this policy of taking old heathen celebrations, and turning them into “Holy days” (which was shortened down and where we get the word “Holiday” from). They did this with several things, wait another couple months to hear where we get the Easter bunny from, but, they of course did this with December 25th.

The 25th of December was when the Roman Empire worshipped Caesar and the Sun god, Apollo, the early church still liked having the fun celebration part, but felt really bad that it was involved with paganism, and so, like the HRCC does, they made people feel better by pretty-fying the calendar, and said, “HEY EVERYONE! You know… we never really celebrate the birth of our Lord… so… here’s an idea, let’s have a special Mass service on the 25th of December in honor of Christ’s birth”

Hence… “Christ’s Mass” which over the years, people, like they do, have gotten lazy, and what started as a special focus on attending church to celebrate the birth of our Lord (Christ’s Mass) turned more and more into the modern “Christmas”, which is turning more and more secularly into “X-mas”. I really really hate sounding like a baptist pastor, because I think they suck, BUT! The truth is… (I hate saying it) when you say “X-mas” you really are Xing out “Christ” from the Holy Day (holiday).
Aaron, you can get on my case about my cliff note explanation and how I left things out later, but, that’s what cliff notes are.

So anyway… Last night at Mass, I couldn’t help but think to myself, “this time last year, I was talking Andrew into going to Midnight Mass with me.” Then during the response portions, when I couldn’t understand what the crowd of Aussie’s where saying, it reminded me of when Val went to Nic’s baptism, and was freaked out by all the Catholics, and he told Phil he was afraid. Then that reminded me of Phil, and the times I’ve been to Mass with him. Of course, whenever I think of them, I think of Luke. Basically, I really missed the other turtles last night, and dreamt of what our next glorious adventure together might be, perhaps kayaking, re-exploring Lizard’s Mouth, maybe another attempt at throwing a boomerang once I come back with a working one that is not just for show and have learnt the proper technique behind the throwing of one. Whatever it might be, I sure wish they had Skype.

Last night I had this amazing dream, Paul and I went to the butcher, and we found Tri Tip! Not only did we find it, but it was like really really cheap! So we bought a couple of them, brought them home, I totally free handed the recipe for Suzy-Q seasoning, and it was the GREATEST Tri Tip I had ever had. It was glorious, and our tummies where all filled with awesomeness. Then… I woke up… then, went back to sleep, and had another horrible Zombie invasion dream, but this time, in the form of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2, which meant, I had limited vision, poor reaction time, and was basically screwed because I suck at CoD: MW2.

This morning as we opened presents, everything was going great, and any of you that know me for any significant amount of time, know that I like giving people gifts or any shape or kind. So, all was well, then, after I finished opening mine, I finished watching everyone else open theirs. Adam got a Rocky “Italian Stallion” robe, which he got the idea for when I showed him online the Rocky boxers I wanted to get myself. I was actually thinking about the last time I was together with the Turtles and our families, and watching them open the “pre-make up” presents I got them before leaving, and just as I was about to conceal all emotion as I typically do in awkward scenarios for me, Paul unwraps a “Cheers” t-shirt and begins to sing the first couple lines of the theme, “Sometimes you want to go, Where everybody knows your name, and they’re always glad you came. You wanna be where you can see, our troubles are all the same, you wanna be where everybody knows your name.” …Ya… Thanks Paul… almost lost it at that point, but, I managed to keep my s together through that one. It does slightly help that Aunt Wendy (Paul’s sister) and Uncle Allan kinda remind me of Aunt Carrol (step-dad’s sister) and Uncle Dave, whose house we had lunch at today. Both Grandmas’ say (un-planned) funny things which we all turn at look at each other trying to decipher. So, the home feel was there for a good chunk of the day.

Even if I didn’t get all that I wanted, (Italian Stallion Robe, Rocky American flag boxers, and a metal heavy duty DVD case to replace my broken one) I did get what I needed (for the most part) I got to chat with Andrew online (until it was time to open presents which is why it was such a quick short bye), a sense of home, and the love of friends and new family. Oh ya, and finding out I might still have a chance with the cute New Zealander girl from the news agency AND! 3 Platypi (which I named Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle)

I hope that as ya’lls celebrate; keep in mind the true reason for the season. That lil’ Jewish kid Josh, who grew up to save us all, and who could kick the crap out of any fat bearded man in a red suit any day if he wanted to.

Christ’s Mass present to self: sore legs

Remember how awesome the other day was, and how uber-excited I was after having done 2 full P90X videos plus the Ab Ripper? Ya… well, my legs have hated me ever since. Yesterday the only thing I was missing was the Medical degree and I’d of been Dr. House. The Vicodin would have been nice.

The family now has a new van which we took for an adventure to Wagga (the nearest “big” town). It was an interesting trip for me with the whole not being able to walk thing. I didn’t get to pick up the paper yesterday, but, that’s ok, because I was having way to difficult of a time walking to let the girl that works there see me.

Last night, we watched a movie made in 1965(-66) titled, “There a Weird Mob”. The “There” they refer to are Australians. The movie is about a Dago/Wog/Wop/Guinea immigrant (Italian) who comes, and spends his first few days in Kings (Bloody) Cross – which happens to be where I stay in Sydney. He then starts learning all the Aussie ways of saying things. Gets himself a bit mixed up. Goes to Bondi beach. Gets a job as a day laborer and works faster than the Aussie he is working with. Needless to say… I was seeing a few parallels in the film to real life.

Today is Christ’s Mass eve. Legs are still sore, but no where nearly as bad as yesterday. But, since God has the great sense of humor that he has… I go to pick up the paper with Paul and Adam. We walk in, (myself, proud of the fact that I could walk) Paul grabs the paper, sees the girl that I’ve been talking about. And I think to myself, “today will be the day that I learn her name”. Paul goes the counter with the paper, the owner says,
“ah, the Irrigator, this is our local paper” to which Paul responds with,
“umm… I know… I’m a local; (pointing to me) this is the non local” - Paul
“Ya, I’m definetly not a local” - Me
“Oh! You from New Zealand?” - Owner
“WHAT?! No… I’m from California” - Me
“OH! The States!” (walks off) - Owner
“Did your boss just call me a Kiwi” (to the cute girl with a bit of an offensive tone) - Me
“what’s wrong with that… I’m a New Zealander” – Cute (Kiwi) girl

In other words… I had quite an FML moment today.

After that, I lost a lot of motivation to go back and get the newspaper, but Paul and I talked it over, I think I can do damage control, and so the day after Boxing Day, I’m going in and saying something like, “hey, sorry about the kiwi thing, I feel bad about, cause I don’t really have anything against kiwis, I’m just American, anyway, can I make it up to you by taking you out for coffee sometime?” or something like that, we’ll see how it goes.

So then we went to the Presbyterian Church for Christ’s Mass eve service. I left the family a bit early to go to the Catholic church, which, unfortunately had no Mid-night Mass, but there was at least an eight o’clock Mass, so, I went to that. Mass in Australia is just as boring as it is in the US, potentially a bit more, because the Priest didn’t sing some of the lines like they do at home.

Home once again. Mass attended, failed attempt with hot news girl, tea with the family, and now, a relaxing rest of Christ’s Mass eve at home in the company of a very beautiful blonde friend of the boys, so, the day… not a total loss.

Fairly good day after all, and for me, Christ’s Mass tomorrow (Christ’s Mass eve for ya’lls back home)

6 inches (different movie then 7 pounds)

Six inches, also known as 15.24 centimeters, is half of a foot, but some other interesting stats about that measurement,

6 inches also happen to be:
*The length of American monetary bills.
*The amount needed to go in either direction for the bullet to have missed JFK.
*The average length of an American man…
*The amount of space in between the margins in an MLA format essay.
*The size of the barrel of a Mark 16 Naval gun on board ships like the USS Little Rock.
*Way too far in either direction for the earth to be away from the Sun to either burn or freeze.

It ALSO happens to be the amount that I’ve lost off my waist since breaking up with that vicious woman on Valentine’s Day (2009). Most of you know what I’m talking about. An inch of that loss has happened in Australia, either during the last time I was here in June, or in the last 3 weeks.

For those keeping track, my last recorded run time was 20 minutes 49 seconds. This morning, I ran 1.56 miles in 19 minutes 19 seconds. After that, Adam and I did 2 full P90X videos, plus the bonus one. We did the Legs & Back disc, which is exactly like it sounds; the Ab Ripper, which focuses on your abs and the process of turning your keg into a 6 pack; and the Kempo disc, which is an exercise routine grounded and based in Martial Arts, which of course brings back many memories of when I was younger and in karate earning my black belt.

In other news… well, the last couple days have been fairly peaceful with very little news. I was going to go to the 8 am Italian Mass at the nearest Catholic Church, keep in mind, I live basically in the little Italy of Australia, but, I woke up late. I’ve been sleeping a lot better with no disturbances from cows, galahs, dogs, or El Chupacabra. I completed my Christ’s Mass shopping yesterday.

I have begun settling into life here for the most part, I still slip up on my Aussie-neese with mistakes like “cell phone” instead of “mobile” and “flashlight” instead of “torch”. The family does give me some credit and say that I have gotten better over the last couple weeks.

The countdown to Christ’s Mass is now accelerated, and soon I will experience my first “Boxing Day” (whatever the hell that is). For those who have never heard of it before, take a look at a British calendar, take a look, it’s there, for us in the US, it is the first day of Kwanzaa. But as soon as I figure it out… I’ll let you know.

My Name’s NOT Toby!

…Nor is it Kuntea Kinte!
If you’re not laughing… go watch “Roots”, its ok… I’ll wait, go ahead, I’ll be here when you get back…
Do – dee – do – dee do… dum du dum du dummmm

OK! You done?

Great, back to business:

So, I had quite the unproductive day. When I woke up this morning, the weather didn’t look great, so I held true to last night’s decision of not going to work. Then, when I woke up again (a couple hours later) I find that not only is it beautiful and sunny out, but that it is also a nice cool mild temperature out. I did not however, regret my decision of staying home.

Before I continue bitchin and moanin… I have a thanks and an apology to say.
Ranger Larry… I still kinda believe my T-rex theory about your eye sight, and we might still have our differences of opinion like; in the order that things should be done,
the way certain things should be done,
who should do certain things,
where certain things should be placed,
what things should be kept and how,
what things should be thrown away and in what way,
the responsibilities of the OA,
the pronunciation of “Home Depot”,
religion,
philosophy,
psychology,
government,
politics,
scouting,
the camp,
how many things at camp should be named after me,
the method of taking care of Lake Janis,
the method of taking care of the pool,
how often the filters need to be cleaned,
who should clean the filters…

ok, ya know what, the rest of this list could take awhile, so I’ll just skip to the important part. Larry, in the end, on a personal level, you’re an alright and nice guy. I can hold a pretty descent conversation with you, in fact, have even enjoyed a few. And I’ll never forget that the day I left camp before my trip to Kenya, out of all the people sitting around that table, you gave me one of the best hugs. And, despite all the times you pinned the blame on me for something (whether I really had any part in it or not) no matter how little or non-existent the evidence you had for my involvement in how things got messed up… you still took my side of an argument once or twice, and helped me get my contract extended when I really needed the work and the money. You may have this amazing ability to test that whole “Brotherhood of Cheerful Service” thing like no one’s business, but you do at least allow for water breaks. You may take a group of scouts to the most secluded part of camp on the hottest day of summer to have them dig a trench (for you) but… you will make for damn sure that not one of them passes out, and that each one of them makes it back to the dining hall for lunch.

I always thought to myself, that between you, and my crazy high school football coach, I could withstand anything else life threw at me. Well you know what. You quite possibly have saved my lungs from bleeding out due to all the indoctrination and fear of the hanta virus that you have instilled in me. You have made me realize the “importance” (yes, sarcasm) of OSHA. And your forcing of me to do arduous labor on projects that I really had zero interest in, have helped build up my skills in patience, and putting up with crap I don’t want to be a part of. I thought that no matter who I work for, I can go into the situation knowing I can handle it, because of my time, with Ranger Larry.

Well, you know what, you deserve a thank you. Because I managed to not kill those assholes I was working with for the last three days. These guys, made you look like a saint. SAINT I TELLS YA, SAINT! You where NEVER that bad. Although, I did have an advantage with you, you couldn’t quite work me to death because I am a fellow scout and you’d feel bad for killing me, plus you knew you had to see me again. These assholes… a laborer is expendable. The phrase “day laborer” is quite literal with them, because that’s how quickly they go through them. I could have gone back today, but, my shoulder really did have a bit of pain. Pain that could have worked through, but I really felt was not worth it, monetarily speaking. Plus, to top it all off, hot Danish girls also weren’t going back today. I was reminded of the story of Nazi’s who would take some Polish people, have them dig a large trench, then line them up in the trench, shoot them dead, then have another group of Polacks bury them. The Nazi’s, having the first batch buried, would then have the newer group dig a large trench, have them line up in it, shoot them dead, and have another group of Polish repeat the entire cycle. I am not saying that these guys are Nazi bad… it just reminded me of Nazi bad. Although… I wouldn’t put it past them.

I finally get around to heading out to the vineyard to collect my monetary reimbursement for services rendered as was previously negotiated, and what is the situation that I drive into? The Boss, in his newly installed pool, WHILE the people are still working on the cement surrounding it. The wife standing there was watching the workers. Then, the stoner was fiddling around with something to give the appearance of being busy. Then the wife walks up to me.
“I’m here to get my pay”
“Oh, I haven’t gone into town to the bank yet”
“Oh… umm… what?”
“Yes, I’ve been a bit busy here”
(Ya… I can tell by the whole pool lounging and pointing your finger to the workers)
“Would it be alright if I dropped it off at the place your staying?”
“I suppose so…”
“Ok, will you be home around 3?”
“Well, I had some errands planned like open up an Australian bank account, but being that… I HAVE NO MONEY… I guess that won’t be happening”
“Oh, ok, well, I better get that done as soon as I can”
“Ya… if you would, that would be great”

Adam and I leave, we return home, and I go online. 3 o’clock comes and goes. Then so does 3:30. 4 o’clock arrives and soon after so does Paul from the farm. Patience is wearing extremely thin. I begin plotting all the horrendous things I could possibly do to the farmer if my money is not in my possession by 5. Many, many ideas come to mind. A meat pie is consumed, and still, no money. I text her son (being that his is the only number I have, and all I can do is text) a simple message, “Where is my money?” Another meat pie consumed. I look away from the window just long enough to put my plate away, I’m gearing up for war wondering if I should take my pocket knife with me to put some of those horrendous thoughts into practice, when suddenly I hear Adam’s voice from the other room, “There’s a blue ute outside Edward!” Finally, at last, my money, with 4 minutes left on the clock before something very bad potentially happened.

That’s the other thing Larry, you always made sure my hours where kept straight, so that I might earn and receive the proper amount of money. I never saw myself saying this, especially so publicly but…

Thanks for everything Ranger Larry.




P.S.
Note:
For those who might think the title and opening line is offensive… buck up biznatches. My Indian ancestors where the Spaniard’s bitches, and even Spain and England took their abuse from Rome back in the day, the whole world is one giant game of “tag” and right now, Hackmed is “it”, we all had our turn, big whoop. Deal with it.

Swing Low… Sweet Chariot…

…Comin forth to carry me home… I looked over Leeton
And what… did I see
Coming forth to carry me home
A band of Aussies… abusing labor
Groin’ grapes to make more wine…

Ya… another rough day of work. I dare say, worst day so far. The Danish girls came back. Primarily because of their Yankee co-worker.

Got some more Intel on the boss. Out of the 270 rows of vines that where in need of de-suckling, 153 of them where done by over 6 other people who are staying at the hostel who served one day and quit, one even walking out the same day. My theory was correct, not a single one of them, was American. The 3 of us, in a day and a half, two Danish girls with the help of American Leadership and MANpower, did the remaining 117 rows.

Then, the boss decided to try the "divide and conquer" routine. He took me and one of the Dane Dames to the opposite side of the vineyard to clean out the irrigation hoses while the other girl was left to herself to finish the last 15 or so rows. He harassed the three of us individually. The girls took the hit, I spoke up. It was finally noon, me and Sigrid are almost totally out of water and are about to collapse. We finished the last hoses we had open, stopped working, walked to the side of the road from where we were working and awaited a pick up. We decided these jerks weren’t picking us up, so I gave her the last of the water I had in my bottle, and walked back to the other side of the vineyard to get my backpack (with more water) and Pernille (the other girl). Pernille and I finish the last 2 rows, and are finally picked up, but the guy doesn’t drive down the row like the boss did (his one redeemable quality) he sits there, and waits for us to walk back. After lunch, the boss asks us where we left off, we tell him we don’t know.
“Well didn’t you finish the section?”
“umm… no…” –Sigrid
“Well why not?!” – The Boss (yelling at Sigrid)
“HEY! It was noon! And besides, would you rather us knock off a couple minutes early, or have to go pick up two passed out bodies due to dehydration?” - me
“(silence and a mean glare)” – The Boss

Then the girls also had the question of pay, but wouldn’t ask. Of course, being the American, I stepped right in and asked for them. Then he tried to dodge the question.
“When do we get paid?” – me
“Yur last de, tumarro” – The Boss
“ok… that’s cool… so if I may ask, what’s the method of payment?” – me
“A-ight gurls… git yur things” – The Boss
(Standing still looking for my queue on what to do) – The Girls
“Well, is it cheque or cash?” - Me
“We goyna go bak tu work o yu goyna stan der aRgyuing?!” – The Boss
“Simple question that I think as employees we deserve the answer to” – Me
(Looking suddenly optimistic at the boss waiting for a response) – the Girls
“Cash… tumarro!”
“Well ok then… let me get my water bottle” – Me

That cleared up, I thought I would try to make some effort of being nice and spark up a bit of small talk. The reason for this: I don’t really know, especially seeing as how I could barely understand every other word that he spoke, but, I gave it a go. I asked if these grapes go to Casella wines, because Craig (one of the asshole rocket surgeons) left some doubt in my mind, primarily because of his cruddy answering abilities (being high at work I guess will do that). The answer… No. It goes to some Aussie wine group, that sends it’s grapes to the US, and the wine is made there.

Ok, remember that great awe inspiring speech I gave yesterday about America leading the way, because, we are leaders, and how we can withstand and accomplish anything we set our minds to… remember that? Ya… well, I still hold firm to all that, but, the key thing is, “anything we SET our minds to”. Once I found out that the grapes I am planting and helping maintain are NOT going to the production of Yellow Tail, I pretty much got Senioritis in labor terms and mentally checked out.

I tried to keep in mind the obligation of the Order of the Arrow (Scouting’s National Honor Society – of which I was in charge of the local lodge for 2 years) “I will seek to preserve a cheerful spirit, EVEN in the midst of irksome tasks and weighty responsibilities”. Well, I did manage to keep cracking jokes and keep the Danish girls morale at a fairly descent level.

Another new life experience accomplished: get caught in the middle of an Australian sand storm with just a hat and grapevines for protection (besides my cloths of course). And of course, just my luck, I had to get stuck in the storm with the one of the two girls WITH a boyfriend. Fail. After work, the boss’ wife drives us home, but, she has her older daughter in the car, which has to go to work immediately, so, I of course get taken on a crazy long detour. Proving to me, that the Boss and his son are not the only ones without a sense of time, it is apparently in the family, because when we did get to the girl's work, (2 minutes late) she took her sweet time moseying into the store like all was well.

There was supposed to be some little shindig or whatnot at the hostel the girls were staying at that I happen to get invited to. Only to find out it was cancelled due to the sand storm. FML moment for me. Last chance to see hot Danish girls before they move on to their next stop, wherever that might be. So, going back to American’s never giving up. We don’t, when we are interested in something. But, let’s face it, how often do we help the countries that we have no profit in? So, having learned I will most likely not drink the fruits of my labor, or at least not recognize it, I’ve just decided, the pain in my right shoulder really is more then what I want to work with. Besides, it should be raining tomorrow, it is right now.

This does of course mean returning one last time to pick up my money, but, money is always good, so I think I can handle it.

Spider Webs – Nature’s Trip Wire

Patience pays off, sometimes. It did this time. I showed up, just like I said I would. EVEN though, the three guys where douche bags, and then what happens… I get there, and I get to work with these two (not one, but count them, TWO!) hot blonde Danish girls. And what where we doing? De-suckling grape vines. Basically, a vine shoots off the main branch, and if it is not going the right way, it’s going the wrong way. So we went through the rows one at a time and cut anything out of place.

The boss, plus the two younger guys where all still being assholes. But, TWO hot blonde Danish girls. So, my day was difficult, and tedious. Still better then the day before though that’s for sure.

I dare say, these assholes actually make me almost miss working with Ranger Larry back at camp. I don’t think it can get much worse, hence, to stay on my original course like I said yesterday; I’m going back again tomorrow. Even if work is awful, there are still two hot blond Danish girls to spend some time with.

(Insert Clever Title About Long Hard Day)

Why am I telling you to do it… simple, I’m too tired to think of something witty and such. Today’s run: fourteen seconds faster than yesterday’s. Immediately after the run I got a call from a guy who finds jobs for backpackers. Today, I helped plant vines at a vineyard that sells grapes to Casella Wines, the makers of Yellow Tail.

When vines are planted (at least the way we did them today) one guy is in a tractor pulling a water buffalo that is connected to a drill. Another guy walks along and finds the place to insert the vine. And one guy does all the bitch work of bending over repetitively inserting the tiny vine into the newly dug hole, then carefully compact dirt back around the vine. I was working with two other guys today, with experience… so; guess which of the three jobs I ended up with. If you guessed bitch work, you would be right.

Not only, was I the one doing the bending and such, but this is after having ran a mile and a half, and having a half hour of time to get ready and get there, BUT! This is after having done the P90X work out yesterday. So not only where my muscles already sore, I got to do all the manual labor today. This is of course all in 36 degree heat, Celsius! Converted for those like me who hate making mathematical conversions (Sorry Michelle + Vic, but we can’t all be as left minded as you) that equals 96.8 degrees F.

All this sounds crappy enough (and if it doesn’t I don’t think you’re getting the full force of the crappyness of the situation). To top it all off, I got to work with 2 rocket surgeons. Australian rednecks with no concept of time or urgency. I know it is the country and all that, but come on. What was supposed to be a half hour lunch break, turned into two hours, because they had something pressing that had to be done right away that was only going to take “a quick sec”. Then, even though I was moving as fast as the machine was, and we could have finished by the time Paul was going to come pick me up, they still decided, even though I was the one doing the hard work, THEY were going to take a break. The problem is, if they take a break, I can’t do my job. I was working harder then these guys. So I had to keep at their pace. Paul came and left. So, forty five minutes AFTER when we should have finished, we’re free to go. Unfortunately, I have no means of my own transportation, so one of the rocket surgeons has to take me home (but not strait home, because the family was hanging out at Maccas [McDonalds] where the boys work).

But, even having someone waiting on him, does he hurry? NO. Does he show any effort to move faster? NO. Then he also has to drop off the other rocket surgeon before I can gain my freedom. Miserable heat. Miserable conditions. Miserable work. Miserable coworkers. There was I suppose one good thing that came out of work today, now if I ever use the phrase "I feel like I just got hit by a tractor pulling a water buffalo" I actally have a reference point for what that really feels like.

And yet, like the sick glutton for punishment that I am… I can’t wait for work tomorrow.

"Why?" One might ask. I came to this country for many reasons, one of which was to un-spoil myself. I made it through a day, of hard labor (outside of camp) in extreme heat (outside of camp) and with a couple assholes, who made my day difficult, that I did not punch in the face. They slowed down the work. Took their sweet time. Basically did everything possible to make the day miserable. Miserable enough to quit, and not come back the next day.

The Spirit of America however, is not one of quitting. It is one of perseverance. The Spirit of America keeps going strong, long after others have fallen. THAT is why we kick ass. THAT is why our nation leads the world. This boss is a douchbag who uses and wears down his day laborers to nothing. Looking at the paper of the names of other backpackers traveling in the area who had worked for him, in the last week and a half not one person lasted more than a day. But, also looking at the names, none of them sounded American. Not one. I will go back tomorrow. I will kick ass. I don’t care how much my muscles hurt, I don’t care how much of a jerk my “co-workers” are. I will go back tomorrow. I will out work the “professionals” that “work” there regularly. I will make Rod tell his friend Michael (aka. The orange guy who got me the job) “Next time you have a yankee bloke looking for work, send him to me”.

Oh, and did I mention that tomorrow is suppose to be at least 40 degrees (again, for those of us who aren’t left brained) that translates to about 104 F and so I have to be out the door at ¼ to 6 in the AM. Ya… this will be fun.

Damn you Dr. Freud!

So, what do I have against him? Nothing really, just thought it made for a catchy title. Actually, a series of events over the course of the last day has made me realize something. And I will share this something with all of you, but first, I’ll back track to the beginning, give you the back story, then tell you what the blazes I’m ranting on about:

IN IL PRINCIPIO:

You see, during our morning coffee, Jan and I somehow came upon the subject of old people. Then of course, upon the topic of old people dying. I brought up my Grandmother. Reason being, this woman went down with a fight! Besides having diabetes for years, she had a stroke, pneumonia, and I believe a heart attack all at once. For years we all thought “oh no, this is the last time I see Abuelita” but no… she kept on truckin… and truckin… and truckin. All four factors were present at once when she finally breathed her last. Besides this of course, this is a woman who raised nine children in a 3rd world country. My Abuelita, was quite an amazing woman, who I miss dearly.

SECUNDI:

I came to Australia for multiple reasons. One of which being: what is it like to be an immigrant? Although, I totally cheated on this one. I went to a country that not only speaks the same language (kinda… technically…) but also where I have a support system of friends. My Mother on the other hand, different story. The woman left everything she had ever known. Left everyone she had ever known. All based on the promise of a better life in the greatest nation on earth, over that of the life she had in one of the poorer countries on earth. The promise was of course based on the love of a man, who would provide her with a son, and then… well… die. Not like it was part of the plan, but, shit happens ya know. Two options in this situation. A: retreat to Miami where there are more family members, but, still considered US property. B: stay on her own where she was, and be a working single mom with no family nearby. Thankfully for my love of California, she chose B. Amazing decision. But, not really a decision, she did what was needed of her. I think she did a fairly decent job raising me, but… I might be a bit bias on that one. But, the last week adjusting to life in Leeton, NSW, has made me think a lot about what transition to America must have been like. Note: English is the hardest language to learn. But, my Mother did it. As I told Kai in Sydney, I’m glad I was born into English, because I don’t know if I have the patience to learn it. As much adjusting as I am doing in a similar country in the modern day with technology like Skype, I can only imagine what her move in the 80’s was like.

TERTI:

My sister has had an interesting past few years. This last year my brother-in-law has been in Iraq, and my sister has been busting her ass in nursing school. I find if funny that the other night a young bloke at the twins high school used Rocky Balboa’s monologue to his son, and I find it funnier that I’m going to use it also to describe my sister, but… here goes anyway. You see, despite whatever my sister goes through, she keeps her Latina woman stubbornness, so, to quote Rocky Balboa:

“Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s very mean and nasty place. And I don’t care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me or nobody is going to hit as hard as life.

“But it ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forwards, how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done!

“Now if you know what you’re worth, you gotta be out there willing to take the hits and not point fingers ‘cos of him or her or anybody if you aint’ where you wanna be. Cowards do that! And that ain’t you. You’re better than that."

Needless to say, my big sis is quite an inspiration to me. I don’t have half of her studying diligence ability. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have the crappy GPA that I currently do and maybe it wouldn’t have taken me 4 years to get a 2 year degree.

Do me favor though and don’t tell them I said all this… it’ll go to their heads. Then living with them will be more impossible then it is already.

But Edward wait! That’s really nice of you saying all that awesomeness about some of the women that share the same blood as you and all that jazz… but what the hell does any of this have to do with Dr. Freud like your title suggest?

I’m very glad you asked!

You see, as filled with copious amounts of awesome as these women are… they are vicious, determined, stubborn Latinas. According to Freud, a woman gross up like her mother figure, a guy like his father figure, and a woman looks for her father, and a man his mother. Sick really. But… like I said before… shit happens, that’s just the way it is. And before you start to try to argue me on this: #1, you are really arguing a dead guy #2 think hard about everyone you’ve ever like… ya, thought so. Well unfortunately for me, this causes quite a high standard for any woman to try to win me which is so high, the girl I was engaged to for over a year didn’t even hit it.

Realizing how cool and amazing the last three generations of women in my family is (oh, and did I mention stubborn) I have also have made the connection between my conscience and sub-conscience reasons for liking the woman I’ve liked for years, (which, has a 95% chance of hurting me deep, but, I don’t really care about odds, and as my best friend so lovingly says… I’m a stubborn ass. Hmm… wait a minute…).

Believe it or not… that was actually me giving a complement. Next time I say something to you and you think to yourself “what a dick”. Remember, I most likely really do love you, this is just my way of saying it.

Exercise… argggg

No matter how hard breaking up is… waking up is even harder (for me anyway). What is it about mobile phones and the alarm function not working for me… like ever. Whatever the case may be, I did at least wake up in a timely manner today. Had a nice cup of coffee in the morning, then… Adam woke up.

Last week Adam and I had a Rocky marathon so that he would know why I was here, and also to take notes from Burgess Meredith’s portrayal of “Mic”. Since then he has been yelling out helpful phrases at me like “you’re gonna eat lightning and crap thunder!” and also of course “Come on you bum!” So today we left the house with one of the twins timing us. I ran/jogged one and a half miles with Adam riding his bike next to/ahead of me. The other day on my scouting out of the run, it took 20 minutes 43 seconds. Today when I was actually doing it for the first time: 21 minutes 2 seconds. So, bad news, 19 seconds more, good news, I ran much more of it at a higher rate. Therefore, my recovery time when I went into jog/speed walk mode took longer. The Navy would like the time to be 12 minutes (minimum for my age group) considering this is really the first time I’ve run in about 5 years, I think it’s a realistic and reasonable time to ask or me.

After nearly dying from the run, Adam and I did our P90X video of the day. What is P90X you might ask? Well… it is an amazing workout routine. They always have infomercials for it at like 2 am, and I always thought it was like total bullocks. However, my brother-in-law uses it. Now… Pappy was always in shape, and thin, but when he left for Iraq, he was RIPPED! Ripped like Jesus (another story)

We both felt great afterward, but tired, and I know things are going to hurt when I wake up in the morning. It will however be that good hurt. You know the kind. Where everything burns, but you think to yourself, it’s totally worth it. Ya, that kinda hurt.

In other news; latest intel reports say that the twins' old science teacher who caught my eye the other night does in fact have a boyfriend :(
Another lovely teacher lost :(

I leave you with this for the day:

On the warning label of Paul’s medication it says the following:
“Do not take dairy products, antacids, iron or calcium supplements within two hours of each dose of this medicine”

Then open the package and it says this:
“It is recommended that tablets are taken with a glass of milk or liquid during a meal. Tablets should not be taken immediately prior to lying down”

Go ahead… let it sink in… it’ll hit you if it hasn’t yet.

Australia: the first week in review

Getting settled into a new home… what fun. Actually, truth is, it has been. Most of the time this many changes at once sucks. I have the good fortune of living with a good group of people I actually feel at home with. The whole having brothers thing is still taking a bit more adjustment than anything else in my only child mind, but I’m getting it.

I miss the ocean. Not going to lie about that one. Although I’d go for days and even a couple weeks without going to the beach at home, it is nice knowing I have the option to. I have chosen to harness my energy of missing the ocean, as inspiration to train harder, to accelerate my joining the Navy process, so that I never stray too far away from a large body of water (unless by some misfortune I get stationed at China Lake in the middle of the California Desert)

The boys have finished school this week. I have gotten use to my new surroundings. I hate the circular design city. I’m getting it. I think I know how to find my way home now if I was randomly dumped anywhere in town (in theory). Slightly worried if I tell that to Paul he may actually blindfold me and test me on that.

Besides the being totally inland thing, Leeton seems like quite a nice place. I have to actually start working this week. Money doesn’t grow on trees down here either. My first week here was good though. A couple minor setbacks here and there, but such is life. Thank God for Skype though.

Orientation week down... another 5 months to go :)

Australia: El Segundo y Tercero Dias

Amo ha este hostal. Amo ha este pais. Amo la globalización. Absolutamente NO amo los francés.

Otra buen fiesta en el hostal el jueves. Mi favorito britanico negro (Doug) tocaba la guitarra mientras todos hablaron y tomando vino. Era buen tiempo, hasta que un franco vino. Comenzó a trabajar en la mujer que yo estava hablando con, y con su acento, el gano.

Kai (mi nuevo amigo coreano) y yo fuimos a la playa de Manly adonde yo ensenie el arte de sorfeo de cuerpo. Era muy divertido hasta que yo lo necesitaba rescatar de la aqua. Pero el recupero y tenimos un buen tiempo otra vez. Pizza, cerveza (que, no me gusta mucho, pero Kai lo compro y no queria ser ingrato), nuevo amigo, mujeres en bikinis, y sorfeo en un playa bonito, se hace mejor de eso? No creo que si.

Despues de la playa, Kai y yo caminamos al hostal, cambiamos, y fuimos al restorante de mis amigos de Iraq. Cenamos y hablamos con Masar y su primo Tony. Despues de comer, regresamos al hostal donde yo estava despierto todo la noche hablando con los otros, y, los francés regresaron y robadon todos las mujeres otra vez. Tuve un hora de sueño.

Paul y Jan llegaron a las ocho y medio in la mañana. Mi vida con mi familia Australiana comenzó oficialmente. Suvimos en el auto y yo dije adios a Kai. El es un gran amigo, el se levanto a decir adios y espero con migo afuera. La familia y yo nos fuimos adonde los 2000 Juegos Olímpicos estuvieron para un carrera y un concierto con el banda musical favorito de Paul. Paul era en el ultimo concierto del grupo hace mas que 25 años. Era un dia muy divertido.

Yo senti immediatamente que esto va ser un buen 6 meses. Me siento como un miembro de la familia. Paul y yo tenemos el mismo humor. Los gemelos, Jan, y yo me caigan bien. Y Adam (el chiquito) es un buen compañero (como mi Sancho Panza).

6 meses de esto, si, yo puedo a ser esto. Lo que me precupa es… ellos si pueden?

Australia: the second and third days

I love this hostel. I love this country. I love globalism. I don’t love the French.

So, another great party at the Pink House Thursday night, I use the term party loosely, it’s more like, everyone from the hostel just hangs out with each other with my favorite black Brit (Doug) playing guitar and everyone talking and drinking and such, but, still good times. Good times until the French arrive that is. Start working on a girl, then a frog shows up, and of course, damn accent wins.

Anyway… Kai (my new Korean friend) and I went to Manly beach, where I taught him the art of body surfing, it was great fun till I had to save him from drowning, but, he recovered, and then it was great fun again. Pizza, beer, new friends, women in bikinis, and body surfing at a beautiful beach on a great day… does it get any better than that? I don’t think so.

After Manly, Kai and I walked back to the hostel, hung out, went back to the Iraqi place, had dinner and hung out with Masar and Tony. Went to buy some drinks, went back to the hostel where I stayed up all night conversing and drinking with the others. And of course, getting “cockblocked” by the French. Ended up with an hour of sleep before…

Paul and Jan showed up at 8:30ish in the morning. My life with my new family officially started. We all hopped in, said bye to Kai. Kai is such an awesome friend he actually woke up early and stayed outside on the corner waiting with me even though he should have been asleep for how late he stayed up. We then wandered through town to the site of the 2000 Olympic games for the Sydney 500 and a concert featuring Paul’s favorite band, “Cold Chisel”. Paul was at their last concert 25 years ago. Much fun was had by all that day, especially with the enjoying of all the scenery.

I immediately felt like this is going to be a great 6 months. I feel like I fit well in the family for the most part, besides being a “damn Yankee” as they so lovingly refer to me. Paul and I seem to both have the same sick sense of humor. The twins, Jan, and I get along well. And Adam makes for quite an excellent side kick (most of the time).

Six months of this… ya… I’m pretty sure I can handle it. The thing that does worry and concern me… can they handle it?

Australia: La Primera Dia

Las bella asistentes de vuelo chinas no eran en mi vuelo. Eso no era el uniqo cosa mal que paso. El avion tomo un hora mas a irse de Los Angeles, entonces casi no tenia tiempo en Fiji. Y necesito acordar a traer agua con migo cuando regreso. Es como si me querían deshidrar me.

¡PERO ENTONCES!

Llegué en Sydney

Hice un nuevo amigo en el aeropuerto que se llama Kai. Un amable/confuso coreano que era casi el mismo edad que yo. Estavamos esperando el mismo autobus. Y, porque yo soy tan sociable, yo comenze hablar con el. Kai fe al mismo hostal donde yo me iva. Un hostal que se llama el “Pink House” (casa rosa) en el parte de la ciudad que se llama “King’s Cross” (Cruz del Rey). El ha estado viviendo en el Costa de Oro (el norte este parte de Australia) por los ultimos 6 meses y nunca ha ido a Sydney. Y porque el nunca a estado aqui, y porque yo iba a ser solo para dos dias, hemos decidido que exploramos el ciudad juntos.

Sorprendí a mis dos amigos iraquí porque no les dije que yo iva a regresar a Sydney, y entonces fui a comer en su restorante. Despues de eso Kai y yo fuimos a la playa de Bondi para divertirnos en el sol. El ultimo vez que yo estava en Australia, mi amigo Andrew y yo miramos a Bondi, pero era en el invierno y en la noche. Pero como es el medio de verano, y en la tarde, hay un poquito de differencia en quanta gente estan aqui.

Ahora es tiempo para este Americano y su amigo coreano a comer mas comida italiana, en Australia, realizdo por iraquíes, no es gran la globalización. Despues un fiesta en el hostal con unos británicos, chinas, fances, y quién save quién mas.

Australia: the first day

The hott Asian plane stewardesses were not on my flight. Not the only disappointment in my travels. The plane was an hour or so late from leaving Los Angeles therefore cutting my Fiji time :(. I have to remember to smuggle water on the plane with me going home, they wanted to dehydrate me.

BUT THEN!!!

I landed in Sydney :)

I made a new friend at the airport named “Kai”. A friendly/confused looking Korean guy about my age. We happened to be waiting for the same shuttle. Being the social fellow that I am, I sparked up a conversation. Kai ended up going to the same hostel as me (the Pink House in King’s Cross). He has been living on the Gold Coast for the last 6 months and had never been to Sydney. Him being new to the city, and me being all alone for two days, we decided to hang out and explore the sights together.

I surprised one of my two Iraqi friends, who I didn’t tell I was coming back, when I showed up for lunch at his place. Then went to one of the worlds sexiest beaches for some fun in the sun. I had been to Bondi Beach the last time I was here, but only at night, and in the winter. Needles to say, this being summer time, there was plenty of scenery at Bondi in the middle of the day.

Now, it is time for more Italian food, in Australia, from my favorite Iraqi (isn’t globalism great). Then there is partying in the hostel later.

Un Nuevo Adventura

Déjà me empezar con diciendo, aparentemente, yo no puedo ser ese prometo que “yo voy escribir el proximo semana”, porque el ultimo blog se ase mas que dos meses. Mej, asi es la vida.

Pero si tengo una buen excusa; yo avia todo atareado en los ultimos semanas. El razon: yo temporalmente estoy moviendo a Australia. Un monton de mis amigos y mi familia a no pueden mira la logica de este decision, entonces, déjà me explicar para que todos lo pueden entender y no voy a tener necesidad a repetir lo una y otra vez.
La estoria desde el principio: yo siempre a querido estar en el Navy de los Estados Unidos. El plan era que despues de escuela, yo iva ir al collegio para que puedo entrar como un official. Pues… “distracciones” entradon y salieron de mi vida, y ahora, tomo 4 anos a recibir un degree de 2 años. En este mismo tiempo, la mayoria de mi clase secundaria se han graduado del collegio. Yo debo ser el Presidente de los Estados un dia, pero… estoy detras? Y lo que hace las cosas peor, yo me deje ser gordo. En la escuela secundaria yo era TAN guapo, pero en el collegio, me puse 23 kilogramos. Ya tome el ASVAB (el examen para entrar al militaria de los Estados Unidos) y recibi un 96 de 99. Eso me qulifica para todos los trabajos en la militaria. Pero yo no soy contento con mi peso, mi reclutador absolutamente no esta content con me peso. Eso kilogramas adicional (de amor recuerdate) son el unico cosa que esta en medio de yo y el Navy y el resto de mi vida.

Ahora, el resto del estoria: uno de mis mejor amigos (Se llama Andrew por el futuro porque voy hablar de el mucho) y yo fuimos a Australia en junio. Andrew es parte Australiano, y entonces, cedamos en Sydney para casi un semana, entonces visitamos a unos de sus tias por unos dias, y los otros miembros de su familia por unos dias mas. Dos dias en Melbourne para mirar un juego de futbol entre Japon y Australia para la Mundial, regresamos a Sydney y entonces a los Estados. La segunda grupo de familia que visitamos… que divertido. A mi me gusta estar allí. Andrew y yo visitamos la granja de trigo que tienen la familia. Aquí es donde yo recibi la opportunidad a manejar el tractor y sembrar la semilla. Paul (el padre de la familia) dijo que yo me puedia quedar me y trabajar en la granja.

Andrew y yo regresamos a los Estados Unidos. Un mal cosa paso despues del otra despues que regrese. Era un verano como Job para mi. Un dia, Andrew y yo estavamos mirando la pelicula Rocky IV y yo dije “¡ESO ES! ¡Eso es que yo necesito Andrew!”

“¿Que es eso? ¿A ser batido de un ruso?
“No no no… un cambio de paisaje, un nuevo culturo, un ambiente completamente differente para entrenar y madurar”
“Oh… si, eso es mucho mejor que ser batido de un ruso”
“¿Crees tu que Paul y Jan eran serio cuando dijeron que nosotros puedemos a quedar y trabajar con ellos?”
“Yo no se. Si son divertidos, pero, tal vez solo estavan diciendo eso. Lo debes de mandarle un correo electronic y preguntarle.”

Y como si lo a planiado, Jan (la madre de la familia) estava enlinia en este momento exactamente. Entonces, la pregunte, y el respuesto…
“¡Claro que si!”

Los planes empesaron. Yo recibi mi visa para trabajar en Australia y mire para trabajo para comprar mi boleto.

Ahora, el momento esta aqui. Estoy sentando en el internacional terminal de LAX esperando para mi vuelo. Espero que ese grupo de auxiliaresde vuelo femenino estan en mi avión. Estoy mirando todos los fotos de California en el aeropuerto. Mientras que me siento aqui solo, me recuerdo de un pelicula que se llama “Dogma”. Ben Affleck y Matt Damon son dos angeles que caieron del Cielo y estan mirando a gente en el aeropuerto y escuchando los pensamientos y saven las estorias de los gente. La gente no solo son numeros, o solo otra pasajeros tomando espacio y aire. Son gente, con vidas, familias, con estorias a decir, y disfortunamente en unos casos con olor tambien.

Todo esto me hace pensar en mi vida, mi family, y mi estoria (y olor, eso seria mis pies? No… debe de ser ese hombre tres ascientos a la izquierda… debe de ser) yo si estoy emocionado de mover. Yo ha estado listando para tres meses. Ahora el tiempo esta aqui, y miro los fotos de California, y estoy pensando en todo que sacrificio para luchar a mis objectivos. Probablemente yo estaria como esto hasta que me duermo un poquito en el avion y llego en Fiji para esos quatro horas. Seguro que en ese momento solo voy a estar pensando “¡Quatro horas en FIJI!” y seria feliz. Pero hasta ese momento, mientras que yo estoy en Los Angeles, y mi telefono trabaja, yo estaria pensando en mis amigos y familia y la bonita Costa Central que dejo atrás (y tambien ese grupo de auxiliaresde vuelo femenino).

A New Adventure

Let me begin by saying… apparently I suck at keeping that blog promise of “I’ll write next week” seeing as that was two and a half months ago… se la vie.

I do have a fairly legit excuse; I have in fact been all kinds of crazy busy lately. Reason for this: I’m temporarily moving to Australia. A lot of my friends and family question the logic behind this decision, so, allow me to explain once and for all on public record, so that I do not have to constantly repeat myself over and over again.

Way Back Story: I have always wanted to be in the United States Navy. The plan was, after high school, I’d get my bachelors and go in as an officer. Well, “distractions” came and went in my life, and so, it has taken me 4 years to get a 2 year degree. In this same time span, most the rest of my graduating class has now graduated college. I am supposed to be President someday, and yet… I’m behind? To make things worse, as though I did not just suck at school, I kinda sorta in a way let myself go a bit. May the record state: in high school, I was a sexy beast. I however ended up gaining the freshman fifty in college. I already took the ASVAB (Military entrance exam) and received a 96, qualifying me for any job in the military, but, I’m not happy with my size, nor is my recruiter for that matter. Those extra pounds (of love mind you) are all that stand in between me and enlisting and starting the rest of my life.

More recent back story: one of my best friends (Andrew – who I will refer to often for future reference) and I went to Australia in June. Andrew is half Aussie, and so, we stayed in Sydney for almost a week, then visited one branch of family for a few days, and then visited another branch of his family for another few days, two days in Melbourne, then Sydney and back home. Now then, the 2nd branch of family we visited… amazing fun. I loved them, they loved me. Andrew and I visited the family wheat farm. This is where I (the nearly city boy if it wasn’t for my Boy Scout experience) got to drive the tractor and sow some seed in preparation of the harvest. Paul (the father of the family) made a comment that I could just not go home, stay, and work on the farm.

Andrew and I get home. One crappy thing after another seems to happen to me after getting home. It was a Job like summer for me. Then, one day, Andrew and I were watching Rocky IV and I yelled out “THAT’S IT! That’s what I need Andrew!”
“What? To get your ass kicked by a Russian?”
“No no no… a change of scenery, a culture shock, a whole new environment to train and mature”
“Oh… ya that does make a lot more sense then wanting to get beat up by a Russian”
“Do you think Paul and Jan where serious when they said we should stay and work the farm?”
“I don’t know dude, they are cool, but they might have just been saying that, email them and ask”

As though planned, Jan (the mother of the family) happen to be online at this exact moment, and so, the question was asked, and the response
“Of course!”

Plans then went into motion, and snowballed from there. I got my “Australian Working Holiday” Visa and began working any job I could for any amount of money to save up for the ticket.

Now, the moment is here, I am sitting in the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX waiting to board my flight. Hoping that the really beautiful set of female flight attendants is going to my plane. And looking at all the Los Angeles, California propaganda scattered throughout the airport. As I sit here by my lonesome watching planes take off and land. I’m reminded of one of the opening scenes in the movie Dogma where Ben Affleck and Matt Damon are playing the role of two fallen angels people watching in an airport and listening on their thoughts, and looking around and knowing there story. They aren’t just numbers, or simply other passengers taking up air. They are people, with lives, families, stories to tell, and unfortunately in some cases with smell.

Also forces me to think of my own life, family, and story, (and smell, is that my feet? No… It’s gotta be the guy 3 seats over, has to be…) I am really Uber-excited about this move. I have been building up for it for the last three months or so. Now that the time is here, and I look at the beautiful pictures of California, I take stock of what I am sacrificing for this gain I hope to achieve Down Under. I will most likely be in this dump attitude until I land in Fiji after having at least a bit of a nap, and realizing… “I have 4 hours in Fiji!” at that point I’m quite sure my attitude will re-focus on the goodness that is to come… but, up until that point, so long as my cell phone still works, I am thinking about the friends and family and beautiful Central Coast that I leave behind (and also that group of female flight attendants, I could lie, but that’s just not my style)