..... It's been a while since my last post. Continuing my blogging has proven to be quite difficult this month due to the craziness of each day, bad weather destroying the internet,and the fact that when I finally get some time to myself, I am usually in a place with no internet, and I am dead tired.
     I apologize for the absence of recipes along with everything else, but I spent this month lost in a limbo of life, carving out my mode of operation in this world. 
     The weather here has really warmed up since my arrival and the rain has finally come in on a pretty frequent basis. Some days, it's hot, humid, and bright... My body starts to get sticky right after I take a shower and I end the day smelling sour, rubbing black grime of my skin. Other days, the sky is overcast, and an immense wall of humidity hangs in the air, waiting for the moments when the change in pressure will release a torrent of rain, so abundant and powerful that streets (like mine for example) turn into rivers within minutes. After these rainy days, roads are covered in red dirt and huge pieces of rock that were carried from some distant place... On other days, my favorite days, the sky is neither bright nor overcast, the weather is cool, and a light breeze alternates with small, sprinkling showers. The nights of these days are equally splendid, and I close my eyes and drift into sleep while listening to the gentle patter of raindrops on top of my building. On these days, from the sound and the smell, I remember similar days in Hawaii, sitting inside, relaxing, listening to the rain... And I remember spotty things from my childhood, like listening to my mom or dad wash one of the cars in the driveway, hearing the water ricocheting of the car and how similar that sound is to music of the rainfall here. 
     I finally fixed all my plumbing all by myself... If someone were to ask me now, "what is the most difficult thing about Brazil?", I would answer "Time". Straight up. Time. Everything takes a LONG ass time. For almost two and half weeks my water dripped, drippity, dropped from the shower, the sinks, inside the toilet... everywhere it could. I can't remember if I've said this before, but turning my water on to brush my teeth or take a shower was like tuning an enormous radio, requiring the manipulation and turning of so many different knobs! For days, the maintenance guys never came and finally, Kenia took me to the hardware store where I bought a new seal for the piping. One night, as the sound of dripping water began to drive me into a rage, I woke up, I think at 1am, took my Leatherman tool, and proceeded to dismantle and rebuild my shower. In the morning, when I woke up, my plumbing was finally working, no more water was dripping, and I was an expert on Brazilian shower systems! 
     After days of throwing myself to the wind, I also finally got hooked up with a steady job. I won't say where or how I got it, since I still don't have a work visa, but it is a professional job helping with import/export and I am forever indebted to those who helped me get it. Monday through Friday, from 9:45 to 6pm, I sit at my desk (My own desk! lol) and seek out product manufacturers in China and other places, negotiate deals with them, verify their companies, and arrange for the payment and shipment of the items. In the beginning it was a crazy affair since NONE of my co-workers speak a lick of English. So there I am, sitting in this office, messaging people in China, in Chinese and then reporting the information to my boss, in Portuguese, and lost in the middle, my own mind is thinking in English... On really long days, one of my co-workers will say something, and I swear they are speaking Chinese! It's a great job and I find it really utilizes all of my skills and things I studied in school. 
     One of the most satisfying things for me is that I get to demonstrate that people who study political science are not just trained to tell you about Republicans and Democrats. Sure, American politics is a big part of the scene, but for many of us, our educations encompassed things like sociology, anthropology, history, economics, languages, writing, speaking, debate, negotiation, law, trade and a slew of other things that are lost in the name of the study. I've had people in the jewelry business ask me before, "What do you know about business and making deals? It has nothing to do with your politics?"... This always causes me to think about all the negotiations and strategies I have had to study and for some, have been trained to execute... Nuclear threats... Trade embargoes... Cease-fires... Peace Treaties... Intelligence gathering... Military strategy... Carbon credits... Hostage exchanges... declarations of war, and many other things that determine the life or death of people and economies which allow business to take place. Sure, I haven't gone to business school and I can't sit and tell you specifics about tax forms, but I can tell you about what is required to be present in civilization for those things to even be valid. Dealing with the business of products is actually a fresh breath of air from dealing with the balance of human life. Some people out there could come in with a real anti-establishment point now, calling attention to the whole "no more countries, only companies" argument, backed by the thought that humans are just treated like numbers now, and their is some truth to that, but I've seen different. There are still times in life, when some humans try with all their might, to save the lives of others, knowing that in the end, they will receive no reward and possibly no gratitude from those they help, and trust me, those negotiations are like a Sunday picnic compare to shipping 5,000 scooters from one place to another.... Ok, I'm rambling. 
     So... hmmm... Ah yes... I don't want to complain about it too much, but I find myself talking about it a lot because it scares me. I am pretty sure that I really messed up the meniscus in my knee and I cannot run anymore. However, I have been continuing to stay active each day and have taken to bicycle riding. Also, I found myself to be both sad and afraid with the thought of never doing jiu jitsu again and from that fear and sadness, stemmed an overwhelming sense of determination. No. I will not sit and be injured. I will not surrender to something that was not my choice. Dear knee... I'll tell you the same thing I told my shoulder... We, the body and mind, are going to continue training. Either sack up and get back on board, or prepare to face your doom.... Sure, it's stubborn and downright stupid. A lot of people, especially my mom would scoff at this mentality, but I'm sorry. I spent so much of my life fat, weak and out of shape. Getting picked on and all that crap. I will never go back. I would rather destroy myself than succumb to weakness. However, it's not like I'm planning on taking a hammer and hitting my hurt knee with it everyday.. I will continue to train responsibly and to the maximum of my abilities with 100% effort. I plan to head to jiu jitsu next week. In my life I have come to learn that when things are difficult or uncertain, refuge and answers may be found in the fortress of martial arts. 
     

     I'm going to tell you a story now. I will leave out names in some cases because, quite frankly, I don't feel like it's my business. 
     A few weeks ago, Kenia and I went down to the lake and had some drinks with her brother and some of his good friends. One of his friends, his best friend, was a very good guy, a very funny guy, and he sat next to me while we drank. Now, Kenia and I had already put down a liter of beer while waiting for everybody and initially I declined to drink more, but this guy, with a big grin, convinced me to keep going. I don't like to have bad manners when I travel, so I got my second wind and we all proceeded to put down more beer. We laughed and talked about life in Brazil, everyone displayed whatever they knew in English, and we snacked on a plate of sliced filet mignon and potato fries. It was a good time. I remember at one point the friend told me that I should relax when I am in Brazil and he patted me on the back. He had a very kind touch and good spirit. I remember he wore a pink shirt. At the end of the night, Kenia and I were a bit drunk, so this guy took the keys for her car and drove us home. We all laughed as he sped down the main road at 2 in the morning. When we parted ways, I told him I would see him later and I was certain we would have more good times to come. It was a fun night with good people.
     The other night, October 1st, I saw him again... Fashion week is going on here in Lagoa Santa and Kenia's brother is a model in the show. His friend told him that he would finish at school, go home to shower, then head over to meet all of us at the event. A little before 9pm, he reached his neighborhood in Belo Horizonte, but his car broke down. He got out to push it down the street, just a few feet from his apartment. A man on a motorcycle drove up to him and pulled out a gun. When he saw the gun, he took off running and made it to the front gate of his apartment before the guy on the motorcycle shot him three times in the back. He fell to the ground and bled to death on the sidewalk.
     It was about 11:30pm when news finally reached us at the fashion show. I couldn't figure out what was happening, but I knew it was bad. Everyone was crying. Kenia, her brother, and all their friends at the show carpooled over to the friend's apartment as fast as possible, everyone in a frantic state of disbelief. The rain started to pour as we got closer to BH and soon it was like a monsoon. Lighting illuminated the night sky overhead.
     When we reached the scene, the Military Police had already taped off the crime scene and everyone in the neighborhood stood close bye under the awning of the local store. Neighbors in the surrounding buildings held their faces against the steel grates of their windows to observe the scene. We got out of the car and everyone headed inside the apartment to grieve with the family. I remained outside on the street, standing in the rain. Five feet in front of me, covered in black tarp held down by pieces of wood, was his body. Soon, the family and friends came out, all crying to God and holding out their arms towards his body. Everyone emotionally destroyed. More lighting overhead.
     Soon, the detectives showed up, all laughing and going about their business with a certain aloofness. I was a little upset, but then I realized I was in Brazil, and these cops see plenty of dead people all the time. They have to stay disconnected, otherwise they will lose it out here. They took the tarp off him and the crowd gathered close. Some friends and family looked at him and cried more, others had to go inside. A child cried in the background.
     It looked like he had fallen right when he was hit and had died shortly thereafter. He was on his stomach, both hands under his chest, face down in the concrete. One bullet towards the bottom right side of the spine, another one over towards the left lung, and another, up high, towards the center left that probably went through his heart. No exit wounds in the front so probably they were hollow-points that stayed inside and rolled around a bit. The cops took out his wallet and recorded his personal information. Then they stripped off his blood soaked shirt, revealing the three gaping bullet holes. They took some photos, then turned him over and stretched his arms out. When they flipped him over, I think I may have been the only person other than the police, who watched the whole thing. His face was covered in blood and it looked liked a torrent of it had spilled from his mouth. Under his body was an enormous pool of blood and I could smell it. His eyes were closed and he looked very peaceful. They cleaned off his face with his own t-shirt, took some photos, then threw his shirt down on his body. Then they took off their gloves and threw those on his body too. Then they left. 
     A few minutes later, the ambulance showed up and they took his body away. One of his friends cried frantically as he knelt on the sidewalk in the rain, trying to wipe away the bloodstain that will now remain at their front door until nature erases it. Some military police remained to talk to the news team that had arrived at the scene. 
     No one saw anything except one woman, but what did she see? A man on a motorcycle, in the dark. Hopeless. There was no CSI-type expert there who started trying to look for answers immediatley... No rapid motion of response by the police. There was a tone of utter hopelessness to the whole thing. Just another dead person here. The police appeared to show up only to record the incident, not to solve it.
     He was 22 years Old. No one knows why this happened. He had no problems. His sister was also shot some time ago and thrown in a lake. His father does not want to live anymore. His 18 year old girlfriend does not know what to do. His 6 month old child does not understand what has happened. This will always be how I remember October 1st. Welcome to Brazil.  
     I know now that want to make a good honest living and a lot of money to go with it. I don't want to talk to any idiots who might bring me trouble, I don't want to know any drug dealers or criminals, I don't want any of that. I've known a quite a few bad people and I don't want to know anymore. I want a good life, free of all those fools. I want to take all the people I love and I want to put them in a big, fabulous place, with big walls, free and far from all this kind of stuff, and if anybody tries to bring this kind of stuff to the people I love, I will fuck them up. Never again do I want to see anyone I know lying face down in their own blood, in front of where they live, shot in the back by some asshole. 

Workout 8

Warm Up
10 squats
10 pushups
10 lunges

Activity
6 x (3 min. jump rope immediately followed by 12 burpees and 30 sec. rest)
2 minute rest
4 x (30 sec. squats, 30 sec. squat jumps)

Cool Down
100 x crunches
100 x flutter kicks
50 x sit ups
50 x leg raises

Stretch

     Well, after fighting it out for a while, things are starting to take a turn for the better now that October has begun. Realistically, nothing drastically positive has really happened with my job circumstances or my ability to return here next year, but since my last post I have become simply content with my circumstances here.
     My apartment still has nothing in it, but my bed and my luggage (which still serves as my closet), but I have come to like it very much. It stays cool for much of the day and I have learned that leaving the windows closed can effectively impede the entry of mosquitoes (Duh!), and actually preserve a pocket of cool air inside my space. 
     I still have no refrigerator or stove, or anything, but I have explored my options at the store and am content with my usual selection of goods: bread, fruits, dried fruits, nuts, crackers, honey, canned beans, sardines, and canned stew. I take my lunches and most of my dinners in BH when I am there with Kenia, so I am not routinely consuming these things. However, all my breakfasts are at home and I enjoy my simple mornings of bread with honey, a piece of fruit, and a lot of water... Maybe some crackers too.
     I know that a big reason for my recent contentment is that I have developed a nice routine structure for myself and have successfully filled that structure with some elements, still leaving space for more. Previously, I was a bit upset with the fact that I could not afford a gym and I was worried about the success of training independently. However, through extreme self-discipline and the desire to challenge myself on a daily basis, I have been able to construct a solid fitness regimen, 6 days a week, that is based more on the ferocity of my own motivation rather than the environment I am in. 
     Each morning, Monday through Saturday, I wake up around 8am, eat my breakfast, hydrate, and 1 hour later, begin my morning activities. Two days of the week, I run 1 mile down to the lake, and then run around it (4.39 miles, 7km). After about 2.5 miles of the run, I stop in the military area to perform a a variety of activities depending on what I am working that day. All types of squatting, jumping, lunging, sprinting, and core activities are my best friends, along with a grotesque amount of pushups and pullups. Each time I work out, I try to replicate my experiences when I was training with Josh Vert in Arcata and continually check my reality and ask, "Did I really do enough?". Some days, I go down to the lake, but do not run and instead I perform a variety of movement activities on one of the sand football fields. Flying burpees and brutal, ugly feeling movements that bust my ass in the sand are common activities on these days. In my living room, burpees and whatever I can do on the tile floor are good and I also bought a tension band that I use to closely replicate activities on the ski and rowing machine.... 
     Nutrition was originally a challenge, but after exploring more food options and sources to get fresh fruits and healthy, fiber rich items, I am good to go. I think with my routine and prioritization of certain food items, I have discovered a mode of operation that is highly mobile, flexible, and capable of sustaining me into my later years, that is of course, with the absence of competition fighting and the damage it can entail.