Well, it's December here now... The weather is hot and humid, letting loose thick rain storms every couple of days. Occasionally, usually after some heavy rain, a pleasant day will come along, relaxing everyone with a mix of low humidity, decreased temperature, and light trade winds. On these days, the clouds work together to form a high ceiling that holds back the blazing heat of the sun, but allows some rays of light to hit the ground, keeping everything illuminated in a radiant gold tone. At night, the stars ride high in the night sky, scattered as far as the eye can see. In the past few weeks, the moon has become increasingly clear and details of its surface can be observed with the naked eye.
My previous job working as a buyer for an import/export company has concluded since my last post. I worked there for about a month and half before being let go and given 600 reais. My boss had trouble finding distributors for all the products I was finding, making my position useless and there was also the overwhelming language barrier. Communication was always different at that office and I never quite understood why it was so hard- At the hotel here, I wait tables and work with the kitchen staff and there is really no problem. In public, I talk to plenty of people just fine. I think that the big part of the situation was that somehow, I had just ended up with the only group of people in Brazil who never wanted to make an effort to communicate with me. Whatever the case, it was an interesting experience and another thing I can write up on my resume.
Now, with only a little bit of time left, I'm not in a hurry to find work again and plan to spend my last bit of time here, relaxing and hopefully training. All the work I've done here has yielded some good money, but good money in terms of giving me enough to play around with here, but nothing in respect to coming back again. Plane tickets, rent, etc., are just as uncertain as they were three months ago. To really make enough to come back again, I will have to rely on the jewelry trade show in February and the hopeful launch of my personal fitness training operation. For both, I put my faith in God and hope that my hard work will be rewarded.
Since arriving here I have now been an English teacher, A waiter, a janitor, a dish washer, a translator, an import buyer, and a personal trainer... Kenia's personal trainer, but whatever, that's one person right there! I've done all of these jobs here in this foreign place, slowly learning the language as I go along. My Portuguese vocabulary reflects the work I've done.. Plate, fork, knife, spoon, dessert, table, reception, kitchen, bottle, juice, beer, soda, pen, guest, food, pick up, take, pay, taxes, cargo, shipping, percentage, and all kinds of other stuff like that. It's been great. I've put so much hard work in on the ground here and earned a reputation as a diligent employee, something I think is important as I am a representative of the United States here.
Coming home in January is giving me a lot of mixed thoughts. I'll be happy to see my family. To see familiar things. Eat food I missed. Drive my truck. But I will miss here so much. I'll miss Kenia more than anything and I don't know what I'll do without her. I'll miss speaking Portuguese every day. Hearing the music in the air. Smelling the food. Being amidst a society that's so social and raw.
Alright... I know.. I've been really bad at keeping up with my blog lately. However, like I said before, I've got a busy schedule and not much internet access. So, an update.
It's almost the end of November now. This Thanksgiving was the first Thanksgiving in my ENTIRE life where I did not consume turkey meat and all the fixings. A shame. A tragedy. No family and no American friends to celebrate. Hell, not even anyone to talk to about it. Explaining American Thanksgiving requires the explanation of turkey, the history, and culture of the whole thing. Far too much to get through the language/cultural barrier.
Ahh Thanksgiving.. I find that it is far simpler and issue-free to base center the objective of Thanksgiving thought on just giving thanks. Brining up the whole history just starts getting crazy. When you're very young, you think it's just about turkey. You get a little older and think it's about turkey and family. You get a little older and suddenly learn that it's about turkey, family, and something to do with some Pilgrims and Native Americans who loved each other. Then, when you start high school, and your Disney movie perspective starts getting dashed by real history and classmates trying to relive their parents' 1960s struggle against "the man", you learn that turkey day isn't all that simple.
Then, before too long, you're in your twenties. You know turkey day actually commemorates the alleged feast held by the Pilgrims and Native Americans after the natives helped the continental newbies survive. By doing so they assisted the newcomers in securing a foothold on the Eastern Coast of the United States, which would eventually lead to the decimation of Native American tribes due to a multi-century tidal wave of foreign disease, technology, genocide, and economics... But, after college, you also realize that just about everything in history, the present, and the future, has a bad side, and unless you've schmeegled your way into becoming president of some place, you should concern yourself with putting food on your plate and not with trashing the outcome of the past. We are here now. This is now. That's it.
I started my Thanksgiving day by waking up at 6am and heading to the gym. I got a huge workout in and then headed to work at 8, feelin' grrrrrrrrreat! (Said like Tony the Tiger). It has been great to get back to working out. My knee has been pain free after resting and sticking with bicycle riding for a few weeks and I am slowly working my way back.
I loved how I was working out before and was really getting my running strength up. My cardio recovery was killer before the knee went down.
The knee was a big influence in deciding to go back to the gym. I felt that running on a treadmill, with a slightly springy surface, would give me a little less impact on my joints. So far it has been cool. I don't pay attention to the distance on the treadmill because I always figure it's off somewhat, so instead I go for time and try to up the speed. I'm up to 25 minutes at 8 speed.... It feels like my lungs are still good, but my body is uncoordinated for running and must learn again, and I feel like I'm running scared, and my posture changes a bit. I just don't want to break anything or end up in the hospital... But, I'm on the way back. It makes me excited for the TOUGH MUDDER contest next October, which I really want to do. At first I was upset because I thought I would not be able to do it at all, but now I know I can, but just a little slower than if my leg was cool.
As for my strength work, I've really been keepin' it crazy! Full body movements... Movement, movement, movement... Working hard. Olympic lifts of all sorts... Deadlifts a must. Pull ups. Pushups... It feels good to stand far from the crowd here in Brazil where the combination of a lack of true training information and the abundance of machismo perspective results in a vast population of men who bench press, curl, and jog for 4 minutes (maybe) before swigging down a pint of TURBO EXTREME POWER PROTEIN!!!! and then heading to the bar to put down 10 beers. Also, when I go to the gym at night, it's always crowded as hell, but I find plenty of space.. I just go to the spot in the room where there's no mirror on the wall. I hope one day I can get these guys started on what I've learned in my fitness lifetime...
I don't hate on my Brazilian gym buddies at all. Their workout routines are a bummer if you're a fan of true strength and the body working as one piece, but these guys are beasts! Most Brazilians are a mix of German, Italian, Native, and African, resulting in guys who are jacked and ripped from not doing much! Man, if every guy in this country started working out with Josh V. the results would be crazy! With my mix of Fresno and Filipino, I have to work like an animal just to keep it cool. Most of these guys here just come out of the womb looking like Lawrence Taylor...
Fitness has really been blasting my mind lately. I've been thinking about what I want to do for a career and more specifically, what I can do when I come home during my off-time from Brazil.. I don't want a desk job. I have one now and it's good and easy, but I realized the other day that I want to make a difference in people's lives. And if I get a regular job back home, I'll never have time off to go to Brazil and, well, that's just no going to happen. I want to do something that I have passion for that I can use to spread the same passion to other people and make a decent living- the other day, I realized that I would like to make my own gym!
It's a long way down the road. There is so much to learn, so much to figure out, but man, I would love it. Probably I would have to start out without a facility and build up my cliental with personal training at my house or at other places, but man it would be so cool. Wake up each day... Get healthy, faster, stronger, and help other people to do the same. There are a few people out there who I have helped with this kind of thing before and I would like to help more.
I envision opening a small place with no mirrors, no machines... Simple tools for hard work.. Good people who come together to have a good time getting healthy. Field trips to other gyms and training camps... Visiting friends (Arcata folks) would be welcome to come down and spill some sweat. All kinds of good stuff. An amazing place called Body Tribe Fitness in Sacramento, which I have never been to, but want to attend, is, for me, an amazing example of what I envision... Of course, I would have my own twist to anything because being original is what's up, but man, this place is crazy close to what I've imagined before. Fitness, Art, chillness. Check this place out here:
http://physicalsubculture.com/
However, realism is a bitch. I've never been to this place and never met any of these people. Maybe it sucks... But I respect the ideas and concepts depicted on its site and I give made props to its community on the basis of those things.
Ok.. So.. All my friends out there! Who wants to workout with me and pay me?! :) It'll be worth it, I promise. Those of you who have asked me for help with exercise and diet before, know I'm not fooling around. As for credentials, I have none and I still have MUCH to learn, but I feel I know enough to start helping people.
Whoever wants to get down on this, hit me on facebook or my e-mail, and I will get it sorted. Ok, ok, enough with the fitness.... Thanksgiving day. After the gym I went to work.
At work, I spent my day tracking down cheap external hard drives and figuring out which companies were scammers and which were legit... Caught myself a scammer. PCBESTE.COM, Andy Lin. Never buy from this guy... I almost closed a deal with him until I saw a report from another buyer saying that this guy had mailed him a box of the wrong products and none of them worked. So long sucka..
I've been here for a while now and it's not like China, where I was speaking English everyday to people who would speak English back (My expat friends). When I speak English here, it's usually only to myself. When I hear it come out of my own mouth, it sounds strange now. I can really communicate with people now and have really upped my tenses and comprehension.. I think this is due to both the duration of time that I have been here and the fact that no one speaks English at my work. Everyone communicates with me in high speed, slang filled, mineiro Brazilian Portuguese. It is an experience. Making small talk with my co-workers is getting a little easier and we enjoy taking time from work to share our favorite YouTube MMA fights with one another.
I miss my family and friends, and my house and everything, very much. With holiday season here, the homesickness is big time, but I have mixed emotions and reasons to get me through it.
1. Changing my ticket to come home early is going to cost me more than the original round-trip ticket, and with my $3.50/hour job, that's not happening... And despite the financial horror for folks in America, my salary is very good for Brazil. If I save up and chill, I will have enough to come in March or later (about $550)
2. Leaving now would be like quitting... The thought of it makes me feel like I'm four years old again, crying for my Mom after being left at school for 5 minutes. I don't like quitting and I've learned that most times, when things just suck, good things come after... The night is darkest just before the light.
3. In China, I stayed for 5 months and left, just when my language skills were really getting good. I think if I stay here through January, and come back soon after, it will be awesome for my Portuguese.
4. I've got a job and my apartment is paid for, which means that I might as well sit tight and make some dough.
There are millions of other reasons and you can theorize this and that, but the bottom line is that I'm staying until January 26th as planned. I'm just gonna roll with it.
Like I've said before, this place is tough. It'll eat you up if you're not careful. However, you can make it if you stay smart, do good things, and hang in there. I love this place and I feel like it loves me. I used to feel like people couldn't really know me here because I'm not speaking in English, but now I think that the real me is the Portuguese-speaking me... The Brazilian me. LOL. I think when I speak English I'm either weird or an asshole and people look at me all suspiciously back in America... Here, I feel like people can really see my deal... I just want to be a good guy. I've got good intentions. And I've got an alarmingly obnoxious, vulgar, and childlike sense of humor combined with a completely unrelated, non-matching set of abilities, life experiences, and physical attributes. I think for most people back in the States, I'm not what they expect and this freaks them out. Brazilians don't give a shit and don't expect anything. Brazilian's are just like; "Hey.. It's the crazy Chinese gringo guy. We love you man. Are you gonna eat or what?" They're not really trying to figure me out. I'm just here and that's cool.
These days I miss my family and friends a lot. And I also miss smells... The smell of my house. The smell of my bed. The smell of my town. Dew in Humboldt. Damp Oak leaves and Berkeley pavement after rain. The way my piano at home smells. Smells. Damn I miss those smells.
..... 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. One of my favorite creations has been the "bedlift".. I figured out a way to replicate every activity except for the deadlift. This was solved by stacking all my belongings on the end of my bed, filling two jugs of water and placing them at the end as well, and deadlifting the bed at that end, repping it 30-50 times for a few sets. My body weight has definitely dropped, but my volume in all my activities has begun to increase rapidly, so it is all gravy at this point. As far as work goes, it has been an unforgettable experience. To pull it off, I have had to become a one person corporation, with a little outsourcing to a call center (Kenia) for people who speak no English. To make it all cost effective, I hand draw all my posters, have the xeroxed, and then go around posting them in the places I like. People contact me by phone and e-mail, and I meet them in restaurants and parks to have lessons in conversation or whatever else they need.
My first student was a very cool fellow who had spent some time living in an English-speaking country already. We had two lessons together where I earned my money talking about women, American football, and the uncertainty of life after college. My second student, who has signed up for a month of lessons in conversation, is going to America for the first time in December and he is a very cool guy. We spent the entirety of our first lesson discussing how to talk to American girls and where to buy alcohol in America. My third student met with me for 15 minutes and spoke no English. I was actually able to carry on a conversation with him and he explained that he was going around trying out different teachers and he would contact me again if he still wanted me. However, for the 15 minutes, he did pay the price for 1 hour.
My setup is simple. I charge a set amount for each hour lesson. If you want a month, you get a discount for 5 weeks of lessons. During the first meeting, if you want a month, you pay then. If you don't want anymore, you pay me the regular cost of 1 hour for that first meeting. English is my product, my business, and English is what I do.
The rain has finally made its appearance and I enjoy it very much. When I am in my apartment, I savor the sound of it pattering on the roof and the way it makes the flowers smell outside. The temperature takes a pleasant drop when it starts to pour and all the dust and putrid artifacts in the gutters are washed from the streets. Sometimes, when the smell, sounds, and temperature are just right, I have mind numbing flashbacks to my days in Hawai'i; 18, nothing I had to do, nowhere I needed to be. Just cruising. I remember random, small, pointless times... Sitting, smoking cigarettes. Particular things people said on some occasion. A beach, a bird, a tree, a laugh.
It averages out at about 91 degrees Fahrenheit now, with more heat coming in January. The humidity is thick and moist, but I love it all. I am where I should be.
This week I am going to begin recording the workouts that I do myself. Here we go.
Workout 7
Warm Up
10 squats
10 pushups
Activity
5 x (12 burpees, 12 squat jumps, 12 pushups, 12 plank-flexers), as fast as possible
2.5 mile run
Cool Down
10 pushups
100 situps
Stretch
When I sit down to write this week´s update, the first thing that I think of is the fact that in Brazil everything takes a long time to do... I have come to this conclusion after a long month now, lost in translation, trying to sort out the necessities of my existence. It has really been quite an experience. As for the timetable of things, I have learned to not try and rush so much. Many times already, I have been told that a situation is urgent and action must be taken immediately so I hurry to prepare myself, only to find that as soon as I am ready, the urgency is negated by things like lunch or afternoon coffee. It will take some time, because I am not used to doing things slowly. When I have an objective, I like to rapidly achieve it, no matter how much difficulty or hardship I must endure to just get it done.
On the way into Brazil this time, I had estimated that I would find, rent, and pay for an apartment within the first two weeks. That has turned out to be a very incorrect estimation. Back home I know that I could view, rent, and pay for an apartment within the same day, but here, almost 3 weeks went bye between the day I requested my apartment and the day I finally moved in. To this day, I have never understood what that 3 weeks of sitting around was for, but apparently it was some kind of administrative work to go along with the 15 pages of paperwork that were initially required.
However, my apartment is now mine and I have the rent paid through March. A shame that the rental company took so long to process my request, since now if I do not return, I will be sitting back in the USA with an apartment in Brazil paid through March, but I will not be in it. A waste that I hope to avoid.
In Brazil, (As far as what I have seen.. I´m sure if you are operating in a situation with more money involved, it is different), when you move into your new apartment, you will not have a toilet seat, any appliances whatsoever, or a showerhead. These things must be acquired by your own means. Also, there is a good chance that your new apartment (even nice places) will have several electrical sockets and light fixtures with an amount of wiring exposure that I am certain is illegal in America. Not much effort is made by the landlord or rental company to improve these displays of tangled electrical wire and the perspective is that if you have a problem with it, it´s your problem.
In my apartment, my two favorite dangerous features are both ones that I have observed in many places thus far and both reside in my bathroom. Traditional electric composition here dictates that in the bathroom, the switches for the lights go directly above an electrical socket. So, keeping your hands dry when you are fooling with the bathroom lights is definitely a good idea. I have already envisioned walking out of my bathroom from a shower, flicking the lights off, then recieving a huge electrical shock that send me careening towards the floor, splitting my head open on the ceramic toilet bowl (if only a seat had been there to save my skull). My second favorite dangerous element here is the design of the showerheads...
When I moved into my apartment, the condition of my shower was like many others I saw during the touring and viewing phase of renting; there is a threaded hole in the wall where the head should be, with two electrical wires dangling below it, metal tips dancing about in their uncovered liveliness. The reason for the electrical wires is the fact that in most places here, there is no in-home water heating system. Unlike the U.S., where we have the big cylindrical monstrosity hiding in closets and under staircases, ensuring that hot is hot and cold is cold, here the water is heated IN the shower head shortly before it falls on your face. When you buy a shower head, the head is attached to the hole by a pipe of your choosing and then the two electrical wires are plugged into the heating system of the head. Showerheads are quite expensive here, as with all other things electronic or slightly advanced in any way, but I got my on loan from Kenia´s grandfather... Very appreciated. I took my first shower with it this morning and the temperature was very good. An interesting feature of my apartment.
Exposed electrical sockets are actually not a probelm in my little apartment... I have some light fixtures that are like a scene from Star Wars, with red a blue wires pakced behind the bulbs like celtic patterns, but none of them are making trouble for me.
The security of my apartment is incredible and I think it may actually be the safest place I have ever lived... A good thing, since society is a bit more dangerous here. My apartment used to be a store so aside from the huge front gate and steel front door, there is also a huge roll-down door that I can pull down.
Safety here is essential. I have yet to experience anything bad, but I think I am fortunate so far. I know that the reality of it is looming over my head constantly, a mental sensation I derive from my own observance of sincere paranoia amongst everyone I meet here. I told Kenia, ¨ Oh my apartment is so cute! I want to get a little table and chair to put outside so I can sit... Maybe some plants!¨, I said. Very worried she replied, ¨All the time?! You cannot have these things outside! Someone will steal them!¨. I laughed, but was a bit alarmed by the level of criminal desparation it would take to climb over a 7 foot gate to steal an old table, chair, and some plants, and then climb back out with all of those items. However, that is the scene out here. If you have something that is worth anything, someone will take it from you if you do not watch out... Your table... Your plants... Your life.
Also, the other day, A friend of Calebe (Kenia´s brother) came bye to change the locks on my front door and give me a new set of keys (done for about $20 in 10 minutes). This change was recommended to me by Kenia and her mom who explained that because my apartment was one that the rental company allowed people to view without an escort, it is possible that some of the people could have had the keys copied with the intention of coming back to the apartment later to rob the new tenant. I sleep with my CRKT M16 Knife under my pillow in case I get unexpected visitors.
Shitting without a toilet seat, I don´t really mind. It´s like doing a horse stance exercise. The only thing I have a probelm with so far is with the piping for my sink. Some genious plumber decided that to hinge the water supply from the wall to the sink, it would be smart to use a ¨T¨internsection elbow to connect the angles. So the pipe from the wall goes into one tube and then, at a right angle, another tube goes up into the sink. Therefore, the third opening, without any pipe attached, was left to spew out a jet of water any time the water was turned on. It would appear that this has been remedied by jamming a plastic shopping bag into the whole. After a few showers and toilet flushes, I have decided to leave my water off until it is fixed. Already, there is a reporduction center for mosquitoes forming on the stagnant water of my bathroom floor. During my first night, I was paid a visit by the firt wave of offspring from this little lake, who zoomed by my ears on the way to bight every single area of skin that I could not conceal.
So, during my first night, I got maybe 30 minutes of sleep. To protect myself from the mosquitoes, I pulled my blanket over my head and held my pen in my hand, upright, by my face, to create a little tent pocket for air. At about 2 in the morning, as the heat and sleep deprivation started to mold my reality, I began to laugh hysterically. I thought to myself, ¨Lord in heaven. After everything I´ve done and everywhere I´ve been... The Ritz in London, suites in Vegas... Anyone who is thinking of me right now could not imagine that I am in the middle of Brazil, in an apartment that used to be a store, sleeping under a blanket to hide from mosuitoes.. What squalor.. What a time. HAHAHAH¨. The other funny thing I realized is that basically, for the next few months, or until my income improves (or appears rather) I will be an ¨urban camper¨. The tent I made with my blanket brought me to realize this fact... I cannot spend much nor do I need to yet. I have no refrigerator and no apparatus for cooking anything. All my tapwater is unsafe to drink and too-rich with minerals, and intestine spelunking critters. Hence, I must purchase items of food that are unparishable if I intend to keep them at my home and if I want something fresh, hot, or ice-cold, I have to go to the store to get it when I want it. There will be no waking up in the middle of the night or a cold sip of juice or microwaving a snack. The humidity is too substantial for bread and the bugs come to quickly for even fruit... Meat, milk, juice, things like that have already been deleted from my wonderful kitchen dream. So, in my apartment it will only be the same kinds of things I take when camping. Dried meat.. Canned meat. Canned everything. Maybe some fruit if I will eat it soon enough. I will also have to buy large jugs of water in various gallon dimensions and I am thankful that at least I can have that around.
On my first morning at home, I decided to inaugurate my living-room area with a little workout. Exercising on tile and then tile covered in sweat is a bit danrouge at time, but I figure I had better adapt to the situation since I do not and, looking at the way things are going with money, WILL not have any way of paying for time at a gym. So far, that is the biggest tragedy for me. Not the food, the electricity... Only the fact that I am surrounded by some of the greatest places to train that I have ever seen, but I cannot afford them, and to make the money to attend, I will need a schedule that eliminates the time to train at them. I have already mentally comitted myself to training alone with my surrounding environment. Exceptionally challenging, because of weather and self-discipline, but free. Guys in prison do it. I can do it. From now on, I will post the workouts that I myself am doing here. I have space at home and when I get a bicycle or time, I plan to ride down to the lake, a good place for jogging, doing pullups on the football goals, and step-ups on the benches. I will find some way to do some work.
Eating well (as in; avoiding starvation) is not a problem here. However, it is definitely a challenge to replicate the diet I used to adhere to back home that focused on smal portions every 2-3 hours, 7-8 times a day. Loads of water, fruit, vegetables, lean meats, and a lot of fiber. The culture out here is all about big breakfast, big lunch, big dinner, MSG, sugar, sugar, sugar, salt, more salt. Pork, pork, beef. Eggs, pork, beef. Chicken, pork, chicken. Oh, a vegtable. Fruit. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Have no doubt, it is heaven, but I hate it when my body is not running like clockwork. So, the challenges of stress and nutrition have definitely affected my performance, but I am determined to continue on in my way; instinctually.
My blogging will inevitably be affected by the fact that I will have no internet in my home, but I will keep trying when I can. Until next time.
It is week 4 now. After a rough start, I have succeeded in renting and paying for a nice little kitinete (A small apartment) in the Centro area of Lagoa Santa. Getting the paperwork finished was an ugly ordeal, but now it is over. I put down the money for 6 months, giving me the kitinete until mid-March and that will be nice if I am able to come back, since I will have a place to stay until finding another. If I can come back, maybe I will just stay in the same place, I don´t know. Each day here is a blatantly obvious battle to secure the future, one step at a time. I have been trying not to overstress myself or overwork myself however, since most of the limitations on my success are things I can do nothing about. Citizenship is the biggest barrier. This factor makes it impossible for me to be hired anywhere in a formal manner and also dictates the amount of time I can stay in Brazil. It is a pain in the ass.
So, each day, I try to handle what I can, take advantage of opportunities whenever possible, and when nothing can be done, I kick back and enjoy the life of a tourist, observing and absrobing all I see. Lately, as I have been cruising along here, I have been thinking much about my family and my own life; how it will be in the future and what I will remember later.
Family life in Brazil is much different from anything I have ever seen in the US. I´m sure there are families back in America that operate in a similar fashion, but my family definitely does not and I have come to admire the way many families are here. First off, everyone in a family lives very close together here. Grandparents, cousins, aunts, uncles, all are usually in close proximity and visitation between all of them is very frequent, often on a daily basis. I constantly compare this family lifestyle with that of the one I have always experienced, with each branch striving to distance itself from its beginning, as if to do otherwise would be a sign of failure, and eventually carve out its own space in the universe. However, I simply compare the two styles objectively and in a circumstance of awarding points to one lifestyle or the other, I would not try to calculate a winner. It is simply a matter of culture. My family is an American family. Families here are Brazilian. At the same time that the family liftestyle here has elements that are universally reputable, I have come to realize that the American family lifestyle produces aspects of great quality as well.
It was not too long ago that the US evolved from a beginning of revolutionary warfare and exploration, mixed with an emerging mentaily of independence, self-reliance, and the notion that life can´t be spent giving a damn about what others say. The Wild West is an iconic era of the culmination of these thoughts. America possesses an inner loner culture, more or less. We carry the memory of the lone cowboy, the lone explorer, and we convert it into things like; riding Harley Davidson´s on the open road, hunting for Elk, going camping, and leaving home for college. It is hard for me to explain to people here in Brazil, why it is that in American movies, when the kid is leaving for college, the family cries. For most people here, they cannot understand why a child would leave home to go far away from there family, ever.
I explain it in comparison to two things. Baby birds getting thrown out of the nest, and the ancient Spartan practice of banishing young boys from home in childhood, so they would be forced to fend for themselves and return as men, or people with the culturally percieved traits of men. I think many of the same inner-principles from these two things have comingled much with the family lifestyle in America. I will only speak for myself now... For my entire life, I have aspired to be like the cowboys, the explorers, the great heroes and leaders who I read about while growing up. I attribute this desire to the culture of my home country, since it is American culture that dictates the viewing of cowboy movies, the availability of the Iliad and Odyssey, the grandeureqsue actions of Cyrano de Bergerac and other stories of these sorts. Furthermore, the US military has a great marketing campagin that constantly bombards the American populace with imagery of what it is to be a true American citizen; strong, fierce, independent. Now, I do not like riding horses and have no desire to fight the Cyclopse or fight in a war, but something from pieces of media like those I have mentioned, has forged me into a person that possesses that uniqely American desire to head off into the unkown to make something for myself.
I also think it has much to do with the history of my family, a history similar to so many other families in America. It is an immigrant story; a story of individuals who left all that they knew to make something fresh, in a distant place. The gold rush, the Great Depression, the Second World War, they all make up part of this big mental picture or portrait rather.
The resulting product instilled in myself, and I think there are many other Americans like me, is that I have a gross abhorance to staying at home, not because I hate my parents or something like that (on the contrary, I always miss them and the rest of my family very much), but because I will not believe I have achieved anything in life until I stand in a home, where every part of it I have acquired by the work on my own body and mind. Furthermore, I aspire to perfect the abilities cherished in olden times before the support of modern comforts and law; The ability to travel anywhere, any distance. The ability to defend oneself. The ability to make a living anywhere, all alone. All with the hope that one day, when I feel I have mastered all of this and reached a point of true success and wisdom, that I can return home to my parents who will then see that their young boy is not a child anymore and is a man who is capable of achieving the same things they did before. All with the hope that one day, I will feel confident in any situation, whether the challenge is economic, physical, or spiritual.
However, I hope that I can eventually mesh together the strengths of all that stems from my upbrining and the strengths of the family lifestyle here. I think, however, that it is something that will just happens as it happens and attempting to plan and execute it as a methodology would be... weird.
On the other note; thinking about the future of my life and how I will remember what life I lived before, I realizend today that, for sure, I will always remember my time here as one of the greatest periods of my life. Young, healthy, in a far-off beautiful place, surrounded by fantanstic people. What an adventure, what a life. I thank heaven each day for what I am experiencing here, but I give my thanks cautiously and reverently, in the knowledge that in life there is a thin line of fate seperating fanstanstic from terrible. I know now, from becoming aware of what I have here, what it is that many old people are thinking about when they sit quietly, staring out the window; the days of youth. When I am 90 years old (I hope I make it so far), I will sit and sip my Scotch (don´t tell the doctor), and I will remember the days I spent here, amidst the smells and the sounds of South America, struggling to work and live, experiencing so many new things.
One thing I have constantly thought about lately is a day when I met a man while doing my laundry in Arcata. He was a skinny, pale, grey-bearded man, wearing a ratty old t-shirt and faded jogging shorts. His appearance was that of homeless person who had quite a bit of experience in that field. He initially approached me with questions about my Macbook. He explained that he had been in the market to buy a new notebook computer and together we discussed the pros and cons of a Mac. We got to talking and as he typed away on his old, 2 inch thick Toshiba notebook, he explained to me that he had once been a millionaire computer programmer. He told me that he had gone to the same high school as Steve Jobs and they had been good friends, but Jobs had turned his back on him, all because he had dated Jobs´s wife in high school. The jealousy was just too much. He told me that he had decided to forget about the computer game and used all his money to travel overland across Asia, India, the MIddle East, and eventually Europe, following some wandering revolution of LSD tripping yoga fanatics. We both laughed excitedly at the awesomeness of his adventure and after, he explained to me that all he had left to show for his money was his car... We sat for a while more as the washing machines turned. I was immediately skeptical of the whole story, but for some reason, it all made so much sense and the reasons for everything were so realistically simple. He was the right age to match his story and definitey had a high level of intelligence. His account of the places he travelled were intimate and outlined in the way that only experience can produce; this tree here and this great bar here.. Not many city names and distances. Only the memories of the eye. The jealousy of Steve Jobs was really the kicker for me. I could totally see it. As I folded my laundry, we parted ways and I watched as this homeless looking man, who had just told me the story of his life, of working on the first modern computers, of walking throught the Valley of Kush and the streets of Beirut, of taking acid the mountains of India, climbed into a gold S500 Mercedes Benz, and drove off.
I stood for a second thinking deeply. Not about whether all he said had been true or not, because for some reason I thought, and to this day I know, that his story was true, but because I realized that one day I might be just like him. I thought about all the places I have ever been, all the things I have ever seen, all the craziness, everything, and I realize that one day, I might be at the laundromate next to Blondie´s in Arcata, telling some suspicious college kid about the things I had done. Growing up in Berkeley, travelling the world, living in Hawaií, China, Brazil... The fights, the parties, the learning, the romance. In the end, I might not have anything to show for it, except for some crazy stories.
So week 4 is going along here. Brazilian independence day was on Teusday, the 7th. I spent the weekend working in the country side, cleaning and waiting tables. I got terrible blisters from playing soccer barefoot and had to get the rest of my exercise rowing a boat around a small lake. The language is starting to come along quite well for me and i am starting to feel the tentacles of permanence emerge from the soil and tug at my body. Concluding my long, cerebral ramble about the pscyhology of American open-road sydrome and crazy people I meet at the laundromat (As Irish once pointed out, they might just think I am also crazy... Maybe I am.. Oh Hell, after seeing "Inception", I really cannot tell if anything is real), I will now give some factual information. So, finding a job here is difficult, but not impossible. To rent an apartment, you will definitely need the borderline babysitting-like assistance of a Brazilian or the help of the company you are working for in Brazil. To rent an aparmtment, sufficient money or not, requires 3 sponsors. To drive here, you driver´s license must be translated and approved by the government, and henceforth, you must carry your ID and traslanted document while driving. I have already erased any idea of owning any type of vehicle requiring documentation. It is a matter of the money and the trouble. Bicycle, bus, and ride begging. That is it.
It is September now and the weather is starting to get both increasingly hot and increasingly wet. Forunately, from living on O´ahu, I have quite a bit of patience and practice when it comes to sweating incessantly while in the rain at the same time. Changing US bills is best when done at a private money changer... They can give you the best exchange rate as long as your willing to go through a process similar to the scene in Desperado where Quentin Tarantino goes through the secret door in the bathroom, led by the Machete guy. As far as getting more cash, trasnferring between banks and extracting from ATM´s will leave you feeling angry and abused, and, although I have not tried it yet, Western Union looks like the best way to go... Also, Western Union can get your money to you here in a few minutes for a nominal fee.
The food, music, and poeple continue to be exceptionally awesome. I have not met one unfriendly person yet, experienced food poisoning, or heard a song that was terrible. It is a wonderful place.
Aaaahhh, Week number 2 in Brazil is now drawing to a close. For me, these past few days have been a big mix of emotions and relatively small, but mentally substantial experiences. So far, the bottom line is that moving here, living here, and working here, is tough. With a lot of time ahead of me and limited resources to use, careful calculation of all my supplies is crucial... Finding and apartment and going through the process to get it has been an absolutely excruciating experience.... As for finding work without an MBA or degree in computer programming, it is something I deliberately try not to think about each day unless I see an opportunity, otherwise a wave of panic and stress hits me that is so intense I have to sit down to avoid fainting.
Despite the daily moments where I want to hit the eject button and just blow myself straight into the moon, there are a lot of great things about this place and I constantly try to keep myself in possession of a positive perspective. I have a very fantastic person helping me, along with her family, who are immensely generous and supportive, and without these people to help me, I probably would have been murdered already, if anything. The ability to succeed here, without working for IBM to begin with, is wholly based on who you know and who you meet. Furthermore, I figure that if I wasn't here, broke and looking for a job, I would be back home in America, broke and looking for a job, so I might as well go through the experience in Brazil, where the food is good and cheap, I'm with my woman, and every single second adds a major portion of life experience to my character, even more so than if I was in America.
If I were back home right now, finding an apartment and a job would be tough, but I would casually mill about, taking BART or driving around, talking to people to get information, and, overall, enjoy a level of fluency with everyday life, leaving my only worries to the actual job and housing alone. Here, before I even worry about those two things, I have to deal with how to get from A to B on a bus system with no maps and no one speaking English. I have to worry about not getting robbed of all my money or killed on the street by some bandit, or accidentally maimed by a person driving crazy (the norm here). I have to worry about currency exchange rates, how to get money from A to B, the do's and don'ts of my passport, illness, and all kinds of other stuff that I don't worry about much in the USA. In the morning, I have to worry about how much toothpaste I use and how much deodorant I put on, because buying more equals less money, and less money equals being economically immobilized. Not such a bad thing if I could just walk back to my parents house and let Mom cook for me, but down here, I am not exactly around the corner from Piedmont Ave anymore. No matter what, I try to remember that every instance of craziness I experience here, strengthens me as an individual. On a daily basis, my fluency with the urban geography and the language improves drastically and I am excited to see how my knowledge level will be in a month.
An interesting thing I have noticed has been my interaction with other foreigners. In China, the country and culture were SO different from anything Western, that all the foreigners would band together in a sort of tribe and we all looked to each other for help, support, opportunities, anything, and all these things were offered out of the collective desire for all of us to make it. I do not want to generalize and I hope to God things change, but so far, on both internet forums and in-person, I have met a lot of people, mostly from the US, who have been instrumental in deflating my enthusiasm and basically told me to go home. Probably, it is because the opportunities are definitely not as abundant as they had been in China 3 years ago... Here, Brazilians are so capable and educated, that rarely is a foreigner in need... If you do get a job here as an expat, you are insanely lucky. So, because of this, Brazil itself becomes a jewel coveted by each expat that is allowed to partake of its grandeur. No English teacher wants to help another English teacher exist in the same town as far as I can tell. Another foreigner around means competition, not company like it did in China. My first rule for success here so far, is that I do not want to see any other foreigners, especially ones who speak English. Sorry, it just does not help.
Fortunately for me, I've had this really bad problem since I was a little kid; when someone tells me I can't do something, I get really sad. Then, shortly after, I don't like them at all anymore, because, all positives of realistic advice aside, life is too short to listen to people who give you anything, but encouragement. Shortly after I decide to never talk to those people again, I get angry at the possibility of my dreams not coming true, and downright offended that someone could even voice such a possibility. From that point on, it's like throwing Duraflame logs into a locomotive... Whatever motivation I had to succeed before is nothing in comparison to what follows when it is implied that I might not make it. I will try until the bitter end, until my cold, dead body comes to a halt in the process. Whatever the cost to make sure those people don't turn out to be right, I will pay it.
So, each day, I prowl the internet for work, and survey signs on the street offering employment in anything. I have made an extensive resume for myself (Curriculo Vitae here) and sent it to companies I never would've imagined myself applying to before; Google, IBM... I think my resume is pretty substantial for my age and I hope any employer who interviews me is somewhat attracted to my full-blown determination to live here and the fact that I AM here, even if it means that I will be a janitor. I really don't care. I told my father a few days ago that my current theme phrases are; "As long as I'm getting paid." and "Whatever. I've seen worse". Hehe, my folks give me a lot of grief about coming out here and not just going to grad school, but that is just not where I'm at right now. I think about school sometimes and it definitely I wan to go back at some point, but when it is time I will know and when it is time, I will go.
I like to think instinctively and I know that I'm like a Chimpanzee. If I get put in the zoo, locked in walls, where everyday things like food and comfort and guaranteed but routine, I go crazy. Next thing you know, I'm trying to bite the workers, throwing poop at tourists, and tearing my own hair out. This chimp is not ready to go back to the zoo yet. Soon though, I'll go back. I can feel it. I like school, I like learning, and I want to make a stable living, but right now, I need this experience. I think is has a lot of benefit that will come in handy when I do go back. I'll be a skilled and well traveled chimp, the most famous one at the zoo, a real moneymaker. LOL.
To sum it up, it has been tough so far. I strive to enjoy the small things each day and to be thankful for what I have. As I drift around, unemployed and homeless (I am staying at a home, not actually on the street, just without my own home) I rely on my determination, I remember my purpose here, and I try to keep myself busy with small projects. In these past few days, I have produced a book of black and white photography, consisting of images related to the urban flavor of Brazil. I called the book "iLens" and ordered one copy to be assembled and mailed to my folks in Berkeley. At some point, I will have it reproduced for a cheaper cost so people can afford to purchase it if they want. I think it is really cool and was excited to make it. Each photo comes with a prescribed sound and taste that the viewer is supposed to experience while viewing the image, to really get a feel for it. It was my latest attempt to share my perspective with people. Next, I plan to assemble another photo portfolio of exotic flowers that I have been photographing with my macro. Some really beautiful stuff.
I'm excited for what's ahead. No matter what, it will only get more interesting.
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