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Truth be told, New Years is one of my favorite holidays. 

But just like last year, I'll be spending this New Years without the festivities, without the champagne and the countdown, without the crowds and the cheering and the midnight kissing. 

Still, it's an important day. It's a landmark that everyone shares, the day when they can stop and look back at the past 12 months of their life and see where things have changed or stayed the same, improved or gotten worse. They can look back at a time when they had no idea where their life was going to lead. Did you expect to be where you are tonight? Did you expect any of this?

I'm proud to say that I expected none of this. The year 2011 has been full of surprises and plot twists and new experiences and unforeseen consequences and life-changing decisions. It's amazing how much can happen in 365 days. Hell, it's amazing how much can happen in 24 hours. It was a goal of mine this year to make sure that I was making the most of my time on this planet, that I wasn't avoiding experiences out of fear, that I wasn't too shy to meet new people, that I wasn't blind to the beauty that the world has to offer. This is easier said than done, however, and I'm sure there were still plenty of times where I held back... But, for the most part, I look at 2011 and I see a year of experimentation and exploration, both within myself and within the world around me. 

Suffice to say, 2011 was definitely the year of the rabbit.

A year ago today, I was being aggressively single and nonchalant. It was fun. It was a departure from the long-term relationships that I was used to. Working at Old Soul, I had a crush on every pretty girl across the counter, and some of them became friends, some of them became more than friends, and some of them changed my life forever. I didn't know. I was living in the present. There was a part of me that wanted to make a complete mess of things, to put myself in harrowing situations just because I could, just for the experience. I was looking for rock bottom. For a while, I took my heart out of the equation, more concerned with the physical pleasures of life and the rush of adrenaline you feel from not knowing what tomorrow will bring or if you'll be able to afford rent next month.

It was a time when I felt like I was finally fitting into my skin, like I was finally figuring myself out. I had a good set of friends forming. I was starting to grow weary of my career in coffee-shops. I made a world for myself. I got accepted into grad school. I tutored at an elementary school for a few weeks. Then I met Jenny and everything changed. From the Santa Cruz beaches to the bonfires to the walks through K Street to late nights with a bottle of wine to a matinee at Tower to the family dinners to the Sacramento airport. We met at just the right time.

It was a time when I embraced Sacramento as my starter-city and knew that there were bigger, better things out there waiting for me, but I would need to figure out my life and make a plan first. My dusty English degree and my unending urge for "something more" is what drove me to interview with the Peace Corps, and it was the Peace Corps that inspired me to apply for the TESOL program at Sac State. For the first time since graduation, I had a real goal to pursue, and it felt great.

Now I've got reservations for a flight on January 30, 2012 for a semester abroad in Turkey. After finals are over, I'm aiming for South Korea for a summer abroad before returning to the states to continue grad school in Sacramento.

Who woulda known?

I was still hooked on Mumford and Sons when the year began, which led to the Railroad Revival Tour in the summer with Jenny, and this the year's soundtrack turned out to be rather incredible, with some new bands becoming instant favorites. I fell for Bon Iver, Of Monsters and Men, AWOLNATION, Washed Out, H. Letham, The Naked and Famous, Phantogram, Dr. Dog, Grouplove, Manchester Orchestra, Young the Giant, Cold War Kids, Lissie Maurus, The XX, The Department of Eagles, Two Gallants, Cage the Elephant, Yeasayer, Frightened Rabbit, The Builders and The Butchers, Cherry Ghost, Grandaddy, The Airborne Toxic Event, I Monster, The National, TV On The Radio, Matthew Dear, Murder By Death, The Temper Trap, El Ten Eleven, Florence and The Machine, The Kooks, and--last but not least--the discovery of dubstep.

All of this music possesses the power to evoke a unique memory, like the night Jenny and I slept on the living room floor in the middle of a San Francisco house-party after seeing Washed Out at the Great American Music Hall. "Pumped Up Kicks" was our (and everyone's) summer song. I was, at one point, absolutely addicted to Gouplove's "Colours." Shaun introduced me to a half-dozen great bands while also being part of his own band, H. Letham, which I was lucky enough to see perform a half-dozen times before he left for Colorado. 

This was the year that I fell in love, quit my job and went back to school.

I went to Santa Cruz, to Concord, to Redwood City, to San Francisco, to Los Angeles, to San Diego, to Denver, to Breckenridge, to Roseville, to Davis, to Sausalito, to Tracy, to Stockton, to Santa Rosa, to Auburn and back again. 

Looking back at what I'd been writing in my original blog, I remember predicting a departure from Sacramento in August, when my year-lease ran up. I thought I'd move to San Francisco or something. Little did I know, I'd end up at grad school with plans to study abroad in Istanbul. Little did I know, I'd meet Jenny. Little did I know, I'd still be looking out the same bedroom window that I was looking out last New Year's Eve.

This was the year of the bonfire.

I taught myself and my friends how to play backgammon. I created a cartoon character named Munk. I wrote a book or two. I wrote a screenplay. I didn't get anything published, but didn't try that hard, though I did submit more things this year than ever before. I donated all of my DVDs to Goodwill. I bought a MacBook Air from Lance for half price. I shot a 9mm handgun for the first time. I cancelled my car insurance, gave my car to Iven and started riding the bus more. I ate a lot of thin-crust artisan pizza. I drank a lot of red wine and Pabst. I bought a desk from Grocery Outlet. I bought my first vinyl record (Modest Mouse - "The Moon and Antarctica"). I saw a lot of live music. I said goodbye to good friends and made a lot of new ones. I used Skype for the first time. I became an involved reader of Turkish news reports. I got a new camera. I got straight A's in my first semester back at school. I researched the education bubble. I started this new blog. I visited almost every member of my immediate family, at least once. I sat on the windowsill, smoked a lot of pot and watched the seasons change. I learned the proper way to shoot a basketball. I took a lot of photographs. I focused on honesty and told very few lies. I spent a lot of time sitting on the floor next to Holmes, my faithful space heater. I tutored a third grader. I finally started eating mushrooms again. I tried all sorts of new food. I got my first postcard from South Korea. I started wearing a scarf. I went through four or five different pairs of sunglasses. I lost some clothing along the way. I got a projector. I got a tent, used it once. I went to more music festivals this year. I paid off my credit card with financial aid. I drove the eight-hour stretch from Sacramento to San Diego on Interstate-5 (and survived). I unsuccessfully tried to apply for health insurance. I had my gums cleaned. I put the Peace Corps plan on hold. I attempted a garden with Jenny, but it failed. I turned 24. I ate a lot of ramen noodles. I walked along the rusty platform beneath the Auburn train bridge. I did yoga for a while. I went to the Crocker Art Museum a couple times. I was temporarily wrapped up in education reformation. I got HIV tested (negative results). I wore a pair of Toms. I caught a couple colds, but nothing too serious. I met Jenny's family. I was there when Old Soul opened their new location in the airport. I shared my room with Jenny for a month or so and inherited her bed after she left. I rode with her dad to the airport on the morning she left for South Korea. 

This was the year of the tsunami in Japan, the end of the Iraq War, the death of Bin Laden and Steve Jobs, the flurry of 3D, Uncharted 3, the Occupy movement and the rise of the touchscreen.

Personally, 2011 will always be remembered as the year I met Jenny. If there were awards that I could hand out, I'd give her "Person of the Year." How could I not? As soon as she entered my life around the end of January, nothing was the same. We'd both agree that our weekend getaway to Santa Cruz was where it happened. How does that quote go? "When I saw you I fell in love and you smiled because you knew."

We met at Old Soul. We were drawn together. That weekend in Santa Cruz was supposed to be a big gathering of folks, but everyone else backed out, and yet the two of us still ventured to the coast together, strangers at the time. From the very beginning the relationship felt natural and organic. She brought me purpose and direction. I gave her a world where she could be herself again. Together we explored Sacramento, made new friends, created a tradition and spent every other moment in each others' arms. We loved completely, we trusted and we shared. We grew closer and closer every day, building a foundation that would be strong enough to stand the test of long-distance. 

I won't be with her again until we meet in Istanbul in April, 2012.

She changed my life for the better. She has been a crucial part of the formation of my future, the rest of my life, the way I see the world and the way that I love. 

2011 is going to be gone in less than twelve hours.

For making this an eclectic and eventful year, thanks go out to Sean, to Iven, to Kelly and Shaun, to Paul and Melinda, Chris and Katie, Rob and Sarah, to Bobby and Lilly, to Nic and Ashley, to Chris and Chris and Lance and Meredith, Jessica, Bronwyn, Jake, Cody, Tyler, Hank, Drew and Amber, to Kirsten and Katie, to Aly and to Bryce, to Tessa and Mary, to Jessica and Peter, to John and Jade and Gary and Celena and Cayla, to Brendan and Melissa, to Devon and Lucky and Tim and Jason, to John and Amy, to Tim and Greg, to Tony and Mark, to Jenn and Julianne and Murphy and Jeremiah, to Gabby, to the Old Soul Morning Group, to Andy, to Melanie and Lane, to Brady and Ana, to Sarge, to Inga and Arielle, to Jesse and Amy, to Meg and David, to Diana, to Erin, to Sonya and Brandt, to Jason and Jennifer and Baby Jack, to Jack and Joe, to Daniel, Alan and Rita, to Stephanie, Ciera, Mort, Max and Kat, to Daniel, Allie and Nick, to Patsy and Cole and Tamara and Leila, to Rasim and to all the random people I met across the counter, through tutoring, through traveling and through dumb luck. Thank you all. And, of course, to my family for always being there.

Cheers.

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I woke up this morning to find this in my e-mail:

Hi Chris,

 

We regret to tell you that the FedEx delivery with your contract and pictures were held in the Turkish customs because "declared value of 111,- Dollars exceeds the limit allowed!" This is what we were told when we called the FedEx people. It is simply bad writing that the first figure which is a Dollar sign looks very much like "1". The result is that  the Dorm Manager is asked to go all the way out to the airport customs, pay handling charge of about $15,- plus customs duty of about the same amount to pick up the envelope. The FedEx people in Turkey do not appear to be willing to help at all. Meanwhile,  our manager Ms.Selamioglu emailed the FedEx Customer Support as well.

 

We now ask you to please bring another set of signed contract and 2 pictures with you to submit during check in.

 

It might be a good idea though to inform the FedEx Office in Sacremento so that someone with more legible handwriting can write the outgoing documents.

 

Yours,

Superdorm Office

So I guess this means they're not going to bother with FedEx anymore and I don't think the Dorm Manager is going to pay the fees to pick up my documents. But that misprinted dollar sign hasn't stalled my application process, it seems, because it sounds like they'll accept the envelope's arrival as proof enough that I want to move in, so now I just have to bring hard-copies with me when I get there. I sent them a reply e-mail to verify this information, and to ask them about the wire transfer, and hopefully things will smooth out just fine. Unless they're being dead serious, I'm glad to see that the Superdorm Office has a sense of humor.

Goddamn FedEx. This is going on Yelp for sure.

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MONDAY

I’m half-asleep when my mom’s alarm starts ringing in the other room at the same time my phone begins to buzz. We’re up at 3:30 AM. My sister groans. Outside, it’s close to freezing temperature and the city of Auburn is dead quiet. Into the car we pack our tired bodies and my luggage, and then we’re off to pick up my grandmother from the coffee shop where she’s waiting outside in the early-morning fog. I help toss her heavy polka-dot suitcase into the back of the truck as the Auburn Courthouse glows golden in the background.

The good thing about driving this early is all the lights are green. We take the freeway to the airport. We all say our goodbyes and give our good wishes. My grandmother and I trek inside to see SMF’s new B Terminal, which is super snazzy and organized, and we get our tickets and we check our bags and we take an escalator (passing the Old Soul) up to the tram that takes us to the boarding gates across the tarmac. Everything is new in this part of the airport. I’m finally starting to wake up as we pass through the security check-point and I’m randomly selected for special x-ray treatment, then shuffled along with the other post-Christmas travelers as we hurry to put our shoes back on and gather our belongings.

We’re ninety minutes early, so we get breakfast and play backgammon and wait until 6:00 AM when the bar starts serving alcohol and I get a mimosa and grandma goes for a screwdriver. We chat with the bartender for a while until our plane begins boarding and the next thing I know, we’re in row 5 and I’ve got the aisle seat. There’s a screen on the seatback in front of me. The woman across the aisle from me looks like a nervous wreck. I start reading “A Farewell to Arms” and can’t help but hear the voice of the actor who played Hemingway in “Midnight in Paris” as the prose distracts me from the safety announcement and the chit-chat going on between my grandma and the woman sitting to her left by the window. Our plane has to be de-iced so it takes a few extra minutes to get to the runway.

Then we’re at cruising altitude.

I read a little, sleep a little, watch a little TV and suddenly we’re landing. We’re in Denver and I can see the snow-capped Rocky Mountains outside the window. The airport is crowded. Here I am, in Denver, traveling about and seeing new things. Sure, I’ve been to Denver before, but not in over four years, not since I was an underage drinker at my uncle’s wedding. Now I’m older and wiser and more captivated by the world around me. I soak in the newness. We make it outside to the passenger pick-up area with our luggage and Brett arrives with his wife, Megan, a few minutes later to whisk us away.

We’re staying at Megan’s parents’ house in the heart of a snow-covered neighborhood that makes me think of the neighborhood from A Christmas Story. I half-expect to see Ralph running around with his Red Rider BB-Gun, shooting his eye out. Or maybe we’ll turn the corner and see Charlie Brown and Linus sitting on a stone wall contemplating life, love and the pursuit of happiness. When we get to the house, Sonny and Mary-Anne welcome us inside. Good people. Grandma and I are shown our rooms (I’m in the basement on the couch) and then we’re eating brunch in the kitchen. The house is very lovely and comfortable with nice things everywhere. Three little dogs run around on the hardwood floors, stopping occasionally to stare out the window at the birds and squirrels in the backyard. I’m sitting at the bar between the kitchen and the living room and Megan’s family won’t stop feeding me. Soon it’s time to continue our journey to Boulder.

None of this looks familiar. The last time I was in this town was before Brett was married. It’s like I was too busy looking at my shoelaces all the time or something. I’m excited to revisit Boulder with open eyes and a traveler’s curiosity. I love the snow on the ground and everyone in their winter coats. I love the colorful storefronts and little homes with smoking chimneys. We visit the college campus where Megan points out her old sorority house and Brett, who met Megan here, brings us by his old apartment (the one I visited years ago). We get drinks at a place called Salt, then jump back into the truck and return to Denver. I’m feeling a little over-stuffed and sleepy, so I keep quiet, chiming in with a couple bits of dialogue so as to feel included, finding it bizarre how even at 24 years old I can still feel like the child in the group. I forget sometimes that 24 is still really young. Also, how can I contribute to conversation when it revolves around building careers, buying homes and making families? I’m not there yet. I’ve got to finish grad school first.

Back in Denver, the evening consists of a half-dozen games of Askew, a Manhattan, a couple glasses of wine, a delicious dinner, visits from other family members and more gift opening. Megan’s family—and, by extension, my family—was very welcoming and warm. It was easy to feel like part of the group, despite how rarely I’d seen or spoke to these people. I found this rather beautiful and it made me appreciate the value of a happy home. Slowly people began to disappear to fall asleep and I eventually made my way to the couch downstairs where I watched the Jenny Love-Letter video, longed for her, then dreamt about her as I slept.

TODAY

In the morning grandma went on a walk with Mary-Anne around the neighborhood while Brett took his dog to see the vet, so I spent my first hour of the day writing in the basement. Once it sounded like people were upstairs, I joined them for coffee and conversation, which stretched until around noon when Brett, Megan, grandma and I left for Breckenridge.

This little town nestled in the Rocky Mountains was ridiculously picturesque and full of bundled families and snow-capped rooftops. I took a dozen photos from the backseat of the truck, captivated by the snowy mountains sprouting up around us and the forests and the frozen lakes and icy rivers. Our journey took us to the house of Gretchen, a friend of Brett & Megan's who had a baby boy she wanted to show off. The house had amazing views of the mountains; the baby had amazing blue eyes. 

Fun as it was to tag along, the visit was more of a taste of parenthood for my uncle and his wife who want to start a family soon. I'm still a few life spaces behind them, so my interest in the baby waned quickly, and thankfully we only stuck around the house for a few minutes before heading into town for lunch. I will admit that I was inspired when I saw the kid and the way my uncle and Megan handled him and how Gretchen, the mother, was glowing with pride and love and happiness. I could see how life-altering and exciting it would be to start a family. I made a mental note of that feeling, then reminded myself that I've got a lot to do before I'm ready for that. We had lunch at Gretchen's husband's (co-owned) restaurant, then parted ways and returned to Denver.

The evening consisted of a Chinese food feast, a Skype session with Jenny, a failed-attempt at playing Rock Band with Brett, some idle time outside by the gas fire-pit, a few glasses of wine, some family tension, a lot of dog petting and some time spent researching the Turkish-Armenian conflict. Now I'm about to go to bed on the couch in the basement and tomorrow there are no official plans, save for perhaps a reunion with Shaun in the late afternoon. I'd like to go walk around the neighborhood and take a few more photos. Maybe Brett and I can figure out how to get Rock Band to work. Tomorrow is my last full day in Denver before the train ride home and I'm pretty happy that, as the title of this post reveals, I haven't spent a single dime.

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Well, technically I have $1,722, but until I deposit the Christmas cash and find out how to access my online banking for the checking account my mom opened for me at her bank, I'll just stick to the amount that Wells Fargo tells me I have. 

Christmas has come and gone. Here I am staying up past midnight when I shoulda been asleep three hours ago since we all have to wake up at 3:30 AM for a drive down to the airport. But maybe it's the trip to Denver that has me sleepless. Maybe it's because I'm not stoned and a guy gets used to falling asleep high. Who knows? Maybe I'm just really jonesing for some blog time.

Jenny sent me a remarkably sexy e-mail. Suffice to say, I'm still blushing.

The family and I saw War Horse after breakfast and gift-opening, joining a surprising amount of other families at the cinema this crisp Christmas day, and the movie was actually really good. I'm not one to doubt Spielberg, but films about animals haven't intrigued me since The Homeward Bound, so I had my doubts that Spielberg would pull it off this time. In the end, I'd say it was one of the best movies of the year. It just did what movies are supposed to do: it mattered. It's good to see that real heart and soul can exist in big-budget movies these days, especially after seeing Sherlock Holmes 2 and Mission Impossible 4, which were glorious to behold but as meaningful as the writing on a bathroom stall. Just watch the scene in War Horse when the armies hold fire as a British soldier and German soldier meet in the middle of No Man's Land to help untangle the horse ("Joey") from a barbed-wire mess and tell me it doesn't lift your hope for humanity and the goodness in people. 

I'm feeling homesick for my little room, but I'm glad for this opportunity to bounce around for a while. First it was San Diego, now I'm in Auburn and tomorrow it's Denver. I need to get used to not having a home to feel sick for. Sometime in January I need to go see my Dad and the Fryer side of the family down in Redwood City, too, since it'll be seven months until I'm back in the states. I'll be waiting until the 13th or so to buy the rest of my plane tickets, I think, and my mom's been giving me some good financial advice for the coming month. It's nice to know that my family is there to help me, but it's equally nice to know that I've handled all of this stuff on my own so far. I have no idea where any of these choices will lead, but that's half the fun of making big choices, isn't it? That said, I've got one month left in my little room and I know it'll feel strange (at first) to live anywhere else, so I'm going to make the most of it because I really love my little room and it'll be hard not to miss the windowsill, the ceiling stain, the old doors and the memories.

Well that feels better. I think I can sleep now.

Goodnight.

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The short-lived increase to my bank account has been drained today from the 3,000 bucks I had wired to Istanbul for the dorm fees. Afterward I snail-mailed my Dorm Contract and two additional passport photos to the university, thereby meeting all the requirements for moving in. It's really overwhelming to think about all the money I've thrown down for this. I look forward to erasing this immediate debt with financial aid, though really that's just more debt, but at least it's good debt. It's an experience. It's an opportunity. It's expensive but what the hell, if I'm gonna be an unemployed grad student, I might as well be an unemployed grad student in Istanbul.

Next I need: 

1. Two plane tickets (Turkey to South Korea, South Korea to California)

2. Health insurance (roughly 300 bucks)

3. Official grad-student status confirmation (mid-January)

In about an hour I'll be leaving to meet my mom for dinner at a family friend's house. This is the official start of the Christmas Season for me, since it's up to Auburn afterward and family fun-time until the 31st. I'll be heading over to Colorado with my grandmother on the 26th by plane and leaving by train on the 29th (it's a long ride). That said, I figure I'll be off the radar for a couple days. Could be nice. I'm too financially unstable to get anyone a gift, which sucks, but I think a few sweet Turkish souvenirs should make up for that. Not sure what to expect as gifts, though cash-money and warm coats are at the top of my list this year. I've been wearing the scarf that Jenny's mom made for me and it's been a lifesaver in this Sacramento chill. It'll be nice to have in the winter months in Turkey. I still can't believe it's already Christmas again. It's already getting close to the year-anniversary of the day Jenny and I first hung out. 

The next thing I write will probably be some evaluation of the past 12 months. 

It's been a really good year. I look forward to building upon it in 2012. 

Time to start packing.

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I woke up to make a video love letter for Jenny, then met up with Kelly at Old Soul before a quick trip to the art supply store and a ride to Bret Harte Elementary for my last day of tutoring. Kelly and I said our goodbyes for the holiday. Tyler and I read his poem for the other tutors and kids. Erin was there filling a spot for another tutor and I told her about this show at the Press Club that I was going to with Iven tonight. She gave it a maybe. Later, after I spend a half-hour at the bank trying to figure out how to wire money to Istanbul, Iven comes over and we watch Event Horizon and wait for Andy, who joins us in our trek to the Zuhg show. Everything is fine and dandy, except for a few minutes I'm overwhelmed by a sudden pressure in my chest. Sweating and dizzy, I have to sit and ask Iven to ask the bartender for some water for me. I remember thinking very clearly: "This is going to pass. You'll get through this. And if you black out and collapse on the floor, Iven will take care of you." Luckily the sensation passed. I felt a little off-kilter for the rest of the night and called it quits early while the other two went out to meet up for karaoke with Jenn. The good news is the wire transfer doesn't seem too difficult. The reason I have extra money in my account is because I transferred about 3,000 bucks from my credit card. Jenny got her gift that I sent her. The video uses the song from the Like Crazy trailer, which I've decided is officially on the list of Our Songs, and making this made me miss her a thousand times more.

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Trust Jesus.

The poster on the side of the road evoked Orwellian flashbacks to a 1984 when citizens were brainwashed by propaganda, swayed by fear and absolute devotion and trust. It's a good thing 1984 came and went. It's good that none of those tenets remain in today's free-minded society.

I'm back from San Diego.

I found out that I got straight A's. Fuck yeah. 

Experiencing "The Five" should be on every true Californian's to-do list, but not for any good reasons. We could make it an initiation, a state-sponsored hazing. Interstate 5 is the spine of California. It's the main connection between NorCal and SoCal, stretching across hundreds of miles of empty flat farmland. It's anywhere between two and five lanes of solid hell, mixed with tailgaters, semi-trucks, traffic jams and road construction. From Sacramento to San Diego it's eight hours. It's a third of the day, it's not going to be fun, your ass will be sore and your mind will be mush by the end of it. But it's "The Five" and it's part of us and we should all pay tribute at least once to the fact that it exists, that it connects us to our cousins down south. Whether it be for a weekend in Disneyland or a weekday jaunt to the Turkish Consulate, it should be a requirement that all Californians make the drive at least once. If anything you'll be astonished by how big California really is. 

I am proof that you can survive "The Five" on a solo drive. 

Sean and I were quick to get high like old times in his hotboxed car. I needed it, especially after the drive, feeling how I imagine a corpse feels when its blood pools in one spot after not moving for a while. Feeling better, we played videogames and took a walk to 7-11 and smoked cigarettes and drank wine and talked a fair share of nonsense mixed with the philosophical life evaluations that you save for conversations with true friends. I passed out early the first night. 

Had to wake up early to get out to the Turkish Consulate around 9:00am, which required a two-hour drive north to Los Angeles. Got there around 9:30am. Traffic really is a nasty beast down there. Parked under the skyscraper on Wilshire Boulevard, found my way to the 20th floor, into the Consulate, and into a waiting room full of Turkish men. Language barrier aside, I really had no idea what was going on. The room behind the teller-window glass was full of filing cabinets and stacks of paper-stuffed folders on the ground. A few non-smiling employees walked about, sometimes coming to the window to help someone, usually walking by without looking. I just stood there until someone asked me if I'd been helped, and it was amazing how happy I felt to hear English, and the gentleman helped me obtain my Student Visa (but not until I walked to the Wells Fargo down the street to get 58 dollars for the processing fee). I was really glad to find out that they supplied Student Visas with same-day service (same hour, even) because I certainly didn't want to make this drive again, let alone need to pay more money to get back to LA. It felt good to check another item off of my checklist. 

Money is a concern at this point. My credit limit might be higher than ever, but it's not high enough for $3,100 toward Superdorm fees. Yes, it's really called "Superdorm," and that price converted from the 2,370 euros they requested in the e-mail. I'm going to Wells Fargo tomorrow to see about getting me some euros and getting that payment taken care of. That said, there goes a big chunk of my credit-card limit, leaving me about 1,000 dollars to spend, which may or may not be enough for my two remaining plane tickets. Financial aid arrives on January 13 (according to the Sac State website, but we'll see for sure) and that's when I'll be able to afford the tickets. That cuts things close, considering I need to get my flight itinerary to Global Education before January 29. I'll see about getting my grandmother to loan me the money for the tickets, but I usually try not to acknowledge that my grandma is the Godfather of this family and everyone goes to her for favors.

The second night in San Diego was spent out at Pacific Beach with Sean. We were just in time to see the sunset and catch glimpses of dolphins surfacing near an idling fishing boat. I filmed the final minute of sunlight and managed to film the dolphins, which was a nice treat to see when I got home because I couldn't spot them from the pier. The sky left orange and red, we wandered down to the water to touch the ocean and feel the sand. A couple was having their photo taken as they kissed in front of the sunset and I thought about Jenny. She's out there across that ocean, around the bend to where Tomorrow hides. Afterward, Sean and I ate Taco Bell and found ourselves at a bar, drinking beer out of huge mason jars and meeting up with his friend, Jeff, who joined us for chips and beer and hockey and people watching. By the third beer I was well intoxicated and the rest of the night is a smeared memory: saying goodbye to Jeff, going back to Sean's, watching TV, passing out on the couch. I remember thanking Sean for letting me stay with him. I remember setting my alarm on the phone. I remember...

Waking up. Getting up. Driving home. Eight hours.

I stopped once a few miles north of Los Angeles to smoke a bowl in the middle of nowhere. I stopped in Oceanside to buy toothpaste from 7-11 and brush my teeth in the car parked outside of a cemetery. I ate breakfast at a McDonald's. I sped, I sang, I talked to myself, I thought out loud, I got annoyed with other drivers, I never felt so happy to pass the Sacramento City Limits. 

Now I'm home. Two of the outlets stopped working. I have a passport with a visa that's good for 365 days in Turkey. I got to see my friend, I got to touch the ocean and I honestly had a lot of fun being behind the wheel of a Honda Civic. 

You can't say you're a proper Californian until you've lost your mind on "The Five."

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Here we are on a Saturday afternoon with a root beer in one hand a blackberry scone waiting in the paper bag on my desk. Lunch. In an hour I'll head over to Brendan's house to meet up before biking downtown on a tandem-bicycle to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie. Here I am sitting on the floor with the space heater humming to my right. Bon Iver's record reaches the end of side one, so I alt-tab to iTunes and play "Ornithopters" for the zillionth time. It's sunny served chilly outside.  Gotta remember to bundle up before the bike ride. Iven's coming down from Auburn later with plans of grabbing dinner and seeing the new Mission Impossible movie at IMAX. That's two movies in one day. That's money I'll never see again. Then again, these are friends I won't be seeing for a long time. There's something I haven't really thought about: the seven months of next year that I'll be out of this country. Seven months. It's not the full 12 that Jenny's pulling in South Korea, but it's twenty-six more weeks than I've ever spent outside of the border before, so that's fairly significant. In those seven months, people will move away, people will change jobs, people will change goals, people will change. I'll come back to a Sacramento both terribly familiar and irrevocably different. This is my excuse for neglecting my financial responsibility. Plus it's Saturday and I feel good because I spent the last three hours at Old Soul working on a screenplay. It's winter break. I'm done with school, I'm feeling good about those finals. I'm finally pushing through the "gray period" of waiting and now I'm booking plane tickets and reserving rental cars. My official date of departure is January 30 with an arrival of January 31 in Istanbul. I'm keeping in touch with Rasim, who will be my first friend in Turkey and has offered to house me until the dorms open on February 2nd. Hopefully everyone in Istanbul is so friendly. Now that I've got a ticket and the confidence of passing my classes, I'm more excited to tell people about the plan. Now it feels real. I even felt so motivated that I cleared out my closet and donated all of my DVD's and got rid of some clothes and moved furniture and threw some old junk away. Now my room is a mess, but it looks like progress to me. Last night Chris and Katie came by and I taught them how to play backgammon. Every time I say to someone, "Hopefully I'll see you before I go," I have my doubts and I wonder if this may actually be the last time we ever see each other. January 30 is not far from now. On Monday I'm renting a car and driving to San Diego to see Sean. On Tuesday I'm going to the Turkish Consulate in LA, and I'm hoping that everything goes smoothly. I've got my acceptance letter, my passport, my eight passport photos, my ID... The lady on the phone said it takes two weeks to finalize the student VISA, which sucks, but maybe they'll be able to mail me my stuff. I doubt it. Still, I gotta do what I gotta do, and it'll be awesome to finally see San Diego and see Sean in his new habitat. Speaking of people named Sean, there's a good chance I'll be able to meet up with Shaun in Denver when I spend a few days there with my grandma after Christmas. I miss my Old Soul brother and it'll be a treat to see him again. And then it will be New Years Eve. And then it will be 2012. But not yet. Right now it's Saturday. Right now I've got to bundle up because it's time to go outside.

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Wake up on a Wednesday. Get your official acceptance letter to Bogazici in an e-mail. Call the Turkish Consulate, decipher the call center menu, find the VISA extension, wait on hold, finally hear a human voice and find out you need to call back after 1:30 PM. All right. Get out of bed. Gather things. Go to school. Quieter buses without all the students. Campus is empty. Get a mocha, you deserve it. Go drop off forms with Global Education, bump into Janis in the hallway, talk about her meeting with Mi-Suk and the good news about the acceptance letter. Global Education is closed for lunch. You try to call back the consulate. You've never voluntarily listened to this much endless ringing before. It's maddening. Thankfully there's a lady who chimes in and says, "Your call is being transferred" every few rings. Finally give up on the call for the day. Go study for a while. Head back to Global Education and hand over those forms to the new secretary. Go take your Grammar Final. Feel okay about it. Ride the bus home. Get stoned. Go to Kelly's. Meet Adrian. Hang out. Drink wine. Jake arrives. Play backgammon. Get dessert at Magpie's. Feel like a fatso. It was worth it. Get a ride home with Jake, say goodbye, turn around to see Iven and Andy. Smoke in your room. Get a drink at deVere's, get dinner at Petra, call it a night.

Wake up Thursday. Get out of bed. Put some writing online. Call the Turkish Consulate again, get in touch with a human, find out that no appointments are necessary. Bike to the light-rail station. Roads are wet, it must've rained last night. Take the light-rail to City College, bike over the bridge to Curtis Park and stop at Yum Yum Donuts for your routine breakfast. Skim the SN&R, study linguistics, finish your styrofoam cup of cheap coffee. Bike to Bret Harte. Tutor. Feel accomplished. Bike back to City College, light-rail back home. Spend an hour studying at Old Soul. Say hello to Daniel in the alley. Make plans with Brady and Ana. Go to school. Unknowingly show up a half-hour late for your final. Forget about last-minute studying. Take the test. Feel pretty confident. Turn it in. Go home. Get stoned. Play backgammon with Brady. Hang out with your new upstairs roommate, Kevin, who shares a stack of gorgeous photographs from the three years of his life he spent on a cruise ship. Make pancakes. Listen to "Ornithopters" with headphones on repeat then sleep like a baby because you deserve it.

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I started this blog with 4,469.52 dollars in my bank account. That was the leftover savings from my time at Old Soul and financial aid. That was September. I'm now coming up to the final $2,000 Stretch, which includes one more rent check (-500) and a few straggling bills (-100). This is certainly the end of the runway and I'm starting to feel like James Bond at the start of GoldenEye when he rides a motorcycle off a cliff to skydive into a free-falling plane just in time to yank the flight-stick back and lift the plane into the air. If I were James Bond, I'd be going to Turkey. 

Tomorrow I'm taking Final #1, followed by #2 on Thursday. 

But I don't want to talk about that. 

I want to talk about love and long-distance, about friendship and trust and backgammon and we'll listen to something on vinyl and drink cheap red wine. I want to talk about the cartoons and the short stories and the late nights for no reason. The kick-back Mondays. The Segway tour. The local gossip and the national news. Rediscovering Of Monsters and Men. I want to talk about the small-town feel of friends yelling up at me through my open window. I want to share the good news about Kelly's new love. I want to talk about the ESL Teaching Presentation project. The trip to Santa Rosa, seeing old friends who felt like characters I once dreamed about. I want to talk about how much I loved the new Muppet movie. The dinner at Spaghetti Factory with Lance and his brother and some Old Soulers. I don't want to talk about school. I'm anxious enough thinking about the acceptance letter I'm expecting from Istanbul. 

Jenny continues to teach onward in South Korea, acclimating slowly but surely, finding the once-foreign to suddenly feel so normal. We Skype randomly throughout the week. We've kept in touch and the relationship feels equally supported from both shores of the Pacific, which rocks. It's certainly been interesting being in what I like to call a RelationSkype (patent pending), but I feel strength from our puppy-eyed goodbyes and the image of us reuniting in some Turkish airport. It sucks not to be able to touch and kiss, but if Jason Lee ever taught me anything, it was that you can't know the sweet without the sour, so I think the distance only makes the pay-off sweeter. 

That said, it's time to rest. 

Tomorrow is a day that will shape the rest of my entire life.

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You start with fifteen pieces. There are twenty-four pips (spaces) on the board. The object of the game is move all your pieces home, then bear them off into the side-tray. You win a point if you do this first. Two points if you bear off all your pieces before your opponent (aka: a gammon) You get three points if you can do that while holding one of their pieces on the bar, or back at their starting position (aka: a backgammon). Moves are dictated by the roll of two dice. Each die represents one move, so you can move two separate pieces or move the same piece twice. You cannot make a move if your piece lands on a pip with more than one rival-piece. If the pip is empty, you take that spot. If the pip contains one rival-piece, you hit that piece and takes its place while putting the rival-piece on the bar. They must roll to free their player from the bar and must start the piece at their starting position (if the roll permits this and they are not blocked). Doubles are what they sound like: a pair of five's means that you get four moves of five. You cannot start bearing off your pieces until you've arrived at home, in the final six pips of the race. As you move pieces into the side-tray, your high-number pips will become empty and so a high roll will count for the next highest pip (a roll of six will remove a piece from the fourth pip, for example, if there are no pieces on the five or six). If at any moment you think you're going to win, you can use the doubling cube and double the stakes, forcing your opponent to either accept the higher stakes or forfeit the game immediately. Either you get one free point and restart the game or your opponent accepts the challenge (meaning the game is now worth two points) and possesses power of the cube. If they feel that they will win the game, they can re-double the stakes. Either you accept or decline, only at this point you'd lose two points, and if you accept then a standard win is 4 points, a gammon is worth 8 and a backgammon is worth 16. Of course if you accept the challenge, you're now free to double the stakes if you're feeling brave.

That's backgammon. I'm addicted.

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I want to take a moment to welcome Backgammon into my life.
Also, a moment to think positive things about Istanbul.
A moment for surviving the group presentation.
A moment to appreciate love.
A moment for second drafts.
For friends.
For faith.
For finished essays.
And the winter when everything changes.

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I'm not much of a freak-outer, so when moments arise where freaking out is considered normal, I have trouble digesting the emotion. I suppose the upside to not freaking out is the ability to rationally consider contingency plans and foresee the worst case scenarios with a level head. 

That said, I've got no one to vent to right now, so I choose the blog.

The first rule is Don't Panic. 

Repeat: I'm fine. Everything's fine. Everything will work out. 

Today we had Studying Abroad Orientation, which was fine and dandy, except I got this e-mail from the lady at Grad Studies and she says my "classification application" was not only not received by the September 9 deadline, but there's no record of it at all (though I submitted it almost two months ago). This application is basically a form telling them I'm currently working on passing the prerequisite courses that will promote me to a "fully" classified grad student next semester. It's like having to call the author of a book for permission to read the sequel. Only, in this case, I'm 80% through the book and the author says I was supposed to ask permission after reading the prologue.

But wait a second. This is bullshit. I turned in that form with my TESOL adviser about two months ago and I was told that there was no deadline for this "classification application" during the orientation for the TESOL Program (mid-August). The exact words from the TESOL Program Handbook (2010) are: "File form during semester in which you are completing prerequisites. Deadline = anytime." Since I chose the studying abroad plan at the end of September, there was no way I could've met that Sep. 9 deadline, anyway. Where the hell did that date come from? 

And now I have to hope that I'm right and she's wrong. I have to hope that this paperwork bullshit isn't going to seriously fuck shit up. I have to figure out how to smooth this over quickly, too, because in the meantime I have to get my student VISA, fill out a ton of new paperwork, finish a research paper, finish the group project and study like mad-crazy for my last few finals (because the fact remains that I need at least a B in each class to gain "full grad" status, anyway).

I also paid rent today, which hurt. 

So I'm not freaking out. Not yet. I will meet with my TESOL adviser next week and work through the grimy details. This is just a miscommunication. I will perform well in my classes. I will write a kick-ass essay. And in January I will go to Istanbul. 

The good news is that I met Rasim, an international exchange student from the same university I'll be going to in Istanbul, and he not only said a bunch of great things about the country, but he offered his friendship during my time there. He even said he could pick me up from the airport. What a guy. I look forward to keeping in contact with him. 

There we are. The state of things. A little unsettling, but nothing that can't be worked out. I'm pretty certain that everything is fine. I was feeling overwhelmed a while back but I think if I just breathe deep and focus on my school work, things will settle and VISAS will be gotten and plane tickets will be bought and plans will work out. 

And though I've put some thought into my contingency plans, I'd rather not feed them any energy at the moment. Instead, I'm going to take a nap.

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Good morning December.

It's the same tree outside my window, but I'm watching a new group of leaves make their final plunge to the ground. Same tree, different leaves, same Chris, different life. We're both shedding for the winter. I've procrastinated some, considering I've still got all my leaves on branches, but once the winds of change really start blowing you can expect to see me as bare as they are. I'm looking forward to losing that weight. The lightness. The dismissal of as many material things as possible. A tree can live without its leaves. I know because I've lived alongside these trees for sixteen months. I've seen them lose and gain just as much as I've lost and gained. They've pushed through the elements of nature as I've pushed through the elements of the human condition. Now, arriving together in this new December, coming to the close of another full year together, we continue to mirror each other. The tree shakes its branches bare to prepare for the newness of whatever comes next, like changing outfits between scenes, and I exist only a few yards away in this bedroom doing the same thing. 

But this winter is different. I don't think the trees realize this. It would be selfish of me to assume that I had any big effect on the lives of the trees, knowing that they've been here much longer than I have and that they will continue to grow after I'm gone, but I can't help but wonder if they'll notice. Someone else will take over this room. Eventually, someone else will take over this house. The trees will shed each winter and grow new leaves each spring, regardless of who is watching, regardless of what goes on around them. This is commendable. But the tree will never feel the desire to uproot itself and move (that's what seeds are for). The tree will never have to worry about choosing a career. These are human conditions, and these are the reasons that my time with these trees is coming to a close. A part of me believes that all living things are capable of sharing energy, and so a part of me believes that the trees will feel an absence, however slight, once I've moved out. 

Good morning December. It's been a while.

Tomorrow morning I go to the Global Education orientation to find out more about my studying abroad plans. Details. Plane ticket information. Dates. Expectations. Words of advice. After this four-hour orientation, I meet with my group to practice our teaching demonstration, which is due Monday after the weekend. Also this weekend, I've got to wrap up work on my research paper just so I've got it out of the way (it's due on the 9th). That, plus two more tests, and this semester is done. I need to pass all my classes with a B and thankfully I'm on track for that already, but obviously there are worst case scenarios always lurking the shadows, so I'll be sure to study hard for those last tests and make sure to keep those grades up. Istanbul won't take me if I don't. 

We never know what our decisions will do for the rest of our future. A tree sheds its leaves, but it's sure that new leaves will grow back. The human condition is not so simple. We shed leaves, we grow leaves, we don't know the effects of these choices. Sometimes we're so worried about the future that we hold onto our leaves for far too long, even after they've wilted. Sometimes we're too anxious and we shed our leaves before they reach their full potential. In that way, life is an alchemist's game, a mixing and blending of ideas, hopes, fears, accomplishments and failures. What part of you will you emphasize? What part will you change? What makes you happy? The tree does not have as many choices as we do. Perhaps that is a blessing. A tree is happy with every leaf. It does not wish for the leaves of others. It creates beauty with what it possesses naturally. On the other hand, the mobility and freedom of the human condition is a rare and beautiful thing. I would much rather be a human than a tree, even with all the anxiety and jealousy and hate and regret and sadness. I think the bottom-line best reason about being human is choice. 

Think of the power of the choice. There wouldn't be such a thing as "the road less traveled" if we didn't have choice. We would all just be stationary trees. Instead we have this constant opportunity to turn it all around. To change things. To change ourselves. From the best to the worst case scenario, there is always a choice. The tree, in some respects, is a slave to its destiny. We, too, can sometimes feel like slaves to some higher human power (as in The Man or God), but the reality is that no one possesses control of your choices. How can they? All choices are indefinitely yours. They are manifestations of synapses firing in your brain and your brain alone. Persuasion and coercion are another thing. What you do at any given moment is entirely your responsibility. 

And right now, I choose to take a shower. 

After that, it's a bike ride to the light-rail station, a light-rail trip to Sac City College, a bike ride over the bridge, a donut and cup of stale coffee from Yum Yum Donuts, forty-five minutes of tutoring at Bret Harte Elementary, a bike ride to Sac City College, a light-rail trip to 16th Street, a bike ride home, a few idle minutes, a walk to the bus stop, a bus ride down J Street to Sac State, a walk to the Grad Studies Department, some idle time between then and my 4:30 class, linguistics with Professor Heather, then a bus ride home, a walk to my house and scene. 

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About a year ago, I wrote:

"Right now I am on my deathbed looking back at a life that I know was good. I will surround myself with stories. I will live this life as well as I will one day remember it being."

I bring this up because a couple days ago I watched "Waking Life" again with the benefit of being old enough to understand what the hell it was about. Found it echoing with the mindset of the Occupy Movement, like the words of a prophet. It's a heavy movie to digest, chock full of philosophy and science and theory, but worth the effort. Anyway, there's this part where two characters are talking about dreams and death, and the woman discusses this feeling that she's an old woman in her deathbed looking back on her life. It was really neat to hear another person feel the same way as I do. And peculiar timing to come across that old excerpt just after encountering that very thought in an old film. 

The basic outline of my near future:

1. Complete ESL group project
2. Teach myself how to play backgammon
3. Finish research paper
4. Finish Munk cartoon
5. Get rid of all my stuff
6. Revise screenplay
7. Finish semester with good grades
8. New York?

I can't see much past Christmas, but I can see my flight leaving in early February for Istanbul and Jenny's flight arriving in Istanbul in April. Everything else remains unplanned and unforeseeable. I sense good things. I sense adventures I can't even imagine.

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My main project these days is an animated Munk cartoon. With T-Day bringing me away from my desk for a while, I had to put the project on hold, but hopefully I'll get the fight scene animated before Monday. It's good to make imaginary deadlines, especially with all the time in the world. Anyway, it's a labor of love. Stay tuned.

The family is doing good. While Dallas and Green Bay won their respective football games, we ate the most delicious turkey ever baked by human hands. The weather was gloomy but we didn't mind. Mom's little house on the hillside stayed warm and jovial, despite one fight between the dogs and the unfortunate defeat of the Niners in Baltimore. My sister taught me a new word: Churlish, rude. 

Jenny and I are still split by an ocean, but connected more than ever. We've really done something wonderful by branching out into the world at such a peak in our relationship, enthralled now by our potential to keep traveling and loving and teaching and experiencing. She bought a two-week vacation in Istanbul come April, which means we have a date, and I received official acceptance confirmation from Bogazici University. Next: the orientation next Friday and continuing effort to get good grades. That whole plan is coming together smoothly. I can't wait to be in the same room as my girlfriend again. It's been almost two months since she left. It'll be seven months by the time we meet in Turkey and two months past our one-year. I'll also be 25 years old by then.

It was nice to see Sean again when he came up from San Diego for the holiday. We had beer at DeVere's with Lane, then met up with him again that night for the unofficial high school reunion in Auburn at Pistol Pete's. I feel bad because I ditched the scene. I expected something else, I guess. Also went into the night with unusually low self-esteem, which didn't help motivate me to mingle with my fellow Placer brethren. It was cool to see the Zobels again. Otherwise, I really just wanted our group to leave and hang out in someone's living room instead, since I don't like overly-crowded bars or yelling just to be heard. Anyway, sorry I ditched you, Sean.

This weekend I've got some homework to do, so I better get started now.

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So Paul and I drove down to Tracy yesterday for a photo journey. That was the main motivation, at least, though we didn't seem to have any exact plan. Paul had some places he wanted to see specifically, but they were all on the way. We ate sandwiches in Stockton, spent time by a river, went to the top of the world, saw some elk and then watched the USC-Oregon game at his brother's house. I think Paul was just glad to be driving again. With the day off and no homework to worry about, I was happy to go, and these are the photos I came home with:

(click first photo to open slideshow)