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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."