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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.