A Suspicion of Spirituality

        I call it "campus." From my new room where trees and sunlight decorate the outside of my windows, I put my backpack on and venture outside for another beautiful day at Isis Oasis, a very educational setting. I've got my laptop, wallet, phone, water, and a book of my choice. It's not that I have to head over to the pavilion right now, but after a morning of meditation, yoga, and dance on my porch, I'm ready to meet and greet others so that I can help accomplish something. That something is mostly in line with Loreon's ideals, since she is the owner of the property, but I'm much more fond of what she offers to the world than that by mainstream academia or previous employers. Here, I admire the person that I work for, a woman who, at age 79, is still owning and operating a business, is without debt, and has outlived three men. I see that I can learn a lot from her - both her successes and failures.

        I also enjoy the company of all the people that I work with. Most are fairly laid-back, but even those that get huffy make for a good show. Each person has something unique to offer, and it is my pleasure to be able to see and interact with the growth and change of the community because of the intermingling personalities. Everyone here is older than me, most by at least twenty years. I think it's easier to have a more introspective and meaningful existence when I'm not surrounded by my own age-group, which seems (to me) to be full of people looking to prove themselves and seek approval in a shallow manner.

        I did have plans to live with an attractive Argentinian man in his mid-20s by this time. He's actually a big part of the reason I came out to Isis Oasis in the first place. We skyped often, and once he professed his desire for me to be his, I couldn't wait to hop on a plane and enjoy the comforts of a warm man and a cute apartment in Buenos Aires. I'd learn his tongue, although he already knew mine from studying abroad in Australia, and then perhaps, as he helped me establish an online income, we'd be able to travel together. Perfect. I still had to wait, however, for him to work out some financial matters and get the apartment, so I hopped a plane to northern California, where I'd be able to see the Redwoods before I leave the States. I knew some novelty would ease the anticipation, and a two-month workaway at a retreat center would do the trick.

        Well, the two months have come and passed. Within this time, Carlos and I decided not to live together. He would like to focus on himself and his work, and I should do the same before I get trapped into marriage with someone. But also within this time, a programmer from the Netherlands has contacted me, and we have been collaborating on some applications that will revolutionize education, as well as provide the location-independent income that I was seeking.

        So, it seems, things work out. Plans change, but as I go with the flow, rather than focus on expectations not being met, I find myself living a life that I'm not able to imagine before it happens. I have already known relationships with men, and I have already known city life with young people; I was able to daydream Carlos and Buenos Aires to the point where I fell out of love before I even arrived.

        But now, I was left with what felt like a predicament. "Well, what am I going to do with my life, then? I gotta go somewhere...continue on the journey that I have set for myself, yah know, traveling and stuff...that's what I made this blog for, right?"

        What I didn't realize was that establishing oneself in a routine for more than two to three months is okay, and can also be very rewarding! (Go figure, huh?) I'm entirely welcomed at Isis Oasis, and Loreon is very fond of me. Everyone seems to enjoy the energy and effort that I contribute, and I enjoy it as well. It's simple, really - cooking, cleaning, and other miscellaneous things that Loreon needs help with, like buying green folders online for our Heqet-themed Convocation. Oh, and also playing with and training Magic, Loreon's baby ocelot/serval mix. I'm able to understand the complexities of owning a retreat center and animal sanctuary, and I can empathize with and calm Loreon when she is stressed out from it all, yet not get too emotionally involved since it is not my business. For a little extra cash, though, I've also been selling books online that the neighbor, Dan, finds at Salvation Army for a buck or so.

        There were a couple things, though, that bothered me about Isis Oasis. The noon ritual in the little temple everyday gave me an uninspired dogmatic feel to it all. I also see hypocrisy when there exists the vision of peace, but the consumption of products that cause war (like oil). So, I wonder, what's up with all this talk of "spirituality?" Is it helping or hurting?

        I picked up Melvin Power's A Practical Guide to Self-Hypnosis from one of the book shelves in the lodge. The introductory chapters commented that we actually use self-hypnosis all the time; we use the power of suggestion to convince ourselves of anything, from our public speaking abilities to the existence of God.

        I've always been interested in understanding why people think the way they do. In an English class at Hudson Valley Community College, I had to do a research paper, and I was able to pick any topic I wanted. What did I choose? "Cults."

        From my research I saw that textbooks define the word cult as basically a startup religion, merely another belief system, but of smaller size. Okay, that's great, but why does it start in the first place? I came to understand that our mind is our own little cult, and when multiple minds connect and agree on ideologies, a bigger cult forms.

        I continue to be interested in the powers of the mind, which is why I love to be surrounded by environments like Isis Oasis, where some minds begin to agree on a concept which is very loosely defined in our society - spirit. I then choose to interact with these minds openly, but skeptically. I participate in rituals and ask many questions in order to gain insight as to what exactly one believes and why s/he believes it.

        Some will say that most are fakers, that they just go along with the show because it makes them feel good, but I hold a different stance. When someone tells me that they have used past-life regression to come to the conclusion that she was once a high priestess to the Goddess Isis in ancient Rome, I believe her, but it doesn't mean it is objectively true. It means that her mind has indeed experienced said event. However, perhaps it came about solely through the use of suggestion.

        When we suggest that there is something even called "spirit," then we open up a whole new can of worms. We begin to explore spirit, without really knowing what it means.

        To clarify things in my own mind, I began to separate everything I experience and everything I've heard others experience into three categories - the working cliché of 1) mind, 2) body, and 3) spirit. When it came down to it, I couldn't find anything to put into the spirit category. When someone says that they have a "spiritual" experience, like being visited by a ghost, it sounds to me like that experience would still only be one of body or mind; the visited is experiencing this event physically with the senses of the body and mentally with the awareness of the mind. 

        Next, I chose the operation of intuition - the sense of knowing something without reasoning. For example, when a stranger walks into a room, I may be receiving a certain "vibe" from him. Is this spiritual? Malcolm Gladwell discusses this concept in his book, Blink. Intuition is very real, but it is not so much of a mystery. He states that we use pattern recognition to make decisions in an instant. If you've had a lot of experience with people, you will use the prejudices you've gained in order to draw a conclusion. So again, this is only mind, maybe with a hint of bodily sensation if you react psychosomatically.

        So, where did all this talk about spirit come from? My dictionary tells me that the origin of the word is from the Latin term, "spirare," or "breathe," which then turned into "spiritus" for "breath" or "spirit." Does this mean that when we get rid of body and mind, we are breath? A pretty metaphor, but still not exactly what I'm looking for.

        After crystal bowl meditation one morning, I spoke with Aryshta, Jerome, and Kim about spirit. From their perspectives, when we use deities, we are personifying energies that can aid us, making it easier for us to connect. That led me to question whether these energies are from the mind or would exist even without mind and fall into the mysterious category of spirit.

        Jerome and Kim are clairaudient mediums, and they said that when channeling, they must first quiet their minds, or at least not be distracted by their own little voices. Only then can they hear the other voices that are trying to give them information. This would make it seem that there is indeed something separate from mind, but it still needs the mind to get the message through; the mind must translate the message into a comprehensible language for the receiver.

        Aryshta held a guided meditation a few weeks later. I didn't go. Sometimes it's worrisome to let others direct my mind in a vulnerable meditative state. Instead, I finished watching a movie that kept me up late the night before called Holy Smoke. Kate Winslet plays a young Australian woman who is hijacked by an exit counselor after living in an ashram in India and refusing to return home. I thought about how this relates to my life. It seems that I also left my biological family in search of a new family, where I can be loved. Sometimes I feel loved, but is it love? Can I even define love? I can say that it is appreciation for the work I do. Any relationship seems to come down to appreciation. How much do you appreciate this person in your life? When I was living with my family, I did not appreciate them, and I felt unappreciated because I did not contribute. But here, I use my big heart, and my work benefit others. I worry, though, what happens if I can no longer benefit others? That's when you are banished from society, and the forest eats you alive, right? But even after 79 years, I see, Loreon is benefiting others, so it looks like there's hope for me too.

        Recently, I discovered a practice that uplifts my spirit. Loreon has gifted me wings, and now I use my body, my mind, as well as that something else deep within me. I dance, and it flows out according to the beat, the music, or maybe the silence. The dance comes in all forms. Sometimes, I am sitting, and my body rocks back and forth to give my spine a massage. Or other times, I have my wings on, and I spin around in the sun. Maybe that's the spirit coming through, within those moments where I don't know why my body decides to do what it does, or how my mind comes to think what it thinks. I have an opportunity to explore that part of me, without worrying about paying bills or meeting others' expectations. I have found an oasis, as if by chance, where I can nurture myself before my next venture. I hear the winters here are chilly and rainy, so I do have plans to leave for Israel during that time, but for now, I like giving a part of myself to this property that gives so much back to me.

         And maybe you'll see these wings fly into your part of town! I may have a home and family at Isis Oasis, but I am still doing little trips here and there, where perhaps I will practice my street performing. :) 

        For more information on spirituality and science, I was recommended this great NPR piece. 

Time for the Taking

        I just got a new battery for my watch today, yet the only time I need to look at my watch is to get ready for work and count the minutes until work is over. Otherwise, I don't care much for the numbers that set boundaries throughout the day. It's tyranny, according to Mr. Woodcock.
        After Eliott sent me that article, I was inspired to read "Repent Harlequin!" Said the Ticktockman by Harlan Ellison. The first time I was introduced to this short story was in my English class at Hudson Valley Community College, but I didn't read it; I merely showed up for the class discussion to get my A. It turns out to actually be a very fun read! Kudos to Carlos for letting me read it to him via Skype - nothing better than onomatopoeia and made-up words animated out loud.
        Now I find myself measuring the time until I leave for Buenos Aires. Originally, the time would be approximately half a year, but sooner and sooner it became. I am now much too anxious. I'm ready to begin a new routine and stop watching the time so much. I've begun to seek opportunities where I am no longer a slave to the clock. I will work when I want to, so progress can be measured by completed projects rather than an hourly wage.
        Time is my most valuable asset. And the most important thing that I've realized is that it's here, now, for the taking. I can spend it however I wish. Oftentimes, many spend their time in ways to ensure they continue to have time, even if that means they must make sacrifices, by spending the time in a way that they normally wouldn't have, like getting a college degree, to ensure a steady job with good pay that will keep them well-fed, sheltered, and healthy (although one can and will argue that this isn't the case nowadays).
        I think an important lesson can be learned through "The Parable of the Mexican Fisher and the Investment Banker," which my older brother kindly shared with me today. It goes something like this:

An American investment banker was taking a much-needed vacation in a small, coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. The boat had several large, fresh fish in it.

The investment banker was impressed by the quality of the fish and asked the Mexican how long it took to catch them. The Mexican replied, "Only a little while."

The banker then asked, "Why don't you stay out longer and catch more fish?

The Mexican fisherman replied, "I have enough to support my family's immediate needs."

The American then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?"

The Mexican fisherman replied, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos; I have a full and busy life, señor."

The investment banker scoffed, "I am an Ivy League MBA, and I could help you. You could spend more time fishing and with the proceeds buy a bigger boat, and with the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats until eventually you would have a whole fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to the middleman, you could sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You could control the product, processing and distribution."

Then he added, "Of course, you would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City where you would run your growing enterprise."

The Mexican fisherman asked, "But señor, how long will this all take?"

To which the American replied, "15-20 years."

"But what then?" asked the Mexican.

The American laughed and said, "That's the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You could make millions."

"Millions, señor? Then what?"

To which the investment banker replied, "Then you would retire. You could move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos."

        This, señor(a), is why I walk to work. So much hustle and bustle around me as people drive their cars all over in order to keep to their tight schedules, in order to achieve more than their families' immediate needs. But not me. I, señor(a), take my time. I literally stop to smell the roses and, sometimes, pick them for my friends. I then make enough money to enjoy a minimalist lifestyle, full of novelty and love. A cliché, but one I have much belief in - the best things in life are free.
        I prefer to enjoy the time I have now. Planning is necessary in order to continue the delight, but I don't let it stress me out too much; it's not my main focus. I've come to understand how little I can have and still be happy, as well as the notion that anything can happen to end my time. I've come to terms with death. It will happen, and I have no idea when. Therefore, it makes more sense (to me) to labor a little here and there to enjoy the fruits regularly, rather than work wearily from seed to factory farm, to then, at the end, rest and enjoy the little time left in my life.
        I once had a professor tell me that most waste their youth, but surely not me. I have the health, the energy, and the lust for life NOW and I can't waste another minute *trying* to make something that's already wonderful somehow better. I have sorrow for those always looking for something more or, worse, those who do not understand the reasoning behind why they continue to sustain themselves.
        I hope this inspires you to lay in the grass and watch the clouds pass by tomorrow.

Philadelphia, PA

        I thought, "Golley gee...Memorial Day Weekend is coming up, and I don't have to work. Thank you, Civil War soldiers! So...where should I go?"
        I met John in New Hampshire at a Young Americans for Liberty campaigning event. He lives in Philadelphia and told me to visit anytime. It also turns out that Philly is only a $10, 2-hour bus ride from New York City. "Perfect," I thought.
        Once John found out I was coming, he called his liberty-minded and organizational activity planner friend to set up a little get together between me and all the other Philadelphia tread-free folk. Needless to say, I was excited to meet a bunch of new people.
       I got there just in time to grab a taxi and speed to the venue. I ended up in a creative space of Northern Liberties, mostly used for film screenings and as an acting/yoga studio. Murals decorated the walls, and old comfy couches filled the rooms.
        I mingled with various characters and then sat down to do a question and answer session for about an hour. I didn't have anything pre-planned because of such short notice and since I hate speaking from some sort of phony objective standpoint. However, I did read a quote from Frédéric Bastiat's What Is Seen and What Is Not Seen:

"I confess that I am one of those who think that the choice, the impulse, should come from below, not from above, from the citizens, not from the legislator; and the contrary doctrine seems to me to lead to the annihilation of liberty and of human dignity.

But, by an inference as false as it is unjust, do you know what the economists are now accused of? When we oppose subsidies, we are charged with opposing the very thing that it was proposed to subsidize and of being the enemies of all kinds of activity, because we want these activities to be voluntary and to seek their proper reward in themselves. Thus, if we ask that the state not intervene, by taxation, in religious matters, we are atheists. If we ask that the state not intervene, by taxation, in education, then we hate enlightenment. If we say that the state should not give, by taxation, an artificial value to land or to some branch of industry, then we are the enemies of property and of labor. If we think that the state should not subsidize artists, we are barbarians who judge the arts useless.

I protest with all my power against these inferences. Far from entertaining the absurd thought of abolishing religion, education, property, labor, and the arts when we ask the state to protect the free development of all these types of human activity without keeping them on the payroll at one another's expense, we believe, on the contrary, that all these vital forces of society should develop harmoniously under the influence of liberty and that none of them should become, as we see has happened today, a source of trouble, abuses, tyranny, and disorder.

Our adversaries believe that an activity that is neither subsidized nor regulated is abolished. We believe the contrary. Their faith is in the legislator, not in mankind. Ours is in mankind, not in the legislator."

        After the session, John, I, and two new friends, Stacy and Chad, went out for tea. Stacy had read my blog and noticed I've started working with essential oils, so she gifted me lavender and peppermint. (Later in the weekend the lavender fell out of my bag and broke on the ground, but I looked on the bright side by saying that the bus stop would now smell good for a few days.) I learned more about Stacy. She is a college student, concerned about all the debt that she has amassed and wondering what to do with her life after graduation. I feel bad for her, especially after watching the new documentary entitled College Conspiracy, now out on YouTube.
        We met up with a few others and went out for vegetarian Chinese food at New Harmony. We ordered plenty of food, all of which was heaven. Sure, the duck didn't taste like duck...but it was better! I was also surrounded by good conversation, entertaining ideas of how to act in a society that limits freedoms. I was introduced to a new form of currency called "bitcoin," which I'm currently still researching.
        The next day, Chad brought us out for some urban exploring. We hiked throughout the old Philadelphia Electric Company, which has been used as a movie studio multiple times since its abandonment. Although technically illegal, these are the kinds of things that make life lively.

 

        Here, I also met Vince, who, when I pondered climbing up a tower and asked if it was worth death, replied, "Of course it's worth death. I'd much rather die doing this than die sitting in an office, or die crossing the street." I was very glad that he reminded me of that and then went to enjoy the top of the tower.

        It disappoints me, though, that no photograph could ever capture the beauty that I saw. On the rooftop, I found what looked like rust on broken windows, but when I touched it, gold glitter covered my finger. Later in the adventure, in the control room where old scattered papers lie, I found one with marker on it reading "shadowsand rust." I think that's a good layman's term for whatever chemical compound I just got on my hand.

        We sat and looked across the river as a storm came in from Jersey. I guess it isn't always sunny in Philadelphia. But without the rain, there are no rainbows. So after it passed, we went out for ice cream, with a rainbow in the sky.

        Then, we headed to South Street for some drinks and organic burgers. I'm happy to see how prevalent the organic/vegan scene is in Philadelphia.

        On Sunday, John brought me to see the area where our founding father conspired. Ironically, Independence Hall is surrounded by big banks, the Federal Reserve, and the US Mint. Wait a minute...I don't think this is what Jefferson had in mind...Regardless, I enjoyed the sun and watching all the tourists  buy into the commercialization of history.

        Later, we visited Rittenhouse Square, one of the nicer parks in Philadelphia, where one can find people doing the lindy hop, singing songs, or playing with children. I sat down to discover Ron Paul's version of liberty.

        Arthur and Becky (who I met at the speaking gig) happened to be in the park as well, so we met up. Arthur, who does past life regression, gave me a preview as to how it works. I'm always looking for opportunities to have an OBE, but unfortunately, this just turned out to be an exercise in imagination. It then turned into a conversation about my lucid dreaming and the recent lucid dream about my grandfather. He is currently in a nursing home, dealing with cancer, so Arthur also introduced me to remote reiki. I was planning on seeing him today and see if he's had any dreams lately, but I stayed up too late to have the energy to make it out to Queens. How funny that it's only about ten miles away, but takes me three hours to get there.

        Arthur also showed me a website he created called the Electronic Fortune Cookie. Arthur has inputed 6,000 random words into a system, and when asked a question, it will spit back a few of those words which can be interpreted as an answer. For example, I accidentally didn't type in any question, but got back "GENTLE LETTING SUPPRESS." I think that actually describes part of personality quite well. Instead of fighting, I decide to accept circumstances and make the best of it. Then, I typed in "When will the dollar collapse?" and got back, "THE WAY OF EFFICIENT POINT NOSTALGIC." What could it mean? Well, anything really. I'm still trying to figure it out. John typed in "Am I free to dance?" after the arrest episode at Jefferson Memorial (see here) and got back "HOW TIMES OF RESTRICTION INSURE ALTOGETHER." I really liked that one. So, is technology capable of a supreme intelligence beyond human capability? If you think so, click here.

        Monday, I decided to explore bits of the city by myself. I was intrigued by all the murals Philadelphia has to offer, so I began a free walking tour of the Mural Mile, where I could use my cellphone to call the Mural Arts service with free automated information about each mural. It was a blazingly hot day, so I cooled off at Franklin Square, shaded by trees, and surrounded by laughing children. Later, I met up with Bernard (an actor who was in charge of the film screening on a different floor at the venue Friday night, but also wanted to meet me). We checked out Fairmount, the newly renovated area by the Art Museum and Schuykill River, went out for iced drinks and fresh food, then headed back to the studio at Northern Liberties to cool off and talk life.

        When I went to catch my bus back home, I was excited to get a famed roast pork sandwich at DiNic's that I had seen on Man vs Food only days earlier. Unfortunately, thanks to our Civil War soldiers, they were closed.

Birthday Bicycling

        I made a little list of a few things I wanted to buy, such as essential oils and empty containers to start making my own homemade products, like bug spray and deodorant. I couldn't think of where to get the containers but Wal-Mart, so I took a bike ride out to North Bergen. It was a beautiful day and a lovely ride until I got to the road where Wal-Mart lay. What else should I have expected but a beaten-up, under construction, 55mph mini-highway? I stopped at the graveyard first to have a couple brownies that would give my day a little extra gaiety. Then, I popped into Wal-Mart, mozied around a bit, and popped out, with supplies still remaining on my list.
        I didn't know where I'd find these items, but since I had checked out the area with Google Maps prior, I headed up the hill to Hudson County Park and assumed I'd pass some shops. I noticed Easy Street coming up on my right. I didn't have a definite path, so I asked myself, "Do I take the easy street?" Once I looked down that street, I saw a "DEAD END" sign, as well as lots of other signs that read things like, "$1,000 FINE," "CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DOG," and "NO PARKING." It made me chuckle since the street was only long enough for four houses. I couldn't believe such a short road had so many rules. Looking uphill, I saw broken-up pavement in the right lane and a graveyard at the top. With only one no parking sign, it looked like one would not be as easily guided by society's rules on this path. This giant metaphor, appearing as a palpable experience, made me realize that no matter which road I choose to take, both end up in death; however, the truly rewarding one is the one in which you can see that you've accomplished something at the end. I certainly did feel good about making it up that steep hill.
        Hudson County Park was a wonderful bike ride. Plenty of green and people-watching smooshed in between the tightly-packed towns of Jersey. I ended up in Guttenberg at the end of the park toward the Hudson River, which was coincidental since my father had recently told me about his midtown Manhattan view when he lived in Guttenberg. Now, I was able to see that view too.
        On my way back to Palisades Park, I explored the streets of Fairview and Cliffside Park. I stopped into a small health store and picked up the rest of supplies. I was a bit shocked by the expense of the bill, but that inspired me to ask the storeowner if he would consider buying a line of natural products off of me. He told me he'd be happy to, so I'm currently playing with business ideas in my head to stir in some extra cash.
        I stopped into a couple Korean-owned shops so I could practice my expressions and learn new words. One establishment was the Bergen Spa, where I met 순니 (Sunny). I bought a spa day for Eliott since I knew he needed/wanted one. He was going to give me a birthday gift later in the day, so I wanted to get him something as well (I wasn't around for his birthday in February).
        In Fairview, I was getting a lot of attention. It's a largely Hispanic town and the curves of my body tend to attract men in that category. Sometimes, I get annoyed by whistles, beeps, and the casual "Hey mami" with elevator eyes, but on this day, I was feeling so good that I was soaking in the compliments like it was sunshine. At a red light, one man opened his bus door and yelled some words in Spanish to me that I didn't understand, but of course knew what he was implying. I replied, "No comprendo!" so he then began to tell me how nice my figure was in English. He pulled out his phone and tried to get my number. I was so happy to be able to use the Argentinean phrase that mi amigo, Carlos, taught me the night before during our skype call. "Segi remando!" I yelled back with a flirty smile and walked away.
        I couldn't have asked for more joy in my day. That night, I had the friends over that I've become closest with in these past two months. I felt so much love and positivity in my room as we all talked, drank, and sang the night away. I can hardly believe it. I'm one lucky duck.

Palisades Park, NJ

        I moved. I was informed that I couldn't be around while El's dad goes through treatment. I took the news lightly at first since I know have many living options at my disposal, but slowly I realized how much I loved the situation I was in and how much it would suck to be away from El and the comfort of Leonia. Fortunately, although in mid-freak-out, I found out that Bobby's mom was renting out a room. Now, I have my own space, a lot of light from a few big windows, and three cats to get to know. El fell in love with Mambo, so he decided he'd take care of her. Lucky for me. Now I won't have to deal with any chaos from the felines. I stop by to visit and I'll take her back when I leave the area, but for now I'm living only a town away. "Pal Park," I like to call it.
        About three blocks down is Broad Avenue. The Koreans own that strip. Hair salons, restaurants, ooh, and karaoke bars. A little nightlife in my backyard. It's bigger than Leonia, so I'll have more opportunity to converse in Korean. I've been taking lessons online, and now I have a textbook in the mail. Autodidactic learning rocks.

        I got my hair cut. Bobby told me that I should get a white girl fro. I loved the idea, but realized I'd need to get rid of the dreads and grow my hair out a bit for a perm. So, I made sure to enjoy and appreciate my hair until 4/20. Then, I had Bobby hack it all off. Of course, now my hair was all different lengths, so I went down to Broad Ave and stopped into the first salon I saw (there are many to choose from). They wanted forty bucks to even out my hair. I said I'd go to the ATM, but really I meant I'd go check out the deal down the street. The next salon I walked into was empty, but a middle-aged Korean woman who spoke little English assured me they were

open. She said she'd do my hair for twenty-five. She thought she finished, but there was a section of my hair that was shorter than the rest. I tried to tell her I needed it all the same length She then made me question myself. "Very, very short," she said with a concerned look on her face. I told her to go for it. At the end of the whole ordeal, I was pleased. It felt good to start fresh. I haven't had short hair since I was a baby, so I'm happy these dread gave me a reason to try it out. I handed the woman forty bucks since I was so satisfied. She was very grateful, and I left with an "Annyeonghi gyeseo!" This literally translated to "stay in peace" and is the common goodbye when one is leaving somewhere.

        I got a job. All I have to do is walk up the hill to the Italian neighborhood to start my shift at Hanky's Pizzeria and Deli as the counter gal/waitress. Charlie's the boss. His son, Charlie, is boss too. Lou has been there since they renovated the place three years ago, when Charlie took over the business. Hanky was Charlie's grandfather. He started Hanky's circa 1900. It was like a 7/11 for those days. The family is huge. I'm always meeting new cousins or brothers/sisters-in-law. Aunt Loretta lives upstairs and comes down to help every now and then. She's such a sweetheart and tells me fun stories from the past. There are some old fellas that live and have lived in the neighborhood all their lives who come in and talk about how things used to be. Old photos of the family decorate the walls. One depicts a wedding at the Catholic church across the street. I think about how perfect this job is. I don't have to work for a huge corporation. I get to work at a small place with great people. Even before coming down here, I had imagined that I'd work at a pizzeria. Serving is my thing. I like tip jobs and I like people. I learn tips along the way about making great food and, as a plus, I get to take some of that great food home at the end of the night. I was talking to Ollie the other day about this job. He told me about his friends coming out of college now that are like, "What, I can't make 60 tho with my college degree, and, instead, I'm getting a job that I could've gotten out of high school?! Shit." According to this article, "[i]n the United States today, 317,000 waiters and waitresses have college degrees." It looks like I can be just like them except without the average of $25,000 in student loan debt. Among the statistics was also "[a]ccording to very extensive research detailed in a new book entitled Academically Adrift: Limited Learning on College Campuses, 45 percent of U.S. college students exhibit 'no significant gains in learning after two years in college." Of course we all learn everyday, but it looks like any type of measurable academic progress was absent. Even at this new job, I try to learn as much as possible about being the best server I can. I suppose some might find it bizarre, but traveling waitress might just become my career path. It's flexible, lucrative (enough for me), and work that I can be proud of. I basically get paid to make people smile. What could be better? I envisioned finding a passion that I can make money off of, but I think the simplicity and cheer found in this line of work is good enough for me.

        So, here I am, going day in and day out with a "normal" American life. I'm not doing anything extraordinary. I'm existing like an average nineteen-year-old, but with a twist. I move around a lot. If I don't save up enough money before winter, I think I'll head down to Boca Raton to stay with my aunt. I'll find a new server position during Florida's busy season and get to know a new place. Yeah, sure, it's the land of the retired, but if I'm aiming for wisdom, I guess the elderly are the people to talk to. I don't know much about the ethnic diversity of the area, but perhaps I can practice my Spanish at the good ol' Rat's Mouth.

        My mind likes to daydream about all of the other places I could be right now. I could stick my thumb out on the side of the road and head west...or south...or northeast. Anywhere. I could be impulsive with my savings and head overseas. But, no. Here is good. Summertime in the city is something I've dreamed of since I was little. I'll experience what the big apple has to offer and then be on my way. I remember looking at colleges and becoming frustrated that they all seemed the same. The only difference that I cared about was location. I wanted to be in the big city, but I'm realizing that college wasn't my only shot at living there, and certainly four years time was more than wanted.

        I go upstate every now and then. I visited my dad to grab some things, including my bicycle. It makes not having a car so much more enjoyable. Walking is nice. One can smell the roses during a walk, but if I need a quick commute, my bike does the job. I also picked up some more clothes. I decided a new look was in order for this new hairstyle. It's always fun to change personas. "Erica Goldson" is a blank slate. My dorm hall may know me as a hippie, but Pal Park will see something new.

From Feast to Fast

        I baked some delicious chocolate chip cookies. They were so good that I ate too many. Whoops. I was a bit disgusted with myself. I'm never hungry. I just always have an appetite. I love food. This contrasts with Eliott, who only eats because he has to in order to survive.
        El and I went to the library. I walked around, looking at all the people, but then a book popped out at me. It was called "HUNGER: An Unnatural History." I picked it off the shelf and sat down. The first half of the book was about what it's like to fast for various amounts of time. I had been thinking about fasting, and this was my motivation. I decided that my last meal would be in Chinatown the next day.
        Walking back, El and I parted as he went to Dunkin to meet up with some friends. Not even two minutes passed and Akiva, a guy I met a few weeks ago, yelled my name. What a wonderful surprise. I had been thinking about him. He only lives a couple streets away, but we had never gotten each other's contact information.
        He told me he was going to pick up Chinese food and asked me to join him. What a coincidence. I couldn't believe it, but, lucky for me, it was real. So, I had a delicious night as well as some fun conversation.
        Akiva drove me home. El had bought some tabouli and pita from the nearby Mediterranean cafe. I wanted to start my fast at midnight since I already had the Chinese feast, so I tried some tabouli really quick, and El put together some ice cream and chocolate soy milk for me too. I was satiated.
        El wanted to know why I was going to fast. I planned for seven days, and he was frightened that he was watching someone become anorexic right before his eyes. I assured him that wasn't the case, but instead it was a way to test myself and see if I could have a clearer mind if the idea of food was no longer popping up all the time. I had become slightly disgusted by my gluttony and needed to set things straight.
        The next day, I tried distracting myself with my computer and also had two interviews for day cares in the area, one being Montessori. My physical body felt fine without food - probably because it was still digesting everything from the night before. After the last interview, I walked around Englewood a bit to check out the various restaurants for waitressing positions. Food was everywhere. My brain wanted the stimulus, but I wouldn't allow it.
        On day two, I headed to my gynecologist appointment. When the nurse took my blood, it was a good thing my stomach was empty because she could then also test for my carb, protein, and iron levels too. On the way back home, I stopped at my new friend, Cedrick's, apartment. He had commented on my hair as we were both walking down the sidewalk the day before. He's from Congo, so me being big into the internationals, we exchanged numbers. His original language is French, so I hope to practice around him. Interestingly enough, he lives right at the end of my street. He had a delicious lunch cooking, but I just tried to ignore the torment going on in my brain once again and filled out the application he brought me from the nursing home he works at. In the afternoon, I started feeling the physical implications of the fast. My stomach was gurgling, and when El and I went for a walk, my legs felt weak. Later on into the night, my stomach felt discomfort and I was fatigued. El's old friend, Sam, came over. He told me he did a ten day fast. He had done a lot of research beforehand, so he had eaten lots of fruits the days prior and drank juice during the fast. That inspired me to do a little more research too.
        Today was day three. My aunt had called me yesterday to tell me that she was visiting my grandfather at his nursing home in Queens. I decided that I'd make the 2 hour+ journey out there to see her, my grandmother, and gramps. I knew I needed energy to make the trip so I bought some juice. I also knew that there would be plenty of food from my family that I would have to refuse. It was true. I almost gave in. The bagel was certainly tempting. Cedrick called me after I left the nursing home and asked to hang out on Tuesday. My aunt said I should visit the Botanical Gardens at this time of year, so we decided that we will head to Brooklyn. Cedrick also invited me for some African food in Manhattan for dinner, but I had to refuse, since I wasn't letting myself eat until Thursday.
        I thought more and more about this whole fasting thing. What was I really trying to accomplish? Would not eating really make thoughts of food go away? It seems like I was just being sadistic to myself and clogging my head with desire even more. In fact, my stomach is grumbling as I type this. So, why shouldn't I enjoy the pleasures of life - one of those being food? (COMMENTS WELCOME) I'm not overweight, and I'm in good health. I suppose what I was really doing was punishing myself for eating all those cookies. I know I can go the full seven days, but I've decided that three is enough. I will enjoy myself on Tuesday. And I will enjoy myself at midnight with some dumplings. I've also decided that I'm going to start eating vegan again, not completely strict, but enough where I feel healthy and merciful toward animals again.
        It's great to live and not starve, to have so many options around, but these things can be the downfall of us if we do not keep in check what exactly we are contaminating our bodies with and especially how much. I think these three days have been rewarding. I have been able to contemplate food in a whole new way and understand how lucky I am to have food in the fridge downstairs. I guess I do feel like a quitter, since I did set the goal for seven days, but so be it.
        If anyone has experience fasting and has discovered more from it than I have, then by all means, comment below. I'm interested in the spiritual aspect of a fast. Perhaps, in the future, I will try another fast, for this reason. And perhaps, the thoughts of food wouldn't run through my mind after a longer period of time. Perhaps, I'd just get used to it.

Leonia, NJ

        I like it here. I'm not used to suburbs for miles, but this is a unique place. 52% of Leonia and the neighboring town, Palisades Park, is Korean. I'm right next to a cemetery and just down the road is a strip of restaurants and shops. I can walk to Hannam, the Korean grocery store chain, yet they don't carry all of those silly American basics like peanut butter. I'm also only a walk away from a park on the Hudson and the George Washington Bridge to get into NYC.
        The house is really comfortable. I get to stay upstairs in the man cave with Eliott and Maxwell where writing finds itself all over the walls, and the downstairs is mostly for the folks, Miles and Marisa, so it has that family feel along with a clean kitchen. The upstairs living room is a dark royal blue and houses a magenta couch. Mambo runs around on the carpet, nibbling at areas where something may have spilled in the past.
        Max has been looking for a job too. He picked up a gig flyering houses for a couple weeks, so I go along some days (17 cents a flyer!). It's quite relaxing going for daily strolls in new towns around Jersey. I get to see everything from the Mont Clair mansions to the sketchy areas of Bloomfield. Sure, I may be pestering people with nonsense advertisements and wasting resources since they will only throw them away, but it's been sunny lately, so I just try to look on the bright side.
        I met Kenneth through Facebook, and he lives in Morris County. Over the weekend he brought me on a couple hikes. Silly me was unaware that parts of New Jersey have mountains and resemble upstate New York. That's what happens when the television shows Jersey Shore, Real Housewives of New Jersey, and Jerseylicious inform viewers about a state. Incidentally, Kenneth does pools and fireplaces and lives near the town of the housewives. He took me on a tour to see mansions much bigger than those of Mont Claire. I was aghast.
        I've decided to bake. I picked up some supplies at Hannam and learned about the oven the hard way. I burnt the bottoms of my first batch of cookies. Live and learn. I made my favorite blueberry muffins from my mom's recipe. Not the same. I'll have to add something extra.
        I like that I will be here for a while. I get to learn new social dynamics that mirror other situations, but now I have lots of time to navigate them. I like that I can start anew - a new town and new people that judge me mostly on who I am at the present, rather than any stories or experiences from the past.
        I'm looking for a server position, or perhaps I'll go out on a limb and get a job in the education industry. There are some jobs on craigslist for assistants at nursery schools. I do get a kick out of being around toddlers. Maybe the senior center down the road needs extra help. The elderly are always fun too. Whatever it is, I've realized waking up to an alarm is detrimental to my dreaming. No 9-5 for me.
        While I was staying at Acorn Community last summer, I was exposed to people who practice polyamory and a workshop discussing the whole situation. It seems so formal when I say that, but it is actually a very informal notion - the basic idea of having multiple romantic relationships, either juxtaposed or mixed. It's as simple as enjoying the company around you rather than focusing one's mind on only one person, even when he or she is not around. I thought, well, it sounds great, but not for me. I'm a one man kind of gal. Good thing things change. Now I'm basically in an open relationship - that's if I want to put a label on it. All that nasty jealousy stuff that normally happens in relationships is *poof* gone. I can be my fun, flirty self, without worry, and still come home to a bed and person to snuggle with. Or maybe I'll snuggle with someone else. Or maybe all together. Or maybe I'll sleep on the couch with only Mambo to keep me company because someone I'm not attracted to is taking my place in bed. That does sound a little dreary, but it's not like I wouldn't normally sleep alone. I've done it plenty of times, so what makes a few nights any different? Or maybe if I get lonely, I can see if Max wants to have a slumber party. It's all about enjoying people in the best way, with love.
        Ollie is a character. He does guitar and drums. He said he can teach me. He also has an adorable daughter named Chloe. He's got that loud, in-charge thing going on. He smiles a lot, which makes me smile. He can sing. I can sing. It's a fun situation. Miles and him have some bad blood, so he can't hang here, but he's a walk away, through the graveyard.
        Bobby's cool. He talks to Mambo like she's a baby. I'm glad most people enjoy Mambo's company. He also plays guitar. He comes over every once in a while for some good philosophical conversations. I get to listen and maybe chime in every once in a while with my usual, "Wait, this doesn't matter and is all metaphor anyways." Then El reassures me that it's all just for fun.
        Alex is lovely. She's originally from California and studying at culinary school over here. She works with El at the book store, and we get together every now and then. I like being surrounded by all these kind people.
        El held his first philosterbation last week. Massaging the mind with language. We went to a small venue, and with about ten other people, flirted with culture, beliefs, identity, etc. Finally we got tired of talking and tried some remote viewing. I still have to practice.
        Pig roast this weekend. El's gonna DJ with some j-pop. Dance for Japan. Surf the tsunami. Get nuclear wasted.
        I'm 18. I'm going to enjoy it while it lasts. Sometimes, that little voice inside my head talks about productivity and asks if I'm reflecting that. But who says I have to? I am surviving. I have great people around me. I'm discovering new things everyday. El says my presence is calming. For now, that will be my contribution to society. Lazy for not going to college? Whatever you want to call it, it feels good.

Tennessee to Jersey

        The universe kept reminding me that plans can easily unravel. Expectations, desires, and criteria are bound to lead to unfavorable circumstances if one's mind is too focused on the outcome. However, since I like to look at what fills the glass, it was a good thing that Leonia was out of the way for Jeff and Kelly. Instead, I was dropped off in Albany to chill with my dad and lil' bro for a couple days before heading to Eliott's.

        I thought the drive through Pennsylvania would be dull, but since we were heading through the mountains, I was able look down at all of the cute villages that decorated the hills. There were icy ponds and snow lining the roads, so I became a little disappointed that I was traveling back to winter – real winter.

        Finally, it was time to say my goodbyes to the Halldorsons. I had officially been with them for two months, and it was certainly a worthwhile experience. I then said hello to my dad, and he brought me out for a nice dinner with my brother. Afterwards, I ran into Petsmart and bought Mambo a carrying case for use instead of her bulky cage.

        Coming back to the house I lived in as a child was comforting. I realized it was nice to be able to relax and reorganize before I headed to a new home. I had accumulated too much stuff and needed to downsize. I walked up and down the stairs to the basement until I finally had it just right.

        I felt bad that I couldn't allow my cat to sleep on the futon with me because I knew she'd just try to scratch Mambo out of her case all night. The second night, Mambo chewed her way out of the netting covering the doorways. I had expected that, but luckily I was treating my friend Megan to Five Guys, and Lowe's was right around the corner. At first, I tried a technique with steel wire, but realized it would bend too easily and take too long, so I bought chicken wire to cut and sew into the case. Worked like a charm.

        My dad was heading down to New Paltz since he has some clients in that area, so I hitched a ride with him to see my friend Liz at SUNY. While she was in class, I went on a hike with her boyfriend, John, who I also knew from high school. The snow wasn't irking me as much, since the contrast between it and the brown of the forest was appealing. John and I talked about his decision to join the National Guard. I don't like to see young men (and women) lured into military service by high paychecks, but it happens. Eventually, he will probably be sent overseas (funny how they “national” turns “international), and all I can hope is that he survives combat. I'd also hope that no one would have to die, but of course the war is being run by a profit-hungry elite that couldn't care less.

        On a lighter note, after the hike, we met back up with Liz and her roommate to go out for pizza. Nothing like a savory meal and a seat when a stomach and pair of legs are crying. We did some window shopping and headed back to campus. That night, Liz and I smoked up, hung out with Mambo, and watched Wedding Crashers. My favorite part was when Vince Vaughn confessed his love for the crazy chick. How heart-warming to see her win him over with her odd personality.

        At midnight, John and I noticed that it was sleeting. Kelly had told me March meant “in with the lion, out with the lamb,” so I thought it was neat that exactly halfway through the month, it was half-lion, half-lamb.

        The next morning, I left to have breakfast with a friend I met in Buffalo who was on break. It was a delicious meal and a fun time catching up with him. He's into neuroscience and psychology, and although he's looking to get a PhD, he doesn't like the character of the field. I spilled everything I've read about shamanism to further open his eyes to the limited scope of the western viewpoint.

        It was time to catch my bus to Port Authority. When I arrived, I couldn't find the cheap buses that run across the GW Bridge, the ones I took day in and out when with Cydney. I would ask the employees, but they didn't know what I was talking about, and told me to use NJ Transit, which would go through the Lincoln Tunnel. I bought a ticket to Edgewater, and stared stressfully out the window the whole time to try and figure out where I was and where I would get off. I recognized Main Street and felt relieved.

        Walking along the sidewalk, I saw many crossing guards. I thought how that might not be a bad gig. I could stand along the road in a bright yellow jacket and help children cross the road for money? Cool. A Korean man (Leonia is 52% Korean) wanted to know what was in my case. He didn't speak a lick of English, so Mambo helped me teach him the word “sleeping.” I continued on my way. It had been rainy earlier that day, but now it was sunny. I had to shed some layers. I felt bad that I was bringing nice weather because I know how much El likes rain. But of course, I was enjoying the sun. The lamb was definitely waking up.

        I arrived at his house. I was a little nervous and excited as well. Max (his brother) answered the door, didn't recognize me at first, but then with an introduction invited me in. I called up El, left him a voicemail to tell him to come home, and he rushed back as soon as he heard. While waiting, I took a nap on my favorite couch in the world and was awoken by a soft touch. So wonderful to be back.

        So, for the past few days I've been enjoying myself in the arms of a loved one, exploring the area, and meeting friends and friends of friends. I've talked to El's dad, Miles, about his spirituality and how it correlates to his Christian ideology. I've enjoyed family dinners, getting to know Marisa (Miles's wife) who's from Minnesota, incidentally, and lucky for me, they all like me enough to allow me to live with them until I get my van. It's a really lovely situation – a laid back family, a cozy house, and a romantic, yet open, relationship.

        I'll start wandering the roads looking for a job. I want a flow of income for now, so I can pay my way here, but I'll also be working on a book proposal. Watch out! Erica Goldson is about to be published.

Texas to Tennessee

        I headed back to Austin after the conference. Jeff is working on a house in a wealthy suburb, so the scenery gets bland.

        We took a trip to Fiesta, a Hispanic grocery chain with American foodstuffs as well. I was practicing my Spanish again by trying to name things and defining the lyrics in the songs I was hearing. It makes me want to visit Latin America all the more.

        The next day, staring at the clear, blue sky, I noticed bright dots of light bouncing back and forth and bursting from one another. It made me think, am I seeing the very essence of this space, possibly elementary particles? Luckily, after contacting a friend about it, I was directed to a link which explained that it is actually a phenomenon in the eye. Click here to check it out. It also allowed me to understand the “floaters” that I notice every now and then. Perhaps you have to. They sometimes appear as transparent bubbles or strings that move along with the movement of your eye.

        I decided to take a walk with Mambo. What a lovely day that would be wasted staying stagnant. I used the GPS to locate a body of water nearby. I saw that there were two ponds a half hour away, so I walked through suburbia to the end where a country road appeared, where I could picture a traveler sticking his thumb out. I walked through the tall grass toward one pond, and it turned out there was a dirt path that went along the water. It had been created by tire tracks. Once I got on the path, I saw an orange cat walking along it in front of me. I gave my best meow to have it notice me with the intention that I could befriend it, but it became scared and ran away. There were plenty of ducks in the ponds, as well as turtles, lots of turtles, hanging out on the shore. When the heard me, they all headed into the water, so all I would only see their heads above the water.

        Further along the path, I was eventually brought to the paved path of the golf course that entangled the gated community. I'm not a golfer, but it's nice to see the culture with the colored polos and all. At one point, I saw a man, in his early 20s, that was playing catch with his pup. It then ran up to me with its tennis ball. It pleased my ego to think that perhaps the guy had a trick up his sleeve to send his dog over to ladies, but of course only an idea. I gave it a pet and threw the ball for it, then asked the man in which direction I could find the creek. I headed down that way and saw a shallow end of it. I looked in a different direction and saw some vehicle tracks into a grassy area with piles of sticks and logs. I figured that was where the workers would bring all the “rubbish” from the golf course. The grass was tall and fluffy, so I

looked for a nice place to rest. Finally, there was a spot that called my name. I laid down and allowed Mambo to move freely. I figured she'd like the natural habitat where she might've been without Petco. Or perhaps she wouldn't have even existed without Petco. Regardless, she enjoyed the exploration. I wasn't afraid of her running away because I knew that if she did, it was her choice to freedom. But I learned that she liked me because she stuck around. Maybe she only likes me because I feed her, but I don't mind whatever reason it is. I started hearing birds and the wind was picking up, so I assumed that signaled movement. I climbed up the hill into a more forest-like area and then ended up on the paved path once again. I passed over the creek again and sat down to stick my feet in. Mambo climbed down my shirt and became comfy in my bosom as she kept her face sticking out of my cleavage. It was a cute sight.

        I walked more and knew I no longer had my sense of direction since the path winded. I knew I eventually had to get back to the big bridge/road that passes over the creek at some point, but I no longer knew which way that was. Oh well. Luckily, I knew Kelly was a phone call away with the GPS no more than twenty feet away.

        One foot in front of the other, I had a feeling I was going in the wrong direction, but there were cliffs on my left with cacti growing right out of the rock, so I didn't mind walking more for the scenic views. Eventually, I needed to stop because I smelled dog poo. Had I stepped in something? I walked to the side of the golf course next to the creek to make it seem like I was just taking a break to ponder the poetry of life, but really I was trying to figure out where this smell was coming from. Not the shoes. Not the shirt. Mambo? Nope, she just smelled like rat. But the smell was so potent. I felt around my neck. Yuck! How the heck did poo get on my necklace and chin? Mambo! I tried wiping it off discretely and then along came an old man on his golf cart.

        “Are you enjoying the beauty of nature?” he said.

        “Oh yeah...this creek is beautiful...hey, do you know where I can find River Plantation Rd?”

        He told me it was a ways, about a mile, and like I thought, in the other direction. He offered me a ride, but I didn't feel like making the stops at the holes, so I thanked him and headed backwards. There was drinking water along the way to wash my necklace, neck, and hands off with, and by the time I was done, the man was back. He must've finished up the last hole. We talked again, and this time I took the ride. I thought it can't be so bad to watch some golf, and it'd be nice to give and have some company. So, I properly introduced myself, and as a Southern gentleman, he took off his hat as he introduced himself also.

        “Phil Shaw. Nice to meet you.”

        I watched him play, but he was embarrassed that he wasn't doing well.

        “I'm much better than this, but I'm not used to having pretty, young ladies watch me.”

        How sweet. It's nice to be charmed, knowing that there weren't any ulterior motives.

Phil told me about his granddaughters and even great granddaughters, the old dam that used to exist on the creek, and the Boy Scouts that built a dock for swimming around it. We also talked about the flora around the course and how beautiful it is when it's in bloom. I love the warmth down here, but without leaves on a lot of the trees, it leaves an empty spot in my heart.

        Phil drove me to the road and walked me on a shortcut through the lawn of his famous magician friend. It seemed Phil knew everyone. He had been living there for 33 years. We said goodbye, his hat off again. We shook hands, but it turned into a firm, caring grasp and him commenting that I was a lovely young woman. I thanked him for his kindness and we parted.

        Back at the bus, guacamole and chips were served. We've been having a lot of that lately, and I love it. Kelly's a good cook.

        I've become very interested in the link between shamanism and autism. In certain cultures, a shaman is one who has gone through some sort of neuropsychological “disorder,” like schizophrenia or autism. It makes sense because the social aspect of life distracts from the other potentials of the mind. I was introduced to WrongPlanet.net, where I began to read forums about shamanism and the other worlds created in the minds of autistics. That, then, introduced me to The Horse Boy, a beautiful documentary about the journey a western couple takes to Mongolia with their autistic son in order to meet shamans for a healing process. Since Kelly noticed I was interested in this, she rented Temple Grandin, a film depicting Temple Grandin's life. Temple is currently a spokesperson for the autistic community and has also developed humane systems of animal slaughter. (However, Kelly disagrees that it is humane to slaughter in the first place.) I highly recommend both movies. I am always intrigued to see different perspectives, and it excites me to see others doing the same.

        Xoey often uses the word “crazy.” At first, she would use it in an insulting fashion when I did something she didn't like. This really disturbed me, but I learned to ignore it, and then to take pride in the term. When she walked into the bus toward the end of Temple Grandin and saw Temple acting in a strange fashion, she asked, “Is she crazy?” (It seemed to me that she was using this term in a derogatory manner again.) I replied, “She's autistic.” At the end of the movie, Xoey was able to see the interesting features of high-functioning autism, so I asked her, “Do you still think she's crazy?” She said, “Well, yeah, she is crazy, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing.” I was silent, but satisfied. I'm glad to hear that she recognizes that.

        I find a comforting beauty in “weirdness.” I'm glad that it seems I'm getting weirder everyday. Who wants to be normal when there's so much more to explore than these socially-shared hallucinations? I'm not one for comfort, safety, and the mundane. I like newness and things that rustle up my feathers. Thanks world for becoming more and more tolerant of diversity! I hope it continues because I'm not just tolerant; I'm in love.

        We went to the LBJ Museum today. I never knew much about him or his presidency. I was surprised to find out that he seemed a bit dopey. There were exhibits specifically about his sense of humor, but I didn't get it, probably because I couldn't stick around long enough to hear the punchline. He just talked too slow for me.

        I learned plenty about Lady Bird and how much she liked wildflowers, so much so that she wanted to beautify our highways with taxpayer dollars. What a cause.

        My favorite floor was the one devoted to the time period – the 60s. My dad grew up in that era. He was 13 when Kennedy was shot. The only time I almost saw him cry was when he talked about that event. Along this floor were also the pictures and video exhibits devoted to the civil rights movement. I don't know about you, but when I see Martin Luther King Jr., I get inspired. I watched a video about the missile crisis in Cuba on a television from the 60s, so it was fun to feel like I traveled back in time.

        That reminds me. I've been doing a lot of reading about time. I want to understand it for what it really is. It's just another perception, another illusion in this game, but is there a way we can understand it through physics, or will I only truly understand it once I experience the absence of it, or perhaps and altered state of it? Allegedly, there is technology exists that can slow time down or speed it up for an observer, other than the technology of the mind.

        After two weeks of work, the unschool bus has finally left Onion Creek. I had some good times exploring the few wooded areas around the creek, laying my head in the grass, staring at the birds flying and playing in the sky, but I'm surely ready to head out.

        I saw a jackrabbit for the first time. It hopped along a lawn, and although I had never seen such an animal before, the word “jackrabbit” popped in my head. Then, I whipped out my computer to check on Google images if I was right, and what do yah know, I aced that test.

We stopped at a truck stop for bed. I had a phone call to make, so I headed over to the pond and trees that was outside of the lot. I become so giddy talking to Eliott. I told him how it's not even fair how awesome my life is right now. All I had to do was say how I really felt, and the world's arms wrapped around me.

        Eliott doesn't know this, but I should be arriving at his house in a few days. He knows I'm going to surprise him, but just not when, and it's very, very hard for me not to just yell out on the phone, “I'm going to see you at the end of the week!” when we're all gushy, regurgitating puppy dog loveliness.

See, this leg of the trip for the unschool bus is almost over. The Halldorsons are heading back to New Hampshire for a couple of months to do some work and see friends, and I'm getting dropped off in Jersey. I've decided that I'm not going to come back on the bus. I want to get a job, save up, and buy my own van for travel. I'm not sure where I'll do that yet, but I do imagine having a wonderful time at Eliott's and asking him to come see the world with me (I hope he's not reading this!). Of course, nothing is set in stone, but this is what my mind tends to fantasize about.

        In the morning, we headed to Dallas. I've had my headphones plugged into my ears listening to Pretty Lights albums, while staring out at the road. I had a lot of sightseeing as Jeff was trying to find a toy store. It looks like Dallas means business, literally. All the buildings seem to be devoted to the lifestyle that comes along with a suit. We only stuck around for about an hour and got back on the road.

I fell asleep before we even stopped. When I woke up in the morning, it turned out that we were at a welcome center in Oklahoma. That morning would be the famous Rhett + Link's arrival. They are YouTube stars that are going around the country with the “Box of America,” asking for gifts from everyone who wants to meet them, then sticking them in the box in order to have a drawing for a winner at the end of the trip. They are filming the whole adventure and heading to LA to possibly start a TV show. Wolfgang is a big fan of theirs, so we figured we'd take a slight detour to see them. We got them a small replica of our bus, and Kelly painted it to look almost exactly the same. When they saw our bus, they were excited to come in for a tour.

        After they left, we had cake for breakfast. It had been Jeff and Kelly's anniversary only days ago, and luckily they found a vegan carrot cake in Whole Foods. Yummy!

        Later on, we stopped at an Antique Center/Native American Museum. So much stuff! There were a sick pair of old roller skates, but unfortunately just a wee bit too small for me. I also checked out the jewelry and knives. I happened to leave my knife at the tree I was sitting under at the Dallas truck stop; it must've fell out of my pocket when I had been laying down on my side. I'll have to find a good replacement.

        Afternoon into night, there was a huge rainstorm, with lightning too! Nothing could make a long drive more exciting. I haven't experienced such a storm in a while. Coming from Buffalo down to Louisiana, I went directly from snow to shine, so I'm glad it can be mixed up a bit on my travels back northeast. Of course, I have more rain come Spring.

        What's the best way to wake up in the morning? Going to the bathroom in a truck stop in the middle-of-nowhere Missouri. Why? Because it has songs from the 50s blasting on the speakers in the ladies room! When I heard, “Let the Little Girl Dance,” I just couldn't refuse. That's definitely going on my iTunes. During this restroom excursion I also thought to myself, “No matter how dirty the toilets are, there always seems to be at least one (usually the last one you find) that's completely acceptable for use.”

        However, later that morning, driving through Kentucky, we got a bit unlucky. I happened to be on the phone with my dad talking about when I'd be back in the northeast when the bus blew up! Okay, it didn't blow up. I probably wouldn't be writing this if it had, but underneath the hood started smoking. I chuckled a bit because, although I had been so excited, my estimated time of arrival had been changed. We pulled over and Jeff ran outside to lift the hood. He called Good Sam's to rectify the problem. He had been told, when he originally purchased the policy, that Good Sam's would not only take care of the tow but also the transportation of the family and pets to the shop where the bus would be brought as well as any hotel fee incurred during the mechanical work. However, it seemed like he had been duped. They would take care of the tow, but that's it. We all spent some time brainstorming ideas so we wouldn't have to pay an insanely expensive cab fare or hitchhike. We didn't have an official solution and the tow man arrived. Lucky for us, he had room in his truck that fit us all perfectly! Good leads to bad, but bad leads to good. Kelly and I were excited for the ride since we had never been in a tow before. Our unfortunate event led to fortune, plus, if I calculated correctly, the bus saved twenty bucks in gas. I really enjoy looking on the bright side of things.

        Since then, I've been having a lot of access to the internet. Both in the shop and at the hotel, I've had free wifi, plus the hotel provides a complementary breakfast. With my connection to the web, I've been answering Facebook and email messages and also doing a lot of research into law. I just watched a video called, Theft By Deception, which is on Google video for free, so I do recommend it if you are concerned about tax law. Through understanding the law and all of the definitions provided in it, it turns out it is not lawful to tax most domestic income. I also have been interested in operating a vehicle without a license. I had it suspended less than a year ago (by choice) and once I get my van, I don't think I will register my vehicle or try to get back my license. It's all a contract that I don't want to sign, and as long as I don't hurt anyone, it is lawful to drive without signing that contract. And even if I did present my case to a judge who didn't understand common law vs. commerce law and then I ended up in jail, I wouldn't mind. I think it would be beneficial for me to be in an environment where most stimulation is deprived so that I can start having wake-induced lucid dreams and/or out of body experiences.

        So...much...driving. I listened to some podcasts along the way until my computer died (Gnostic Media and Peace Revolution). I have some books, but I really didn't feel like whipping them out. Finally the sun came out, so the drive to and from Knoxville was extraordinarily beautiful. There's just been so much rain in this week that fields were flooded all over, the sky consisted only of gray clouds, and the cold only became colder. Now, the terrain is shining gold and the sky is blue with just a few puffs of white cloud every now and then. The Great Smoky Mountains are shaped much differently than other mountains I have seen. Now, I'll be in Jersey soon, and my mind keeps thinking too much about the new chapter that is about to unfold.

        Surprise again! It turns out Eliott's is out of the way of the Halldorson's way up to New Hampshire. They want to avoid expensive tolls and Connecticut altogether. It looks like I'll actually be going to my dad's instead, and after the weekend, perhaps, finally, I'll be getting down to Jersey. It's a good thing I have this time, though, so I can unload some stuff to lighten my pack, get Mambo a carrying case instead of using her cage, and see old friends and family again.