Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

Life is a delicate balance of competing interests, a mushy porridge of actions that seek to validate themselves into existence. Only by conscious choice can they take root, from a small single celled idea into something more concrete, real, defined. My filter is the squirrelly labyrinth of my head, the silk screen of conscious energy that pushes its way into life’s experimental field. The ultimate selection of what becomes true and real for me.

Dear Diary,

There has been much competition for the space inside my head. Two months prior the girl and I traveled to Rio for our visa interview. It was an awful trip, five days of tortuous viral depravity that kept us moaning between our bed and the local pharmacy. The city was beautiful, cloudy, with cool weather that left a mystical haze of fog rolling between the mountains. We wanted to drink beer but we couldn’t. We wanted to explore Lapa, Impanema, and Corcovado, and did minimally through a sea of headaches and pain.

The hours leading up to the interview were long; spent mostly in doctor’s offices, copy centers, and waiting rooms. Small things caught our attention, like how full of people open city bars are in Rio, how green the city is compared to Salvador, and how lewd the pornographic graffiti plastered to public spaces.

Dear Diary,

Did I mention we got the visa? Aside from not eating breakfast on the day of the interview and feeling like I was going to pass out, all went well. The triple stack hand burger sized pile of documents was approved, and our interview equally successful. The consulate lady that held our interview who invited us into the private room was quite beautiful—young—a sigh of relief for someone scared of an old school bureaucrat that might thumb his/her nose at my biracial-bicultural-bilingual relationship.

She asked a whopping two questions. How did you meet? What do you plan on doing when you move to the US? Both we answered like, I assume, a real couple that interrupts one another and competes for the ladies full attention.

“So yeah we met at the conference”, says the girl. “We moved in together right after.”
“Well not right after.” I say embarrassed. “We dated for a long time first.”
“Yes, but, what are you going to do when you move the States?”
“I don’t know”, I say thinking I shouldn’t have said I don’t know. “I was invited to the University of Alabama to do a doctorate, but we may apply for jobs in Miami or elsewhere”.
“Oh well ok then, here’s your visa”.
“Like really?”
“Like Really.”
“Well ok then.”

Dear Diary,

It’s been two months since Rio and I’ve been going a little crazy. You ever have that feeling that you are living a life on the cusp of a new life, so the old life isn’t much of a life anymore (the senioritis thing where you have already checked out of the mental hotel?) That’s me, not enjoying work, a little bored at home, but really trying to fight it. I think most people have this tendency right before a big move and it sucks. I need to seek more live in the moment philosophies and enjoy the last few months I have in Brazil. I need to dream less about the unknowable future and enjoy what I have in the here and now. I am going to do better I promise.

Dear Diary,

Ok well I tried. Speaking of the unknowable future, there are some things I’m looking forward to in getting back to the States. They include:

1. Less urban chaos, crime, trash, pregnant dogs, sidewalk loogies, and general misbehavior of my poor ass neighborhood. Lack of pagode playing in my ear will be a big plus.
2. Access to breweries, diverse food items, and good cheep beer.
3. Roads and drivers that don’t consciously try and kill you.
4. Getting back to old hobbies as in:


5. Showing the girl my world.
6. Party in my mountain cabin with friends.
7. And much much more.

Granted, for any who would take offense at my apparent dislike for Brazil, I will certainly make a much larger and more heartfelt list on things I will miss.

Dear Diary,

It’s good to be back. Hoping to write more on these pages in the days to come. Hoping you become one of the silk-screen mind top list priorities that birth into this world.