Montreal: January 12th, 2010

I wake up before my alarm. Its not even 6am. Thankfully the Gravol and Heineken put me to sleep for a few hours. My nerves continue to get the best of me as I stroll into work at 7:30, coffee in hand. I'm sure people are sick of hearing about me going to Peru but by 4 o'clock everyone is wishing me the best and saying goodbye. As expected, I hit rush hour traffic. It'll keep me in line so I don't mind. The last thing i want is to be screwed out of this awesome trip.

I cross the border around 6. Its pretty routine. Where are you from? Where are you going? Have you ever been arrested? As soon as I get the go ahead my anxiety fades and I drive off into the American darkness. Within 30 seconds I see a shooting star. A glimpse of things to come? Yes.

The long drive ahead is nothing unfamiliar. I've done it before but rarely has it been alone. I try to keep my thoughts focused on where I'll be this time tomorrow: Miami. Halfway to Peru. I decide to take a break in Plattsburgh mainly out of nostalgia. As a kid, I would spend weeks at a time at my grandparent's place in upstate New York. I pull into a Big K-Mart parking lot and stretch my legs and take a bathroom break. Its only for five minutes so as not to lose time.

I hit the road again and I'm blanketed in darkness. My GPS rambles directions that I ignore because I'll be on the I-87 for another few hours. My iPod is the only friend I have for now.

Getting closer to my destination, I have to start paying tolls. Being a Montreal native I barely understand how things work. I take the card and drive off trying to figure out where I'll be exiting and how much I'll have to pay. Two lanes become three, and three change back to two. The oncoming headlights become the faces of my fellow travellers and they seem to be staring at me. I squint trough their hi-beam glares and press forward. When my GPS tells me to take the next exit I double check the toll card and try to figure out how much cash I'll need. I slow down to about 30 km/h to double check, thankfully no one was behind me. As a take the off ramp I rely heavily on my multitasking. I turn a corner and come to a halt. A deer slowly walks across the road and doesn't even acknowledge the car. It was really eerie, normally they would be super alert and stare right at you. This deer is different; it is young but not a baby. Its also injured. As it makes it's way to the other side into the forest I honk my horn a couple times hoping that it gets spooked and runs off. As I come to the toll, I do my part and let the man in the booth know in case something happens. He says he already called it in.

Now I'm about 40 minutes away from the Taconic Parkway, which at this hour is likely a desolate stretch of road. My last leg. To get there I drive along a rural route where it is impossible to keep track of the random symbols of American patriotism. They dot the sides of the road in the form of massive American flags or decorated mailboxes and even an old Chevrolet painted with the star spangled banner. Its about 8:30pm and my Red Bull has worn off. Thankfully it isn't too cold to open up the sun roof. As I do so I realize how clear it is and glance at the sky from time to time.

My last leg of the drive starts at what appears to be someone's driveway. The on ramp to the Taconic is short and secluded but I remember it from my last drive up. This is where the fun begins. The speed limit calls for 55 mph. I oblige it as cops literally hide in the trees waiting for someone to slip up. I've already passed a half dozen state troopers who have pulled people over and a few more staked out waiting. After a few minutes I decide to speed up to 60 mph or 100 km/h. Its perfectly safe and not above the flow of the one other car on the road. The winding road is playing tricks on me. The car ahead disappears at least three times.

The trees along the side of the road seem to engulf and surround me as I veer from one lane to the other anticipating the turns. My music is loud and the sun roof is open and I have a smile on my face yet again. My iPod jumps to the next artist in line which is Fever Ray. She is one half of the Swedish electro band The Knife and I have yet to listen to her album. Each track is more bizarre than the last but her ambiance-like music keeps me mellow and focused. Every once and a while eclectic noises find their way into the song and I think that they're from outside. It startles me a bit but then I realize that it was fitting for my drive.

After 20 or 30 miles I come to a another slow down... more deer. This time its a mother and her fawn. Neither of them are injured so they both perk up. Deer in headlights. There's something about catching a wild animal off guard, especially a deer. They instantly become vulnerable and clumsy yet strangely stay majestic. After analyzing what they've encountered they hurry off into the woods. My heart rate slows back down.

My GPS chirps up again and orders me to take the next exit. This voice actress is really pushy. Next time I'll shell out the cash and get a GPS with a celebrity's voice or something. Nothing like William Shatner telling you to take... the next left... and hit it into... warp speed for 7.6 km.

I drop the car off with minutes to spare. And hurry over to the train station. I miss my ride to Grand Central by six minutes. I guess I shouldn't have stopped off in Plattsburgh. By the time I make it to Manhattan its 12:40, Wednesday morning. I am tired and miserable, and the cab driver knows it. He chats away on his cellphone the entire ride. I'm okay with this since I don't want to do much talking. Once I'm at Kirk's apartment, (not that Kirk...) I have to jimmy the lock. The only problem is I only took cards that are important; driver's license, credit cards and such. I don't want to break them or mess them up and not be able to use them while I'm in Peru. I end up popping the lock with my medicare card and I drop my bags to the floor. I fall onto the couch. I'm not going to sleep. I run down the street to a familiar restaurant and order a slice of pizza and a cheeseburger. With a full stomach I can now focus on sleep. In less than 20 minutes I'm passed out. In less than 20 hours, I'll be in Lima.

Live

Intensity is always a good thing.

Love that is fleeting hurts the least.

A life uncovered is not worth living.

Take the chance, grow up.

Grow Up and Blow Away

This is the life. Life is realizing where you messed shit up. But messing said shit up may result in beneficial results. If this is the life then why does it feel so good to die today?

Contestations

If everything happens for a reason then timing is a bitch. I get that I cannot control everything. Its perfectly normal and perfectly depressing. In the midst of living there are bouts of half-living. Only seeing life through half-opened eyes. The breaths you take are shallow, the steps you take are lazy. Your mind needs to be hot-wired when you wake up (at 3 pm), and you need to convince yourself that its okay that the water in the shower will start off cold.
While this may seem like you are living.... you aren't. We've been told since day one to get a job, buy a house, lease a car. Wear a suit, buy a television... all of this ends up making somebody else more rich, and therefore, more powerful. People have been brain-washed (yes, it is a touchy subject but we all have been indoctrinated) without realizing any of it.
I say don't give in. Sure its great to have an education, but education shouldn't revolve around or be ran like a business. Besides; who decided that you can only learn something substantial and worthwhile in the classroom or auditorium. Academia has failed many, and is the fleeting standard of expectation. That is all academia can provide. Expectations. Hopes, dreams, promises. Nothing real, of course.

In the end, when the human race must come down to a do-or-die decision, our Ivy League graduates aren't going to be put on a pedestal and questioned for their opinions, they'll being doing whatever it is everyone else is. Because they too, have been indoctrinated by the upper echelon of this global society. The New World Order is coming.



note: I've been watching way too many conspiracy documentaries....

A good friend recently told me that I was not a suit. This was comforting. No one wants to be a suit. I've decided that if all goes south, so will I. The complete polar opposite of a suit is a vagabond. If there is no 9-5 future I might as well let the vagabusiness start. Is this possible? I'd love to prove this friend wrong but I don't think it is going to happen anytime soon. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with wearing a suit to go to work, in the literal sense. Its just that the overall identity behind being a suit is so... expected, calculated, and compromising. Here's to the suit in sheep's clothing. Here's to the wolf that wears a tie. Hopefully they don't get any closer than they need to be.

note: vagabusiness is not what you think it is. pervert.

Stories Yet To Come

There is only so much one person can say when they are faced with an ultimatum of following their heart. It not easy to make that decision. If you do commit to changing your life around and flipping your world on its head, can you undo the mistakes? I wouldn't recommend you undo anything. In fact, no matter what happens, I wouldn't even refer to the bumps in the road as mistakes.
If you managed to get some sort of life experience out of things, then you're already ahead of the people who live the same day over and over again.
Here's a tip: if all goes horribly wrong when you're in the midst of changing your life, run. Go teach in Thailand, build towns in Botswana, catch crabs (not those crabs) in Alaska. Just do something. Live. Do it while your capable of living so you won't be a stuffy old bag who regrets their existence.
The most important aspect of life that many people have forgotten is creativity- you don't need many tools to be creative. A pen and paper is enough to start, and if you make a lot mistakes, I'd suggest an HB pencil. Better yet you shithead... stop reading this and open up a word pad, or paint, or something and let your ideas flow. Don't let your life become an aimless documentary about breathing. Don't think twice or let other people judge you. If you fall on your face, remember that you experienced an exhilarating free-fall on the way down.

Regards

S.

Time Will Tell

What an awful expression. Its so bland and abrupt. What will time tell? No one knows really. I bet it couldn't tell someone they were sorry. I think time is against us all, and its not something people are getting. I mean, as much as you like to think time passes when you are away, everything stays the same... within reason. If the people that matter to you the most stick around then they are the constants in life that so many of us desire. But does one really desire to be that constant? Wouldn't we all rather be the spontaneous? The free spirited soul that makes rash decisions. No one wants to be a stick in the mud.
Regardless of who you've become or who you want to be, home remains universal. Home is what everyone has expectations of. Otherwise, life would not entail risk and people would not have memories.