story time

After what seemed like hours in traffic, Cameron turned into the apartment parking lot where saw heat waves rising off the neighbors’ cars. Dragging a load of groceries and books up the spindly pebble-stoned stairs, he shoved the key onto the door, dumped a sweat stained backpack on the floor, and noticed the red light of the message machine blinking across the curtained gloom of the cramped “studio” he called home.

“Shit” he muttered. He had completely forgotten that among the other mindless tasks he had performed on his way home he was supposed to stop by his mother’s house for dinner. Dropping everything on his couch, he made his way over to the stubborn blinking light and pressed the play button.

“Hey kiddo’ It’s me. I… uh. I thought you were going to come over today but I guess something came up. Well just give me a call when you get this. I love you… Bye.”

At the age of twenty-seven he hardly felt like a kid. As far back as he could remember she had always called him that and couldn’t help being over involved in every aspect of his life. He could hear it in her voice. The casual dinner at her two-bedroom apartment would have turned into a complete criminal investigation of all his life’s current happenings. He was glad to have dodged and decided a phone call would do.

After deleting the message, he stepped over the old college textbooks that had fallen off the couch and took the groceries into the kitchen. He walked in front of the refrigerator and was again reminded of debt by numerous over-due bills stuck to the cream colored door. Working as a day manager in the coffee shop up the street barely covered his rent, with food, gas, and utilities added to the mix, it didn’t come close. Over the last three months he had cut off his cable, cell phone, and other conveniences narrowly escaping eviction.

Just like every other night, at 6:00 he grabbed a chilled Lone Star from the refrigerator, unplugged the phone line and opened his laptop. After abandoning life as a licensed attorney, he decided to use his masters in creative writing and pursue his dream of being a novelist. He wanted nothing else and saw his years of education to be a complete waste. Six hours of sitting in front of his silver laptop, only a blank screen stared back. He slowly leaned back and closed his eyes.

He woke, as usual, to the sound of the same morning radio talk show, grudgingly stepped into the shower and turned the same water on. He ate his cereal. He made a sandwich. He drove to work.

The day passed by while he looked on and saw suit after suit. Besides living paycheck to paycheck he was happy to do this job simply knowing it separated him from them. At the end of the shift he drove home madly hoping the words might finally make their way onto his computer screen. He returned his mother’s call and discovered that she had sent some money his way. Reluctantly checking the mail he found a check from his mother as well as more of those bills he couldn’t seem to avoid.

At the bottom of the stack sat familiar handwriting backed by a blue envelope. It was from his high school friend David. In contrast to their close friendship, little contact was made in the recent years. With a certain detachment from society he moved to Chile after getting a Bachelor’s in English. Enclosed was a letter and picture. The letter read:


Hola Cameron,

It’s been a while since you stopped responding to emails, so I figured a letter would do. Hopefully you’re still living in the same spot. I recently saved enough money to buy a piece of land out on the beach. I bought 55 hectares and built a good size yurt outside Vina Del Mar. Anyway I hope everything is going well stickin it to the man in court. You can still email me but I can only check when I’m at the school in Vina. Write back you bitch. Oh and anytime you feel the need, come down and visit.

Take it easy,

David


Although he had always planned on leaving the US, law school kept Cameron firmly rooted and left little opportunity for relaxation, much less a vacation. David’s picture was of the vast blue ocean from what looked like his back door. This rekindled old aspirations that had since been abandoned and forgotten. Those last words echoing in his head he sat down and cracked another Lone Star. The open laptop with its familiar white screen only revealed the blinking cursor taunting him for hours until he painfully fell back, closing his eyes.

This time a waking glance at the clock told him it was 3:30, and the day was all but lost. Not that this mattered. It just meant he was that much closer to falling asleep again. He walked to the kitchen for a late breakfast and saw David’s picture of the Pacific Coast teasing him from the counter. After so much time apart he couldn’t find a good reason not to visit his lifelong friend.

After running through his head for a few hours, the idea triggered his spontaneous nature. He pulled out his bicycle and headed the library in search of Internet access. Upon arriving he first wrote an email to David:


Hey friend. Sorry for not keeping in touch, but I’m coming to see ya. I know it’s the weekend and you may not get this until Monday but you did say I could come anytime. Not quite sure exactly when I’ll be there, but I’m planning on leaving today if I can. If you get this in time that would be awesome, but if not I suppose it’ll be a good laugh.


The next to his mother:


Hey Mom. I really appreciate the check. It seemed to be a bit much, but I think I’ve found a way to put it to good use. I’m going to visit David in Chile. I’m sure you understand. I’ll probably be down their for a few weeks. Tell Dad I love him and that I will try to keep in touch with both of you. Love you. Bye


She certainly didn’t have this in mind when mailing the $5000, but he knew that she would be more than happy to pay for such an excursion. Now he was off to bank the and when he walked in, he again saw nothing but more busy suits. Trying to ignore the overpriced clothing that represented so much of his hatred, he deposited the check. The teller informed him that with a few extra fees he would be able to withdraw this money from an international ATM. Now, all that was left was to pack and head to the airport.

Only the essentials he thought, packing many layers to deal with the last portion of the southern hemisphere’s winter. He may have never actually gone to Chile, but all the research he had done as a freshman in college made him feel more than confident in his preparations. Clothes, laptop, and ipod were the only possessions he felt couldn’t stay behind. With a bit of luck and an envelope of cash slipped under his overweight landlord’s door, the remaining possessions wouldn’t be removed.

He called a cab to take him to the airport and on the way the driver asked “So where are you headed to?”

“Chile,” he responded

“Why Chile?” the driver continued.

When asked this, the only reasonable response that came to mind was “Why the US?” The driver gave a slightly confused look through the rearview mirror and simply said “Fair enough.”

At the airport Cameron stepped out of the cab, grabbed his bag, and quickly proceeded to the ticket counter. Because nothing flew from Austin to Chile directly, he first flew to Miami with a short layover before the long flight. Waiting in Miami also drew his attention to the numerous suits that at this point seemed to be following him. This time however, Cameron didn’t feel he was any better. Relief came when the flight began boarding. He walked impatiently toward the salvation provided by seat 16A.

Just being on the plane reminded him that Chilean Spanish was notoriously hard to understand and he hadn’t spoken a word in years. He probably could have benefited by trying to converse with one of the nearby fluent speakers, but he only ordered a drink and closed his eyes.

When they opened and looked through the window, a view of Andes with an ocean background left him speechless. He’d witnessed many scenic views in the US and none of it compared. The snow covered peaks reached for the sky until the land receded into the endless ocean. This created instant satisfaction and he complacently gazed at the spectacle for thirty minutes before the descending plane caused its disappearance.

This satisfaction immediately turned to a small panic as he attempted to navigate the Santiago airport with broken Spanish. Almost nothing but mere pointing helped as he tried to pull words from the rapid Chilean tongues. He began to worry more and more about his spontaneous choice until he saw his luggage arrived successfully and found a bus from Santiago to Vina del Mar. This was only possible with the help one man’s twelve-year-old daughter who benefited from some form of English program. Gratefully utilizing the young translator, he found an ATM and withdrew $500. This left him with a little more than a quarter of million Chilean pesos despite the declining value of the US dollar. Then the kind man and his daughter led him to the bus and left him with a warning to keep a careful eye on the cash.

This proved difficult leaving the city that somehow reminded him so much of a large American city. The bus ride put him around two hours away from Santiago at it’s destination, leaving him lost on foot, still a city away from his target location. He now felt powerless, the continued obstacles stripping him of nearly all hopes. Only twenty-six hours had passed since he left the cab behind in Austin and though he was only on the ground for a short while, the chaos gave an allusion of being lost for days. It was 2:00 in the afternoon so he stopped to sample the local cuisine. He ended up with a “completo” which was a strange hotdog that had avocado, tomato, and mayo. Without any knowledge of the bus system or the sister city of Valparaiso, Cameron wandered around for a few hours and eventually tried to make things easy by taking a taxi. Using the return address on David’s letter landed him in front of an English school in Valparaiso twenty minutes later.

It was a white two-story building with an orange tiled roof, and upon walking through the double doors, he saw a woman behind the front desk named Paula. He thought she may have been American until hearing a heavy accent. She didn’t give him the chance to converse in Spanish and immediately asked, “How can I help you?”

With a bit of relief he sighed and said, “I’m looking for David Collins.” She looked to the computer screen and after a few moments told him that David was not working today. Luckily she did have a phone number for him. She dialed and handed him the phone. It rang three times and someone picked up.

“Bueno,” he answered.

“David,” replied Cameron

“Si, Quien es?”

“It’s Cameron. Did you get my email?”

“Cameron? Can’t say that I did. I check it at the school. How are you man? What’s up?”

“I’m at your school and you’re not here.”

“Wait… what? Are you serious?” he asked. Cameron knew that neither of them expected to be in this country together, especially after Cameron made the decision to attend law school.

“Yeah dude I am. Paula here was nice enough to call you up for me. You said in your letter I could visit anytime. So… here I am.”

“Well shit man. I’ll head over to pick you up. It’ll be like a half an hour.”

“See you then.”

The schools dim light gave the notion it was closing, so after Cameron hung up the phone and thanked Paula he walked back outside for the long over due reunion. He tried to make conversation with people while waiting. This time his greatest success was with a little boy but his Mother insisted they continue walking. Almost an hour had passed when an aqua colored scooter pulled up. The driver removed his helmet and Cameron saw the aged but familiar face of his old friend David.

“Dude… What the fuck, how have you been?” David said with a quick hug.

“Eh, mostly shitty, but whatever I’m in fuckin Chile now.” Cameron replied.

“Well here,” as he handed Cameron a helmet, “put this on so we can head back to my place.”

“Really though?” Cameron questioned, “A scooter?”

“Hey man, I don’t normally end up as a last minute chauffeur. Let’s go”

Cameron reluctantly climbed on the scooter and they drove towards David’s house. Even with many layers, riding on the scooter made for quite a cold ride. Two men on 75cc scooter and an abundance of luggage ended up as an interesting trip, but Cameron only looked in awe at the countryside as they continued north, back through Vina del Mar. By the time they finally reached David’s yurt, the sun began to paint the sky orange over the ocean as it fell towards the horizon.

David approached Cameron as he gazed into the endless expanse of ocean and said, “I’d ask you what your situation back in the states is, but I got a pretty good idea when I saw you on the curb outside the school.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “You know when we finished high school how we were certain that the US wasn’t for us in the long run?”

“Sure”

“Well I tried to ignore the confusion but I ended up passed out drunk in my own pipe dream.”

David laughed out loud and said, “At least you were drunk.”

“I guess so.” Cameron said as he chuckled.

“Well, there’s no Internet but there’s beer in the fridge and some food in the pantry. I’m gonna crash out so I can get up early for work. I’ll see you tomorrow after I get back. Oh yeah, couch is all yours and I’ll put a towel out but remember to Hueco shower.” He gave Cameron a slap on the shoulder and walked up the beach.

After getting his fill of the oceans calming tides Cameron journeyed back up to the house. He went to fridge, grabbed an old looking bottle, popped its top, and lay on the couch as he finished the beer. Pulling a blanket over his legs, he quickly fell asleep.

He heard David moving about early in the morning but only decided to get up after the scooter whined away along the dirt driveway. The sun was unavoidable through the yurt’s many windows and a large skylight placed in the roof’s eastside over the kitchen. It was one round room the only doors located in the back towards the beach and opposite the kitchen. A ladder to the right of the doors led to a loft where David slept. His furniture included two old leather couches and a few recliners circled around a low coffee table. On the table was a towel and note:


“Sorry I can’t stick around, but I’m sure you won’t mind a day alone. I’ll be back by about four thirty. Help yourself to whatever you can find and remember to shower like you’re in Hueco.”


He was referring to a climbing area they had loved as teenagers where water wasn’t abundant. No running water unless absolutely necessary, using it only to get wet and wash off. The shower was stationed in a small square building cattycorner of the oversized deck. The water was cold enough it should have been frozen, and after washing up he headed back inside to find some form of breakfast.

He took a couple of eggs from the refrigerator and used the Coleman camping stove next to the sink to scramble them. He was glad to use this thinking David might have cooked over an open fire. He had always insisted on being completely self-sufficient and seemed to take it as far as possible with his own house. Bringing breakfast to the patio, he examined everything while eating.

With daylight’s clarity Cameron was surprised to see that everything was actually quite nice. The yurt was built with a log cabin construction and a Mexican tiled roof. It wouldn’t have surprised him if David used trees from his property to build it as Cameron began to notice the various energy producers strewn about the property. Solar panels stood on platforms behind a currently empty garden. Just past the deck that held more people than the living room were twenty or so poles with turbine tops. They sat in a checkered pattern, tops spinning in the crisp breeze slowly building more power without the drawback of a utility bill.

The weather ran goose bumps up his spine, but the warm glowing sun made shorts and a T-shirt tolerable. As his first real day on the beach, he couldn’t let the ocean standby without going for a swim. Bringing a towel with him, Cameron removed his shirt and charged the water. It was frigid and on top off the cool air, he could only stay in for a few minutes. Following the quick dip, his exit from the water caused the wind to cover his skin in a blanket of icy needles. He would have done well to remember the wetsuit buried in his luggage. Without heating in the house or warm water in the shower he was forced to lie on the beach, fighting the wind until the sun provided enough warmth to dry off.

Back at the yurt he pulled out his laptop and began typing about his adventure thus far while laying in one of the deck’s many hammocks. He wasn’t writing anything that could find its way into a cover, but the ideas came freely.

In the last month nothing more than a sentence came from his fingers before being discarded, but this was different. With nothing in mind, there was nothing to discard. He wrote all day only of this new place and the freedom provided by a changed environment. The Pacific was his Walden Pond while the deck was Fairbanks Bus 142. Before he knew it, David’s scooter puttered back down the drive and the clock read 3:49. Pulling Cameron from his pseudo-world back to reality, David came around the yurt yelling, “Que Pasa?!”

“Nada wey. Que onda?” Cameron replied

“Nothing man. I’m hungry. Let’s cook.”

“Right on.” said Cameron as he closed the laptop and headed inside with his host. Cameron grilled two massive steaks while David roasted corn over an open fire. Once the two settled in to eat David asked, “So…. You like the place?”

“No dude. It sucks. I hate it.” Cameron joked

“Yeah I know. It’s pretty lame.”

“I love the ocean and all, but I’d say it’s still a bit cold for a swim.”

“Didn’t you bring a wetsuit?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Haha. You went in without it?”

“No man. Not at all.” Cameron said adamantly. The two cleaned up and once the sun went down they went back inside. David climbed up to his bed and Cameron fell asleep immediately after laying back on the old tattered leather of his temporary bed.

As the days went by, Cameron forgot what a hot shower felt like, slowly felt more permanent on the couch and both found comfort in the revived friendship. David taught four days out of the week leaving Cameron alone a majority of the time, but even when he was home they often spent time in solitude, reuniting for meals. Nearly two months passed and Cameron had left David’s paradise only four times, limiting his travel to the nearest small town for groceries.

Winter had now passed and with the warmer temperatures, David desperately tried to convince Cameron to visit Valpo and Vina. Cameron resisted and let the third month pass while his conversational Spanish gradually improved with David’s help. Eventually he stopped making excuses to stay on the beach and decided to make the awkward scooter journey, hugging David tight as they rode to the city.

They arrived at David’s school in Valparaiso at 4:00 and left the scooter there, using a cab to get to Vina del Mar. The city seemed much busier than Cameron remembered but with a better understanding of the language, he was less shocked by the hundreds of words that flying past his ears. However, with so much time spent alone the city still became overwhelming.

Their first stop was an international ATM. Cameron withdrew what he remembered to be the remainder of his bank account but found that there was still more than $3000 US lingering. It didn’t make sense, but he ignored it insisting David take the withdrawn money as payment for his stay and more than three months of meals. They next stopped at a local café and Cameron again bought the odd hotdog or “completo” he had purchased his first day. In the café he used the computer of a tall, friendly businessman to check his email, and now remembered that he hadn’t written his mother once.

His inbox was message after message from family and friends in disbelief of his sudden departure. The most recent message from his mother stood out among the many with the all too familiar title “Hey Kiddo.” It read:


Well you haven’t replied yet and I began to worry until I got David’s email and he let me know you’re all right. I’m not sure when you will get this, but It’s fine you left. Your father is pretty angry you just disappeared, but I understand. I’ve transferred as much as I can into your account so you can get on your feet (your father helped too!). If you don’t come back to see me I’ll have to come visit you before too long. I miss you and love you.

Mom


With this, Cameron mailed back a simple “Thank you. Doing well. I love you.” As he thanked the businessman and left the café, there was a small sinking feeling in his gut. David suggested going to a club for a while before heading back.

They arrived at a place called “Scratch” and when entering, he could have been in the US. It was wall to wall with a dancing crowd under flashing lights. They bought drinks then sat down. The whole time Cameron sat, he saw nothing but what he tried to leave in Austin. Without a language barrier the place was more the same than different. He thought to himself, it was a new place and even a new culture; but different colors somehow painted the same dull image on a new canvas. Drink after drink the night went on. Things became blurry and then his eyes closed.

He woke suddenly on the leather couch in David’s yurt with the feeling of nails stuck in his temples. He thought of college. “Rise and shine!” David yelled across the kitchen.

“Shit… what happened?” Cameron asked as he slowly crawled off the old couch.

“You were to wasted to hold onto the back of my scooter so I had to get the taxi to follow me, with you asleep in the back.”

“Wow… I guess I had a good time.”

“I don’t know man. It was like I blinked and you were all sloppy and rambling something about a picture… or a canvas… or something. I don’t know you were pretty torn up.”

“Yeah apparently.”

After eating breakfast Cameron was reminded of his mother’s email and decided that he could probably hideout at the yurt for sometime but not long enough. He talked it over with David, and in his spontaneous nature packed his things to catch the next flight out of Santiago and back to the states.

Cameron was planning on making a bus trip to Santiago but David insisted on driving him all the way to the airport. One more time they manage to pile far too much onto the tiny aqua scooter and headed out while Cameron said goodbye to the beautiful countryside. Approaching Santiago, he felt some comfort knowing he’d be home soon, but still wished he had taken more time to see the cities that at originally kept him in solitude.

The scooter arrived in front of the airport while Chileans stared at the odd site of these two Americans. David gave Cameron a hug and a firm handshake before asking, “So what are you gonna do when you get back?”

“Not sure,” Cameron replied, “Last I checked I spent like $100,000 learning to be an attorney. I suppose that’d be a good place to start.”

“Keep in touch.” David replied as Cameron walked to the airport entrance. The automatic doors closed behind him, David watched the old friend step out of sight, and they both headed home.

yeah...

If I hadn't made me I'd have been made somehow
If I hadn't assemble myself I'd have Fallen apart by now
If I hadn't made me I'd be more inclined to bow
Powers that be would have swallowed me up and that's more than I can allow
But If you let them make they'll make you paper-mache
At distance your strong until the wind comes then you crumble and blow away
If you let them Fuck you there will be no foreplay
Rest assured they'll screw you complete until your ass is blue and gray
You should make amends with you if only for better health
But if you really want to live why not try and make yourself
If I hadn't made me I'd have fallen apart MBy now
I won't let them make me thats more than I can allow
So when I make me I won't be paper-mache
And if I fuck me I'll fuck me in my own way
you should make amends with you if only for better health
but if you really want to live why not try and make yourself

I love the wisdom that comes from Brandon Boyd. I've mindlessly listened to his songs through the better part of my youth, but when stopping to meditate on his words it seems to be nothing but true wisdom and beauty. The CD make yourself is truly amazing for anyone living in this society and has trouble seeing anything but the wrong. Although I am grateful for winning the birth lottery well as I did, it's hard to believe that all these preconceived notions can lead me to what i looking for, because what I want is something greater, simply a feeling and state of mind that will be created by the nature and beauty of life nad the world we live in. I don't seek to simply abandon society with an acceptance of death at any moment. I am no longer to afraid to use what's in front of me and work the system to get where i want to be. Step 1 continue crushing ACC and transfer. But where to transfer? St. Edwards? Maybe if all else fails. Why not move to a place far away and sought after to seek my degree at a perfectly reputable college in another country? Pontificia Catolica Vaparaiso... here i come,

.....

thoughts are dry. nothing doing. need to get on top of the homework. always easy to say, never easy to do. oh well. tired. nap at pcl.

Second

just cam back from a second meeting. It hit pretty hard. The "disease" seems to be quite real. I'm fortunate in the fact that I never ended up on a worse or more out of control road, but that doesn't make it any less real. I figure i'm a bit luckier.

Rest in peace Tim.

klzjfh;JH

Another soon to be six hour suicidal sunday. essays yesterday. New book friday. OC today. Work and another meeting. poop.
I eat lettuce now.

Yup

Hi, my name is Zack and I am an addict. I am an addict. Words I never thought would come from my mouth. I am an addict. The first meeting I attended seemed to open my eyes quite a bit. I have a problem and need to fix it. It is not important what I have used or to what extent I have used. What is important is the process of bettering myself. A minuet thing that seemed to be so passive and under control has now been revealed as my addiction. The people I met tonight are truly people of substance. They are also addicts. Whether their addictions can worse or not is beside the point. They have in one hour helped me see that there is a reason not to do what I do. What keeps me from doing it? Why shouldn’t I do it? This is because I am an addict. Chuck Palahniuk said that once we cross certain lines, we just keep crossing them. This is what makes an addict an addict for life. Using is just not worth it. February 16, 2008,will be a day to remember. So many thoughts have flowed through my mind but only one is hard to say. I am an Addict. I must choose to better myself and not give into temptation or rationalization. This is a step in the right direction.

mas

The main thing that seems to plague me as of lately is a large amount of self-doubt. I constantly doubt whether or not I can get things done, but at the same time, I know that I am more than capable of doing anything I manage to put my mind to. Unfortunately, it’s the puting my mind to it part that I am in a constant struggle with. Sometimes it feels like I haven’t been forced tu put forth too much effort to accomplish something in terms of school, but I can seem to grasp the understanding of the short fiction being read for my comp 2 class. I’m also not quite sure what it takes to push myself a bit further and actually get my work done early. It may just be a conditioned excuse, but it really feels that I’m not able to get my schoolwork done even when I know it’s what I should be doing. It’s been this way for as long as I can remember so nothing makes me believe that it will be changeable now. Oh to be young…