On My Own

California. How temperate, balmy, perfect, warm. How clear the air is (except when there are wildfires) and how golden the light shines on your face when you're walking down the street (on the way back to work after a late dinner.) How lovely your skies and streets are in the summer (except when it's blanketed with fog!)



I have had so many great experiences on the Left and met so many wonderful people who are from there. I am fortunate to have the comfort and, at times, the familiarity of family in my new home base in Mountain View. California has become a new center of sorts, a place where I know I can always count on seeing friends - whether they fly in with me, meet me there, or live just around the corner. I have never asked for something so reassuring. I feel gifted.





While the weather chose to misbehave on my last visit, there was no less laughter in the air. We were unrelenting in our determination to make our one day of freedom matter. That morning dawned sunny and warm in south bay, but as we headed north with the top down, the mist creeped over us as we flew up the coast.




I remember murky skies and freezing in my layers and scarf. The kids up front had the heat on! And yet we continued to follow the rise and fall of the landscape, winding through patches of fog and clear blue sky, golden grass on the hills and lush, earthy, perfect redwood forests. I sat back with my eyes closed and... just... breathed.... feeling the damp air of the woods flow through my body like a cleansing river of the purest green.





The Pacific would peek in and check on us periodically. Downtown San Francisco was nothing but a blip on our map, one massive snarl of traffic and red lights. No matter how much I love the colored houses and hilly streets, I wasn't here to see it now...



Stinky public restrooms, mysterious toxic beaches, gnarly old trees and boggy marshlands... they flew by peppered with shiny motorcycles, cypress trees, cranberry muffins at the Bovine Bakery and a terrible urge to pee. Point Reyes Station was such a perfect town, filled with warm coffee and the most friendly dogs this side of the Rockies. Here I met Thor, who gave me a wet, sloppy kiss. (The joke: which one was Thor?)





Tourists and baby seagulls and Charbux alike, this is California. I do not expect any less from the land or my friends. I will always make time for you. I will always return.

I am Neo

The other weekend while visiting my parents, I ran into a Burger King for a bottle of water and a soda for them because it was the closest place to get something of that nature. Even before I had gone Eat To Live/China Study I didn't really eat fast food, but it was only because everybody knows it's just not great for you. But I admit once a year or so if we were stuck on the road we'd cave. And it'd be a delicious, naughty treat.

I got out of the car, surrounded by a tangible miasma of salty, greasy fast food smell. I remember it used to smell good to me - I had always thought fondly of the feel of hot, crispy, melty fries between my teeth.

I pulled open the door and went in.

The odor of industrial soap mixed with charred "meat" patties and oil was overwhelming. I could even smell the soda, the fake chemical plastic smell with the heaviness of carbonation and falsely sweet aspartame... all of it was in the air. The ground sucked at my shoes: squick, squick, squick. The generic, EZ-kleen tiles reminded me of a bathroom.

I'm not certain exactly how I smiled at the youngster behind the counter and ordered my water, but I did. I was so busy processing the Jekyll/Hyde transformation of the fast food world there wasn't much mental capacity left for conducting routine social interactions. Somehow I ordered, paid, received my bottle of water and proceeded to the dispenser to get the Coke. As the fizzy liquid poured onto the ice cubes in the HUGE! plastic container, the carbon dioxide wafted to my face like a burp. Blinking a few times almost made me dizzy.

How strange! Like a veil lifted, suddenly I'm completely incapacitated by the gray fluorescent reality of the chemical food industry. How terrible, I think, as this means leaving my house always has this potential to land me in an edible wasteland.

Nicole quoted: “If you really want to know something, you have to be willing to pay the price."

Oh, yes.