my people

these people exist
they're just hard to find
the ones that have passion
and put it all on the line.
the ones with good taste
for their music and shows
the ones who eat curry
sushi, pizza, natty bohs.
these people who love beauty
and road trip sing-alongs
the ones who read vonnegut
and write breakfast food songs.

they rarely sit still
travel by bus, bike, and feet
they have opinions on everything
in trivial pursuit can't be beat.
fans of john belushi
cusack, candy, and hughes
underdogs on paper
but really can't lose.
they're campers and dirtbags
greasy, sweaty, and free
they wander across cities
countries, oceans -- all three.
these people walk the edge
of where the ocean meets the land
like they're walking on a wire
often walking hand in hand.
they're laughers and thinkers
they carry only what they need
they talk about nonsense
reject good fortune for good deed.

my people are few
they've got a sparkle divine
they live life on fire
they walk the line.
the talkers, the drinkers
the misfits, the serene
they clap their hands
they cause a scene.
no complaining, no worries
never embarrassed, never lost
seeking out adventure
no matter the cost.
weekends start wednesday
summer's over too soon
box wine in backpacks
raise a toast to the moon.
houses have nicknames
but home is the noise
of clinking glass, thumping bass
seeking out simple joys.
the dreamers, the huggers
cheering for their teams
drinking, eating, sleeping
with life bursting at the seams.

sharing couches and kitchens
often misunderstood
my people show me truth
that in every bad there's good.
through lovesickness and heartbreak
death, loss, and despair
the ones for me never stop moving
won't stop living, wouldnt dare.
you see these people are few
and they're not easy to find
but their loyalty never fades
so neither does mine.

Summer Time (And The Livin's Easy)

Life in Vancouver has certainly not gotten off to any kind of modest start. Besides the epic road trip which marked the beginning of my transition to life here, the first week in BC was incredibly eventful. For starters, my road trip companion was around for the first two days. She had that "see it all while I can" attitude that only visitors can really maintain. We hiked in Stanley Park, tried various restaurants, befriended bartenders, checked out the art museum, saw the zombie parade, went shopping, and explored some of the funkier parts of town. Then she left, and I dissolved into a pool of my own conflicting emotions: excitement, apprehension, ambition, fear, happiness, loneliness...

After only a day or two of wallowing in that strange space between visitor and local, I got back on my feet and resumed the project of exploring this town. I made some friends, ran errands, demystified the public transportation system, and stopped carrying my guidebook and map with me every time I left the house. I climbed onto my bike and charged up the 15 block hill towards downtown, intent on exploring the massive campus at the University of British Columbia, which has more preserved green space than Stanley Park. My ambitious plan was thwarted after more than 100 blocks, though, when an oblivious driver opened her car door directly into my handlebars. My bike went flying, and so did I. Amazingly, I have only some nasty bruises and a sore hand to show for it. (Yes, I was wearing my helmet.) My bike is even undamaged. But my temporary hosts convinced me to contact the insurance company of British Columbia, as reporting all accidents involving autos is mandatory. I feared the driver, who not only tried to blame the incident on me but also gave me the finger as she stormed away, would try to file a claim against me for damage to her car door. To protect myself, I made a statement with the insurance company first.

I didn't expect anything to come of it, I just wanted my story to be on record. But protocol led me to an appointment with a claims adjuster, who took my story and listened to my tale attentively. He encouraged me to request reimbursement for my costs. The bandage for my hand cost $5, and he said he'd reimburse me for that. I laughed, but he was serious. Never has an insurance company so begged me to ask them for money. At one point during the meeting he even said, "Well, you've got a great attitude about this, and I like to give presents to people with good attitudes." I am not sure what he was insinuating with that remark, but I hope it means I'll be somehow compensated for my inconvenience even though I haven't filed a claim. I'm sure he's just trying to keep me from going to court, since that would cost the insurance company way more than a little settlement, but I have no intentions of filing a claim, let alone suing. I suppose the gods are smiling down on me.

Hopefully, the good vibes that have characterized my first week and a half here will continue to set the flow for the coming weeks. I move into my apartment this weekend, and school starts a few days after. The pace of life will certainly be changing, but hopefully not too much else. Well, I guess I could hope for a little better weather. It's been unseasonably cool for the past few days: a welcome change when compared to D.C.'s 90-something and humid summer, but still a bit harsh for August. Things will never be perfect, but so long as the weather is the worst thing I have to complain about, I'll go ahead and say they are.

I Made It!

philadelphia
lots of laughs, wake at dawn, drive drive drive
chicago
hugs and beers. rooftop chit chat. music and dancing.
driving for what felt like days. breakout out the tent. make a fire.
mount rushmore
smaller than i expected. rain and hail. running. laughter.
more campsites. a motel. heart to hearts. long days in the car filled with good music.
yellowstone national park and old faithful.
beautiful.
the last part was a blur. driving driving driving. seattle. bellingham.
finally.
vancouver.

This city is huge and overwhelming. There is so much to see and do. So many people to meet. The first full day here, my friend and I ran into a parade of zombies. There were traditional zombies, an Elvis zombie, a hula zombie, and finally at the end of the hundreds of walking dead, a group of stoic zombies performing the Thriller dance. Perfectly timed. No music. It was so excellent! And it was the perfect welcome to what I am sure will be a very bizarre, educational, and fun year.