Oh my friends it has been too long

I'm thinking of apologizing to all of you for my lack of writing. It's a bit sad really. But no worries, at least my personal journal has had somewhat regular entries. Really, isn't the written word more valuable than the typed? I suppose that depends. But I feel a hand-written letter means more to me than one punched out via a computer. And that's not a fair judgment because recently I received a very heartfelt letter that was typed. When I saw it through the envelope I thought it was too formal, it reminded me of something a lawyer would write. But instead it was a beautiful letter that I read outside, under a tree on one of the last days I can wear short sleeves around here.

What hasn't happened since I last wrote? I've made some really good friends and some exciting plans. Let me think of details.

Yesterday my friend Meg (not me, she's from Canada) and I decided to go to Levin and see the Katchafire concert. This is a kiwi reggae group. We decided to hitchhike which is not an obscenely dangerous transportation choice. Nevertheless I've never done it alone and don't plan to. We trudged our small amount of luggage out about a kilometer outside of Massey (our university here) and stuck out our thumbs whenever we saw cars. Meg said I was really enthusiastic. I was trying to be as optomistic as possible, considering I was getting increasingly cold and no one was picking us up. After thirty minutes we got a ride from three pale, skinny Kiwi boys (that means someone from New Zealand) who were really interested in the winter sports in Canada. They only drove us for about five minutes but such is the way of hitchhiking; you can't pick the length of travel time. A recent college grad picked us up after that and drove us to Levin. We walked, hauling our sleeping bags and backpacks under the ever-darkening sky. There were a few hitches on the way, but the highlight was eating our fish and chips outside, on the sidewalk, in the doorway of a furniture outlet. Lots of people spoke to us as they passed; I think they were making sure we weren't junkies. The concert was great and I'm pretty sure I left smelling like pot. I couldn't believe people were smoking at the concert. I'd heard that people do that, but there they were, lighting joints right in front of us. Shocking! We got a ride back to Massey with our friend Ivor, despite planning to camp overnight in Levin. It was raining and didn't seem worth it. I returned home late, shuffled over to brush my teeth and wash my face, and crashed. Missed church the next morning. Which in itself isn't an unforgivable thing, but it still bothered me. Sometimes I think I'm way too obsessed with sleep for my own good.

My room is quite warm, which is nice since the weather is not. My building is older than most of the dorms on campus, and the heating here consists of two pipes on the sides of the windows. When the temperature drops to a certain degree outside the pipes shoot boiling water through themselves. I'm on the third floor and the mechanisms for the water are above my head. Sometimes if I am quite I can hear the boiling water. Our particular building took a very long time to heat up, the maitenence people spent hours working on it. Once I was trying to take a nap, listening to "There Once Was a Pirate" from Spring Awakening by the way, when I started to feel patterings on my pillow. At first I thought it was a mouse. It turned out the roof was leaking all over my bed. It was a sad day as I scrambled to put on a jacket and rush out to tell the guy in my attic that he was leaking water on my bed. He didn't hear me the first few times; I had to yell. And when he did hear me he didn't seem to care. Sometimes it feels that there's an air of apathy held communally in New Zealand. I wonder if it's growing on me.

I mentally prepared to leave a few weeks ago. I love it here, but leaving will not be incredibly difficult. This is a place I'd like to return, but I wonder if that's reasonable. I find that I justify leaving the country so early by discussing how easily it'll be for me to get a work visa here. I'll just come back and work for a while. But this is merely speculation; I have no idea what's going to happen.

What is probably certain is that I will move back home with my mom and dad after graduation. As all good graduates should. But I will not consider this a period of waiting; I should live life as it comes. I keep remembering John Lennon's quote:

"Life is what happens when you're making other plans."

I may get that tattooed on me. Well no, not really.

Tonight I ate with my friend Ivor from Singapore. He prepared Laska but I'm not sure what the laska part of it was. It might have been the liquid, which was coconut milk-based. Maybe it was the deep-fried tofu. Or the sliced fish balls. I am no accustomed to Laska. I think that's the most open-minded way to put it. But there again, I'm just being politically correct. Here:

I did not care for laska and will not order it at a restaurant if it's available.

There. I think that's pretty clear.