Ground Control to Major Tom

Resuming transmission to the good people of Earth. I'm alive and well. As well as can be expected when you're all alone so far from home and loved ones, anyway. It's been nine whole days since I last posted. Though a lot has happened in that time, not much has changed. Still searching for a place of my own. I don't think I'll start to settle in, feel at home, until I get my own place. It's all been very stressful, looking for a place. I'm running out of time.

I got sick in the middle of the week and was unable to go for a run at all after last Monday. I was actually pretty hungover on Thursday as a result of a broker-sponsored event on Wednesday night. Two words: open bar. I don't know when I would ever have been able to attend a broker function were I still working at the office back home, so it was nice to be able to mingle with clients.

On Friday I took a trip to Paseo de la Reforma to sort out some things at the SAT. There was a demonstration / protest which closed off through traffic heading in, so the taxi guy dropped me off a block before. Not a big deal, though. Reforma is fucking lovely. I enjoyed my walk to here:

The Horsie Tower!

Luckily, the wait inside wasn't too bad. I was in and hour in just over an hour with my very own RFC. Taxes, yay! Just glad their appointments system works a hell of a lot better than the Mexican Consulate in Los Angeles. Plus, they have matching chair patterns:

Now serving number...

A couple of other shots from Reforma: 

Demonstration

On Saturday night, I went out with my co-worker. Besides my boss, she's the only one who has made an attempt to reach out and make me feel at home, welcomed. We went out for dinner at La Crepererie de la Paix here in Condesa. We probably stayed past our welcome at the restaurant as we totally lost track of time talking about work and things of that nature. 3 hours later, we headed over to some club that had all the ladies going cray! Ha! Not really, but it is a cool spot called Don Quintin. Stayed there for a bit watching the band play some covers and stuff. It was a fun night and it was really nice to hang out with someone other than myself. 

Did I mention I got a pretty rad haircut on Saturday? All scissor-cut. The guy seemed concerned for my hair. He doesn't want me to ever get buzzed again. He did an awesome job and he said with the next two or three cuts, my hair will have been saved! :) So, I made an appointment for next month just before the holidays. 

Today, Sunday, the 24th day of the month of November in the year 2013, I did absolutely nothing. Stayed home, in my pjs watching tv, and catching up on my blog; catching you up with my life down here. Until next time...

FeLiNa

Two weeks in and I finally went out on my own tonight. It had to happen. It had to be. Felina Bar - if that's not a sign, then I don't know what is.

Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina,
Wicked and evil while casting a spell.
My love was deep for this Mexican maiden;
I was in love but in vain, I could tell.

It's a cool little bar that, were it in L.A. somewhere, might seem a bit pretentious. Yet, here, it works. Bartenders that take pride in their mixological prowess. Amazing cocktails  AMAZING! Two words - Mojito Mezcal. There's an apartment for rent directly across the street. That could either be amazing, or incredibly bad, as I can see myself being a regular there.

Science and shit.

Hendricks and grapefruit and shit, oh my!

Earl Grey-infused Gin. 

On another note, I'm so glad El Paso didn't become an instant hipster anthem, given the prominent role it played in the final episode of Breaking Bad. It may seem lame (and maybe pretentious), but I knew that song before any of these chumps. It's kind of "our song". Good old Panda. I remember the first time he played it for me as we were going 70 mph down Shoup after Indian buffet. I fell in love with the song instantly... or maybe it was just the joy I got from listening to Panda singing along to it. I miss that guy. 

Back to Felina Bar, good music, good ambiance, and seemingly good crowd. The waitress / bar back... I swear I've seen her before, though. Maybe she just has one of those faces. I didn't stay long, because as much as I enjoyed being there, it's incredibly depressing drinking alone at the bar, whilst everyone else is there with friends, enjoying each other's company. 

I honestly don't believe I'll make friends out here. It's lonely. I'm alone out here. Truly alone. A co-worker had invited me to a going away party for one of our co-workers who is heading back to Zurich this weekend, but I think it was more of an obligatory invite, especially since I never got a follow up - no time, directions, etc. It's fine, though. I don't think I would have gone, anyway.

I'm old. I'm the oldest one of our team down here, except for our boss. I'm aging. I am aged. Help the aged. 

Funny how it all falls away. 

Heading' For The Top

We should be headin' for the top now

We've had a hundred thousand years

We should've found a little heaven in our soul

That should've washed away the tears

Instead we've wasted all the time

And there's a thousand ways to cry

And in our haste to get a little more from life

We didn't notice that we'd died

I'm heading for the top, right? We all are. I got a fancy new title at work, living it up in some corporate suites, making a good wage. Heading for the top. The top. Of what? Who defined this top and if I'm heading there, why do I feel so miserably low?

Work life has been difficult in this new role. The people are nice on the surface, but I know people. I can read people, I can crease a page of their book and pick up where I left off the day before. I do well to pick up on hints and foreshadowing the author skillfully writes out and I know they are not fully accepting of me. My only ally seems to be my boss, and we all know how shitty of a cliche that turns out to be, we all know how resentful co-workers can be when perceived as the favorite, a teacher's pet. I know they don't really like me, the last thing I need to do is give them yet another reason to shun me.

I'm hundreds and hundreds of miles away from where I belong. I have no passion for this job, yet here I am. At what point to I turn my back on it all and just shoot. Do I love to shoot enough to risk being poor? Enough to struggle, enough to give up on everything that I want in exchange for everything that I need? Do I love it enough to die trying? I'm not happy doing what I'm doing now. I do it for my "wants" in life. Where the hell did I go so wrong?

I've wasted all my time and there really are a thousand ways to cry.

Loyal

I was going to talk about how I sometimes hate how loyal and loving dogs are, about how much I fucking hate it. I was going to talk about how some of us do NOT deserve the love and loyalty they show us as pet owners... owners. Masters. Fuck that. We are unfit to be owners, masters of dogs or any other animal. I wanted to take that dog home with me tonight. The look in his eyes as he looked into mine. I died.

I don't know what I want to talk to today. Maybe I shouldn't even post anything. I feel like this blog is becoming a broken record of how much I miss everything back home. Nobody wants to read about that. We all have our own drama to deal with. We just have to get on with it, right?

I really shouldn't be posting. I have nothing to say, but I'm going to stay loyal to this blog experiment. Every once in a while, I think I'll have something really worthy of your time. In the meantime, I'm tired. I'm tired and I want to go home.

I'm going running tomorrow morning. I have to. I need to get into a routine. My plan is to do two days run, two days rest, rinse and repeat. Have to move them feet. Have to shuffle them feet.

All of the past we once knew...

Been listening to a lot of Jeff since I got to Mexico. It's been comforting in a really fucked up way. That's all I really have to say tonight. Until tomorrow, enjoy...

\

Weekend Edition - Volume 1

I covered about 10 km on Saturday, including my first run in Mexico City. It would have been a longer run that 3.8km, but I got lost and it was still dark at 6 in the morning. My second run early this morning was far more successful. I made it to my intended target of Parque Mexico and completed three laps, before running back home. It's no joke trying to run at this altitude. Back home, I'm used to an average of 200 or so meters, here it's over 2,000 meters in altitude. Hoping to get better acclimatized to it as time goes on.

I walked quite a bit. I walked to drop some shit off (literally), I walked to find my way around this town, I walked to finally get some groceries and I walked back. I'm really beginning to like it here. The area is nice, the wide variety of restaurants and bars seems to be pretty exceptional. The park where I ran is serene. The food so far has been great. Had breakfast at La Chalupita on Saturday and a torta for dinner at El Farolito.

Blurry shot - Mala Relacion (aka, Huevos Divorciados) from Chalupita

Waiting for my order from El Farolito

That Guy Special - aka asshole vegetarian

The one thing that keeps nagging me, the thing that's in the back of my mind is what will come from the lab results. What are they looking for? What happens if they don't like what they see? A part of me almost wants things to go wrong, something to be wrong with me. Maybe that way I'll get to go home. Another part of me will be incredibly annoyed and upset if that does happen. I feel fine. I feel in good health, but you never really know with these things, do you?

At this age, it's difficult to make new friends, especially when you're so out of the loop. I can see my weekends being spent very much the same as this weekend was spent. Waking up early to run, walking around here and there, eating alone and being in bed by 10:30. I guess that's not so bad. It'll keep me out of trouble.

The search for an apartment continues, but it's now past 10:30 and it's time for bed. 

Bloodletting

I spent the first three hours of my day today sitting in a crowded clinic that specializes in employment lab tests. It was more in depth than I'm used to for such tests. Normally, you just piss in a cup and you're on your way. I pissed in said cup, but was also supposed to, uhm, give a deuce sample. "Supposed" being the key word here. They ask you to arrive having fasted for 8 hours, so there was really nothing there for me to give. Still, they moved on to drawing 4 vials full of my life force and, finally, some chest x-rays. My walk back to the bus stop was fun. It was like being drunk but without the fun part. I was drained. So. Much. Blood. Still, like a champ, I made it into the office anyway.

Waiting room - I wait, I wait, I wait! 

Friday. Thank fuck and all that.

I missed my "appointment" to look at an apartment I'd hunted down. I'm hoping I can go take a look at it some time this weekend. It's in a great area and I'd really love to have my long-term living situation sorted sooner, rather than later.

Highlight of the day had to be the nice conversation I had with my boss over a very late lunch / early dinner and a few beers. Can't imagine ever having that kind of insightful, funny, enjoyable conversation with my old boss. I appreciate the fact that he's doing everything he can to make me feel at home, not just in this country, but in the office. I need a bit of that.

This is, by far, the worst post I've made so far. I know nobody is reading this. I know this is essentially a therapeutic exercise to keep me from losing it...completely. I know it has become nothing more than a diary, but I apologize for the drivel I've presented for "you" today, anyway. I'm exhausted, completely drained (literally and figuratively) and still feeling hopelessly melancholic. I'm sorry. I miss it all. I miss my beautiful friend.

I Miss My Cat

I miss that little shit. I miss him getting into his ultra predatory moods and attacking my ankles and wrists like a real bastard! I hate that the scabs where he shred my skin are starting to disappear. I miss him waking me up at 3 in the morning, when he would jump on my chest and start kneading my throat, purring, eyes closed. I think he may have been sleep walking, now that I think about it. I miss the smell of his stupid breath as he did so. I even miss cleaning his piss and shit. I want to hug the little guy so much, even though I know he'd fight it after a few seconds, if even that! I miss home.

My name is Inigo Montoya; you gave me a bath, prepare to die.

In other news, being a vegetarian in Mexico turns you into THAT ONE guy. You know, the obnoxious asshole at any given restaurant giving the wait staff ridiculous instructions on how he wants his food. It's never the way it is on the menu. I'm that guy now. Hooter's for lunch for Arturo's birthday, I ordered the "Chicken Cesar Salad"... hold the chicken. Still, the six of us in attendance had a great time. It's never not a great time when Rafa is in form and telling stories. Also, this happened:

Crowded bus, crowded bus on the way home. Too much going on, too many people glued to their glowing phone screens, too many people crowding me, too many people looking defeated, too many people keeping on anyway, too many smells, too many...and then it happened - anxiety paid me a visit. It took everything I had to remember to keep breathing. It took everything I had to not pass out. It took everything I had and I miss my cat.

Packt Like Sardines In A Crushd Tin Box

If you're not quick and assertive you'll never get off that bus or you may be taken off at a stop not your own. The bus was full to the brim today. It was unpleasant, I was already starting to sweat because I had to walk back to my suite from the bus stop, because I had forgotten some documents I needed to take in to work today. Sweaty, a bit miffed about having to swipe my metro card twice, and generally annoyed, my day was off to a rough start.

I managed to get my "social security" number for work here in Mexico. It was relative painless and didn't take long, at all. Don Felipe drove me and waited for me outside as I completed my transaction inside a small room with two guys behind plastic windows, one of whom was blasting his music - Molotov, Panteon Rococo. Don Felipe's first plane ride was only a few months ago. For an older man, and the way he said it, it really struck me. Hit a soft spot. He's a sweet old man. Humble, soft-spoken, and seemingly a very nice man. We chatted, found out a few things about each other. It was nice.

I did a lot of walking today. A lot of standing in line. A lot of walking and standing in line wearing dress shoes. My feet were wrecked, the bottom of my feet slightly calloused and split at the ball of my feet. I'm annoyed. I was going to run tomorrow morning. No, really... I was!

On a final note, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. should not make you cry. Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. should not be making me cry. That scene with Fitz and Simmons at the end, though, made me choke up. Together. They solve things together. Together. Always.


**UPDATE**
Snagged the two pics from Google. Anonymous sources. Last time I will use non-original photos. As a "photographer", I know how shitty it is to not be credit with your work. If someone knows who snapped these, please let me know

Table For One

Tried to take a taxi to work this morning, but both "sitio" sites that the suites recommended were fully booked. Instead, I decided to bus it. So I hussled and I bussled down to the Metro stop, looking kind of dapper in my new suit. I coolly approached the card purchasing machine at the bus stop, pretending to know what I was doing, pretending I belonged.

Made it to my first day of being a permanent employee of our Mexico City hub. Nothing really different than the other 3 times I'd been here on a job rotation. Nothing really different this time, except I won't be going back home in a month this time. Nothing different on the outside, but inside, I was still feeling pretty down. Missing everything that I left behind.

Had lunch alone today. It's not so bad having lunch alone in the financial district. Everybody does it. Everybody is rushing to and fro. Nobody notices a guy in a suit eating lunch alone. It's nothing out of the ordinary. I had dinner alone. Dinner alone must be a big deal here. I sense that people feel bad for me. I can't blame them. Shit, I feel bad for me. On the plus side, waitresses seem to be more attentive of the lonely, lonely man eating dinner alone. Jesus. I need to go grocery shopping real soon.

I'm exhausted. It takes a lot of energy trying to keep from being devoured by the sad. I think I'll go to sleep now.

NB - Horrible picture quality, so I apologize. I have yet to take out my real camera. Soon.

I Forgot and now I Can't Forget

“I forgot to say bye to Frida. I forgot to give her a hug.” That thought, as we raced towards LAX at 5 in the morning completely deflated me; it pushed me over the line and I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. All the stress, all the drama, all the anxiety leading up to today finally came to a Popocatépl-size blow the instant I realized I neglected to hug my dog before I ran out the door.  Having to say bye to my -- and I’ll be the first to let you know how much I wish this term would die -- better half only 30 minutes later, only sank me lower and lower. I don’t know how I’m going to function without her. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this next year, two years…

I wish I could write about how great my first day here has been, but it’s been miserable. Been trying my best to stay focused on the task at hand, to block out any negative thoughts, and feelings of sadness and loneliness all day. Peter Hook was my saviour in the sky as I devoured page after page of his book as Strangeways Here We Come provided the backdrop. Meanwhile back on the ground, back in this far away land, a Treehouse of Horror marathon took me away for a good two hours. I had a tasty enough dinner at a local restaurant, but again, I was reminded how hopeless it can be for a vegetarian in Mexico. I will need to do some grocery shopping soon. I will need to do so much… so much. Soon.

In the morning, I will run. I will run to a local runners hotspot and back. I will try not to let the extra 2,000 M (6500+ ft). It’s a much shorter run than I’m used to for that very reason. I will run with the hope of getting a feeling of my old routine back in place. I will run, I will shoot photos, I will write and I will share with those of you interested enough to read about what’s going on in my life. I hope to make a daily entry, no matter how small, no matter how seemingly meaningless, because I hope it will help. 

Good night.