Did I say breast milk?

Just a word of advice here from ol' Mattie Boom Boom. Before you ask your doctor why you're no longer allowed to drink breast milk, double check your prescription info to make sure it doesn't say your medicine is excreted in breast milk and user should not breast-feed while taking.

If you've already slipped and asked the question I would advise you not to go into a rambling monologue discussing the semantics of "breast feed" and its ability to ambiguously denote both the "feeder" and the "feedie". Don't chastise the people who write the prescription info or the pharmaceutical companies who are "ruining your life". Don't try to recover by asking whether you should be concerned if the medicine causes you to start lactating since it can be excreted in breast milk and you have a niece on the way who could fall asleep on your chest one day while you're babysitting. All these things will make the situation worse and more uncomfortable than it already is.

If you do slip and ask the question just pause for a second, chuckle at your faux pas, then continue, "Did I say breast milk? I meant alcohol." Sure, it will still be embarrassing, but you'll be able to leave with your head much higher than in the previous scenarios, not to mention your doctor won't add two new medications to your existing regimen and he'll probably continue to see you.

Spot the tourist.

Well...it's happened. I've now been in Hendersonville long enough and have become enough of a local that I can spot the tourists in and around town or on rarer occasion somewhere in the mountains. Now it's a little more difficult than it might sound as Hendersonville does have a diverse collections of citizens for a small mountain community. It's no Los Angeles, where one also develops an ability with time to spot the tourist even when they're not holding a map or taking pictures, but it's no Mayberry either. It's more difficult than just picking out the people who aren't wearing camouflage...or assuming that all groomed and "put together" folks are out-of-towners. You can't immediately assume that a metrosexual is from elsewhere...or that a hot, heroin-chic female in skin tight jeans with a sex for sale haircut is just visiting. There's something more to it. I can't yet say exactly what it is other than that they do have a "tell" that you pick up after you've become a Hendonite yourself. Maybe with more time I'll be able to put this "tell" into words.

This new ability to spot the tourist makes me wonder how I am perceived by others here. At first I was no doubt an out-of-towner. I looked, dressed, and carried myself like an Angeleno. I couldn't hide it if I wanted to. Now I feel like I straddle a fine line. I'm sure that most tourists perceive me as a local while I imagine many locals might place me as a tourist. I think my beard and camouflage hat, with a certain lack of attention towards a personal style appears "local" to the tourist. On top of that, I've slowly lost a lot of the Angeleno carriage and swagger while adopting more of a "mountain life" manner, carriage and way of communicating. At the same time, twenty five plus years of non-mountain/big city living is hard to completely erase and I think the locals can pick up on the those traits that I still have. For example, I use an umbrella when it rains, occasionally I wear dress shoes with jeans and sometimes a sports coat, I stay in my lane when I drive and use my blinker, and I admit to liking and will talk about certain elements of culture that would be taboo for a mountain man; Glee, musicals, fashion, hair products, poetry, etc.

No matter how long I stay here I think I will continue to straddle this line. I have an ability to, with time, adapt into any culture and "localize" myself quicker than most. I thank God for this gift as it suits itself well to world travel and mission work. At the same time I don't have such a need to "completely fit in" that I will give up and lose different parts of myself that I've gained through my travels and previous experiences. I suppose this chameleon-like ability is something that I can turn on and off at random depending on what the situation calls for and how much I want to "blend in".

As far as now being able to spot the tourists in and around town, I hope to gain more insight as to what these "tells" are rather than simply spotting them and knowing without quite being able to explain how it is that I know. In addition, maybe the next step will be the ability to pick out the other "chameleons" who are not tourists, but in a previous time were anything but local.

Let us reflect, sweet Brittany.

I've now been in my new apartment for four months; about the same amount of time that I lived in Japan before moving to North Carolina. The difference, however, in the way that time has passed in the two places has been almost staggering. It feels like I've been in the apartment a matter of weeks, while the same amount of time in Japan felt like a lifetime (in a good way).

I can see why time in the apartment has gone by so quickly. First there's the hospital and doctor visits with their ensuing bills and health insurance trouble; not to mention a major lifestyle change that resulted. Then there's the pressure of new bills that I didn't have on top of the mountain. There's work, which while I love my co-workers and don't mind the job, always makes life pass by a little quicker than when one makes his own schedule and lives by his own demands. I took a wonderful trip to Miami for my brother's graduation which kept things moving quickly even while serving as a vacation. All these things kept one day steadily rolling into the next as time jumped from one obligation or scheduled activity to another.

There are two other major contributors that I think have played a bigger role than the aforementioned. The first is not having a washer and dryer in my living space. I still do all my laundry at the trailer on top of the mountain. As a result, I let it pile up a little more than I otherwise would, and constantly feel like I'm behind on laundry. The second is the fact that I still have the responsibility of maintaining the nearly wild piece of land the trailer sits on and I constantly feel like I'm two steps behind on that as well. For a better man these things might not be problematic, but they leave me feeling like I'm in a constant state of procrastination...not a good feeling. Nothing makes time fly like the heavy burden of unfulfilled responsibilities.

I'm not trying to paint a "woe is me" picture or gain any undeserved sympathy, as I feel incredibly blessed and have had a wonderful four months in my new place. This is simply how I make sense of how time has recently seemed to pass so quickly in one place compared to another. The interesting paradox is the fact that life itself is so much slower in Hendersonville than in Tokyo, Japan. I guess that's why I sit back now and marvel on its relativity. As I was preparing to leave Japan, a friend of mine, Wayne, told me that when I got back to the States that Japan would feel like a dream. I suppose he was right in the sense that in a dream there's a certain detachment from time and the way it passes.

Now that I've spent some time away from the trailer it's taking on a new feel. It's taken about four months of living elsewhere to get to this place. It no longer has the lingering feeling of a bitter Winter survival that was all about "getting through the season alive". When I go there now it takes me back to my first days there after returning from Japan. The feeling of a new adventure. One in which writing and mountain living would be the driving forces. It's now a wonderful nostalgia; a drug I never tire of and am more than willing to get lost in.

Although it's gone by quickly it's been a great four months. Thank you Brittany for being by my side and laying the foundation for this next chapter. You've given me fresh eyes which in turn provide a clearer view into the past. I look forward with great anticipation and a light spirit into what lies ahead.