I’ve sent out my resume to some potential employers in New Zealand and Australia, with no expectations whatsoever. Just like anywhere else, the only thing I can do at this point is wait.

I could have extended my Thai visa and continued traveling around Thailand for another month. Or I could’ve just jumped on a flight to New Zealand and hoped for some sort of response in a few weeks. But three weeks in NZ costs the same as three months in Thailand. The flight from Bangkok to Auckland alone would have been a thousand bucks (5900 miles), plus the flight home from New Zealand would have been another $900 (6500 miles). Just to give you idea of how absurd that is, the flight from Bangkok back to California cost me about $870 (8300 miles). Which brings me to the third option, the one that I have in fact chosen, which was to fly back to California for the time being. To be honest, I missed… I don’t know, people I know and who know me, I guess. I can tell you now that it is not the creature comforts or the impression of “home” that I miss. I can tell you this because I’m writing you from my sister’s home in Long Beach, California.

Now that I am here, I have sneaking suspicion that I will not be hearing from anyone about a job either in New Zealand or Australia. Lately every one of my “funny feelings” has turned out to be more than just a hunch. Also, in my trade, the idea of waiting for an applicant to fly halfway around the world is much less appealing than simply bringing in a local freelancer, even if they don’t have mad skills, if only for a month or two. But who knows? I may be wrong.

What to do? I guess I will just kick it for a bit in sunny southern California. Although, ever since the plane landed I have been more than a little grumpy. I’m experiencing a sort of a reverse culture shock. I’m already sick of it here. I have been complaining a lot about all the riffraff floating around. For some reason my tolerance for these people is at an all-time low. But I do have theory about why this might be. The riffraff has always been around and over the years I have come to accept that and even, perhaps, to love it in a strange way. The neighborhood drunk who likes to sneak up behind random strangers and slap them on the ass (which happened to yours truly yesterday), or the clueless bimbo living in a studio apartment next door with three yippy dogs who bark incessantly, all day every day, and then all night every night. Right now I fucking hate these people because I just came from a place where they do not exist.

Or do they? Now I’m thinking that maybe every undesirable here in the States has a Doppelgänger living in Thailand or Vietnam or wherever, and I just couldn’t spot them because of the humongous culture gap, i.e. the language barrier. For all I know, they were probably just as irritating, blathering on about this, that, and the other, and saying all kinds of stupid shit. I’m sorry. I know. Soon (after my jet lag subsides) I’ll go back to thinking that everyone is mildly annoying. In other words, I’ll learn to get along again.

And anyway, this is not the end yet. I have no permanent address and until I do I’m still officially a tourist. So… stay tuned. Maybe I’ll post some pictures of this dumbass place. Jen seems to like it here.