Chapter #13

[Scrap #1] The wind was blowing and the sun was shining. I have just landed back in California after the two week Christmas trip and this was what it felt like to be back home again. The future was bright and I was enjoying that vast difference between the biting humid cold and snow, the morning of boarding of the ATR42 to Munich and now being back on the California land. We almost missed the flight. The grades had been posted already, all As. My job was maybe not that secure, we did have to move to Barry's office and I knew the money was going to be the problem but I decided not to think about it for now. I was just glad to be back. Before leaving I had to finally apply to universities and I just knew one of them had to accept me. UCLA, Long Beach or Berkeley. Regardless, I knew that I was not going to be able to afford them. I promised Mr. M to take care of his motorcycles. But for now I wanted to just enjoy that moment of walking on a street in Venice Beach inhaling the ocean breeze and feeling absolutely free.

[Scrap #2] - Jack, Jack! Jack, they got Sadam! I ran to the living room to see what was going on. Amy was standing in the living room staring into the TV with a celebratory grin on her face as if it was herself that dig out the man from the hole. Sadam Husein had been captured and we could now all live in peace. At least that was was probably going on with Amy. Living with her was an adventure. Her dinners were all right but the meatballs were quite runny and on one or two occasions I had to throw them into the trash until she once discovered it and grimly asked me why I had done it. She cared for her students, with her cooking, orange juice that she would keep in the freezer so I apologised and never threw the food out again. Other than that the household was mostly conflict free as long as the rent had been paid on time. Amy would keep my room tidy. She was of a slightly paranoid type. Once she almost accused a neighbor of stealing her tooth implants only to discover that she had left them somewhere in the garden.

[Scrap #3] With the university applications sent out, this was going to be my last semester at a community college. I could now only take one class and enjoy the life of Santa Monica. That would save me quite a bit of money but as the life has it, it was also exactly the moment when Barry ran out of money. I sat there thinking about what my next steps were going to be. I excluded the option of working in a restaurant. I spoke on the phone to my parents and informed them the the good times were over. Luckily, Tomek had moved to London earlier last year so I could rely on him to lend me some money. He was always a much better saver than me. With no other alternative, I decided not to worry about the future. I would watch late night Connan, [j c show], and reruns of Oprah. I wake up late. With no money I felt no obligation to be on time but I still showed up at Barry's. And the cinema on the 2nd had now become my white chocolate mocha. And I even found a small gig with Josh, a documentary movie producer. 

[Scrap #4] Santa Monica College Library became one of my meccas. There I would write late papers for the American history classes only to find out that the paper was due a week later. A very unique and undiscovered feeling of being actually one step ahead of time. The building was quite modern but my favourite part was to find one of the quiet toilets and text David updating him on details of my life. The computer room was big and modern. It was there that I watched videos with recent stories of horror, hang out with Ferdie while studying sometimes even meet Alfred - my web client. It was also there that I started to write my blog, transferring on the paper my frustrations. And it was also there that I wrote my applications to the college. UCLA was always the dream. I had visited the campus few times, most remarkably when I took a photo in front of the bear while visiting Rainer. Then there was Long Beach, a safer and cheaper and still not an affordable option. Then for a fifty dollar fee and an additional checkbox, there was Berkeley. Just to see if I was good enough.

[Scrap #5] Apart from school, my social life was limited to David, with whom I would visit West Hollywood on Wednesday nights. We would drive at his Toyota and then Lexus and stop by Mickey's to a see a guy whipping a woman on stage and an old man sitting on a folded chair and sticking dollar banknotes of what we suspected was his pension behind a thong of a go go dancer dancing in front of him. We once decided to drive along Hollywood Boulevard just to see if there were any prostitutes around. Failing to find them, David decided to stop by a bar and ask one of the patrons where we could find them. We were told to look for them on the side streets. Still, with no success we drove home, stopping by Ralph's on the way listening to the romantic songs on the 103.5 FM. At weekends we would stop by Denny's in Santa Monica for banana split from a friendly waiter. We didn't have that much in common. We once saw the Dreamers at the 2nd street cinema and along with a movie about a porn star those were the only cinematic experiences we shared together.

[Scrap #6] Khan and I decided to meet at Santa Monica Promenade. I sort of imagined we were going to spend a day like in the [Day in Paris] I saw a few days earlier. We had a meal at a Thai restaurant. He was wearing a black polo shirt. We walked to the beach. He was from Orange County and it seemed for him and Thansamay beach was part of the life. I couldn't understand why they didn't enjoy California even more. They lived there. After Santa Monica we drove to Hollywood to the Pink's to get the famous hot dogs. I think Tommy had mentioned them earlier. It was the place where celebrities would go to get their hot dogs. Then we walked to Abby's to have a drink. It wasn't a date or anything but it wasn't just a friends-to-friends encounter either. We didn't kiss and didn't hold hands. At the end, when we were walking back to the car parked on the La Cienega, "three suspects" walked out of a car, pulled out a gun and made us give them our money. I only had seven dollars but luckily Khan had over one hundred. He saved our lives.

[Scrap #7] Barry took out a riffle and said he was going to find the perpetrators and serve them the justice. We were standing at the living of his house on the Sawyer Street. The riffle did not have any bullets but he had already triggered some concern from the security when he left the door opened leaving the gun in plain sight. Marilyn, did you hear what happened to Jacek last night? He got robbed by some schmacks in Hollywood. No harm had been done. When the police officer asked me what gun was used my response was silver. It was not the only reason I was there. I also needed some money and the incident seemed to be a good trigger to bring the issue up. We went to the other room, which now became the permanent studio, and Barry took out the checkbook. There was the usual feeling of impatient and suspension when Barry was writing the numbers down. One thousand dollars. That was going to be enough to get me through my East Coast trip. He didn't ask me to wait until a week from Tuesday which meant that this time the check was not going to bounce.

[Scrap #8] My Criagslist business brought me a few more customers. There was Alfred, a man from Mexico, who I would meet at Starbucks or once at Santa Monica Library to help with design of his business. There was Jan, an owner of a computer store in Marina Del Rey who I would teach Dreamweaver for his classes. And there was Josh, a movie producer who I helped designing a website for a documentary he was making about Cheech and Chong. Others were a movie music composer, a model, a makeup artist. Also a restaurant booking table entrepreneur (a rocky relationship) whom I wish I had the the technical skills to help out. There was also a guy I didn't show up to meet because I was enjoying creative break at Barry's house which I was supposed to be taking care of while the whole family was gone. Except that Barry never got to leave. There were the movies I saw. The Dreamers, Lost in Translation, Last Sammurai, [Dogville] and, finally, the Vincent. Three bones Tony at the beach. The geologist in the closet. The hike I didn't do. And then the peaceful drive at dawn. Downtown LA, the 101, heading north.

[Scrap #9] Amy came to my graduation with Isan. "Jack, my best international student!" she proudly boasted to anyone. The other one was a Korean guy who now was at UCLA and didn't call her as often as she would like. If I were to get accepted to UCLA as well she would offer me a one hundred dollar discount and I could take the bus to the university. Arkan, her other frequent Turkish friend, was not invited. His feet smelled which deemed him unworthy the visit. The speaker on the stage was [x y], the former secretary of transport under Clinton. Ronald Reagan had just passed away so there was a sense of nostalgia. There were also some references to Dean's campaign. The speaker was an American Japanese who spent his time in the internment camps and who spoke to his friendship with other white professor who was present in the audience. At the end he told us that the only words who wanted us to remember was to "dream, dream, dream!". Afterwards we went to the Polish restaurant at the [6th] street. Kamil insisted that I shouldn't pay. We took a photo and ended up at Mickey's in West Hollywood.

[Scrap #10] I was at the pay phone by the college explaining to Mom and Dad about my dilema with going to Berkeley and potentially having to take a summer school. The ticket with LOT had already been booked and we were supposed to go on our trip to Turkey together. The ticket was refundable but the trip was symbolic. Dad promised to take me to Ankara once I get my first tooth. I didn't want to hurt Mom's feelings. "Don't worry about us." A few days earlier I had three Heinekens at the bar in Santa Monica pier to mark  thedecision that I decided to accept Berkeley. The acceptance letter came with a blue folder stuck in a large yellow envelope. It had been what I dreamed of and I couldn't say no. I didn't have a heart to tell Amy about it. She had hidden the letter from UCLA under the table and waited for me when I got back home. I took a bus and sort of touched the walls on the UCLA campus. Another move, another uncertainty. Delayed by a few months so I could go home and think about how I am going to pay that all.