Come On, Irene

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In case you haven't heard, a category 3 hurricane, a vicious woman by the name of Irene, is ripping up the Bahamas on its way up the east coast. Expected to hit Boston this weekend, the bitch better clear out next Friday. The first time I traveled to Brazil, a little hussy known as Katrina was tearing things up in the Gulf. We'd had a hell of a storm here in New Hampshire, too; parking lots flooded, roads destroyed, trees broken and flung around like used toothpicks. Weather Gods, you listening? I'd like to get out of the country without being tossed from the sky, please.

So. Yes. One week out. Still a lot to do. Trying to stay busy and not think of how I will miss family and friends. Beyond excited to see my girl. Maria's been down there since the beginning of July. Any time apart sucks. It doesn't get easier as time goes on. You never get used to it.

In jiu-jitsu related news, the IBJJF Boston Open is tomorrow. I am not competing (limited training last month, sore ankle, unwilling to pay $102 to enter), but BJJ Revolution teammate, training partner, and friend Paul Gelinas is fighting in the open weight division as a purple belt. Paul kicks ass. I don't think he'll need me to coach him, but I'll certainly be there for moral support.

Then, of course, UFC Rio tomorrow night with a gang of good friends. Who are your picks?

That Damned Subconscious

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I had the dream last night. You know, the one where you're in school and you've forgotten the combination to your locker. Or you have a huge test to study for but you can't find your textbooks. Or you're late for class, and no matter how fast you try to run, gravity is against you. It clings to your limbs and weighs down your feet as if you're slogging through quicksand. In last night's version, I was to meet one of my mentors, John Searles, at a haunted hotel in the snowy New Hampshire north country. Our meeting set for one o'clock, sharp, because John had a plane to catch, I had somehow lost track of time. At three o'clock, panicking, I ran through gravitational quicksand to the parlor where he'd said to meet, but John, of course, was gone.

Researchers seem to agree that these types of dreams commonly represent worry or anxiety about a major life change. At 23 days out from departure, this is the first time I've had the dream since planning my three-and-a-half month trial move to Brazil. As more and more checkmarks are added to The Official Preparatory To Do List™, as each day creeps by, it sinks in deeper that this is actually happening.

Still, the worries remain lodged in the subconscious, chained to a metal bed in a dark room, but that's where they will stay. I refuse to let worry dictate how I'll live my life. There is simply too much to experience, too much to learn about in this world, and so little time to do it.

Almost There

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Just over three weeks now before I hop a plane in Boston, connect in Houston, and hopefully end up in Sao Paulo without being dumped into the ocean (or the earth) on the way. Let's get these pilots some training, eh?

I finally received my renewed visa last week, this time valid for ten years. Brazil is part of a reciprocity program with the United States, which means that they require U.S. citizens to travel with a visa simply because we require Brazilian citizens to have a visa when they travel to the U.S. This is expected to end next year, in light of new "business opportunities" (that is, the dollar signs Washington saw in the massive oil deposit recently discovered off of the coast of Rio de Janeiro), as well as the 2014 World Cup and 2016 Olympics in Brazil.

Of course, I still had to pay $140 for a new visa, even though it will most likely be unnecessary next year. Perfect timing. Sigh.