Over the Atlantic, emotions, US customs, visa

That is it, I am now flying over the Atlantic, on my way to Los Angeles via Toronto. Apparently there is no more difference between the U.S. and Canadian customs, and therefore I will actually enter both Canada and the U.S. once in Toronto, all at the same time.

I was not sure what to think, to rejoice that one major step will now be eliminated, and I will only have to suffer the pain of being frightened at the customs only once, or if I should start to worry that perhaps my dear Mr. Bush has decided to take over the Canadian borders and, Canadians being so nice for no good reason, being in their nature, have let Bush take over. My only hope is that it will make it much simpler for me to get my visa.

Although everything is completely legal, you never know what will happen, when the law is still in the hands of people who enjoy wrecking entire lives just to prove to themselves they have a little power in this world. Their doubts is all they need to stop you right there from accomplishing your destiny. However, after years of experience dealing with European democracy and immigration, I am not afraid anymore.

Twice in the plane I had a panic attack, finally having a glimpse of what it is that I have done. It seems to me that I never had the chance to think this through, to understand the implications. Hell, I had not even started to pack last night at 9 pm. As a result I did not sleep last night and at the moment I am like suspended in time, since we are going back in time at the right speed for time to stop.

So God knows how I will survive the day until we reach Los Angeles. I have become so emotional, this morning before we left I picked up the Myrmicat, squeezed her and could not stop crying. It was so embarrassing, because of the taxi driver. Stephen appeared quite pleased at my reaction, it was like a proof that I actually love them, and was not just abandoning them without caring.

You work and work without ever stopping, five days a week, three hours of travel a day. And on the weekend you are rushing all these things you feel you need to do to make this life worthwhile, otherwise there would only be work and sleep, and then, in these conditions, death would be most welcomed. So at the end of your seven days, you realize that you never even took one minute to think about what you were actually doing. You just went over all the obstacles as if they were just little hurdles, and everything would be better afterwards. But then I woke up yesterday and realized I had to abandon my life after 10 years, the person I love and my cats, to go and live somewhere alone, in a place I know nothing about!

Is it a mistake? I just can’t believe it, it was so easy, it really fell from the sky. And if in a few hours I get my visa, then really it was so effortless, you wonder what happened to the concept of adventure.

And I want it to be painless, in the end it makes no difference to what you learn in life if you are just confronted by walls, after walls. There are other things that need to be learned, some other goals which need to be reached. Useless to spend your life worrying about immigration, writing about it as if it was your whole life and nothing else ever existed. You might as well go home then, since it would definitely not be worth it.

There are other things I can learn in L.A., and I hope I will learn them without it being too painful. After all, I am there to write and reach out. Perhaps I am the one who has an experience to communicate, and L.A., as I was saying before, will give me that chance.

Though at the moment it does look hopeless, stuck working for a conference company. It is at any rate much better than being a waiter. Or is it? I could not even be a waiter if I wanted to now. Only high profile and high paying jobs can keep me in the United States, since it is the only way for me to get a visa.