tags and plates
every once in a while i would see rides carrying the red scripted
golden state handwriting out here in the east coast: california.
i would most often than not marvel at the nature of their
presence. were they in the region for a vacation, a job transfer,
an impulsive road trip, or here to set a new domicile on a permanent
basis? did they come from my area, in the valley or san
diego? cali is such a big state that it is not like the tri-state
areas wherein one could be in a different state in an hour or so.
i’ve been used to the fact that it takes about five hours to drive from
sf to la, 12 hours or less to sd, the time depending on how much the
driver wants to see his or her car flying on every inclined bridge.
being sheltered in a biosphere where state freeways stretch to almost a
half a day’s drive, i have never imagined myself living elsewhere until
the means to an end was in a different place. and so much for tim
bedore’s ‘the next four years’ commentary on marketplace.
of course i’d get a smile or smirk in my face that i’m not alone.
we are encompassed of 50 states, with people migrating everywhere like
rabbits doing their thing. not to mention the entire world, or
even the universe. we are not alone with the exodus process… it’s out there. *enter
x-files theme song
it is archetypal. i’m met people who came from oklahoma, had
their kids live in japan and all around europe, and some of them lived
in the outskirsts of manhattan or a small town outside texas. sons
and daughters of diplomats, for instance, who already know how to speak
5 major languages because they’ve been moving around the world every 2 years. or
someone whose parents were from malaysia, graduated highschool in
cali, college in colorado, and is now living in new jersey, with him
and his wife visiting dc for work. thus, kevin bacon’s six
degrees of separation. i can loosely call it ‘friendster’.
i could approach my people, all strangers just for the sake of
endorsing their presence like we came from the same place, and they
could either acknowledge me or give me the finger, treating me like the
same nincompoop who would approach the wrong type of girls with the
wrong kind of attitude at a club. it’s just funny. or maybe
i myself find it funny. thus, i chose not be sheltered or even
live within the midst of my comfort level, i chose to go out. and
like other people, here i am. now where was i?
i am still awestruck, sort of like having an aneurysm, while noticing
tags that are quite manifest from the regular tri-state ones. and
these are just the simple yet amazing pleasures of life’s
thought-process. like understanding stanley and danko’s uncanny
dissertation of ‘the millionaire next door,’ i would have thought of
anything less. but because of that, my license plate still says
‘california,’ until mva/dmv tells me to give it up.