A-leavin' on a jet plane

So I think I've been a tad bit whiny on here (and in my life) lately, my apologies. As usual, my life has been a fabulous and well decorated roller coaster. I can't believe how chock full o' stuff--both amazing and sucky--the last six weeks have been! And now I'm about to get on a plane in a few hours and head home to my family for three weeks. I haven't been back to the U.S. in a year!! And while I mentioned in my last post that I was somewhat nervous about this trip (see? WHINY!!!!), those feelings have been replaced with feelings of complete and utter joy and excitement.

I can't wait to show America the lessons that Asia has taught me. Seriously. I'm like a preschooler running home to my mom to show her my ingenious finger painting. And while the familiar will, in fact, feel unfamiliar after such a long absence (and this will be strange at first), I also know that the familiar contains the long overdue TLC that I desperately need!!

I will miss Asia while I'm gone, but I sure am hoping for a white Christmas!!

Catch ya on the flip side (quite literally)!

Packaging

I wrote these paragraphs at the bottom of my "More Things" post, but I think they fit better as their own post....

To tell the truth, I'm a little nervous about my trip home. I mean, it's going to be amazing and wonderful and incredible and exactly what I need, but I remember feeling weird last Christmas when I came back after only five months. I felt homesick for Asia, and I felt like I had been gone for such a long time. And while this year I feel as though I'm one of those crazy Everest climbers who somehow manages to summit sans toes and weighing about 95 exhausted pounds as I finish the climb of this year, I also know that what used to be familiar is going to be completely unfamiliar. And even though I have moments of extreme and consuming loneliness here, I've gotten used to it all the same, and it may be a bit of a shock and adjustment having lots and lots of people around me. It's like presenting a starving person with an all-you-can-eat buffet. In those situations people will literally eat themselves to death. And, um, I know I'm not going to DIE from being home and surrounded by loved ones (quite the opposite!). But I think it will be an adjustment. And in that time I will also have to get used to the idea of living back in the U.S. again. Things do get hard here, I get tired of eating dinner by myself every night, and I feel like I can't appreciate my incredible surroundings because of my various physical laments, but it's still home. And even through my situationally-induced mixed feelings I've puzzled out a deep and devoted love for this place.

I'm not the same Brooke I was when I got on the plane to return to Thailand in the early, frost-covered, sparkling days of January, 2008. And, sure, a lot of these lessons did not come in the beautiful, exotic packaging that I had hoped they would. But they came, nonetheless.

More Things....

I head back to the U.S. in less than a week (!), and I will be there for three weeks. I can't WAIT.

Whatever crazy virus I had that attacked my stomach is now resting comfortably in my upper respiratory tract. Great. I just need to get home and get some good ol' fashioned TLC.

The next week is going to be an insane whirlwind. I have a gazillion things due, plus parent-teacher conferences and report cards, plus pretty much all of my Christmas shopping to accomplish, as I've been too sick or injured to do any of it. And so, please pardon my absence from Blogland as I prepare for my journey home.

Here is a list of things that I have not done in a year, and which I plan on doing next week (YAY!!):

In all of 2008 (minus a week or two), I have NOT....

*Set foot in the U.S. (although I guess technically that trip to the Embassy was setting foot on U.S. soil....)

*Seen my family (save for my sister, who came out for a brief visit in October!!)

*Watched a T.V. show (yes, I've watched DVDs of T.V. shows, and about a gazillion videos of the presidential debates and conventions on cnn.com. However, I have not watched an actual, live T.V. show in a year)

*Eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich

*Walked into a store and taken it for granted that the person behind the counter would be able to understand what I was saying

*Driven a car

*Read an American newspaper (actual PAPER, not my daily online browsings....)

*Eaten Taco Bell (now, I've gone years without eating Taco Bell before, but somehow knowing that I couldn't have Taco Bell even if I wanted it makes it seem all the more alluring....)

*Taken a proper bath in an actual tub (I can't WAIT to do that....)

*Worn a jacket

*Contributed in any way to the U.S. GDP (unless you count iTunes)

*Used my U.S. cell phone

*Listened to the radio

*Heard a Minnesota accent

*Had any idea who/what any of the current "hot" actors/actresses/T.V. shows/bands/musicians are

*Taken a drink right out of the tap

*Gone to an ATM, put in my PIN, and had it spit out U.S. dollars

Things that are awesome....

Alrighty. I've gotta counterbalance to utter negativity of that last post. I am feeling much better, thank you very much, and so today is a great day to make a list of things that are AWESOME!!

*I didn't throw up today!!

*The water filler upper thingy in the lobby of my condo. It provides a cheap and easy means of acquiring drinkable water AND recycling the plethora of plastic bottles that Bangkok churns out and swallows each day

*White tea

*Motorcycle taxis

*Learning Thai using the Rosetta Stone that Peter purchased for me, oh, over a year ago. I no longer have time to go to classes, but this is an excellent alternative!

*Sizzling morning glory

*Thai massage

*The paper in my journal is made out of elephant dung. Awesome.

*Since living in Asia I've been to: Thailand (obvs), Laos, Burma, Vietnam, Cambodia (three times!!), Malaysia (twice!!), Singapore, and Bali

*Thai orchids

*Johnson's "Melt Away Stress Daily Calming Lotion"

*Pearls

*Shell necklaces

*Flowy skirts

*Silk photo albums

*Hot chocolate from the Duc de Praslin Chocolate Shop

*Reading memoirs

*My physical therapist!! When she found out that I had had the stomach flu four days ago she immediately booked an appointment for me with another doctor. She said that she thought I had missed my appointments during the last few days because I was busy. When I told her it was because I was sick, she said that she was going to call me from now on to make sure that I am okay if I miss another appointment. On a separate day she also told me that I should write a book.

*The Superhuman Relationship that is Peter's and mine. We've been on opposite sides of the world for a year and a half (a YEAR AND A HALF!!) and are still goin' strong with no signs of stopping.

*Post cards

*Handmade paper

*Taking pictures

*Fairy lights

*ASIA!!!!!

*The fact that I am going to be home in a little over a week :)

What's awesome in your world??

Pukey McPukerson....

I was up all night with a godawful stomach flu. Apparently it's going around, as when I called to cancel my physical therapy appointment today they said that I was the fourth person to cancel on account of the stomach flu.

Why am I blogging about my stomach flu?? Because I want it documented that 2008 has been the biggest bitch-slap of a year ever. EVER. It started with vomit, and it's ending with vomit. And if I can survive this year, then I deserve a medal and a ginger ale.

There's not a whole lot worse than being in a foreign country all by yourself with the stomach flu. Well, maybe being on the other side of the world from your boyfriend when his parents died, or losing a good friend, or a classmate, or injuring a foot, or having to deal with heaping piles of some peoples' bullshit.

2008, you are no friend of mine. I just want to come home. I think now is the time that I need to look through photo albums and re-read old journals to remind myself of JUST HOW LUCKY I AM to be living here, having all of the amazing experiences that I am having, and learning the lessons I never, ever would have learned otherwise.

I am lucky. I am blessed. I am a total badass.

It just doesn't feel like it today.

The Gas Taxi

At the end of my very first physical therapy appointment (for an injury I sustained while attempting an advanced dismount from an elephant’s hind leg), I hobbled through the sliding glass doors and into a taxi. I had to go to the Emporium—a very large and very posh shopping mall—to pick up a few supplies for school the next day. As the taxi started winding its way down the narrow, congested streets, weaving around motorcycles and motorized street vendor carts, I pulled out my bandage and started wrapping my foot in the slow, patient figure eights that the doctor had shown me.

When we got to Sukhumvit Road, the traffic thickened and oozed slowly, and the intersections were filled with the brazen puzzle pieces of cars squeezing themselves together, attempting to insert themselves into the cluttered, fatty artery of road with the hopes of somehow inching forward in spite of the impossibly long and ruthless stare of the red light.

This being Thailand, the traffic is silent. Noticeably absent are the jarring exhalations of horns, the spurts of profanity, and the crunch of impatient fender benders. The traffic is constant and organic. It is a living, breathing entity in this city. It is unavoidable, and requires complete surrender. It will have you. It will ensnare you and absorb you like oxygen particles, like nutrients.

And I was happily sitting in the back of the taxi, elevating my wrapped and swollen foot, watching the static faces of the drivers and passengers in the cars next to me. Not a flicker of frustration. Not a nervous stroking of a chin, or biting of nails, or fidgeting with the radio. Nothing. My taxi driver stared straight ahead, occasionally stretching and yawning, as we slithered our way into minuscule spaces and impossible angles.

After an hour of inching and stopping, inching and stopping, inching and stopping, we were finally half a block away from my destination. My driver gestured to the looming, luminous building up ahead, and pantomimed walking with his index and middle fingers, pleading with his eyes as his fingers took small steps along the dashboard.

Walking would mean having to endure the dangers of the Bangkok sidewalks. It would mean enduring the holes and puddles and grates and stray dogs and beggars and unreasonably high curbs. It would mean having to take staccato steps to avoid colliding with the wide varieties of metallic vehicles that command the streets here. It would mean negating the progress of my physical therapy session with a few achy, treacherous steps. I pointed to my elevated foot, smiled, and shook my head. My taxi driver erupted in laughter. “Okay, okay,” he said.

A few minutes later a godawful smell filled the taxi. Now, Bangkok is a city of many unsavory smells. There is the smell of festering garbage sitting in casual, open piles on the curb while the humidity provides a catalyst for the putrid decomposition. There is the smell of all different varieties of exhaust. There is the smell of meat cooking on charcoal grills or over open an open flame, right next to the pile of festering garbage. And every once in awhile, one or more of these smells will seep in through the aircon vents as the taxi shudders in traffic. This was not one of those times.

The smell of my driver’s gas was so robust as it ballooned to fill the entire interior of the taxi that I could TASTE it in the back of my throat. What in holy hell had this man been eating? Maybe some egg? Some basil? Definitely some fish or squid or shrimp. DEAR GOD, I thought, I am going to asphyxiate and die right here in this taxi. My obituary will read that I was gassed to death while I was on my way to pick up some mosaic tiles for a project with my preschoolers who are now so incredibly sad because they no longer have a teacher.

This being Thailand, I knew that I couldn’t roll down the window to let in some fresh (albeit highly polluted) air. The damage to the driver’s “face” and dignity would just be too much for my conscience to bear (though he clearly hadn’t thought about the damage to my olfactories when he unleashed his noisome fumes). Thirty seconds went by. Forty. Fifty. One minute. We hadn’t moved one inch.

“Y’know, on second thought,” I said with a strange voice, as my throat was multitasking in its attempt to allow me to speak while also suppressing my gag reflex, “I think I’ll go ahead and walk from here.”

Fabulous Day

Things that are awesome about today:

1.) It's the last day of NaBloPoMo!!!!!!!!!!! No worries, I'll be back tomorrow with more bloggy goodness :)

2.) I have discovered that morning glory, sauteed with garlic and peppers in an oyster sauce, is the most amazing thing ever. EVER. Plus, I love eating something with the name "morning glory." It makes me feel like a magical fairy.

3.) I spent three hours in a chocolate shop, where I wrote in my journal the entire time while savoring two (two!) cups of rich hot chocolate and several creamy truffles. Chocolate+writing=perfection.

4.) I had an amazing two hour massage where my brain turned off and I was transformed into a completely relaxed puddle of goo.

5.) I am learning to meditate and speak Thai. I practiced both of these things today.

6.) I'll be back in the U.S.--after a YEAR away--in less than two weeks :)

7.) Thailand is more than a little behind the times when it comes to music. The soundtrack in most stores and bars and hip restaurants features songs from about 1996-2002. However, I did manage to hear a small clip of this song today, and it's rather catchy. I downloaded it immediately. It's called New Soul by Yael Naim, and it is my new favorite song. I can't help but find myself relating to these lyrics:

I'm a new soul
I came to this strange world
hoping I could learn a bit 'bout how to give and take.
but since I came here,
felt the joy and the fear
finding myself making every possible mistake.

AWESOME. Mistakes are wonderful, wonderful things sometimes. I am finding a ton of joy in my mistakes lately. Nothing is ever wasted.

Peace out, November!! You were QUITE a month!

Arc

There's a story behind this poem, which I'll write very soon in another post (though you may want to look at these pictures for some context). For now, enjoy!

We could both feel it
Fear--chemical and rich
Like lemongrass being crushed underfoot
The hairs on my neck
Like down on the throat of a bird
Standing upright--undotted i's
The hairs on her head
Like broken violin strings, curling like fingers into shy fists
Curving around the wakes of my fingers
And then
Around the bend came two slices of tusks
Framed in green, in gray
Like broken moons, like fenders
And from deep in her belly, a scared growl
A groan
An apology
And I cocked my ear, listening
My minuscule ear bones straining like baby wings
My knuckles whitening around the leathery flaps of her ears
And then,
A message
A transmission...
Her head was an arc between past and future
Her movement, my movement
A strange dust rose as she shook
Mud and roots and growth filled my mouth
As I hit the ground
Gasping, laughing
Safe
And the face of my Teacher
Bent, creased, parched with knowing
Smiled with tusks instead of teeth
And the space between danger and safety,
Known and unknown
Was paved with air
My skin was left behind
And the mud was a deeply lined palm
Breath stopped, then started again
The trees and the minutes were elephant ears
Mapping the future in folds
Filling the dark caverns with a simple, timeless faith.

Soaring to the top of the self-help bestseller list......

This has been a grueling, grueling, grueling, GRUELING month. And the next two weeks are going to be the hardcore cherry on top of my workaholic sundae. While I've pretty much just resigned myself to the fact that I will most likely spend the majority of my remaining months in Thailand working 12 hour days and continuing the somewhat solitary existence that I lead over here, I am strangely at peace with this information. However, the big goal and priority when I return after my three weeks in the States (and when my freakin' foot is finally completely healed and I can walk without a spastic limp again) will be to get back into the habit of taking a trip once a month. I'm so lucky that I've had so many wonderful opportunities to travel, but it still needs to remain a priority.

I feel productive. I feel a sense of accomplishment. Sadly, I am not feeling terribly creative at the moment, but some things are starting to stir and some voices are starting to emerge from the deep. I just have to be a little bit patient.

The big thing that I have to also continue to do?? Stop taking work "things" so personally. I throw my entire being into my work. It is my passion and my love and to say that I am driven is an understatement. BUT....even still, I am learning that there is a choice in whether or not I allow myself to be consumed entirely by whatever workplace drama or change or interaction or criticism or imperfection or unfinished task happens to be at the forefront of my mind. And it's empowering to know that, in any situation (be it with family members or friends or significant others or that plant that is slowly dying and your can FEEL it judging you....), even if someone else wants you to feel like shit because he or she just needs a dog to kick, so to speak, YOU DON'T HAVE TO TAKE THAT ON. You can just shrug, smile, breathe it out, and be on your merry way, leaving the other person (or plant!!) to simmer in his or her own putrid eau du issues/insecurity/unhappiness.

Wow. I think I may just be one step away from writing my own self-help book. Ah well....I'm learning SO MUCH every day, and I'm grateful for these lessons. While they may be practically unbearable to read at times, I hope that they can at least be helpful. I've wasted so much of my life worrying about what other people have thought of me/are currently thinking about me/might think about me in the future, and so much energy beating myself up for not being perfect. And, well, I think I'm done with that now. And while it's strangely difficult to shut the door on who you have been, for better or worse, and on certain unproductive behaviors to which you have actually become addicted, just knowing that it is POSSIBLE, and that you CAN change your entire life in small moves and shifts means that suddenly the unproductive energy becomes shifted into a fertile energy. A breeding ground for so much possibility.

Double wow. This self-help book would TOTALLY be a bestseller. "A breeding ground for so much possibility?" Awesome self-help speak.

Bob, in all of his wisdom, left a wonderful comment on my last post about being most thankful for the "choices I have yet to make." Here, here.

Happy Sucksgiving

Alrighty...in spite of the title, let it be known that I'm staying positive, and I am just accepting things as they come. Sadly, my Thanksgiving plans (which consisted of going to a pub with an amazing Thanksgiving buffet all by myself and trying not to feel sad and pathetic) have been quashed thanks to an alleged curfew, which is due to a possible military coup that is expected to happen tonight. The airports here have been closed for two days as a grand gesture of protest, and there's a simultaneously quiet and frantic energy in the air tonight. I have opted for the delivery of my Thanksgiving feast, which I will eat on my bed while watching old episodes of Six Feet Under.

Peter lost both of his parents in June, making this the first Thanksgiving that he would spend without them. Or without any family at all. Never one to throw himself a pity party, he instead hopped on a plane bound for the Bahamas in order to enjoy a few days of contemplative relaxation. We spoke briefly yesterday after he arrived, and he said that it was a ghost town down there. Due to the economic downturn, people are not traveling to exotic destinations to celebrate the holiday. The thought of him sitting on a deserted beach all by himself makes me cry.

So we're both spending this Thanksgiving alone with our thoughts, without friends or family or acquaintances or fancy silverware or football. And mark my words: This will be the last Thanksgiving that I will ever voluntarily spend away from Peter. My partner in crime, the other half of my heart, the love of my life will never ever have to sit on the beach alone, without a belly full of turkey, without me by his side.

So many changes, all in just one year.

I hope that the political drama that is about to unfold, which will happen when I am nestled in my bed after gorging myself on my Thanksgiving Feast for One, is bloodless and painless. But I guess that is wishing for the impossible.

There is precious little in this world that we can control. Really, truly control. We can control our actions and our love and our words. We can control our perspectives and our nourishment and the ways in which we nourish others.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the U.S. Savor the peace, savor your loved ones, savor this loving and lovely tradition.

And Happy Thanksgiving to my baby. A year from now, this will be but a pinprick in the vast constellation of our wonderful life.

Wordless Wednesday: Hooray for Hefelumps!!

These pictures were taken at the Maesa Elephant Camp in Chiang Mai, where I did a three-day mahout training course (see here and here for previous entries about that....the entry about day three is coming soon!). This is Wanpen, my elephant. Isn't she beautiful? I fell madly, madly in love with her!!

Sitar

I met Cayla and JJ rather randomly. Yay for happy accidents! I was at a health food store, and Cayla invited me to sit down with her and one of her coworkers while we ate our spicy organic mushroom curry. I liked her instantly, and in fact had to stop myself from doing an impromptu happy dance after meeting this awesome new friend. I met her boyfriend JJ a few nights later when the three of us went to an art opening. They rather quickly became two of my favorite people, and frequently invited me over for home cooked meals and Cuban rum. We had conversations about environmentalism and teaching and art and anything interesting that you could ever imagine.

Cayla is a ridiculously talented artist, specializing in printmaking, and JJ is an amazing photographer. I bought a piece from each of them when they had a show in Bangkok, and they are most definitely my favorite pieces of art that I own.

One night, after a meal of vegetarian quesadillas and mango salsa (all made from scratch), JJ rolled out a rug for me on the floor, and I sat in front of him, completely transfixed, while he played the sitar. And, well, it was transcendent and unforgettable.

I wrote this in my journal the next day.

The song starts out slowly, filled with longing, filled with notes like an absentminded humming. The kind of humming used during cleaning and hair brushing and before sleep. And the room is filled with furniture and rugs, and the sitar is filled with knobs and fingers, and the music starts to carve a space inside of my head like a fingerprint in coconut paste, and my thoughts are pushed to the very back where they start to buzz like panicked moths who are millimeters away from electric death. And the notes emerge in a crystalline exhalation. Auditory incense and sacred breath. And the furniture and rugs are coated in it like a sparkling, whirling dust and suddenly the boundaries and angles and corners and doors are blurred and united. The moths in my head start pushing and flapping and flipping until the music gets faster and thicker and they are stunned into a devotional silence and fall to the floor of my brain stem, still crackling with electricity but as powerless as leaves. And I'm trying to write a poem in my head but the notes come through me and carry the words away like seeds and the sitar no longer has knobs and fingers but has become a windpipe and vocal cords, a conduit of Divine Voice.

It is the Throat of God.

The strings are a map of the cosmos and they speak and declare their truth as a love song to Emptiness and Creation and I am no longer just listening but my entire body has become the sound, is absorbing sound and speaking a stillness and the Throat is singing faster now and the cosmos whirl inside of me until my organs are bleeding light and my pores have become a million mouths agape in exultation and there is no more furniture or rugs because this room is everything and nothing, swallowed whole like fire, and my mind cannot grasp or clutch or hold onto anything and each second is an entire universe and I think and hour passed before I realized the music had stopped.

And my senses slowly rediscovered themselves, and the barking dogs and Thai conversations peppered the air once again, and the pattern of the rug found its way back to my retinas, and the smell of the khlong came back through the window, and my lungs started breathing on their own again.

Namaste.

Yum!

I have decided, after seeing a street vendor cart full of 'em, that I simply cannot leave Thailand without first consuming some crispy, cooked insects. Crickets, to be exact. I am going to keep my eyes peeled for carts selling them, and when I find one, it's sooooo on!! I'll keep ya posted....

Something....

Something that is embarrassing:

When you are hobbling from your physical therapy session to the ATM and digging in your wallet for your ATM card, and therefore not paying any attention whatsoever, and you collide with the chest-high planter of fake orchids, which topples to the floor with an absolutely deafening porcelain smack against the marble and you, able to only balance effectively on one foot, end up toppling right on top of it, straddling it in order to keep from rolling under it and you end up appearing as though you are perhaps sexually violating the oh so voluptuous planter of fake orchids. You consider asphyxiating yourself with a fake orchid in order to escape the embarrassment of it all.

Something that is awesome:

Thai grocery stores have a section devoted entirely to monk offerings. Such offerings may include towels, toothbrushes, toothpaste, bandages, incense, candles, and other basic necessities. Sometimes you can buy prepackaged compilations that are wrapped up beautifully in fake gold.

On Suckiness

Whew....I'm barely getting this post in under the wire!! Even though it's technically just before noon here in Bangkok on Monday, November 24th, it's still Sunday, November 23rd in the U.S. (at least for another few minutes), and my computer is set to U.S. time, and NaBloPoMo is set to U.S. time, so this still counts as being on time :)

I'm not gonna lie: it's been a rough week. There's just been some ridiculous stuff, and my foot is still not healing. I was finally able to get an appointment with a foot specialist, who x-rayed it YET AGAIN (this is x-ray number three), agreed with the previous x-rays that it is not, in fact, broken or fractured, and stroked his chin thoughtfully while he gazed at the little swollen stuffed sausages that my toes have been for the past month. He finally looked at me with a sweet smile and very serious eyes, and said, "Brooke, you have GOT TO STAY OFF OF YOUR FOOT. I'm going to give you crutches. You need to stop using your foot!"

My response? "Well, you can GIVE them to me, but I can't use them. I teach preschool, and I have to be on my feet, and my classroom is upstairs, so I have to be constantly going up and down the stairs. And there's no elevator. Is there another option?"

He smiled kindly and put his hand on my arm. "Why don't I write you a note so that you can miss work for three days? You really, really need to rest your foot."

I almost burst into tears right there in the office. "Well, there's NO ONE who can cover for me at work. You see, I'm designing the curriculum for the school, and I'm the only teacher."

He just nodded thoughtfully, smiled again, and signed me up for physical therapy. Sadly, it's going to cost me a small fortune and has all but obliterated my budget for Christmas presents.

To my friends and loved ones, I apologize most profusely.

I think my injured foot has been bothering me more than I have allowed myself to admit. I've had to drop my personal trainer, stop my belly dance classes, and cancel my travel plans to Angkor Wat. I'm also not attending any social events, which means that I haven't been meeting new people, which means that I know very few people here since my friends have departed. I've still been hobbling on my foot and running errands and taking Sunday strolls, but now even that has to stop. My life, at least for the next three weeks, will consist of hobbling into a taxi to go to work, working, hobbling into a taxi to go to physical therapy, and hobbling into a taxi to go home. The realization of this is incredibly depressing. I have no close friends here. No allies. No one who is understanding of my plight, save for my very sweet doctor and the security guards who go out of their way to hail taxis for me so that I don't have to walk to the street.

Now, there's a rather large upside to this. I'm meditating daily, sometimes twice a day. I'm writing constantly. I'm reading books that are stimulating me creatively and intellectually. And I've come to this realization: There is no point in complaining about the hand that you've been dealt. None. Because, well, most of the time there is really nothing you can do to change it. I can't go back and change the decisions that I've made (both large and small) that have brought me to this point, or change my decision to dismount an elephant from its hind leg. I can't change the fact that, due to the crappy exchange rate and my expensive student loan payments (TOTALLY worth every cent, and I would have paid DOUBLE what I did if I had to!!!) and my expensive plane ticket home and now the physical therapy treatments, my financial situation is not what I had hoped it would be at this point. And, well, I can't change the fact that 2008 has been an absolute shitstorm of loss and grief. And complaining about it, moping about it, crying about it.....that is just no longer helpful to me at this point.

That is the lesson that is coming from all of this. It's so easy to get sucked into the negative things, to dwell in them, to furnish a comfy space within a dark and fretting psyche, when in fact, it's just not NECESSARY. This is, however, not to say that one shouldn't feel one's feelings, or that one should deny the fact that something sucks. To NOT do that would also be equally unhealthy (those people who run around with those manic eyes, saying "EVERYTHING'S GREAT! EVERYTHING'S GREAT!", but you can kinda tell that everything's NOT all that great?? Yeah, those people give me the willies....). But after admitting that something sucks, all you can do is move on from there and figure out how you are going to cleave to the joy that you have with all of your might in spite of sucky situations.

Peter has provided the most incredible support that a girl could ever ask for, and he reminded me of this lesson this morning. After I completed a long-winded rant, he, ever so gently, just said, "Baby, you have a right to these complaints. You do. I'm so proud of you for getting through all of this. But the complaining just upsets you. I'm cutting you off!" We then proceeded to talk about the amazing things that we have planned for Christmas break, and the incredible life that we are going to have together.

Hmmm. I'm sitting in the lobby of my condo near the restrooms, and it's quite possible that the plumbing has malfunctioned and backed up because all of a sudden there is the most GODAWFUL SMELL coming from there. The always fabulous and plentiful breeze that blows constantly through the lobby is not helping matters.

So yes. Sometimes we can't always have the best hand (or, um, foot), or be surrounded by the smell of roses. Sometimes things just suck. But then they get better, and the sucking is only temporary, and the joy that can be maintained through the suckiness is just that much more sweet.

Saturday Meme!!

Firsts, Lasts, Nows

Firsts
First kiss: This guy named Jared who had really chapped lips. It was a highly unpleasant experience. I was in sixth grade, and several years would pass before I would attempt to kiss another boy....
First state you lived in: Minnesota!
First boy/girl you liked: Apparently when I was four I had quite the huge crush on a boy named Hart. I guess I even kissed him. I was always a bit of a brazen little thing....
First boy/girl you loved: Peter :)
First book you couldn't put down: I have been reading so many amazing books lately!! But the first one....I think that would have to be Charlotte's Web. That book made me fall in love with reading.
First friend you couldn't wait to see: Probably the first best friend I ever had. Her name is Lindsay, and we still keep in touch!!
First IM of the day: None today
First SN: Um, what's that?????
First email: I got a fabulous one from my friend Lauren this morning.
First online journal: That I ever read?? My friend Krissa's blog. Le Petit Hiboux (it's on my sidebar....the website where I'm filling this out is not letting me link to it, for some reason...)
First band you loved: Milli Vanilli. That was also my first concert, which I attended with Lindsay when I was in third grade.
First poster you bought: See above.
First band member you obsessed about: See above.
First song you loved of your current favorite band: I don't really have a current favorite band.
Lasts
Last kiss: I kissed Peter goodbye at the airport when he left in August. Wow. My last kiss was in AUGUST!!!!
Last hug: My sister hugged me goodbye when she left in October. Man. I am starved for hugs right now.....
Last word said: "soon" (as in, "see you soon")
Last book read (all the way): Into Thin Air
Last IM: From my friend JJ
Last person IMed: See above
Last online journal entry: Yesterday
Last TV show seen: An old episode of How I Met Your Mother
Last commercial seen: It was in Thai. To be honest, I have no idea what it was advertising. It was a little strange....
Last person you spoke to: My friend/roommate/coworker
Last CD bought: Sheesh.....it's been years and years since I bought an actual CD. I honestly have no idea.....
Last song heard: Mountain Hare Krishna by Krishna Das
Last thought: That spring roll tasted a little funky and I certainly hope it doesn't decide to jettison itself from my digestive tract later tonight.....
Last word heard: Goodbye!
Now
Current song listening to/singing: None
Current website you're surfing: Bzoink, where I got this li'l survey....
Current book you're reading: The Boleyn Inheritance. I've recently become obsessed with the Tudors (Henry VIII in particular)
Current friend you're talking to: At this exact moment? Many of my friends are just waking up on the other side of the world right now....
Current rant: The fact that napkins here in Asia are completely tiny and useless. They are super thin and small. It's like you've been given a small square of one-ply toilet paper and it's supposed to get you through an entire, messy meal!!
Current rave: These fresh spring rolls that I've discovered....though that may change if this one that's clanging around in my belly makes me violently ill.....
Current obsession: Memoirs and historical fiction
Current love of your life: Peter. Forever and always :)
Current hair color: Uff da. I'm fully entering brunette territory after being a lifelong blonde. I hate it. I'm getting some supercute highlights before I go home again!
Current thought: I'm still stuck on the spring roll
Current font you love: Century Gothic. I made it the official font of our school.
Current shoe you're wearing: I'm indoors in Thailand. I am therefore wearing no shoes.
Current hair style: Lately I've been tying the hair back in a bun or a twist with a clip, and wearing an elastic headband. My hair does not do very good things in the climate here....
Current person you hate: Good grief!! Such a strong word!! I can honestly say that I don't hate anyone.

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The things she carried

I have a strange habit of collecting people. By that, I mean human figures. This strange hobby began in Philadelphia--in Chinatown, to be specific--with my friend Lauren. We had been the best of friends all through college and were about to split our paths in an awkward spread eagle across the country. I saw two little traveling Buddhas, Chinese-style, in a cluttered shop and bought them for us. Lauren, having been an avid collector of dolls for her entire life, was more than happy to add this smiling, pot-bellied little guy to her collection.

I can not emphasize enough here that I do not collect dolls. Dolls frighten me, even slightly more than birds. Well, ok. Nothing is more frightening than birds. I wasn't always this way, but an ex-boyfriend's phobia was so abnormally severe that I seem to have partially inherited it as a souvenir of our relationship.

Anyway.......

I thought that the Buddha was a nice little reminder of college, and of my friendship with Lauren. I started purchasing Buddhas in other significant places before major transitions: I bought one in Phoenix during one of the last nights that Andrew and I would occupy the same city (at least for a little while). I bought another in Sedona during my last trip up there with one of my gay boyfriends (no, not him or him....I know, I know....I'm a slut when it comes to the gay boyfriends!!). Another is from Cambridge (when I happened to stumble into a little hole-in-the-wall Tibetan shop while attempting to make a phone call and briefly escape the traffic sounds), and yet another is from an amazing trip to Cape Cod with some of my favorite people in the world.

After almost a year and a half in Asia, it appears as though I will be carrying an entire army back with me. I have three Thai-style Buddhas on my sacred altar, which are presided over by a beautiful Ganesha--Remover of Obstacles--and flanked by some water buffalo horns. I have a Buddha from Burma that is carved out of a special tree bark, which women grind into a powder and spread on their cheeks with a bit of perfume. Makeup, sunscreen, and moisturizer in one. I have THREE Buddhas from Cambodia--the Khmer-style Buddhas have full, mirthful lips and squared-off fingers and relaxed eyes and a sort of unrefined quality, and I could stare at them for hours. In my collection, one Buddha is sitting, one is standing, and one is reclining. They are carved out of wood and dusted with a gold coating, and they are hopeful and humble, just like the spirit of the place from whence they came. I have four Buddha heads: two small, one medium, and one GIGANTIC one that is awkwardly positioned next to my microwave. I have an apsara, a dancer, that sits in a corner and whose head is at the height of my knee when I lean over to dust her many bronze wrinkles and crevices and articulations. I have the heads (and necks) of two Karen "long necked" women from Burma carved out of a deep, thick wood. I have a band of musicians from Cambodia carved out of stone, a water puppet from Vietnam, and three spindly tribal figures from Bali that do not have clearly defined features, but appear to be deep in thought as their hands clutch their chins.

My favorites? The triad of friendly characters on my bedside table. A chunky little Ganesha with green pants, a small bronze Buddha with gold accents, and a pot-bellied Chinese-style Buddha from Vietnam that is carved out of stone. These guys have seen a lot. They've been silent witnesses to my various restless hobbies: crocheting, blogging, journaling, devouring books, and staring lifelessly at the television. They've watched the grief of this past year unfold, consume the bedsheets and my vocal chords, and then refold itself again neatly for another day. They've watched me as I organize the shiny sprawl of pictures and coins and tickets stubs from my various adventures into silk albums. They've seen my walls go from being completely barren to covered in treasures from my travels. They've heard me ask myself how I can survive another day. They've heard me ask myself how I will be able to leave this place one day.

They will all continue with me on my various journeys, safeguarding my memories, serving as reminders of the places where I have gone and the things that I have done all by myself**, with only these beautiful things for company.

*This is for Lauren, who inspired this hobby, and who, like the Buddhas, will also continue to travel with me throughout my life :)
*It should be noted that I was with Peter in Bali :)

Page 56

Page 56
Rules:
* Grab the book nearest you. Right now.
* Turn to page 56.
* Find the fifth sentence.
* Post that sentence along with these instructions in a note to your wall.
* Don't dig for your favorite book, the coolest, the most intellectual. Use the CLOSEST.

Alrighty.....this is terribly random, but, seeing as I am never one to pass up a fun game such as this, here is my fifth sentence on page 56 of the book that is closest to me:

"I could almost laugh at myself tonight, to think how low my spirits must be if I am wanting a letter from Amelia."

More grumbles.....

Alrighty. I have had an absolute crap day, and I'm still not feeling well. Sadly, I spent the last 30 minutes typing up what was turning out to be a rather splendid blog entry about why you should never trade houses with me. Even if it's for an amazing vacation experience. Seriously. Just don't do it.

I am now too tired and feeling too defeated to write the entry again. Were this any other month I would be able to just call it a night and not have to defend my sorry lack of decent blog writing. But, sadly, that ain't gonna cut it (hey....I wanted accountability!!! I just had no idea how insanely busy this month was going to be).

So I leave you with yet another sorry excuse for a blog post. I will try to be better tomorrow.

Tummy grumbles....

Sadly, after months and months of picture perfect health, Thailand has decided to smite me once again with a stomach malfunction. Ah, how I will miss these little episodes when my time here is done.

I'll be back (hopefully) in top form tomorrow.

(this TOTALLY counts as a blog post, by the way.....)

Day 18: Lessons Learned

I'm now safely past the halfway point of NaBloPoMo, which means that November is more than halfway over, which means it is now LESS THAN A MONTH until I return to the U.S....after a full year away....for the holidays.

It has been a gruelling, gruelling month. I've been working ridiculously hard and putting in some crazy hours. But...things are coming together so well. The children are thriving, and the curriculum is turning out even better than I had expected. In many ways, while my work situation is far from perfect (but, really, show me one that IS...), this is the most professionally fulfilled I've ever felt.

So....I'll be honest: I've put forth many a groan at the thought of having to sit down in front of my laptop and attempt to be eloquent at the end of a long day. But....I've made the time to blog each and every day, and I've learned some pretty awesome things along the way:

1.) There is ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS time to write.

2.) Writing is something that is becoming more important to me than just a hobby or some sort of cathartic outlet.

3.) No matter how exhausted I am, and no matter how much I hate getting started sometimes, I always feel a bit of a high after writing (any writing at all: blogging, e-mailing, journaling, writing poetry, etc.).

4.) I am going to write a book. Not because I necessarily want to get it published, or even share it with anyone else. I just want to see if it's something I can do. I want to be able to tell myself that I once wrote a book, even if no one else ever reads a single page of it. It's my Everest*, minus the fanfare and shameless publicity.

5.) I have some wonderful ideas for posts for the next 10+ days, so stay tuned!!

I just finished reading the book INTO THIN AIR (omg...amazing), about the Everest disaster in 1996. Let me tell ya: there are many things in my life that I would love to try to do, and many goals that I would like to achieve. Climbing Everest? NO THANK YOU.

Bali

I miss Peter. I miss riding bikes. I miss Bali.

Here's a picture of Peter and me riding bikes in Bali.....



And, since I'm posting Bali pictures, here's a picture of Chang being eaten. That's Peter's hand in the frame, bravely attempting to retrieve Chang. About two seconds later the monkey would bare its fangs, hiss, and chase after poor Peter. Monkeys can be SCARY!! No wonder the Wicked Witch of the West slapped some wings on them and kept them as pets.....

Random memory....

By the way, I'm blogging (yet again) from an Internet cafe, and there's an Indian katooey ("lady-boy") next to me whose lipstick is so thick that it has created a chunk on his/her straw. I absolutely cringe every time he/she takes a sip. His/her Coca-Cola must pretty much just taste like Boots cheap lipstick at this point.

I mentioned previously that I had been reading a book about ghost hunting, and the real-life ghost hunters visited the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado, which served as the inspiration for Stephen King's The Shining.

While I was reading about the investigation of the (supposedly very haunted) hotel, a random memory flashed into my mind: I was living in Phoenix and we had all gone over to Max and Andrew's for our usual Saturday night gathering. After some drinks and some impossibly good snacks made by Andrew, a bunch of us gathered on the couch in front of the gigantic television, started watching The Shining, and enjoyed a good (and somewhat inebriated) scare.

When it came time for the very climactic scene where Jack Nicholson's character is chasing his wife and son through the creepy maze with an axe, we were all sitting on the edge of our seats, barely breathing. Max leans over and whispers, "Is she.....wearing a CARHARTT dress??!!"

For some reason, that was the funniest damn thing I had ever heard. Maybe it's because I grew up in Minnesota and surrounded myself with horse people, and Max had grown up in the mountains with hardy working folk, and we therefore both knew all-too-well the absolute non-sexiness of the Carhartt brand, but we both burst out laughing--that uncontrollable, insatiable laughter--and ruined the end of the movie for everyone. It became a random inside joke between Max and me, funny to no one else but us, and we even giggled about the Carhartt dress during my last visit to Phoenix, which was the last time I would ever see him.

And now I'm giggling about it all over again, and the Indian lady-boy is glaring at me through some ostentatious false lashes while she sips her lipstick-flavored Coke.

Life is strange.

Saturday Meme!!

Oh my goodness....it's another brain-dead Saturday night after a LOOOOONG day (and even longer week), and that means....another Saturday meme!!!

Now, I'm feeling really old today. That feeling started when I was talking to a group of students--yes, they're young, but they're fully potty-trained and able to produce some spectacularly coherent thoughts--and they informed me that they were all born either shortly before (as in, a matter of weeks or months) or shortly after September 11th,2001.

HOLY CRAP. 9/11 seems so vivid, even now, that I can't believe that enough time has passed for these children to have been born, to have successfully graduated from infancy and toddlerhood, and to have become literate.

This feeling of my aged splendor continued when I was trying to find a meme for today. Most of them asked about what grade I'm in, or what grade my "crush" is in. So, please excuse this "Blonde Moments Survey," as I am feeling the need to indulge my inner-teenager tonight. And, well, sadly, over the past year or so my hair has gone from a golden blond to a dull, nutty brown--yet another signpost of the "maturation" process. And also a frustrating sign that I am going to have to start budgeting for highlights, 'cause this color ain't gonna cut it.

And so.....as an homage to the blond that I was from age zero until age 28, I give you the "Blonde Moments Survey" (their spelling, not mine....)

18 or lower means you’re not stupid.

Gum has fallen out of your mouth when you were talking.
YES.

Gum has fallen out of your mouth when you were NOT talking.
YES.

You have ran into a glass/screen door.
YES.

You have jumped out of a moving vehicle.
I once fell off of a golf cart due to my sister's reckless driving. Does that count?

You have thought of something funny and laughed, then people gave you weird looks.
Yeah, sadly that happens almost daily. Though it's Thailand, so people only give you weird looks when they think you're not looking, 'cause they don't want to hurt your feelings.

You have ran into a tree.
Nice grammar, sweetheart. And that's a NO.

It IS possible to lick your elbow
Wait.....WHAT???

You just tried to lick your elbow.
Whoops. Crap. They totally caught me red-handed with that one (er, red-elbowed??)

You never knew that the Alphabet and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star have the same rhythm.
I teach preschool. OF COURSE I know that. And the word you're looking for is "tune."

You just tried to sing them.
NOPE.

You have tripped on your shoelace and fallen.
YES. I also manage to trip on my own feet rather successfully.

You have choked on your own spit.
Gross. NO.

You have seen the the Matrix and still don’t get it.
I love The Matrix. The spoon TOTALLY doesn't exist.

You didn’t notice that in the last question “the” was spelled twice
Nope, sure didn't.

You just looked at it.
Yep, sure did.

Your hair is blonde/dirty blonde.
Meh....two years ago I would have called it a dirty blond. Now I think it's sadly crossing over into brunette land......

People have called you slow.
Only when running or attempting to do something even remotely artistic.

You have accidentally caught something on fire
Again, nice grammar. I once lit my hair on fire when lighting a cigarette.

You tried to drink out of a straw, but it went into your nose/eyes/cheek.
Oh, Lordy. That happens all the damn time.

You have caught yourself drooling.
Only during sleep. I am an absolute cascade of drool in my sleep. Poor Peter. Though when I drool on him, I'm usually able to wipe it off before he notices.

You’ve fallen asleep in class
Wow....NEVER. Just the thought of that is making me twitch violently.....

If someone says “fart” you laugh.
Ha ha....TOTALLY.

You just laughed.
Sure did.

Sometimes you just stop thinking
Sadly, my little brain NEVER shuts off....

You tell a story and forget what you were talking about
I forget what I was talking about in mid-sentence ALL THE TIME.

People are often shaking their heads and walking away from you
NO!!!!!! Does that actually happen to people??? Wow....that would suck!

You are often told to use your “inside voice”.
Peter said that to me on our first date.

You use your fingers to do simple math.
Not my fingers: I do mental "touch math," which is what I teach my first graders to do.

You have eaten a bug.
MANY since I've been in Asia, though not at all on purpose.

You are taking this test when you should be doing something important
I should be finishing the most amazing book in the world instead of killing my brain cells with this survey.

You’ve looked all over for something and realized it was in your hand or pocket
ALL THE TIME.

You break a lot of things.
All the time--bones included. Luckily, my foot is not broken or fractured, but it may as well be.

Your friends know not to use big words around you
Oh, please. My friends are loquacious and slightly pedantic. Of course they use big words around me.

You sometimes tilt your head when you’re confused
YES. Though I usually do what my friend Bangin' refers to as my "squirrel sensing danger" look, where my eyes kinda dart around searching for danger and my head follows.

You have fallen out of your chair before
I prefer to think of it as getting "bucked off" of my chair, and yes....it actually happened today, because my poor sprained foot sorta gave out as I was getting out of a child-sized chair in my classroom.

When you’re laying in bed, you try to find pictures in the texture of the ceiling
Yeah, but c'mon....doesn't everyone???

total so far=21-ish. I guess my blond bimbocity (yes....I just made that word up....) remains, even though my hair has gotten darker. Go figure.

The actual Substance of this blog shall return tomorrow. Sweet dreams!

The Incomparable Kellyn Fritz

My friend Kellyn has informed me that she is blogging about me today. I have been meaning to blog about her since she listed it as a NaBloPoMo post recommendation, and I figured that now was a perfect time.

Kellyn was the first person that I met when I transferred to a new school after sophomore year. It was the Arts High School—a school JUST for juniors and seniors who were interested in the arts but could also receive an excellent education…an amazing, accepting, intellectually and creatively stimulating place that was my absolute dream come true. I was a tiny, underfed, traumatized little creature after being emotionally pulverized by the private school I had attended, and I saw this new school as my Emerald City. I expected an experience that was nothing short of miraculous. And, well, I wasn’t disappointed.

That first day, though, I was nervous and wide-eyed, looking around and wondering if my attire was edgy enough, if my pink shoes would be as attractive here as they had been repulsive at my old school. But then I met Kellyn and instantly relaxed.

She was wearing jeans in a sea of polyester and wool and hemp and some brittle looking material that people had stitched themselves. She introduced herself to me, commented on the Ridiculously Long Line, and by the time we reached the desk to fill out one form and drop off another, we had become friends.

We spent the next two years chain smoking, drinking coffee at Denny’s, driving aimlessly in my Jetta and listening to mix tapes (ah, mix tapes….). We both had our demons to fight in those years, and we padded the walls of that Jetta with war stories and cigarette burns. And yes, she was a tremendous smart ass. Still is. But she was the one friend with whom I knew I could be completely candid, completely uncensored, completely, well, teenaged. We both sighed during sappy love songs and laughed at the people who thought they were just….so…..impossibly cool.

There are just SO many memories of Kellyn. Kelly as my prom date. Kellyn writing “I heart Brooke” on the trunk of my car in dust. Kellyn excusing herself from class in the dance studio when she saw me BAWLING outside of it near the end of our senior year. But, for some reason, this one stands out:

In one of our classes senior year*, we had to do a role play where we presented three different U.S. foreign policy proposals, and a panel chose the most convincing argument. Kellyn was on the panel, and I’m not gonna lie: it was spring of my senior year, I was getting an A in the class, I had already been accepted to college, and after being a SHAMELESS teacher’s pet all year (um, life??) long, I started my Senior Slide. This presentation didn’t count for much, plus, well, I had a friend on the panel. So I spent maaaaybe ten minutes on it. Or at least I attempted to work on it during the commercial breaks while watching Dawson’s Creek.

Our presentations lasted for two brutally boring days, at the end of which the panel made its decision—a decision that was, I might add, backed with some rather eloquent reasoning. Clearly I did not have the most convincing argument (and, in my defense, I DID have two partners, but they were pretty much baked and useless by 9:00 a.m., leaving me to do the (non)work all by my lonesome). After class, I jokingly (but, um, only SLIGHTLY so) went up to Kellyn and asked why she didn’t, y’know, have my back. She gave me the YOU ARE INSANE look that I have seen oh-so-many times, and just had the following response:

“Dude. You just completely talked out of your ass.” I tried to deny this, but she went on: “No, seriously. I gotta hand it to you. Those are some serious ass-talking skills. That ass is gonna GET YOU PLACES. So, yeah. While I might help you out with my employee discount at Ruby Tuesday’s, really, your presentation actually just sucked.”

Now, two things happened that day: 1.) I learned to appreciate my ass-talking skills, and cultivate them for future use, and 2.) I learned that, no matter what, Kellyn is going to give it to me straight. This is not to say that she will give it to me with loads of judgment and unsolicited opinions. Quite the opposite. But she will always, ALWAYS, speak the truth.

When I returned to the U.S. for winter break this past year, we sat down and caught up after finally getting back in touch after nearly a DECADE. And now she’s a loving wife and incredible mother, and her “giving it to me straight” has a deep and warm wisdom to it. I call her my “guru,” and I mean it. If there’s anyone in the world who knows about love and partnership and sacrifice and communication and staying present and being grateful and cultivating your own humanity and the humanity of others, it’s her.

In a lot of ways she’s a more solid and significant part of my life than she was in high school, which is almost hard to believe because her face is in most of my major high school memories. But we’ve somehow managed to carve a friendship across two continents, and I think it’s because, while we appreciate our past, our connection is built on what is happening in our lives NOW, and what will be happening in the future.

But still….I’ll never forget crying to her over boys, or lighting my cigarette off of hers with shaky hands from too much cheap coffee, and watching the smoke weave its way through her thick head of curls.

*DUDE, KELLYN!! What was the NAME of that class??? It was Joao’s class! I totally loved that class, but I can’t remember the frickin’ name of it!!!

Embarrassing Embassy (say it five times fast!)

I had to go to the American Embassy today, because, globetrotter that I (apparently) am, I have actually used up ALL of the pages for visas and stamps in my passport, and therefore needed to get extra pages inserted in order to successfully renew my visa.

It was a little strange. I mean, security is INCREDIBLY important, and I'm grateful for the precautions, as I know that I will not be blown to smithereens while I'm in the sitting in the waiting room, twiddling my thumbs, and wondering when the guy whose digging expedition has taken him wrist-deep into his nostril is ACTUALLY gonna hit pay dirt and retrieve a slippery green treasure.

Anyway......

I had to surrender my mobile phone and one form of I.D. I thought I was finished there, but after running my bag through the security belt I had to surrender a thumb drive, the keys to both my school and condo, and a tube of lipstick. I set off the metal detector, and the guy had to give me the once over with his neon wand. Sure enough, BEEEEEEP! My back made the thing go ballistic. In one of the more awkward moments I've had in Thailand, the security guard had to unzip my dress to the middle of my back, and SLIP HIS FINGERS UNDER MY BRA STRAP. Now, in the U.S., if you have to endure a body search or a pat down (and, sadly, I've endured many.....what is it about me that screams SCARY TERRORIST????) or any sort of similarly uncomfortable precautionary measure, you are given ample warning about what is about to happen, and usually someone of your own gender does the groping. Sadly, that was not the case here. I was a little afraid that the guy was going to try the one-handed bra unhook (and, I gotta be honest, I would have been very impressed if he had pulled that off! No pun intended....), and I felt myself turning a fabulous shade of plum with the surprising exposure of it all. However, after a thorough inspection it was concluded that the only deadly weapon in my bra was my spectacular rack.

I'M KIDDING.

The big bummer of this all is the fact that I actually had to drop off my passport, collect my belongings so that I could call my boss, leave the Embassy in search of lunch, and GO THROUGH THE WHOLE SEARCH PROCESS ALL OVER AGAIN. I tried to plead with them, but clearly they saw me for the devious mass murderer that I am and thought that I had ACTUALLY stuck a deadly weapon in my bra this time.

Now, it wasn't an entirely unpleasant experience: For the fist time in almost a year and a half, after being handed a form I got to write the date with the month first!!!!! Even though now I'm somewhat used to writing the day, month, and year in that order, as that's how it's done here (and, um, in the rest of the world), I still feel like I have some bizarre mental impairment every time I write the date. I STILL have to stop and think about which one goes first. It felt strangely comforting to be able to write the date the way I'm used to writing it, and I had a moment of overblown patriotism.

I know that it's going to be a hard adjustment to leave the softness, the quiet, the pace, the chaos, the color, the adventure of Asia and return to the U.S. I'm prepared for some pretty hefty reverse culture shock. But, when that day comes, I think I'll be ready. And that day will take its rightful place right behind the month.

(Non)Wordless Wednesday

I really wanted today to be a Wordless Wednesday, but since I am currently at an Internet cafe and do not have my laptop or photos, sadly, some botched descriptions will have to do:

(Non)Wordless Wednesday: Bali

Picture some terraced rice paddies, bright green, against a bright blue sky filled with kites.

Picture a forest full of monkeys, trees with long tendons of vines, and temples that look like they're right out of Indiana Jones (Sacred Monkey Forest, Ubud).

Picture a bitchin' (and active!) volcano.

Picture me banging my head against the keyboard, 'cause this is the most pathetic blog entry ever. I'm just too tired to actually THINK and construct sentences.

Two cool things:

1.) We are having a ceremony at the school (bright and early!!!) tomorrow morning where monks come in and chant and do blessings. It's a beautiful thing to experience.

2.) Not only was my khratong this year biodegradable, it was TOTALLY made out of bread in the shape of a turtle!!!! The fishies could feast on it. I felt super cool with my awesome khratong, especially since I was most likely the only person over, say, the age of eleven who had one like it. He (yes, that's right, HE) was dyed red, and he had the number 65 written on his back in chocolate. He was so cute that I was tempted to keep him, but then I remembered that I had some serious wishin' to do. And that my condo has issues with insects.

I have a good feeling about this year's wish!!

I have a BAD feeling about this blog entry, so I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead.

I'll post the ACTUAL Bali pictures soon!!

Loy Khratong

Tomorrow is the festival of Loy Khratong, where people ask for forgiveness from the water spirits by floating offerings--called khratongs--made of banana leaves and flowers on any body of water (though preferably the Chao Phraya River, and believe me, that thing has reason to be pisssssssssssed!!). You hold your offering, make a wish, and send it on its way.

During last year's Loy Khratong, I was having some difficulty adjusting to life in Bangkok. I was still living with my employers (which, to be honest, I've repressed at this point, and as far as I'm concerned, it NEVER HAPPENED), had not found my groove yet, was missing Peter terribly, and was just plain feeling like a fish outta water. Like something the disgruntled water spirits spat out. So I felt very compelled to make the traffic-infested trek to the river to float a khratong and make a wish, hoping that it would wipe my emotional slate clean.

Getting there took FOREVER. However, along the way I saw a lot of things I had never noticed before. An elaborate Hindu temple tucked behind some simpler facades. A place where I could buy German sausages. A fortune teller. When I got to the river, it was all MADNESS. Vendors everywhere were selling khratongs--each one more and more elaborate than the last. And, well, many of them were constructed with Styrofoam. Now, I'm not trying to sound judgmental, but I am of the opinion that asking for forgiveness from the water spirits by choking them and their various aquatic friends with Styrofoam is just NOT the way to go. I had to search for quite awhile, but I finally found a beautiful, colorful, BIODEGRADABLE one.

There were flowers and candles everywhere you looked. There were garlands of orchids and jasmine. There were people holding their khratongs with their eyes closed, making wishes.

I had somehow been swept with the rest of the crowd onto a boat that took me out into the middle of the river. The water was colored with flowers and leaves, and the boat cut a thick path through the fragrant litter. A surprisingly high number of khratongs had managed to stay lit, which was quite a feat considering the large ribbons of boat wakes that sliced the river to pieces.

I lit the small beeswax candle and joss stick that were lodged into my khratong with marigolds. I stared at the small flames for a bit, and then closed my eyes. "Please. Just let me make it to next Loy Khratong. Please give me the strength to wade through the difficult crap and get to the other side. I'm alone and overwhelmed and none of this looks like how I thought it would. Please don't let me give up. If I can make it to next Loy Khratong, I know that I will be a better, stronger person. Please just let me make it to the place where I will be able to look back on all of this with a huge sigh of relief, laugh at how difficult this all was for me, and be able to see how far I've come."

I set my khratong in the water, gave it the kind of tap a mother gives her child on his first playground outing ("Go on! You can do it!"), and watched it until the fireworks started and the bursts of misty color in the sky mixed with the solid colors in the water, and I hardly could tell which direction was up. I took a huge breath, and for the first time in awhile, felt that I was exactly where I needed to be.

And that's exactly how I feel on this year's Loy Khratong. The water spirits listened and granted every one of my wishes. And now I can laugh a little at where I once was, and how hard things used to be, knowing how far I've come.

But this year? I'm TOTALLY wishing for fifty grand......

*This blog entry is dedicated to Heather, a friend and fellow expat. Living overseas is a roller coaster, especially at first. But it will get better. I promise.

Post Secret

Oh man.....I'm blogging from an Internet cafe, and I just clicked onto Post Secret and read the LAST secret from this week.


(This image belongs to www.postsecret.blogspot.com)

I am now bawling hysterically and the guy who works here actually had to come over and ask if I was ok.

I just needed to share this.

I DO believe in spooks! I DO believe in spooks!

I've been spending all day reading a book about ghost hunting. Ghosts are my guilty pleasure. I love a good scare more than just about anything. And, well, though Peter makes fun of me all the time about the fact that I believe in the existence of ghosts, the fact of the matter is that I've had enough experiences with the supernatural to make me a believer. And, well, I would like to think that some people are more sensitive to ghosts and energy and unseen things than others. Just like some people may have certain allergies that others may not. I was raised with a healthy respect for spiritual things, for the things that cannot be explained away, for the various mysteries of the world.

One story in particular springs to mind. It was the summer before my senior year at Rahm Emanuel's alma mater(!), and I had come back early to participate in a Summer Leadership Institute. There were only a few of us on campus during that time, and it was nice to have the run of the place. Before there was my gay husband, there was my gay boyfriend, J. He was going to be the R.A. in one of the campus houses for the year, and during the Summer Institute he was the only one staying in the house, as the rest of the students hadn't returned from summer break to move in. He mentioned that he thought the house might be haunted. He talked about hearing strange noises, feeling temperature drops and waking up abruptly at 2 a.m. every morning, and he would complain about his keys going missing all the time. Now, any and all of these things can be attributed to causes other than the paranormal. And, while I am a believer, I am still ultimately more inclined to be skeptical. However, one piece of information was a little more difficult to shake off: He returned during our lunch break one day to find that all of the doors upstairs had been flung open. Doors that he did NOT have keys to, and doors that had been locked since he had moved in. He didn't think anything of it--perhaps a cleaning crew had just come through--and prepared his lunch. However, he had just taken a few bites of his (vegan) sandwich when a campus security guard stopped by, saw the open doors, and started yelling. "Why did you open the doors? Who gave you permission to do that?? These doors are to remain closed until the students get their keys!" J. said he had no idea why the doors were open. He had simply come home and found them that way. The security guard shook his head, locked the doors, and was on his way.

Fast forward a few nights later, when J. and I decided to have a slumber party. We were going to give ourselves manicures and facials, watch chick flicks, and shove our faces full of Dunkin' Donuts. Gay boyfriends are the BEST. We stepped in the house, J. set down his keys in their usual spot on the front table, and I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I could feel a presence, and I sent it a very clear message: LEAVE ME ALONE. I wanted to enjoy my evening without having to solve some ghost's silly problems, thankyouverymuch. J. and I picked out a movie and were heading to pick up our Dunkies when we noticed that his keys were gone. We had both seen him put them down on the table, and we were the only two people in the house. We did a thorough search of the downstairs portion of the house and eventually found them under J.'s pillow. "Oh, aren't YOU cute," I said out loud. "Seriously. KNOCK IT OFF." And the ghost DID knock it off. J. and I got our sweets, made sure that all of the doors to the house were bolted, and settled in to watch our movie. We thought that we had taken care of that ghost. At least until the next morning.

I awoke to the sound of footsteps stomping loudly in a circle in the room directly above me. "HOLY CRAP!" said J., "You must have really pissed it off!" We sat there, holding onto each other, completely petrified. Again, I was no stranger to ghosts, but I had never heard one quite this angry before. We thought that maybe we were hearing things, that maybe the floorboards were just creaking, or that it was somehow the wind, but the stomping just kept going and going and going and going. We talked about whether or not we should venture upstairs to check it out, but we decided against it. We were too scared, PLUS, the doors had been securely locked all night long. There's no way anyone could have gotten in, and a security guard wasn't likely to go up to an empty room just to stomp in a circle over and over and over. I exited J.'s room and walked through the living room to get to the bathroom when I saw the doors upstairs--the ones that the security guard had locked--opening and shutting. When I was in the bathroom the footsteps followed me and stomped around above my head. J. and I were both FREAKING OUT, to the point that poor J. started dry-heaving :(. The stomping continued (though the slamming doors stopped), and as J. and I were leaving the house, all of the toilets started flushing one by one.

We decided it best to not tell anyone about this at the Leadership Institute. While most people participating were very open-minded, we had a feeling that people would just think we were doing too many drugs (no, I didn't do drugs, and J. had already been through rehab and was squeaky clean). A few days later the students moved in. That night, J. woke up at 2 a.m. and felt compelled to check the kitchen stove. It was on, all of the knobs turned to HIGH, and no one had been cooking that night. J. had been the last person to use the kitchen, and the stove had not yet been touched. Just to be sure, he posted a sign, reminding everyone to turn off the stove after using it. He also had a discussion with his advisees. But, like clockwork, each night at 2 a.m., J. would wake up, check the stove, and see all of the burners turned to HIGH, even if they had been off right before he went to bed.

We eventually performed a small ceremony--complete with sage--and the ghost left. But it's an experience I'll never forget.

Maesa Elephant Camp, Day 2

First, go ahead and read about my experience at Maesa Elephant Camp, Day 1. Go ahead....I'll wait!

This is copied directly from my pen-and-paper journal (which I bought at the camp, and which is made out of elephant dung paper!!)...simple, uncut, uncensored, unedited. And yes...the smiley faces are in the original text. Enjoy!!

So...Day 2. I was elated and ecstatic and giddy (even though I awoke to the sound of someone's wet, mucky, painful-sounding hacking cough and the crowing of a smoky-voiced rooster) from the day before. I was BEYOND excited, and just kept repeating over and over again, HOLY CRAP, THIS IS MY LIFE! I felt so incredibly grateful and awake and excited. The day started early--we had left Wanpen in the jungle overnight, so we had to hike in to get her. I was smart this time, though: instead of wearing the crappy sandals that they provided for me (two sizes too big!), which were NOT good for hiking (I majorly sliced open the bottom of my big toe...hardly the worst injury I would sustain :) ), I opted for wearing my own comfy shoes. It was a gray, misty morning--the mist was wound around the trees like cotton, barely moving. The jungle was wet and alive and making its morning sounds. I could barely walk because of all of the mud from the rainstorm the night before. There were deep, elephant foot-shaped puddles everywhere, and HOLY LORD, was the hike strenuous! I clearly hadn't noticed the day before, as, um, I was on the elephant, but it was all pretty much STRAIGHT UPHILL. And slippery. Before long the mist in the air settled onto my skin and mixed with my sweat. I was SOAKED. Wanpen was so adorable--she was full of jungle nourishment and COVERED in mud. I climbed on, and wow, din she ever NOT want to leave the jungle! As soon as V., her mahout, would get far enough ahead, she would sneak off the path in search of more food. I would kick a little, and try the commands, but she didn't REALLY listen to me, so mostly I just laughed and waited for V. to rescue me.

I would learn on that (beautiful, peaceful, and quiet save for V.'s occasional shouts at Wanpen and the firecrackers that the hilltribe children--who live near the elephant camp--were setting off) that Wanpen a.) is a bit of a 'fraidy cat, and b.) hates deep mud. Two bits of information that would come into play on day three.....

Apparently, Wanpen was spooked by the sound of firecrackers, a fact that I did not notice in my content, hazy oblivion until V. started leading her by the ear and looking at her sideways. He finally told me to get off. He said, "My elephant is scared, and when she gets scared, she RUNS!" Wanpen just lumbered along in front of us for a ways, snacking as she went, her lower jaw moving back and forth, until the sound died down and I could climb back on. I felt like a freakin' princess riding into camp on her. It was an unforgettable feeling.

Since Wanpen was a complete mud ball, it was time for a much-needed bath! The bath on the second day was much more elaborate than the bath on the first day--I really had to scrub every inch of her with the scrub brush. I was getting soaked, but I was loving every second of it. She was splashing around, using her trunk as a snorkel....LOVE IT!! After she was nice and clean (and her skin was wonderfully soft) I climbed back on. Now, I didn't know it at the time, but apparently other tourists were usually not able to climb on by themselves the way I could [see day 1 for details]. On the first day they also had me mount using Wanpen's hind leg, climb to her neck, and dismount using her front leg. When I totally ROCKED that, V. showed me the super advanced "professional" dismount: Scoot back to the elephant's butt, swing one leg over so that you're sitting sideways, step onto the elephant's raised hind leg (with your body facing away from the elephant), and step to the ground. I was going to attempt it on the first day, but didn't quite feel comfortable enough. However, I was DETERMINED to try it the second day. Now, at the time I thought that this dismount was something that EVERYONE who visited the camp could do. Standard camp procedure. I would later find out that this was not, in fact, the case. I was one of very few privileged individuals to attempt this dismount. If I had known this ahead of time, well....I still TOTALLY would have tried it :)

So anyway, after Wanpen's bath we went on a very muddy trek back to camp. C., my main caretaker, had gone to get water, and M., my other caretaker, was helping a British couple who had arrived that day. So it was just V. and me. We got back to camp and were in the area where they teach the elephants to paint (and where the ground is VERY hard), and we decided to practice getting on and off, and to attempt the hind leg dismount. So....I had swung my leg over, stepped on Wanpen's raised hind leg, and, well, thought I was much closer to the ground than I actually was. And, well, I was maaaaaybe not supervised as closely as I should have been, and V. wasn't really helping to ease me to the ground (or, more accurately, catch me). I ended up sorta falling, landing awkwardly on the ball of my right foot, and hearing a loud POP as my foot collapsed under me.

OUCH. HOLY LORD, DID IT HURT!!!!

I was able to stand up and hobble to the nearest chair where I elevated my foot, while V.--who was totally panicked--kept asking me if I was hurt. And, well, I couldn't quite find the voice to answer him. He went running to get C., and I was NOT allowing the panicked thoughts that were brewing in my gut to travel to my brain ("What if it's broken? How will I get around Bangkok in crutches?? How will I get up and down the stairs at school? What about the rest of my trip? What if I'm wearing a cast and my leg gets infected and HAS TO BE AMPUTATED????"). I was just taking deep breaths, staying completely calm, trying to slow my racing heart. After icing it for a little bit, and successfully wiggling all of my toes (which led me to believe that it was most likely not broken), I decided that I needed to get into my bed STAT, which was luckily close by. I was feeling lightheaded, and my vision was doing its T.V. static-esque warning that I might faint. I stood up, the blood rushed to my head (or left it?? How does that work, exactly??), and I promptly had to sit on the ground with my head between my legs. I attempted to stand two more times with the same result, and my face was damp with a cold sweat. C. finally put me on his back and carried me. After plopping me down on my bed, he got me an ice pack and said he'd be back in a couple of hours to check on me. I was in SO MUCH PAIN, and my toes were starting to look like sausages as my foot began to swell. BUT, again, I was simply refusing to acknowledge any fearful, dramatic, negative, worst-case-scenario thoughts about my injury. I stayed calm and fully present, and just kept telling myself that I didn't yet have enough information to jump to any conclusions (though everyone, including me, was fairly certain that it wasn't broken). I spent the rest of the day enjoying the book The Secret Life of Bees, taking painkillers, and sleeping. Later, V., C., M., and some female staff members came to check on me. One of the women put some strong balm on my foot and massaged it, which felt SO good (yet another indication that it probably wasn't broken).

So I was perfectly content to just hang out, take it easy, nap, read, and let the staff pamper me a bit. That is, until about midnight when I came unraveled because of the PAIN and called my mom and BAWLED (man....mothers are ALWAYS great for drying tears, even when they're half a world away). However, once that was out of my system I realized that the main reason why I was so upset was because I thought that I was not going to be able to finish the program--this once-in-a-lifetime, totally amazing, complete dream come true--and that just broke my heart. BUT....even despite the roosters and the guy with the technicolor phlegm that interrupted my sleep all night long, I awoke that morning feeling COMPLETELY determined: I was going to ride Wanpen again and be in the elephant show and do the elephant painting if I had to be CARRIED from place to place. I was very no-nonsense when I declared this to M. after hobbling out of my room, hands on hips, and he knew that I meant business. He just looked at me, gave me a compliant bow, told me that I am "very strong," and helped me limp to breakfast.

The Day 3 installment will be coming soon!!!!

Oh, and an update on the foot injury: Just as I suspected, it was NOT broken, or even fractured. Just severely sprained. It still looks like a bloated, rotting piece of meat with its all-encompassing bruises and bubble toes, but it gets better each day, and my limp is now much less pronounced. And.....it was so. totally. worth. it. To be honest, when they told me that the dismount was the super advanced, professional dismount, I felt like a total badass. Hey, accidents happen, and I'm so happy I didn't waste any time or energy stressing about my injury. Because, at the end of the day, it's just a minor inconvenience. Besides...how many people can say that they injured themselves DISMOUNTING AN ELEPHANT FROM ITS HIND LEG???

Saturday Meme!!

Oh man. I work ALL DAY LONG on Saturdays. I teach for six hours straight. Well, I do have a break in there, but it's essentially long enough for me to refill my water bottle, check my e-mail, use the restroom, and exchange pleasantries with my coworker/roommate/ONLY FRIEND IN BANGKOK AT THE MOMENT (since all of my friends had to up and leave at almost the same time). And then it's back to the grind. Now, the fact that I am forced to work unreasonably hard on Saturdays may sound somewhat sucky. However, I've gotten used to it, and really adore the kiddos I teach on Saturdays. That said, my brain is pretty much a shriveled piece of jerky by the time Saturday is over, and blogging or writing or reading or doing anything besides watching a DVD and drooling is pretty much impossible. And so, I've decided to start a new tradition for the remainder of NaBloPoMo: Saturday Memes! Sorta like the "Wordless Wednesdays" I've noticed on some other blogs wherein you let the pictures do the talking (and I'm TOTALLY ridin' that train from now on!!). And so....Saturday shall henceforth be the day where you get to learn everything you ever wanted to know about me, but just didn't really care to ask!!

I am reposting this one that my friend Alison did on MySpace. If you have any excellent memes, tag me or pass them along!!

I am listening to:

Well, I'm sitting in the lobby of my condo, where the muzak can be rather diverse. At the moment I'm listening to the elevator music version of "Reunited" (and it feels so good....). It's pretty brutal, actually....

Maybe​ I should:​

Be writing that novel I've been promising myself I would work on while living in Asia. At the moment I can boast exactly ZERO words.

I wish:​

I could be snuggling with Peter. C'mon....you didn't REALLY want to keep the food in your stomach, did you?? :)

I last ate:

Uff da. I'm ashamed to admit this, 'cause I live in the Home of the World's Best Food, but I just ate a soup and salad from Au Bon Pain. In fairness, Au Bon Pain is a bit different here than it is in the U.S.!


Right​ now I'm craving:​

A chocolate chip brownie from Au Bon Pain. I decided against ordering one tonight and am now regretting that decision.

Today​:​

Was absolutely fantastic, productive, and fulfilling.....but, HOT DAMN am I glad it's over.

Tomorrow:​
*Buying some crappy pants that I can wear to work without worrying about getting food coloring/paint/spilled milk/vomit/glue on them.
*Stocking up on DVDs
*Buying some necklaces for my sister
*Getting a massage. I have been hobbling on a severely sprained foot for the last three weeks (yes...there's a story there....I promise to write it tomorrow!!!), and my whole body hurts from having to compensate so much on my left leg. Lemme tell ya: Bangkok sidewalks are quite hazardous when you have two working feet. They are absolute murder when you are Gimpy McGimperson.

Oh...dear....lord....the lobby muzak just changed to Al Green covers. Shoot me.

QUEST​IONS:

Do you miss someone?​:​

Oh, GOOD LORD YES. The list is waaaay too long. But, as always, Peter is at the very top.

Are you wearing chap stick​?​:​
No. My lips don't tend to get chapped in the sopping wet climate we have goin' on over here.

Are you tired​?​:​

Y'know....I'm SO TIRED, that I've actually come full circle and am insanely wired at the moment. I hate getting like this. This is how my students in Phoenix used to get when they would eat the handfuls of sugar that their parents would pack for a snack. There's just no REASONING with the nervous system when it gets like this. Intense, 12-to-14-hour workdays plus the teaching marathon on Saturday just pretty much kicks my ass. I feel good, though. It's a GOOD kind of tired. Not the stressed out kind. I feel very satisfied with everything and will definitely enjoy my two days off.

Are you wearing pajamas?:​
HA!! I totally am. I'm sitting in the lobby in my pajamas. At least I managed to put a bra on. Believe me, that's a step up from what my fellow condo inhabitants usually have to see!

LASTS​:​
Last drink​?​

This amazing sesame seed concoction that my coworker/roommate/ONLY FRIEND IN BANGKOK AT THE MOMENT bought for me. I feel like a new woman!!

Last phone​ call?​
Peter gave me a quick call during his quick break from teaching his market design class. I love my sexy genius :)

Last time you cried​?​:​
Oh man. Last weekend was a little rough with the waterworks. I have been scrapbooking and organizing all of my photos, which has been absolutely amazing, but I came across a bunch of old pictures of Max, and some very lovely pictures of me with Peter's mom. It felt good, though. I got to revisit a lot of happy memories with two spectacular people.

THIS MONTH​ HAVE YOU:
Laugh​ed until​ you almost cried​?

No. Man. It's been a long time since I've done that.....

Last person you texted:​

Peter!

Who is the last person you added​ to your contacts list in your phone​?​

My coworker/roommate/ONLY FRIEND IN BANGKOK AT THE MOMENT

How many piercings do you have?​

Zero. I used to have pierced ears, but I seem to be allergic to everything, and eventually the earrings just got annoying, especially after I lost a pair of amethyst and diamond earrings that my mother gave me. I'm STILL upset about that one.....

Have you ever found​ more than a dollar in a random place​?​

This was Alison's response: Yeah, a couple years ago, when I was living downtown, I found a hundred dollar bill and a dry cleaning receipt in the parking garage.
I called the number but he never called me back --.....OMG, I TOTALLY REMEMBER THAT!! She even felt guilty about keeping the money after he never called back. I don't know if she ever spent it....

Y'know, it's funny: in Thailand, if there's money on the ground, in plain sight, people just DON'T PICK IT UP. I've literally sat there for fifteen minutes, staring at 100 baht (about $3.00) on the ground (yes, fifteen minutes...did I mention that all of my friends have gone back to the U.S. and I only have ONE at the moment???), watching as people look at it, step around it, and do NOT PICK IT UP (by the way...it's a HUGE insult to step on baht, as it would be like stepping on the King, and you can go to jail for that kind of blasphemy!). This has happened exactly three times, and each time the result is the same. It's really quite awesome, if you think about it. It just wouldn't go down like that in the U.S.....

When is your next road trip?​

Peter and I will be taking a road trip from Minneapolis to Milwaukee in just over five weeks. I can't WAIT. Peter is a phenomenal road trip companion.

Where​ is your pet(​s)​ right​ now?

In Heaven. All of them. But that's another story (or stories) for another time :(

Have you eaten​ popcorn in the past 48 hours​?​

The last time I ate popcorn was two weeks ago when I made it with my class.

What were you doing​ at 7AM?

Hitting snooze on my alarm clock....which is my mobile phone.....

How do you feel?​

Y'know.....despite being rather exhausted, I feel good. Amazing, even. And, despite working very hard, I feel zero stress. I feel very satisfied, and very at peace, and like I'm finally at the finish line of a marathon through shit peppered with broken glass in a land where it's raining sulfur. I feel a sense of accomplishment. I feel Zen and centered and quiet and hopeful. I feel awake in a way that I've never ever felt before.

Thanks for asking :)

Where​ did you sleep​ last night​?​
Ha ha....I'm a boring old fart in a committed relationship with one local friend. I slept in my very own bed :)

What time did you go to sleep​ last night​?​
After midnight. Again, I was so overtired that it was like I was on crack. I reorganized my jewelry drawer and listened to Christmas music.

HOLY CRAP!!!!!!!!!! Again, I'm sitting in the lobby and the horrid muzak has been turned off. It has been completely and utterly and deliciously silent in here for the last ten minutes. Or so I thought. BUT....all of a sudden I heard that horror movie sound effect where someone's about to get slashed multiple times with a butcher knife (ree! ree! ree! ree!....how's THAT for some onomatopoeia?). As it turns out, it was the ring tone of a staff member here at the condo...a staff member that I did not happen to hear behind me. That was a little surreal and it scared the ever-lovin' bejeezus outta me. Yeah. This installment of Condo Lobby Sounds is now officially over.