I've been listening to this song a lot over the last few days. It definitely sums up how I'm feeling.....
THE WORLD SPINS MADLY ON (The Weepies)
Woke up and wished that I was dead [um, ok, I'm certainly NOT wishing that!!!!]
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
I thought of you and where you'd gone
and let the world spin madly on
Everything that I said I'd do
Like make the world brand new
And take the time for you
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn
And the world spins madly on
I let the day go by
I always say goodbye
I watch the stars from my window sill
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still
Woke up and wished that I was dead
With an aching in my head
I lay motionless in bed
The night is here and the day is gone
And the world spins madly on
I thought of you and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Things I'm Learning....
-Tell the people in your life that you love and appreciate them while you can. Life is fleeting and unpredictable. I am so grateful for the people in my life. I'm so grateful for the friendship that I had with Max.
-The people we love who leave us will always live on in our memories. WE all live on in the memories we create with other people. Be aware of the memories that you are creating within other people. Giving people around you the gift of kind memories is the best thing we can do as human beings.
-Grief never goes away.
-It's so easy to let anger consume our relationships, our minutes, our memories, our health, our experiences. It's also unbelievably easy to NOT allow anger to do that.
-A journal, a DVD, and a cup of hot peppermint tea can do a lot to ameliorate sadness.
Thank you for reading my blog :).
-The people we love who leave us will always live on in our memories. WE all live on in the memories we create with other people. Be aware of the memories that you are creating within other people. Giving people around you the gift of kind memories is the best thing we can do as human beings.
-Grief never goes away.
-It's so easy to let anger consume our relationships, our minutes, our memories, our health, our experiences. It's also unbelievably easy to NOT allow anger to do that.
-A journal, a DVD, and a cup of hot peppermint tea can do a lot to ameliorate sadness.
Thank you for reading my blog :).
Friday, September 26, 2008
Mother Hen
(I would just like to take a moment to point out that I am a full 20 POUNDS THINNER than I was when that picture was taken. Yeesh.
This is a very classic picture. I appear to be giving Max the same face that I give my first graders when they need to learn a very important life lesson. I am most definitely three sheets to the wind here, but I'm pretty sure I'm lecturing Max about something, or expressing some sort of deep concern.
Max is, of course, looking less than amused. Suffice it to say he didn't exactly enjoy my little (drunken) lectures. People seldom do enjoy these. The last time I saw him we had a brief and intense heart-to-heart with lots of hugs and he told me he felt badly about the times when he would roll his eyes or get annoyed with me when I was drunk and ridiculous and, well, would get my lecture on. I just laughed when he said that and reminded him of the fact that I can, in fact, be pretty ridiculous when drunk (which, I've said it before and I'll say it again: my days of heavy drinking are behind me!). However, the truth is that even when sober I frequently had to suppress a compulsive urge to be a mother hen to him.
There was a fragility about Max, and also a recklessness, and this combination always scared me a little. He was so kind to everyone, and so generous, and I worried about people taking advantage of him. I worried that he wasn't taking sufficient care of himself. I wanted him to be successful in school and in life and I think my wishes and worries came out in an inarticulate stream when combined with copious amounts of alcohol. The fact of the matter is that Max had a GIGANTIC heart and a lot of talents that he frequently underestimated. The fact of the matter is that he was so good to everyone in his life, even if they didn't return the favor. The fact of the matter is that sometimes I just wanted to put him in a bubble--filled with all of his retro accoutrement and animal companions--and keep him safe forever.
So I guess now this is where the shock wears off and the sadness starts to set in. The various members of the family of friends that I had in Phoenix are reuniting this weekend for Max's funeral, coming together once again in that fabulous desert setting that I'd imagine will just never be quite the same again, and it absolutely kills me that I can't be there.
I just wish I could be there to say good bye to my friend. I wish I could be with our group again in order to fully REALIZE his absence and allow it to really HIT me. And, well, I wish I could be around some of my favorite people now as the pain this just keeps a-walloping away and there's no one close by who understands. I miss his husky voice and his laugh and his liberal use of the F-word. I miss the weekends in the mountains and the wine nights and the car trips with that indescribable security of being surrounded by people who just, well, GET you and the brunches and that understanding of the "once in a lifetime" closeness of this group of friends. Max was a central part of it all. And I hope (no, I KNOW) that through all of it, even when I was being a ridiculous mother hen, Max knew how much I cared about him. I hope he knew how incredibly much we all loved him.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Grief
This is a picture of my friend Max and me. It was taken in January of 2007 when I came back to Phoenix for a brief visit. My eyes look a little cracked out because I had just taken one of his crazy energy pills and my heart was about to flip flop out of my chest like a fish from one of his many tanks. Anyway, moving on.........
I just don't even know where to begin. Most of my happy memories in Phoenix include Max....Max with his out of control, curly hair. Max with his blue hair. Max with his huge smile and strange dances that he would do while drunk. Shortly before I moved away we (and by "we" I mean the group of friends that I would dorkily come to refer to as the Urban Family) threw a birthday part for him at the house that he and Andrew shared, complete with some really potent tequila and a pinata that I had helped to purchase from the Mexican grocery store where no one spoke English. We spent summer weekends at his house in Springerville drinking too much, counting stars that we couldn't see in Phoenix, and going for long runs (er, rather, I went for long runs while everyone made fun of me for subjecting myself to the thin gasps of mountain air). We had hungover brunches and discussions about Buddhism and he told me that I would be a great mother someday. There are just too many memories right now....and right now they're all flashing in front of my face so quickly, and I'm scared of letting any of them dissolve into the abyss of the things that we forget.
Max was killed in a car accident last night. Forgive me if I ramble or sound detached or inarticulate. It hasn't sunk in yet.
The last time I saw him--the evening that the picture was taken--we had the kind of heart-to-heart that all friends SHOULD have. It was outside of a classic Phoenix strip mall bar, and I can't even remember how it was that we found ourselves out there, but suddenly there we were and there were tears in his eyes. He was struggling to find his way a little, and he talked and I listened and told him that I thought he was wonderful. And he apologized to me for the times when he would get impatient with my drunken ridiculousness (which, well, was justified....did I mention that I no longer drink heavily??). We hugged and hugged and hugged and looked at cute boys and decided that it was high time we forged our own special friendship outside of the group. It was a perfect moment and I am so grateful that we had it. And he rolled his eyes when I lectured him for the hundredth time about taking care of himself and WEARING HIS EFFING SEATBELT. Max was not wearing his seatbelt when he died.
I could go on and on saying all of the things about how wonderful Max was, because he was. He was sweet and wonderful and funny and generous and had a billion animals that he took care of and loved and I was lucky to be his friend. But if I were to do that I think that it would somehow be a cliched disservice to him. I also am reminded of Max's reaction whenever I complimented him to excess. He would get a shy smile and say "shut up, Brooke" in that cheeky little way of his.
So this is not the time or place for a saccharine eulogy. Because the fact of the matter is that I don't even know where to start. And all I can do right now is feel pissed off and powerless. I'm pissed off that Max wasn't more careful and I'm pissed off that I can't go to Arizona for the funeral and grieve with my friends and my heart just HURTS for his family who loved him so much. And it sounds soooooo fucking stupid to say this, but he had just joined Facebook and we had exchanged some messages and all I can do is sit here and stare at them. And part of what makes this loss so unbearable is the fact that we WERE such a family of friends. We WERE such a unique group and we had so many adventures and misadventures and I will never forget any of it.
There are no words for this right now. None. All I can do is pad my understanding of all of this with stupid cliches. Right now, all I can say is that there is a gaping abyss in the world. All I can say is that this just fucking sucks.
PART of the Urban Family in 2005(?). I'm in the middle, and Max is, unfortunately, covering his face. I miss nights like this so much.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Here a roach, there a roach.....
....and not the fun kind, either!!
So this past week was my first week of running BOTH the preschool program AND our after school enrichment program. It's all a lot of work, and I am completely exhausted, but it is actually significantly less stressful than I would have thought. I think the full year that I had to prepare for all of this certainly came in handy :). Anyway, last night I was, well, drooling in my catatonic state and trying not to get any of it on my batik quilt from Bali when I heard this crispy little tapping sound and a dark shape eclipsed the light in my room.
It was a GIGANTIC cockroach....and it was flying! FLYING!!! Now, I live in a very large tower full of very large condos. My building is pretty old, it's located in SE Asia, and we are currently knee deep (literally) in rainy season at the moment. All of these ingredients, when mixed well, create a Cockroach Nirvana. And in spite of compulsive cleanliness and monthly, condo-wide sprays of some sketchy pesticide that is probably chock full o' carcinogens (and, seriously, I invite the carcinogens with open, um, nostrils to have a full on party in my veins if it means no cockroaches), these GIGANTIC, shelled creatures with their creepy, translucent eyes are just a fact of life here. And to say that I find them repulsive is as vast an understatement as, oh I dunno, saying that Sarah Palin is a scary, scary redneck. However, the one fact about these huge cockroaches that gave me some comfort is the fact that I had never seen one take flight, and foolishly assumed that they somehow could not, in fact, fly.
So I lay there trying to convince myself that it was totally a MOTH I was seeing. Sadly, though, it was not, and I had to hide under my batik quilt several times when the cockroach came dangerously close to my head. It was almost comical watching it fly, as the burnt potato chips it calls wings could not support its weight very well. It flew off to another corner of the room to bob awkwardly like a yo-yo in unskilled hands and I made a mad dash for the Can O' Raid (scented with lavender!), and started shooting at the roach all crazy-like. It was as if I was transported back to my eight-year-old self playing Duck Hunt on the old school NES--complete with the glazed eyes and rhythmic obscenities cascading from my lips and punctuated with victory dance when the f***er finally goes DOWN.
I hit the roach and kept spraying until its spindly little legs stopped wiggling. Now, the thing is that I am SO scared of roaches that I have a hard time picking them up even after they're dead. I have to sit there with my dustpan taking deep breaths to ward off the lightheaded feeling. Then, I have to say a few words in my head for my fallen adversary, and I have to give myself a "you can do this, just be brave!" pep talk. I have to remind myself that a roach can't come alive again, rip my head off, and carry it off to the nest in order to create a throne for the Queen Roach out of my lower jaw.
After managing to dispose of the flying roach I promptly fell asleep, only to wake up a few hours later due to some crazy, Raid-induced nightmares. I hopped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge without bothering to turn on any lights or put on the slippers that I usually wear for gliding across the parquet floors that are perpetually dusty. And then....CRUNCH. The most sickening sound I've ever heard, followed by the realization that there was a hard knot of something crumbling (and maybe even oozing a little bit?!) under my foot. I'm pretty sure I had an out-of-body experience right then and there, and after returning I was finally able to remove my foot from the wreckage, hobble over to the light switch, and look at the sparkling pieces of dead cockroach that made a trail over to where I was standing. The cockroach had been dead for an hour or two (most likely as a result of the fresh roach poison that I recently put out) and had gotten good and crunchy in the humid heat of my living room.
I scrubbed and scrubbed my foot a la Lady Macbeth, and now I'm getting devoured by mosquitos in the lobby (where the free internet is) as I type this. Sweet. Between this and the rat scratches, I'm just waiting for typhoid to stumble onto a shady spot in my internal organs, spread out a blanket, and decide that this is a lovely place for a picnic.
So this past week was my first week of running BOTH the preschool program AND our after school enrichment program. It's all a lot of work, and I am completely exhausted, but it is actually significantly less stressful than I would have thought. I think the full year that I had to prepare for all of this certainly came in handy :). Anyway, last night I was, well, drooling in my catatonic state and trying not to get any of it on my batik quilt from Bali when I heard this crispy little tapping sound and a dark shape eclipsed the light in my room.
It was a GIGANTIC cockroach....and it was flying! FLYING!!! Now, I live in a very large tower full of very large condos. My building is pretty old, it's located in SE Asia, and we are currently knee deep (literally) in rainy season at the moment. All of these ingredients, when mixed well, create a Cockroach Nirvana. And in spite of compulsive cleanliness and monthly, condo-wide sprays of some sketchy pesticide that is probably chock full o' carcinogens (and, seriously, I invite the carcinogens with open, um, nostrils to have a full on party in my veins if it means no cockroaches), these GIGANTIC, shelled creatures with their creepy, translucent eyes are just a fact of life here. And to say that I find them repulsive is as vast an understatement as, oh I dunno, saying that Sarah Palin is a scary, scary redneck. However, the one fact about these huge cockroaches that gave me some comfort is the fact that I had never seen one take flight, and foolishly assumed that they somehow could not, in fact, fly.
So I lay there trying to convince myself that it was totally a MOTH I was seeing. Sadly, though, it was not, and I had to hide under my batik quilt several times when the cockroach came dangerously close to my head. It was almost comical watching it fly, as the burnt potato chips it calls wings could not support its weight very well. It flew off to another corner of the room to bob awkwardly like a yo-yo in unskilled hands and I made a mad dash for the Can O' Raid (scented with lavender!), and started shooting at the roach all crazy-like. It was as if I was transported back to my eight-year-old self playing Duck Hunt on the old school NES--complete with the glazed eyes and rhythmic obscenities cascading from my lips and punctuated with victory dance when the f***er finally goes DOWN.
I hit the roach and kept spraying until its spindly little legs stopped wiggling. Now, the thing is that I am SO scared of roaches that I have a hard time picking them up even after they're dead. I have to sit there with my dustpan taking deep breaths to ward off the lightheaded feeling. Then, I have to say a few words in my head for my fallen adversary, and I have to give myself a "you can do this, just be brave!" pep talk. I have to remind myself that a roach can't come alive again, rip my head off, and carry it off to the nest in order to create a throne for the Queen Roach out of my lower jaw.
After managing to dispose of the flying roach I promptly fell asleep, only to wake up a few hours later due to some crazy, Raid-induced nightmares. I hopped out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge without bothering to turn on any lights or put on the slippers that I usually wear for gliding across the parquet floors that are perpetually dusty. And then....CRUNCH. The most sickening sound I've ever heard, followed by the realization that there was a hard knot of something crumbling (and maybe even oozing a little bit?!) under my foot. I'm pretty sure I had an out-of-body experience right then and there, and after returning I was finally able to remove my foot from the wreckage, hobble over to the light switch, and look at the sparkling pieces of dead cockroach that made a trail over to where I was standing. The cockroach had been dead for an hour or two (most likely as a result of the fresh roach poison that I recently put out) and had gotten good and crunchy in the humid heat of my living room.
I scrubbed and scrubbed my foot a la Lady Macbeth, and now I'm getting devoured by mosquitos in the lobby (where the free internet is) as I type this. Sweet. Between this and the rat scratches, I'm just waiting for typhoid to stumble onto a shady spot in my internal organs, spread out a blanket, and decide that this is a lovely place for a picnic.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Neverland
I just finished day three of running the preschool program that I've spent the last year building, and it's going way better than I would have anticipated. I was expecting screaming, crying chaos for the first month (at least), but have been pleasantly surprised to just get a few tears in the morning. I am lucky to be teaching some very well-behaved three-year-olds who have settled in very nicely. The children are, of course, learning to navigate the new structures in their lives, participate in clean-up, and figure out the words to the songs that we sing. And, much like my students, I am also learning to navigate my new schedule, as I arrive a half hour earlier every morning and build an ENORMOUS amount of self-imposed structure into my workday, which leaves me with very little downtime during the day. All of this is both good and bad. It's GOOD, because I definitely thrive on structure, and my days seem to absolutely FLY by when I'm busy every minute. However, it's BAD, because I have not yet figured out how to balance the rest of my life around these busy days. I haven't been to the gym all week, and all I want to do when I get home is dive face first into a vat of green curry, pop in a DVD, and try not to drool as I drift happily into a catatonic state. I HAVE started my belly dance classes again, which makes me BEYOND happy, and I've been taking Thai classes. And yes, I'm working hard, I'm excited about the work that I'm doing, and I know that this preschool program is going to be quite wonderful. But I'm also realizing that we are now ankle-deep in Autumn, and I need to maximize the time that I have left here.
The thing is, when I come back to the US (where I hope and pray and prostrate myself to the Powers That Be that Sarah Palin will NOOOOOOOOOOOOT be getting her grubby little redneck paws on ANYTHING......sorry, just a completely gratuitous political aside, since I KEEP HAVING NIGHTMARES ABOUT HER!!!!), it will be time to be a grown-up. Which, of course, is very exciting. It will be time to get married and have babies and figure out my future career objectives. I guess right now really feels like I live in Never Neverland, and I am a curvier version of Peter Pan. And, well, I don't really mind that right now.
So I will try to force myself from my cozy bed and spend my weekends immersed in wonderful cultural experiences as opposed to, um, just visiting the gym and getting massages before feeling like I need to come home and "rest" after my "strenuous day." My sister is coming for a visit in October, and I have a week off at the end of October, which I will most likely spend in Vietnam. I'm excited for all of it, but MAN......I can't wait to pass out tonight :)
The thing is, when I come back to the US (where I hope and pray and prostrate myself to the Powers That Be that Sarah Palin will NOOOOOOOOOOOOT be getting her grubby little redneck paws on ANYTHING......sorry, just a completely gratuitous political aside, since I KEEP HAVING NIGHTMARES ABOUT HER!!!!), it will be time to be a grown-up. Which, of course, is very exciting. It will be time to get married and have babies and figure out my future career objectives. I guess right now really feels like I live in Never Neverland, and I am a curvier version of Peter Pan. And, well, I don't really mind that right now.
So I will try to force myself from my cozy bed and spend my weekends immersed in wonderful cultural experiences as opposed to, um, just visiting the gym and getting massages before feeling like I need to come home and "rest" after my "strenuous day." My sister is coming for a visit in October, and I have a week off at the end of October, which I will most likely spend in Vietnam. I'm excited for all of it, but MAN......I can't wait to pass out tonight :)
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
You know you're a teacher when....
You are out at a hip, fabulous club with your hip, fabulous friends, and you've just walked into the ladies' room after drinking a (very small and very overpriced) martini out of one of those martini glasses that doesn't have a stem and sits in a bunch of ice water instead, and you are SUPER DUPER PSYCHED because your bathroom stall has.....
an empty toilet paper roll!!!!!!
Ah yes. The empty toilet paper roll. A staple of early childhood arts and crafts.
And yes, I did feel the need to show this Absolutely Fantastic Find to my hip, fabulous friends. At least it's a step up from doing my parts of a friendly letter dance
an empty toilet paper roll!!!!!!
Ah yes. The empty toilet paper roll. A staple of early childhood arts and crafts.
And yes, I did feel the need to show this Absolutely Fantastic Find to my hip, fabulous friends. At least it's a step up from doing my parts of a friendly letter dance
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
It's raining rats and dogs
It's a wonderful feeling when you finally realize that the Universe is conspiring to shower you with blessings. Don't vomit. It's true! Living in Asia has really given me that perspective and gift. In fact, I was even able to maintain that perspective in spite of getting elbowed in the face yesterday by an Australian guy who was gabbing on his mobile (why, WHY must people hold their elbows at a 90 degree angle while talking on the phone??), and getting drenched movie-style by a truck that whizzed through a deceptively deep puddle.
Speaking of deep puddles: So it rains a lot here in Bangkok. Like, A LOT. And lately we've been getting some rains that are heavy enough to flood the streets for a few hours. Lemme tell you: wading through ankle-to-knee-deep warm water that is filled with all kinds of garbage and floating cockroaches and leaves and grains of rice from street vendor stalls while trying to not slip on the oil-coated pavement that gets REALLY slick when wet is just not. terribly. pleasant. However, the other night I counted my blessings when I managed to find a small patch of high ground. I decided to pause there and take a few breaths before continuing to allow my lower legs to dissolve in the polluted rainwater. While I was pausing, an adorable stray kitten scampered over my foot, digging its little kitten claws into me for a quick second before disappearing behind one of the large potted plants that dot Bangkok's sidewalks. I was tempted to run after it and save it from the flood before realizing that, no, it was not, in fact, a kitten. It was a kitten-sized rat.
Earlier that morning the crappy doorknob on my bedroom door had ceased to turn, therefore locking me INSIDE of my bedroom. Clearly the Universe, it its conspiracy of blessings, was trying to warn me to just stay inside that day. I'm just a-waiting for my legs to shrivel up all Wicked Witch of the East-style and fall off.
I would like to dedicate this post to Will, who doesn't much care for rodents.
Speaking of deep puddles: So it rains a lot here in Bangkok. Like, A LOT. And lately we've been getting some rains that are heavy enough to flood the streets for a few hours. Lemme tell you: wading through ankle-to-knee-deep warm water that is filled with all kinds of garbage and floating cockroaches and leaves and grains of rice from street vendor stalls while trying to not slip on the oil-coated pavement that gets REALLY slick when wet is just not. terribly. pleasant. However, the other night I counted my blessings when I managed to find a small patch of high ground. I decided to pause there and take a few breaths before continuing to allow my lower legs to dissolve in the polluted rainwater. While I was pausing, an adorable stray kitten scampered over my foot, digging its little kitten claws into me for a quick second before disappearing behind one of the large potted plants that dot Bangkok's sidewalks. I was tempted to run after it and save it from the flood before realizing that, no, it was not, in fact, a kitten. It was a kitten-sized rat.
Earlier that morning the crappy doorknob on my bedroom door had ceased to turn, therefore locking me INSIDE of my bedroom. Clearly the Universe, it its conspiracy of blessings, was trying to warn me to just stay inside that day. I'm just a-waiting for my legs to shrivel up all Wicked Witch of the East-style and fall off.
I would like to dedicate this post to Will, who doesn't much care for rodents.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Weekend Wonderland
I've had a fabulous weekend. I've been rather hermit-like lately, but I've definitely needed a period of self-reflection and just plain ol' turning inward. Someday, when I'm back in the US and paying ridiculous taxes on a teacher's salary and not able to afford the simple luxuries that I have here and probably chasing around some babies that I popped out along the way, I'm going to want to look back and remember days when I could:
-Get a two hour massage for, like, nothing
-Go for a Sunday stroll, discover a cute little cafe, and camp out there for a few hours while writing letters to loved ones
-Work out with a personal trainer
-Practice speaking Thai (as I'm finally taking lessons!!)
-Spend undisturbed hours writing in my journal
-Purchase copious amounts of cheap DVDs
-Leisurely clean, dust, organize photo albums, and finally put pictures into empty frames
-Eat lots and lots of spicy Thai food.
So I don't think I've expressed often enough just HOW. FREAKING. GOOD. Thai food is. And for me, the spicier, the better, which is actually NOT so good as I have a rather sensitive stomach.....but I just can't help it. The good thing about eating spicy food is that not only do you get some sort of intense rush, but it helps you lose weight (not, mind you, that I'm trying to lose weight, I'm just sayin' it's possible), as a.) you can rarely finish everything, b.) it kills your appetite (probably due to some strange stomach swelling), and c.) um, your body tends to cleanse itself after several days of chili peppers and basil and curry and garlic and citrus. HOLY LORD, gimme some green curry STAT. So the spicy food has numbed my mouth and lit my bloodstream on fire and exorcised the demons from my pores and it is now MY OWN PERSONAL CRACK. I think I have the shakes right now because it's almost dinner time........
By the way, I haven't had Sundays off for the last year and two months (NOTE: I DO NOT recommend working on a Sunday EVER), and I now finally have Sundays off. Bangkok is absolutely lovely on a Sunday. The streets are peppered with food vendors and plastic furniture upon which people are sitting and shoveling all kinds of delicacies in their mouths while also enjoying some relaxed conversation. The air is smoky and spicy with chilis and burning coals and you can smell the grilling meat and the juicy fruit and the boiling coconut milk and it is AWESOME. I didn't think that it was possible for a city this relaxed to become even MORE relaxed, but you can TASTE the relaxation in the air. I think a lovely Sunday stroll will become a new ritual for me.
Hokay.......it's time to eat a spicy papaya salad set with grilled chicken and sticky rice. Life is good.
-Get a two hour massage for, like, nothing
-Go for a Sunday stroll, discover a cute little cafe, and camp out there for a few hours while writing letters to loved ones
-Work out with a personal trainer
-Practice speaking Thai (as I'm finally taking lessons!!)
-Spend undisturbed hours writing in my journal
-Purchase copious amounts of cheap DVDs
-Leisurely clean, dust, organize photo albums, and finally put pictures into empty frames
-Eat lots and lots of spicy Thai food.
So I don't think I've expressed often enough just HOW. FREAKING. GOOD. Thai food is. And for me, the spicier, the better, which is actually NOT so good as I have a rather sensitive stomach.....but I just can't help it. The good thing about eating spicy food is that not only do you get some sort of intense rush, but it helps you lose weight (not, mind you, that I'm trying to lose weight, I'm just sayin' it's possible), as a.) you can rarely finish everything, b.) it kills your appetite (probably due to some strange stomach swelling), and c.) um, your body tends to cleanse itself after several days of chili peppers and basil and curry and garlic and citrus. HOLY LORD, gimme some green curry STAT. So the spicy food has numbed my mouth and lit my bloodstream on fire and exorcised the demons from my pores and it is now MY OWN PERSONAL CRACK. I think I have the shakes right now because it's almost dinner time........
By the way, I haven't had Sundays off for the last year and two months (NOTE: I DO NOT recommend working on a Sunday EVER), and I now finally have Sundays off. Bangkok is absolutely lovely on a Sunday. The streets are peppered with food vendors and plastic furniture upon which people are sitting and shoveling all kinds of delicacies in their mouths while also enjoying some relaxed conversation. The air is smoky and spicy with chilis and burning coals and you can smell the grilling meat and the juicy fruit and the boiling coconut milk and it is AWESOME. I didn't think that it was possible for a city this relaxed to become even MORE relaxed, but you can TASTE the relaxation in the air. I think a lovely Sunday stroll will become a new ritual for me.
Hokay.......it's time to eat a spicy papaya salad set with grilled chicken and sticky rice. Life is good.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Not much to say....
....So I decided to make up my own meme. I need a break from planning lessons for preschoolers. Incidentally, I've probably come up with more uses for a coffee filter than anyone could possibly ever imagine.....
1.) Favorite piece of jewelry??
That would have to be the diamond solitaire pendant that my mom gave me for Christmas a few years ago. This thing will Never. Come. Off. I want to be buried (well, cremated) in it, unless I have a daughter someday in which case she can have it (unless, of course, she does something wacky like join a religious cult and/or bomb an abortion clinic or marry a polygamist and add "Sister" to her first name. Then she most definitely can't have it.).
However, before the diamond solitaire pendant I would have to say that my favorite piece of jewelry was a guitar string. A boy that I had a crush on in high school played an amazing song for me (no, it wasn't written about me....it was an unrequited crush....), and almost immediate afterward his guitar string broke. I kept it and my friend made a bracelet out of it for me. The crush didn't last long, but this bracelet became sort of a trademark, along with my pink shoes. The bracelet fell off right before I started college, which was all for the best because I was beginning a distinctly different phase of my life at that point, and the bracelet falling off became slightly symbolic.
2.) Song that is stuck in your head right now?
"I'll Be Home for Christmas." I've been listening to Christmas music all morning. I wish I could hit the fast forward button and have it be December.
3.) Strange fact about you?
This isn't really a strange fact about ME.....but......my great-grandmother's ashes rode around in the trunk of my dad's car for several years. If he ever made a sharp turn, we would hear a THUD resonate from the back, which was immediately followed by a "sorry, Grandma" that my dad would utter under his breath. I got freaked out once when, at the impressionable age of ten, after filling up the trunk with my back to school supplies, my dad informed me that the white box I had just moved to make room for my shiny pink Trapper Keeper was in fact full of "Grandma Apple" (as we called her). Grandma Apple was moved to the garage, then to the basement, then to my aunt's house where we finally--FINALLY!!--scattered her ashes at the base of an apple tree that we planted in her honor. I will probably not be invited back for Christmas after telling this story now.........
4.) Ever had a near-death experience??
I almost drowned after falling off a dock....I was about two or three, and I STILL remember it.....my grandfather saved me. Other than that, well, I was hospitalized once for severe alcohol poisoning in 9th grade. That was not my finest hour, believe me..........
5.) Embarrassing moment? (Did I mention that I'm the one writing this???? WHY am I subjecting myself to this question?????)
There was one time when, on a trip to my friend's hometown in beautiful Northern Arizona, I got SEVERELY wasted and regaled my friends with my "parts of a friendly letter dance," my "print directionality song," and my "r-controlled vowels song." A little while later I gave them step-by-step, detailed instructions on how to clean a male horse's, y'know, boy parts so that they don't get infected. I was also apparently convinced that the wheelchair my friend was sitting in (which had belonged to his grandfather) was going to spring to life and break all of our legs. The icing on this fabulous cake?? When my poor, patient friends would tell me to lower the decibel level of my voice to a dull roar so as not to wake the sleeping Mormons next door, I would put hand on hip and slur at the top of my voice YOU'RE, YOU, YOU'RE JUSSSSSSS TRYIN' TO OPPPPPRESSSSS MY FREEEEEEDOM......YOU ARE A REPUBBBBLICANNN.....ALL OF YOU.....YOU'RE ALL BUSH-LOVING REPUBBBBLICANNNSSSSSSS.....which, if you know my friends, is a rather amusing and highly inaccurate statement to make.
Yeah, so, luckily my friends all still love me (though I shall never live that night down). And I no longer drink heavily :)
6.) Strangest compliment you've ever received?
"Wow. You're so sweet, just like my mom." (A guy with whom I went on exactly one date)
"You don't look as chubby in those pants as you usually do." (An ex-boyfriend. He was a jerk)
"My dad say you pretty. Will you be my mom?" (A student)
".....Are you on drugs? No, I mean, the poem is great.....but are you on drugs?" (My mom's response to one of the first poems I ever read to her)
"Has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to that boy from Hanson?" (Several people, back when Hanson was big, my face was much more round, and I had a slightly boyish haircut....and this compliment was usually followed immediately by, "But he's the CUTE one!!").
7.) Any random obsessions that people don't usually know about??
-Bats
-Astronomy
-America's Next Top Model
-imdb.com
-David Sedaris
-Skin care products
-handicrafts
-new vocabulary words
8.) What fictional character would you choose to be for a day?
That's a toss up....Wonder Woman, She-Ra, Hermione Granger, or Catwoman. I would love to kick some ass and take some names. And I would love to wear a cute little outfit while I'm at it :)
Alrighty. It's time to get crackin' once again. If anyone else would like to tackle this (very short and sweet!) meme, have at it!
1.) Favorite piece of jewelry??
That would have to be the diamond solitaire pendant that my mom gave me for Christmas a few years ago. This thing will Never. Come. Off. I want to be buried (well, cremated) in it, unless I have a daughter someday in which case she can have it (unless, of course, she does something wacky like join a religious cult and/or bomb an abortion clinic or marry a polygamist and add "Sister" to her first name. Then she most definitely can't have it.).
However, before the diamond solitaire pendant I would have to say that my favorite piece of jewelry was a guitar string. A boy that I had a crush on in high school played an amazing song for me (no, it wasn't written about me....it was an unrequited crush....), and almost immediate afterward his guitar string broke. I kept it and my friend made a bracelet out of it for me. The crush didn't last long, but this bracelet became sort of a trademark, along with my pink shoes. The bracelet fell off right before I started college, which was all for the best because I was beginning a distinctly different phase of my life at that point, and the bracelet falling off became slightly symbolic.
2.) Song that is stuck in your head right now?
"I'll Be Home for Christmas." I've been listening to Christmas music all morning. I wish I could hit the fast forward button and have it be December.
3.) Strange fact about you?
This isn't really a strange fact about ME.....but......my great-grandmother's ashes rode around in the trunk of my dad's car for several years. If he ever made a sharp turn, we would hear a THUD resonate from the back, which was immediately followed by a "sorry, Grandma" that my dad would utter under his breath. I got freaked out once when, at the impressionable age of ten, after filling up the trunk with my back to school supplies, my dad informed me that the white box I had just moved to make room for my shiny pink Trapper Keeper was in fact full of "Grandma Apple" (as we called her). Grandma Apple was moved to the garage, then to the basement, then to my aunt's house where we finally--FINALLY!!--scattered her ashes at the base of an apple tree that we planted in her honor. I will probably not be invited back for Christmas after telling this story now.........
4.) Ever had a near-death experience??
I almost drowned after falling off a dock....I was about two or three, and I STILL remember it.....my grandfather saved me. Other than that, well, I was hospitalized once for severe alcohol poisoning in 9th grade. That was not my finest hour, believe me..........
5.) Embarrassing moment? (Did I mention that I'm the one writing this???? WHY am I subjecting myself to this question?????)
There was one time when, on a trip to my friend's hometown in beautiful Northern Arizona, I got SEVERELY wasted and regaled my friends with my "parts of a friendly letter dance," my "print directionality song," and my "r-controlled vowels song." A little while later I gave them step-by-step, detailed instructions on how to clean a male horse's, y'know, boy parts so that they don't get infected. I was also apparently convinced that the wheelchair my friend was sitting in (which had belonged to his grandfather) was going to spring to life and break all of our legs. The icing on this fabulous cake?? When my poor, patient friends would tell me to lower the decibel level of my voice to a dull roar so as not to wake the sleeping Mormons next door, I would put hand on hip and slur at the top of my voice YOU'RE, YOU, YOU'RE JUSSSSSSS TRYIN' TO OPPPPPRESSSSS MY FREEEEEEDOM......YOU ARE A REPUBBBBLICANNN.....ALL OF YOU.....YOU'RE ALL BUSH-LOVING REPUBBBBLICANNNSSSSSSS.....which, if you know my friends, is a rather amusing and highly inaccurate statement to make.
Yeah, so, luckily my friends all still love me (though I shall never live that night down). And I no longer drink heavily :)
6.) Strangest compliment you've ever received?
"Wow. You're so sweet, just like my mom." (A guy with whom I went on exactly one date)
"You don't look as chubby in those pants as you usually do." (An ex-boyfriend. He was a jerk)
"My dad say you pretty. Will you be my mom?" (A student)
".....Are you on drugs? No, I mean, the poem is great.....but are you on drugs?" (My mom's response to one of the first poems I ever read to her)
"Has anyone ever told you that you bear a striking resemblance to that boy from Hanson?" (Several people, back when Hanson was big, my face was much more round, and I had a slightly boyish haircut....and this compliment was usually followed immediately by, "But he's the CUTE one!!").
7.) Any random obsessions that people don't usually know about??
-Bats
-Astronomy
-America's Next Top Model
-imdb.com
-David Sedaris
-Skin care products
-handicrafts
-new vocabulary words
8.) What fictional character would you choose to be for a day?
That's a toss up....Wonder Woman, She-Ra, Hermione Granger, or Catwoman. I would love to kick some ass and take some names. And I would love to wear a cute little outfit while I'm at it :)
Alrighty. It's time to get crackin' once again. If anyone else would like to tackle this (very short and sweet!) meme, have at it!
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Protests
I've gotten several e-mails from friends and family members asking me about the protests here in Bangkok. Though the protesters have become violent (even breaking out the slingshots!!), I can assure everyone that they are not protesting in the part of the city where I live or work, and in no way is my personal safety in jeopardy as a result of these protests.
I WILL say that the protests have had an impact on day-to-day life around here. Bangkok pretty much becomes a ghost town after dark now. The sidewalks and restaurants and shops are all empty, and there's a tension in the air that you can FEEL. As my taxi driver advised me last night, "You go home, watch a video. No shopping, no eating. People not happy. People not happy." Again, I feel in no way unsafe. However, the Thais as a general rule DO NOT like confrontation or conflict. People here don't yell or honk their horns unless in warning. I think the fact that a conflict of this scale is happening in this city--in OUR city--is making a lot of people feel uncomfortable in a way that goes far beyond a "can't we all just get along?" level of frustration. Thailand has a collectivist culture, and everyone is connected through triumph and grief. The ripple effects of the violence are therefore felt by everyone. And, in true Thai fashion, everyone is trying to pretend that this nastiness, this ugliness, this unpleasantness that runs so counter to the glassy surface of calm upon which Bangkok sits is not happening. People are not talking about it. They shrug off my questions with their beautiful smiles. And it's this unacknowledged worry simmering below the surface that makes me--a Westerner who is used to transparency and always needs to know what's going on--very uneasy.
It's WEIRD to be in a place where there is unrest. I'm used to following news stories about foreign places where people are not happy with the corruption in their government and have therefore decided to take action, but it's weird actually LIVING in a place that provides the setting for the unrest. In the US nowadays, protests are (largely) highly organized, non-violent, empowering events that are truly inspirational. Citizens band together for a common cause, and save for the occasional protest that gets out of hand and requires, um, tear gas, they don't tend to become out-and-out riots that end in tragedy and violence. And here there are people setting off small explosions and blocking airports and threatening water supplies and it's just......surreal. And obviously I know and understand that I'm living in a foreign country (um, duh) and that the rest of the world doesn't operate like the US (um, double duh). It still just amazes me how each and every day I realize just....how.....different groups of people operating within different cultural, economic, and governmental systems truly ARE from one another. As much as the liberal hippie chick in me just wants to scream from the rooftops that "we are all one!! Let's just love each other and sing kumbaya and all be citizens of Mother Earth," I realize that that point of view does not respect the subtle and important differences embedded in all of the unique and special cultures around the world. OF COURSE we need to all share this planet in love, respect, and peace. OF COURSE we should all strive for global citizenship, but it needs to happen in a way that doesn't privilege one cultural and societal paradigm over all others. It needs to happen in a way where we are not living in a McWorld.
Sorry, um, what was I talking about? Oh yes. The protests.
I have my own opinions about the protests and the government, but mainly I have a huge question mark about what happens next if the protesters are successful in their mission, the Prime Minister steps down, and Parliament is dissolved. Because of my long list of questions, I don't necessarily feel informed enough to state my opinions. I just hope, much like everyone else around me, that all of this unpleasantness is over soon.
I WILL say that the protests have had an impact on day-to-day life around here. Bangkok pretty much becomes a ghost town after dark now. The sidewalks and restaurants and shops are all empty, and there's a tension in the air that you can FEEL. As my taxi driver advised me last night, "You go home, watch a video. No shopping, no eating. People not happy. People not happy." Again, I feel in no way unsafe. However, the Thais as a general rule DO NOT like confrontation or conflict. People here don't yell or honk their horns unless in warning. I think the fact that a conflict of this scale is happening in this city--in OUR city--is making a lot of people feel uncomfortable in a way that goes far beyond a "can't we all just get along?" level of frustration. Thailand has a collectivist culture, and everyone is connected through triumph and grief. The ripple effects of the violence are therefore felt by everyone. And, in true Thai fashion, everyone is trying to pretend that this nastiness, this ugliness, this unpleasantness that runs so counter to the glassy surface of calm upon which Bangkok sits is not happening. People are not talking about it. They shrug off my questions with their beautiful smiles. And it's this unacknowledged worry simmering below the surface that makes me--a Westerner who is used to transparency and always needs to know what's going on--very uneasy.
It's WEIRD to be in a place where there is unrest. I'm used to following news stories about foreign places where people are not happy with the corruption in their government and have therefore decided to take action, but it's weird actually LIVING in a place that provides the setting for the unrest. In the US nowadays, protests are (largely) highly organized, non-violent, empowering events that are truly inspirational. Citizens band together for a common cause, and save for the occasional protest that gets out of hand and requires, um, tear gas, they don't tend to become out-and-out riots that end in tragedy and violence. And here there are people setting off small explosions and blocking airports and threatening water supplies and it's just......surreal. And obviously I know and understand that I'm living in a foreign country (um, duh) and that the rest of the world doesn't operate like the US (um, double duh). It still just amazes me how each and every day I realize just....how.....different groups of people operating within different cultural, economic, and governmental systems truly ARE from one another. As much as the liberal hippie chick in me just wants to scream from the rooftops that "we are all one!! Let's just love each other and sing kumbaya and all be citizens of Mother Earth," I realize that that point of view does not respect the subtle and important differences embedded in all of the unique and special cultures around the world. OF COURSE we need to all share this planet in love, respect, and peace. OF COURSE we should all strive for global citizenship, but it needs to happen in a way that doesn't privilege one cultural and societal paradigm over all others. It needs to happen in a way where we are not living in a McWorld.
Sorry, um, what was I talking about? Oh yes. The protests.
I have my own opinions about the protests and the government, but mainly I have a huge question mark about what happens next if the protesters are successful in their mission, the Prime Minister steps down, and Parliament is dissolved. Because of my long list of questions, I don't necessarily feel informed enough to state my opinions. I just hope, much like everyone else around me, that all of this unpleasantness is over soon.
Monday, September 1, 2008
PSA
Alrighty.....I realize that this may seem terribly random, but I DO have my reasons for this:
If you are planning on taking a long plane ride overseas, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make sure to walk around every hour or two, do plenty of stretching, flex and relax your leg muscles, wiggle your toes, etc. Sitting in those uncomfortable seats and staying inactive for long periods of time can lead to blood clots in the deep veins of the legs. This is known as deep vein thrombosis (DVT), or economy class syndrome. Make sure to also drink plenty of water, and you can even pop a couple of aspirin just to be on the safe side (plus, well, leg muscles get all sore and achy after having to endure that flight for such a long time!!). ALSO.....if you develop any shortness of breath WHATSOEVER (even the kind that goes away after you rest) after taking a long flight, or any severe pain deep in your calf, get it checked out RIGHT AWAY. Please spread the word about this. In this day and age where it's so easy to hop on a plane and fly anywhere, it's still surprising how often these blood clots develop and prove fatal for world travelers, especially when they can be avoided by moving around a lot during the flight and being aware of your body once you are back on solid ground.
If you are planning on taking a long plane ride overseas, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make sure to walk around every hour or two, do plenty of stretching, flex and relax your leg muscles, wiggle your toes, etc. Sitting in those uncomfortable seats and staying inactive for long periods of time can lead to blood clots in the deep veins of the legs. This is known as deep vein thrombosis (DVT), or economy class syndrome. Make sure to also drink plenty of water, and you can even pop a couple of aspirin just to be on the safe side (plus, well, leg muscles get all sore and achy after having to endure that flight for such a long time!!). ALSO.....if you develop any shortness of breath WHATSOEVER (even the kind that goes away after you rest) after taking a long flight, or any severe pain deep in your calf, get it checked out RIGHT AWAY. Please spread the word about this. In this day and age where it's so easy to hop on a plane and fly anywhere, it's still surprising how often these blood clots develop and prove fatal for world travelers, especially when they can be avoided by moving around a lot during the flight and being aware of your body once you are back on solid ground.
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