So I typed my blog address and was waiting for my li'l pink page to pop up when, horror or horrors, I saw that my site had somehow turned into a REALLY SUPER SCARY BIBLE COLLEGE. Like, REALLY SCARY. Now, I am trying to learn to not fly off the handle when things get stressful. I am, in fact, trying to learn to take a deep breath, take a step back, clearly assess the situation, and then figure out how to proceed. However, in this moment it felt like someone had switched my adorable baby at the hospital with, oh I dunno, SATAN. Was my blog gone for good? Has someone hacked into, y'know, my LIFE and gotten personal information? Is someone trotting around the globe at this very moment with my identity and selling babies on the black market? And what if I can't post anymore?? I will totally miss out on prizes for NaBloPoMo!!!!!!!
Suffice it to say that I freaked out and quickly messaged my friend, who thankfully happened to be online and is used to dealing with me in my flipping out state, and he said that he was able to access my blog without any problems. So, I did what I should have done in the first place: I took a deep breath and slowly retyped my blog address. And, lo and behold, it was still alive and well.
As it turns out, during my first attempt at accessing my blog I had typed http://themilkmansdaughter.blogpsot.com (can you spot the mistake??)
Go ahead and take a gander at the other site if you dare. And make sure that you type my address correctly every time :)
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
NaBloPoMo
Alrighty....many apologies for my absence. There are just...so...many stories to tell about my fantastic holiday with elephants (though it was cut short...and you will just have to wait with bated breath to hear about why!!). BUT....I've decided that what I need is a little bit of discipline to keep this ol' blog here humming along at top speed. I am realizing now how quickly time is going....a little over six weeks until I return to the U.S. for the holidays, and then only six more months left in Asia. While, don't get me wrong, there has been many a time when I wished time would speed by a little faster, now it seems to be going at breakneck speed, and the days and weeks are literally TEARING.
But I'm happy. I'm fulfilled. I am enjoying each moment of each day. Savoring it.
Anywho....as I was saying....I need DISCIPLINE!! I have therefore decided to participate in National Blog Posting Month, or, as the cool kids call it, NaBloPoMo. That means, starting November 1st, I will be writing a post per day for thirty days. There's even a nifty little website where I will be reposting the things that I write here, and I can win some prizes. Yay for prizes. Yay for accountability!! They are NOT messing around over at www.nablopomo.com. Not even a little bit.
So....while I have many stories that I am looking forward to telling, I may also need a little help from (all five of) my readers for some ideas. Is there anything that you are dying to know about me? Or about any of my travels? Or about the pet hamster I had in high school who escaped from his cage in the living room and somehow found his way to me in my bedroom after a few days because he was hungry and I came out of the shower and there he was, looking impatient and slightly emaciated, and I was so happy that he came back that I almost cried and then he got a huge, cancerous tumor and died shortly thereafter? Oh wait....yeah, I think I pretty much covered that one.....
Anyway, please leave any questions or suggestions in my comments. Oh, and those of you living in the U.S.: I went through the HUGE pain in the ass process of absentee voting. So please. Make sure you take advantage of the luxury of nearby polling places and VOTE. Think of the crazy amount you'll save on annoying express air postage.
And please make the right choice.
Wait, I have to sneeze....ah....ah....AH....OBAMAANDBIDEN'08.
(Am I ON SOMETHING today?? I feel a little wacky....who knows? Maybe I AM on something? You'll just have to tune in to find out!!)
But I'm happy. I'm fulfilled. I am enjoying each moment of each day. Savoring it.
Anywho....as I was saying....I need DISCIPLINE!! I have therefore decided to participate in National Blog Posting Month, or, as the cool kids call it, NaBloPoMo. That means, starting November 1st, I will be writing a post per day for thirty days. There's even a nifty little website where I will be reposting the things that I write here, and I can win some prizes. Yay for prizes. Yay for accountability!! They are NOT messing around over at www.nablopomo.com. Not even a little bit.
So....while I have many stories that I am looking forward to telling, I may also need a little help from (all five of) my readers for some ideas. Is there anything that you are dying to know about me? Or about any of my travels? Or about the pet hamster I had in high school who escaped from his cage in the living room and somehow found his way to me in my bedroom after a few days because he was hungry and I came out of the shower and there he was, looking impatient and slightly emaciated, and I was so happy that he came back that I almost cried and then he got a huge, cancerous tumor and died shortly thereafter? Oh wait....yeah, I think I pretty much covered that one.....
Anyway, please leave any questions or suggestions in my comments. Oh, and those of you living in the U.S.: I went through the HUGE pain in the ass process of absentee voting. So please. Make sure you take advantage of the luxury of nearby polling places and VOTE. Think of the crazy amount you'll save on annoying express air postage.
And please make the right choice.
Wait, I have to sneeze....ah....ah....AH....OBAMAANDBIDEN'08.
(Am I ON SOMETHING today?? I feel a little wacky....who knows? Maybe I AM on something? You'll just have to tune in to find out!!)
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Holiday
I'm off in a few hours (and, um, not yet packed....whoops....) to spend a week in Chiang Mai, which is chock full o' monks, temples, elephants, jungle, inexpensive and beautiful things, and yummy khao soi. On my agenda? Spending three days learning how to TRAIN ELEPHANTS (in other words, I shall die and go to heaven for three days!!), bathe them, care for them, steer them, and paint with them. Yes, PAINT WITH THEM. Elephants are the greatest creatures in the world.
After my elephant adventure it is off to a zipline adventure, which involves zipping and dangling from the jungle canopy like a gibbon. Whee!!
After the zipline adventure it will be time to explore Chiang Mai, do some Christmas shopping at the phenomenal night market, and attend a "monk chat" at a temple. I will probably cap this off by eating fresh seafood with a riverside view.
My Internet access will be limited (you know....mahout lodges and jungle canopies are not the best place for modern conveniences!!), but I'll post some fabulous pics when I can!! I'm so excited.
Happy Trails.....
After my elephant adventure it is off to a zipline adventure, which involves zipping and dangling from the jungle canopy like a gibbon. Whee!!
After the zipline adventure it will be time to explore Chiang Mai, do some Christmas shopping at the phenomenal night market, and attend a "monk chat" at a temple. I will probably cap this off by eating fresh seafood with a riverside view.
My Internet access will be limited (you know....mahout lodges and jungle canopies are not the best place for modern conveniences!!), but I'll post some fabulous pics when I can!! I'm so excited.
Happy Trails.....
Friday, October 17, 2008
Rainy Season
It was a very typical rainy season night. I had drifted into the neon sterility of Au Bon Pain—craving a taste of home and a chocolate brownie—under clear onyx skies and was putting the two-toned hulk of my ten baht coins in my purse when the thunder rolled. The deluge of hamster-sized raindrops started pummeling the ground, subduing the traffic outside into a surprised smear of brake lights tap, tap, tapping.
I waited it out, taking my usual “to go” order on a tray instead, leafing through my planner, picking off the last of my nail polish. Finally the drops softened, and I stood between two pillars of smokers in the doorway, becoming wrapped in smoke like vines becoming solid in the wetness, assessing the persistence of the rain through the bulbous auras of streetlamps. People began shedding their umbrellas as the drops gave way to a mist.
I knew the window of opportunity, the breath between downpours, was limited. It was time to get home as quickly as possible.
Too much traffic for a taxi when the streets start to flood like this. Too much traffic, too few available taxis. I squinted and tried to spot the orange vests of the motorcycle taxi drivers. Those vests that give texture to the slate gray night like globs of agitated paint. I finally saw one, and he avoided my gaze for as long as possible before realizing that resistance was futile. I pleaded and shivered and blinked with the suggestion of a frown. He reluctantly deposited the contents of his hand into his pocket, shrugged, nodded, and we ventured into the slippery spinal cord of Bangkok’s rain traffic, weaving between still vehicles like delinquent impulses, fluid and electric.
And then…..the ever-lovin’ heavens opened up and the rain was like a million metal screws or shark’s teeth or filthy marbles. I couldn’t feel the wetness through the sheer force and impact of it all, and I could feel my flesh becoming pockmarked and illustrated with gumdrop welts and my bones being devoured like the ends toothpicks and my hair most likely melting from my head, leaving a stringy wake as the motorcycle shook and proceeded forward in its steadfast, metallic determination. I found myself hugging the driver’s waist and burying my face in his back like he was my lover or a tree branch and our fates were entwined and isn’t it funny how often our lives are in the hands of strangers due to the impersonal need for transportation and vehicles and drivers and people in control? My eyes could not stay open in the blinding, blinding rain and I estimated our location from the angled arcs of our turns, from the small sways of my driver’s torso as he drove on in spite of my clinging like a starved koala. When I did open my eyes I recognized nothing. I saw the thick green varicose veins of the 7-Eleven sign, but it melted into unfamiliar surroundings. Families huddled under flimsy umbrellas. Where there had previously been the living, breathing organism of traffic there were now only pedestrians and dogs and small doorways and everything was still. And waiting. And staring.
I hoisted my chin onto my driver’s shoulder and bellowed into his ear. I asked him where we were. I gave him my address again, which had been previously absorbed with a nod of recognition. My mouth filled with rainwater. The air was absent and I had to fight the impulse to start gulping. I could feel the arteries in my neck starting to pop like gills. There was no space for air. No space. No oxygen. No orientation.
My driver bellowed back, his voice lost in sheet of noise that rose up from the pavement and I tried to decipher what he said by the quick bursts of his diaphragm contracting, hoping that his rib cage could send a bony code to my fingers while they clutched it like piano keys.
I had no idea what he had said. Suddenly I saw the twin towers of my condo, rising up like sticks of chalk, white molars, lighthouses. The darkness seemed to bubble up around them and everything was illuminated. I pointed. He drove. He drove until we got to the meticulous bars of an impenetrable gate. And there was my condo, just beyond, lights blinking out as its inhabitants fluffed pillows, yanked out false teeth, spoke in many languages about their gratitude for walls and ceilings and blankets because have you seen it out there?
I snaked my arm in a manic undulation to show my driver where to turn, how to turn, screaming in Thai though none of my words reached his ears. They drowned, scattering on the street with their exoskeletons like quarters dropping without sound. We backtracked. He shrugged violently, not knowing quite how to handle my wild gesticulations. Suddenly I smelled that hearty scent associated with dry mouth and headaches and flavored burps and foam, and my leg was saturated with a frigid liquid that I could easily differentiate from the tropical rain. It was the contents of my driver’s pocket. It was beer. A can of beer that he had been happily quaffing when I happened upon him and was just too blinded by my desire for my pink pillows and pirated DVDs and hot showers to notice.
Please. Please please please please please PLEASE.
I closed my eyes and just let the rain pound, wishing for more wax in my ears, wishing for something to shield my eyes, wishing that I could wipe off the beer that was cascading down my leg, warming and thickening with the rain, resembling beer-induced piss. I had no idea if my driver knew where we were or where we were going. I just slumped further and further into the tensed shape of his back. I just waited. Waited. Waited in motion, waited for breath. I only knew that we were safely in the garage of my condo when the dark of my eyelids became penetrated with the smack of fluorescent lighting. I could still feel the rain beating me. I could still hear it. I could still taste it. But it was over and done with now. I opened my eyes and the security guards all stared. My colored bra and panties were betrayed as my white dress (yes….yes….the dress was white, because that’s the only thing that could possibly make sense in the infinite possibilities of this day) had essentially dissolved against my skin. They all just gave me the look that I’ve gotten since I was little. A look I’m rather accustomed to by now. A look that is partly amused and affectionate, partly questioning my sanity and wondering where the hell it is, exactly, that my mind resides. A look that crosses cultural borders. A look that is seared into my mind when I see myself through other peoples’ eyes.
I just shrugged, smiled, shook like a wet dog, discreetly spat out a mouthful of rainwater, and walked my (essentially naked) self through a gauntlet of (dry) lobby observers. And I giggled.
At the end of the day, sometimes that’s all you can do.
I waited it out, taking my usual “to go” order on a tray instead, leafing through my planner, picking off the last of my nail polish. Finally the drops softened, and I stood between two pillars of smokers in the doorway, becoming wrapped in smoke like vines becoming solid in the wetness, assessing the persistence of the rain through the bulbous auras of streetlamps. People began shedding their umbrellas as the drops gave way to a mist.
I knew the window of opportunity, the breath between downpours, was limited. It was time to get home as quickly as possible.
Too much traffic for a taxi when the streets start to flood like this. Too much traffic, too few available taxis. I squinted and tried to spot the orange vests of the motorcycle taxi drivers. Those vests that give texture to the slate gray night like globs of agitated paint. I finally saw one, and he avoided my gaze for as long as possible before realizing that resistance was futile. I pleaded and shivered and blinked with the suggestion of a frown. He reluctantly deposited the contents of his hand into his pocket, shrugged, nodded, and we ventured into the slippery spinal cord of Bangkok’s rain traffic, weaving between still vehicles like delinquent impulses, fluid and electric.
And then…..the ever-lovin’ heavens opened up and the rain was like a million metal screws or shark’s teeth or filthy marbles. I couldn’t feel the wetness through the sheer force and impact of it all, and I could feel my flesh becoming pockmarked and illustrated with gumdrop welts and my bones being devoured like the ends toothpicks and my hair most likely melting from my head, leaving a stringy wake as the motorcycle shook and proceeded forward in its steadfast, metallic determination. I found myself hugging the driver’s waist and burying my face in his back like he was my lover or a tree branch and our fates were entwined and isn’t it funny how often our lives are in the hands of strangers due to the impersonal need for transportation and vehicles and drivers and people in control? My eyes could not stay open in the blinding, blinding rain and I estimated our location from the angled arcs of our turns, from the small sways of my driver’s torso as he drove on in spite of my clinging like a starved koala. When I did open my eyes I recognized nothing. I saw the thick green varicose veins of the 7-Eleven sign, but it melted into unfamiliar surroundings. Families huddled under flimsy umbrellas. Where there had previously been the living, breathing organism of traffic there were now only pedestrians and dogs and small doorways and everything was still. And waiting. And staring.
I hoisted my chin onto my driver’s shoulder and bellowed into his ear. I asked him where we were. I gave him my address again, which had been previously absorbed with a nod of recognition. My mouth filled with rainwater. The air was absent and I had to fight the impulse to start gulping. I could feel the arteries in my neck starting to pop like gills. There was no space for air. No space. No oxygen. No orientation.
My driver bellowed back, his voice lost in sheet of noise that rose up from the pavement and I tried to decipher what he said by the quick bursts of his diaphragm contracting, hoping that his rib cage could send a bony code to my fingers while they clutched it like piano keys.
I had no idea what he had said. Suddenly I saw the twin towers of my condo, rising up like sticks of chalk, white molars, lighthouses. The darkness seemed to bubble up around them and everything was illuminated. I pointed. He drove. He drove until we got to the meticulous bars of an impenetrable gate. And there was my condo, just beyond, lights blinking out as its inhabitants fluffed pillows, yanked out false teeth, spoke in many languages about their gratitude for walls and ceilings and blankets because have you seen it out there?
I snaked my arm in a manic undulation to show my driver where to turn, how to turn, screaming in Thai though none of my words reached his ears. They drowned, scattering on the street with their exoskeletons like quarters dropping without sound. We backtracked. He shrugged violently, not knowing quite how to handle my wild gesticulations. Suddenly I smelled that hearty scent associated with dry mouth and headaches and flavored burps and foam, and my leg was saturated with a frigid liquid that I could easily differentiate from the tropical rain. It was the contents of my driver’s pocket. It was beer. A can of beer that he had been happily quaffing when I happened upon him and was just too blinded by my desire for my pink pillows and pirated DVDs and hot showers to notice.
Please. Please please please please please PLEASE.
I closed my eyes and just let the rain pound, wishing for more wax in my ears, wishing for something to shield my eyes, wishing that I could wipe off the beer that was cascading down my leg, warming and thickening with the rain, resembling beer-induced piss. I had no idea if my driver knew where we were or where we were going. I just slumped further and further into the tensed shape of his back. I just waited. Waited. Waited in motion, waited for breath. I only knew that we were safely in the garage of my condo when the dark of my eyelids became penetrated with the smack of fluorescent lighting. I could still feel the rain beating me. I could still hear it. I could still taste it. But it was over and done with now. I opened my eyes and the security guards all stared. My colored bra and panties were betrayed as my white dress (yes….yes….the dress was white, because that’s the only thing that could possibly make sense in the infinite possibilities of this day) had essentially dissolved against my skin. They all just gave me the look that I’ve gotten since I was little. A look I’m rather accustomed to by now. A look that is partly amused and affectionate, partly questioning my sanity and wondering where the hell it is, exactly, that my mind resides. A look that crosses cultural borders. A look that is seared into my mind when I see myself through other peoples’ eyes.
I just shrugged, smiled, shook like a wet dog, discreetly spat out a mouthful of rainwater, and walked my (essentially naked) self through a gauntlet of (dry) lobby observers. And I giggled.
At the end of the day, sometimes that’s all you can do.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Asia in Pictures: Things that build character:
1.) Having a tiger's head in your lap at the Tiger Temple:
2.) Holding a tiger cub's paw:
3.) Giving an elephant a forehead hug:
4.) Walking over the Bridge over the River Kwai (this last one especially...the bridge is very narrow and full of gaps large enough for a whole person to fit through as he plummets to the river below....there is an absolute dearth of handrails and an absolute plethora of tourists.....it was truly daunting, BUT....truly authentic!)
I certainly enjoyed my visit to Kanchanaburi. So much history and so many furry animals, all in one place. I also had a FABULOUS driver, "Mr. T," who answered all of my questions, half in English and half in Thai, and who also allowed me my quiet moments of introspection as we sped from one place to the next.
It was a truly fabulous day.
2.) Holding a tiger cub's paw:
3.) Giving an elephant a forehead hug:
4.) Walking over the Bridge over the River Kwai (this last one especially...the bridge is very narrow and full of gaps large enough for a whole person to fit through as he plummets to the river below....there is an absolute dearth of handrails and an absolute plethora of tourists.....it was truly daunting, BUT....truly authentic!)
I certainly enjoyed my visit to Kanchanaburi. So much history and so many furry animals, all in one place. I also had a FABULOUS driver, "Mr. T," who answered all of my questions, half in English and half in Thai, and who also allowed me my quiet moments of introspection as we sped from one place to the next.
It was a truly fabulous day.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Checking in
Oh my!! Sorry for the absence!! I'm sure all six of you have been waiting on pins and needles for me to post again :)
I honestly have no idea where the time goes. The days are ripping past like the billions of pieces of tissue paper that I had to tear up for a collage activity. My sister was here for a week, a former coworker returned, and the preschool has been in session for four weeks and I am so excited to come to work and play with my kiddos every day. I have one more week until my fall break, the destination of which is currently uncertain, and I am forcing myself to peel myself out of bed this weekend and go play with some tigers and visit the bridge over the River Kwai. And maybe ride an elephant.
I've decided that it's ok to sometimes take the various items on your emotional plate, pile them into some tupperware, and refrigerate for another day. Sometimes it's ok to just not think about things until a more appropriate time when you are surrounded by friends and family members and can actually take a moment to catch your breath. And so....I will have plenty of time to feast on the copious amounts of grief that is just sort of hanging out and looking for a window of opportunity to be acknowledged, expressed, and welcomed into my emotional tapestry.
But, well, that ain't happening today.
Right now is for travel, is for work, is for celebrating the end of the rainy season. Right now is for being here and being present. My 2008 reflections will all have time to, well, be reflected upon when I'm home and surrounded by people that I love.
More tomorrow. I promise. If not tomorrow, well, definitely when I return from the tiger temple with pictures of a tiger's head in my lap. Seriously.
I honestly have no idea where the time goes. The days are ripping past like the billions of pieces of tissue paper that I had to tear up for a collage activity. My sister was here for a week, a former coworker returned, and the preschool has been in session for four weeks and I am so excited to come to work and play with my kiddos every day. I have one more week until my fall break, the destination of which is currently uncertain, and I am forcing myself to peel myself out of bed this weekend and go play with some tigers and visit the bridge over the River Kwai. And maybe ride an elephant.
I've decided that it's ok to sometimes take the various items on your emotional plate, pile them into some tupperware, and refrigerate for another day. Sometimes it's ok to just not think about things until a more appropriate time when you are surrounded by friends and family members and can actually take a moment to catch your breath. And so....I will have plenty of time to feast on the copious amounts of grief that is just sort of hanging out and looking for a window of opportunity to be acknowledged, expressed, and welcomed into my emotional tapestry.
But, well, that ain't happening today.
Right now is for travel, is for work, is for celebrating the end of the rainy season. Right now is for being here and being present. My 2008 reflections will all have time to, well, be reflected upon when I'm home and surrounded by people that I love.
More tomorrow. I promise. If not tomorrow, well, definitely when I return from the tiger temple with pictures of a tiger's head in my lap. Seriously.
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