Thursday, September 30, 2004

overstay your welcome

i think i need to go home. now. not in eleven days, but now. i know it is coming and i want to get there already.

had a significantly shitty day yesterday. and not even the whole day. more like from 3pm on.
-talked to bung, he is in bangkok. he said when i go home he wants me to talk to my parents about getting married. i laughed in his face and said he doesn't know how to love me. and that also...he is gay. difficult to love a woman the way she wants to be loved

-was ditched for dinner on account of significant other plans...god forbid you should have dinner with a friend once in a fucking while

-talked to bambroon, he said "so you sent a text to khun linda today and told her everything?" i most certainly did not. no way. and he had to go, as he was at work, said he would call me back and never did. i will be interested to see what happens between myself and him once she is gone. i am predictiong: nothing.

-felt ill, homesick, etc

-couldn't sleep

just everything is adding up. i am underappreciated in my job and with my friends here. i miss my friends and family at home. i know these feelings stop, but right now, it's all i can see, because going home feels so far away. i can't wait to leave. eleven days, eleven days.

i'm at work now, and time to go "gin kow." and some icky squid shit covered in curry. nothing says natural laxative like thai food.

prrrr

hib

Wednesday, September 29, 2004

shanti evening

i had one of the most lovely evenings last night. i went out with goobe and her rather glowingly pregnant friend, a girl i met at our nia class, also canadian. we went to the shanti lodge, a little hippy-esque retreat decked out in dark woods and comfy chairs. a place where the geckos didn't even bother me.just a simple evening of chatting and reflecting and listening to the rain, but being under cover.

driving home was a new experience for me. i often drive home at night, but last night it was raining quite a bit, which by default made me drive more slowly. as i drove i noticed more than i ever have. typically when i am riding i am doing everything i can to not have an accident. full stop. but last night the road was clear and i went obscenely slow. i saw little huts on the side of the road, families tucked under cover watching the rain. dogs roaming the streets, looking for friends-much like the rest of us. spirit houses glowing through the damp air, the sweet waft of incense that has been infiltrated into my memories of thailand taking over my thoughts.

a simple night filled with amazing sensory experiences. it's funny how the simple things are the ones that will stay with you forever.

13 days until i go home.

Monday, September 27, 2004


bambroon Posted by Hello

tainted beach town

The past few weeks, I have felt as if life here has been closing in on me. And in the midst of these feelings, *poof* I have the opportunity to go home. I am so excited, it is a thought that passes between my ears once about every three minutes, even while sleeping. Last night, was an introduction to going home.

After making the rounds in town Goobe and I headed to Patong, for what was only my second night thrust into that gong show after the sun goes down. The thing is, during the day, Patong is a rather painless experience, in what would appear, to the untrained eye, to be a tacky seaside tourist town, that could be uprooted and be put somewhere in Maine, tragically named “Oceanview” or something equally lame. However, after the sun goes to get the moon, and the families are safely tucked away in their resorts in their safe little bubbles, the creatures crawl out from the woodwork. Simply walking down the street is enough visual, mental, and quite frankly, sexual stimulation to make one require a nap.

“You want beaaaah? I have Hein-a-kin. It is good for you.”
“You want suit? I make nice suit for you. Special price for you.”

Lights, squid on a stick, tuk-tuk smoke in your nose, many languages, sex tourists, ladyboys, bargirls, young thai boys riding on motorbikes looking at the farang, tourists, locals, those who don’t even know where they are. People are drunk, people are hung-over. People who haven’t been sober for years. People who thought Patong would be a nice place for a holiday. McDonalds, Starbucks, KFC, DVDs, chichi bags, loud music, and a plethora of people with vacant looks, saying “huh?” All on a beach that only a few decades ago was ‘nuthin but jungle.’ Oh what a little moonlight can do!

We walked along the madness and went to an Irish Pub, which reminded me so much of home. Hearing the same songs I danced to in a dazed state all throughout university, people speaking ENGLISH. ALL OF THEM! White faces. Big faces, small faces, drunk faces and jet-lagged faces. All of them wanting to escape from something. All of them singing along to U2, throwing back the singha.

Beautiful.

Perfect evening.

I know it will be hard to go home, but I know it is going to be good for me. The honeymoon is over, and life here is hard. I still like it, but I no longer see all things with the amazement and wonder I initially had, and I think going home will bring some of that back to me. Good timing.

The night was going well until I finally returned about seven missed phone calls I had been ignoring throughout the night. When I called him back, we were on the beach in Karon, around 230am with some cold beer and a full moon. We had brought a few people we had met in Patong and people were swimming, talking, relaxing and watching the stars. During what was perhaps one of the most surreal evenings yet on the island, I was interrupted by five words being whispered in my ear, as if rehearsed and planned out.

“I want to kill you.”

Indeed. Nothing says romance like a simple little death threat followed by a creepy giggle. I hung up. After cooling off in the ocean, bathing in the moonlight, I heard my phone ringing once again, and shockingly, it was him.

After a long discussion coming to an end with harmful words, he told me he was going to move home, near Bangkok. When he called me today I heard the soft rumble of what could only be a bus. Indeed, the boy was on his way home. There are volumes between the beginning and the ending of the night, but putting them in to words seems to make them all a little too real. He is gone, for now, and that is all I need.

I think staying here too long can really break a person. It can challenge your beliefs, take away your morals, stretch the boundaries of what you expect for yourself, and completely extinguish any faith in other human beings. I see it all around me. People become institutionalized, and they can’t leave. They no longer know how to function in a western society. They expect others to lie. They don’t expect things to get done when they are said to be done. They don’t know how to talk with sincerity.

I had a really good day today. Relaxing…a leisurely breakfast in the afternoon, a facial that put me into a trance. Banana smoothie, nipple-hardeningly chills at the cinema, chats about the future with my neighbors, a phone call filled with giggles and ‘kit toong’s. I am feeling more and more at home here. I am remembering the things that make me happy. Going home is going to amplify this, and I feel as though things can only go up from here.

I am excited about what the next six month have in store for me.

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

yak poot passa thai

i wonder if i will ever be fluent in thai.

i speak english.
je parle francais.
hablo espagnol.
parlo italiano.
parlo latina.
poot passa thai dai nih noi.

but really, isnt it useless space? if i spent the time i spent working on languages on other things, i could be really good at something instead of just ok at many things.

bec once told me that there is nothing someone in my family can't do. and it is true. but we have no superstars...i am slightly above average at a few things.

so is everyone i suppose.

what's it all about?

excitement

i don't think i have felt this kind of excitement since i was leaving for thailand. the pat twenty-four hours have been filled with thoughts of looking at the mountains of my past. of driving around in my old klunky saab with the sunroof open and the heat on, late at night, with lydia by my side. of listening to raging lesbian music and wondering why life has to be so complicated. i don't think it was until i left vermont that i really began to love it with all of my heart. i am not excited to go to america. i could take it or leave it. but i am so excited to be in vermont. to see old friends, to walk around woodstock. to see the leaf-peepers and think...'i am still a local.'

this weekend was an eye opener to me.

on friday i went out, as usual, to seua saming. always the same story, slightly loopy, rather intoxicated, feeling flirty, wanting to forget that for five days of the week, i am 'croon croo farang' (white teacher.), and that i am human.

around 130am, just when things are starting to go well and people are realling 'having it' as mark would say, who walks in, but bung. not who i want to see. not even a week ago i drove over a mountain at midnight to take care of his sad heart, only to have him tell me he 'doesn't want to think about me now.' charming. he looked right through me. there was a fake aura about him. trying to be happy, when he knew he wasn't. trying to forget about the problems we have been having, but knowing i cannot.

as i stared in amazement, all watching for a reaction from me, i walked over and put my hand on his shoulder. seua is my haven, my happy place, the place where we can all let go. and to have him come and spy on me, to take that away from me, i was upset. and to reiterate, a little intoxicated. he whispered to me: 'i come here because i know i see you here.' shocking. he proceeded to twirl me around the dancefloor (i love to be twirled) and then in a way that can be described as anything but romantic, he shoved his tongue so far down my throat i choked. he was trying to eat me. he was trying to get something from inside of me. he was trying to taste what i taste. he was trying to reach my heart so he could have it back. not because he misses me, but because he misses the life with me.

twenty minutes later tom jones came on and we knew it was time to go home. i saw him out, so i thought. i went back inside to chat with friends. i heard a noise from behind the curtains, pushed my hand through the purple silk that lines the walls, and i felt a familiar shape. it was him. he was hiding, listening to me talk. after i noticed him he ran out as if i had done something wrong. i am not too sure what happened after that, but the night finished with him saying 'i dont want to think about you right now.' and him trying to run me over with his motorbike. if that's not love, i dont know what is.

what a sick turn of events the past few months have brought me.

24 hours later i was basking in the after-hours-ugly-light with bambroon, listening to his words pass through me with his hands around my own.

'i love you.'

'you have a girlfriend.'

silence.

'i am falling in love with you.'

'we need time.'

'we have time'

'let's take time.'

two thai kisses, and he was off.

who knows where this is all going. i want to learn these lessons for myself. i want to know what it all feels like. i know the mistakes i am making while i make them. but they dont feel like mistakes. when enough is enough, i will wipe my hands on his shirt, and walk the other way.

the beauty of life is that we can always walk the other way.

the view from here

chapitre un: avant le depart


Saturday, January 17th, 2004

“montaigne identified three types of philosophers: those who think they’ve found the truth and quit looking, those who think the truth can’t be found and throw in the towel, and those who hit the road with their eyes and hearts open to the next big discovery. to create new ideas we need to create new languages to express them. We need new translations to get lost in, we need new ways to repair the rift between the conscious and the unconscious. We need to hit the road with our eyes wide open.”

-from HoBo Magazine, article by Brian Hendricks, December ‘03

I will spend the rest of my life as the latter. There is no end to the road, only infinite beginnings.




Thursday, March 4th, 2004

“…a lamp is something you use to guide yourself in the dark. ‘be lamps unto yourselves,’ means be your own master. Be your own lamp. Don’t believe something because your hero, your teacher, or even Buddha himself said it. Look for yourself, with your own eyes. Be a lamp unto yourself…”

-Hardcore Zen

I am not quite sure why I am having this existential trouble right now. I think I am just worried about leaving. There is so much to do, and so little I can motivate myself to do. I am in dire need of a change at the moment. My apartment is closing in on me and the strings in my throat get tighter and tighter every day. Last night I was reading in bed and I could barely breathe. I was wearing a scarf, took it off, and still could barely get enough air in my lungs. I am choking on this world.

49 days to go.





chapitre deux: pendant le voyage

Thursday, April 22nd, 2004

I’M ON MY WAY!!!!!!!!!!! Yes, It’s finally here, and judging by the map on the screen we are right above the north pole. There is no way it can still be Thursday. It seems to me that when one is traveling that there is no time. It is always x o’clock. If we always traveled east, would be never get old?

At any rate, I left Syracuse this morning and flew to jfk, waited about 5 hours, boarded this plane and I am finally feeling what it is like to be the minority. My plane has very few Americans, mostly Japanese going home.

There is a Japanese toddler who has been kicking my seat for five hours. My children will live in a bubble.

…later…
I’m flying over Siberia right now. I looked out the window to see, and it’s amazing. I gasped. We are flying over the verkhyanskiy mountains and there isn’t a cloud in the sky. I can see down all 365,000 feet, and it’s –51 F outside! It’s so damn amazing. So much diversity on one earth. I am beginning to feel like an alien. Or a child. The mountains look like teeth. I can never forget this image.

Monday, September 20, 2004

ahem.

I'M GOING HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!

i found out about three minutes ago, and i am here, in the most basic of basic internet cafes, and i am laughing i am so happy. i didn't even think this was a possibility until last night when i got a phone call from my parents, and then today, here i am, going home on october 12th for two weeks. jesus howard christ.

the past three days have, i believe, changed my life. life here is different. my mind is different. i am realizing what i can handle, and seeing where i am going wrong in my choices. i think the best possible thing for me to do right now is to go to vermont and boston, see the people i love, and remember where i started. i can't wait i can't wait i can't wait!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

right after i read the email from my father i was on a high, and then something jerked inside of me. i am going home. to a place where everyone doesn't remember everything i do all the time. to a place where there is quite possibly going to be snow, and beautiful leaves, and mountains, and MY PARENTS! FUCK I MISS MY PARENTS! and to a home that i don't know with people who have grown wrinkles, and to brothers who love me and worship everything i do, and to RED WINE! AND HEALTH FOOD STORES! AND CARS! and lack of rats, filled with coffee and scarves and all things that make me warm and fuzzy. it's going to be so bizarre, but i can't wait. i think two weeks will be the perfect amount of time to dip my feet in the waters, to remember what is here, to remember what i want here. damn damn damn. in one month, i will be 22, and i will be back in thailand, with new memories of my life in the west.

things have changed so much in the past few days. nothing around me, only inside of me.

i didn't go to work today. i didn't feel well, and i still dont know if it was in my mind or in my body, but i know i needed time for me. and i did. i relaxed. i stared at the rain on my balcony wrapped in my chenille blanket on my balcony, sipping sweet sweet coffee. i thought for hours on end, in silence, and to My Music. this is the perfect day, here, with dripping hair, dripping nose, eyes of tears, head full of thoughts. i finally remember what my life is about.

Friday, September 17, 2004

justice as fairness. rawls was right.

i said before that all i believe in is karma and justice. add fairness.

karma, justice and fairness: i believe with all my heart that good things happen to good people. or perhaps i should be using the past tense. because i can no longer believe it. perfectly horrific things happen to decent people. and for no apparent reason. it is too much of a leap of faith for me to say that i believe in god, and that he or she is watching out for me. i'm not kierkegaard, and i can't close my eyes and jump, i want to know what is going to catch me. but the thing is, karma is about the energy, good or bad, being reflected in your life from your actions. stupid simple: you do good things, there will be a lack of bad things that need to happen to you. and the compliment, and the real killer: you do bad things, and very bad things should, and typically do happen to you in return. an eye for an eye, or two, for that matter. but these past two weeks have shown that this isn't possible. as i haven't done anything wrong....and he did. gaylord faulker.

justice: equality in input, equality in output. you should be punished for those things you do wrong in life, and rewarded for those you do well. justice is about reasonable, rational punishments, following logic. there is no longer logic present in my life.

fairness: slighly different from justice. while justice works on a global scale, i believe that fairness is involved in our hearts. we see fairness when loved ones are forgiven for their mistakes. while justice seems to deal with universal laws to me, fairness plays to the laws of the heart. this is what is really getting me.

i was really falling for him. aside from everything that has happened to me in the past five months since my plane landed here, i was falling for him. shit aside, swept away, ignoring the mistakes, i was falling in love. i haven't felt like that before. the most vivid memory i have of him is one night after work when he came to my place and we were sipping melted ice wrapped together on my bed, listening to the rain, and he looked into my eyes and said, "i think i came to phuket to wait for you." take my breath away. of course he did. nothing has ever felt more right in my life. nothing has ever been more comfortable. nothing has been more magnetic. nothing has ever made me feel so at home. but it is when you find that level of comfort that it is someone's duty to rip it from under you. and that he did. he did indeed.

two days after i noticed my period was late he was supposed to come to my place after work, let himself in, as i would be out with friends, and hang out until i got home...he had to work in the morning. that night, no phone call, his phone was off, my friends and i drunk on the whisky he gave me, and an empty bed. i knew something was wrong. things had happened before, but i didn't think anything of it. he lives 40 minutes away. it's a long drive. he works a lot. no problem. i have never been uptight about things like that. however...i now am.

the next day i sent him a message to the effect of 'worried about you, wondering if you are okay. call me when you have time.' mistake. i went to central with c and right before going into the cinema we were outside people watching and smoking and my phone rings.

-hello?

-who is this?

-heather. who is this?

-do you have relations with joe?

-excuse me?

-do you have relations with joe?

-is this his girlfriend?

***silence***

-i understand.

-have you slept with him?

***my turn for silence***

-has he told you he loves you?

-yes.

-do you love him?

-i dont know.

-i broke up with him this morning. he is yours now. i dont want him. i have been with him for a year. he lied to me. i am finished.

oh the joys. i couldn't cry...i couldn't speak. i muttered 'sorry' a thousand times in traditional canadian tradition. how could he? how could he lie to me? how could she not know? who was she?

over the next three days the mystery unfolded. he was sleeping with a woman from work...omanburi. the manager. he was a chef. he is 33, she, 43ish, married, with two kids. a friend of a friend of mine. and heartbroken, as was i. no interest in my feelings, no idea how i felt. i was now five days late, and quite possibly pregnant with a cheating bastard's baby. the baby would be a bastard, just like his dad.

i haven't heard from him since sunday two weeks ago. i dont know how he could lie to me.

-she is insane
-i am in trouble
-her husband knows about me, i am in trouble. he is thai
-i love you
-i want to be with you
-please stop crying
-i need time
-i want to talk to her and clear everything. then i come see you

nearly two weeks later and not a word. it's a miserable thing to go to bed at night with the slight hope that he will knock and wake me up. that he will know he has done wrong, and that he has in fact cleared everything, and we can sail off into the sunset. naked and howling. but i know, in my heart, that this wont happen.

there is no karma. he is with her now. i know it. i did nothing wrong. he did. but i am the one with the broken heart, and both her and him, cheaters, are together, making more cheaters. just what the world needs.

there is no justice. he should be punished. he should be hurt. he should be alone. he should feel how i feel.

there is no fairness. he should have a broken heart. he should be alone while both linda and i sing and rejoice that we are free from lies. but that isn't the case. she took him back. i want him back. man, he's good. his parents must be proud. i want to rip the sadness from my heart, and shove it down his throat. i want to hurt him. i want to slap him until he cries as much as i did. i want to tell him he is a horrible person until he cries as much as i cried. i want him to try and teach a class hyped up on valium and see how it is. i want him to know what it is like to have two weeks trying to sleep with one eye open, in case you miss a soft knock at the door. i want him to hurt. that is fairness. this is not fairness. i am a good person. i did nothing wrong. he told me he was single. lies. he told me he loved me. lies. he told me he was going to come and see me, and sort it out. lies lies lies.

no karma, no justice, and no fairness. what are we left with?

Thursday, September 16, 2004

i can feel a catharsis coming on...

last night i went to a nia class with a good friend. i wasn't going to go, as lately, i haven't been feeling up to doing much of anything. i have been trying to be strong though the pains of the last two weeks. things i may just write about sometime. that time will be the time when it is not so painful to think about things.

the class was beautiful. i can't thank her enough for bringing me. the sensuality and the tension in my heart melted away, if only for an hour. there were many movements i thought i would feel silly doing, but really, were so natural to me. the hardest part was breathing. we sat on the ground in a circle after sharing our energy with one another, and breathed. we meditated and breathed, and listened to perhaps some of the most beautiful music in the world. i think it was perhaps only beautiful because it was playing during my thoughts. as i sat there, and drifted into nothingness, i couldn't help but think about joe. and about bung. and how they have hurt me. and how i can still wake up in the morning, plaster on a smile and go and teach 243 thai children how to greet each other and tell me their favorite color. i am proud of myself, but for the wrong reason. i am proud, because i am able to hide how it hurts me. it was only a week ago and my life seems like nothing happened. it is too reminiscent of the past, and too close to my heart. i know i need to deal with it. i know i am not pregnant. now, that is my only relief. and with that relief, i tricked myself into thinking that i am fine.

no baby, happy girl.

but that is not so. there is so much to deal with. so much to think about. so much i am angry about. i believe in karma, and i believe in justice. and neither of those have been my friends. why does everything have to be so backwards here?

thoughts from beyond the pillow

i wonder if there is ever a time when we have actually 'found our feet.' it seems as if life is just a series of the ground moving from beneath us, and us trying to sort things out in order to stand up. the excitement is enticing, but sometimes, wouldn't it be nice to just stand in peace?

since i got to this island, life has consisted of intense amounts of adjestments. i knew i would miss things in canada, but i didn't think that i would forget what life in the west can be like in such a short time. we can forget things so quickly when our mind is filled with the difficulties of everyday life.

i remember when i first got here i fell all the time. not little falls, not tripping here and there, but big smack-your-ass-on-the-pavement, get-me-a-bandaid-i'm-bleeding-from-the-head type of falls. i remember looking at the sidewalks, and noticing that there is no normality to the manor in which the pavement was laid. if there was a tree stump in the way no effort was made to avoid it, the pavement was simply raised a few inches to compensate for the natural way of the earth. i remember walking into numberous objects suspended from the air: cables holding up food stands, loose power lines dangling with death buzzing through them, small bags of food, birdcages, small children, a motorbike's front wheel, you name it, and i would walk into it. i think it took me about two weeks to actually look where i am going whilst walking. there is not a moment when you can look away...walking is like driving here. in canada, when i would walk home from class in university i could read a book. you would hear the crunch of the footsteps of a fellow walker and know the avoid her. but here, there is no chance of me even looking at the person i am walking with, for doing so will result in one of three results:
i) tripping on a rat, having it bite my foot, getting some foul virus i can't even say, going to the hospital, being treated with a dirty knife, and as we all know, i would die
ii) decapitation by suspended cord holding up a food cart which is in turn holding up three small children, holding two dogs, watching a bird, who if scared, will gnaw through the cage, attack me, and i will end up in the hospital with a version of i)'s virus, and, once again, die.
iii) fall into one of the cavernous abysses that exist between the slaps of cement, only to fall to a demise not unlike those resulted in i) and ii), but ending up with a broken next, eliminating the possibility of an open casket, which i am sure my parents would want, seeing as they haven't seen me in six months.

so you see, life here can be difficult. there is not a day that goes by when i am firing up my motorbike or crossing the street or dipping my toes in the ocean when death doesn't cross my mind.

is that what paradise is supposed to be like? is that what i wanted when i bought my ticket?

the thing is, i am used to it now. i can't even remember fears i had in canada. i can't remember being afraid of anything. fear has made me more aware. i look when i am walking. i am part of this world. in canada i was part of the world of my books and my thoughts. i am slowly lifting my head, and looking at every little piece of the earth before i make my next move.

sunset on the island Posted by Hello

down the street from me Posted by Hello

a dream house in thailand... Posted by Hello

oh the memories of canada... Posted by Hello

the woods are lovely, dark and deep... Posted by Hello

confusion where it counts

minimal thoughts passing between my ears, yet obscene amounts of confusion and tension in the pit of my stomach.

didn't someone once say that everything has a way of working itself out?

i'm off to find her...