I woke to the soft morning sun the next morning and felt incredibly filled. I knew it was going to be a beautiful day. I meandered toward the café that I had been to the day before, wanting to try their tuna sandwiches. I could see Jackie just across the street from me, but I didn’t want to keep on harassing her if she didn’t want the harassment. I ordered a sandwich and hopped onto the Net when I heard her calling my name. We used our 12 foot voices with each other and then sheepishly decided that she should join me after she finished her coffee. “What’s your plan today?” Jackie settled in across from me. “Waterfalls. Yours?” “I’m not sure, I’ve got a limited amount of time… are the waterfalls supposed to be good?” “That’s what I’ve heard. You know—waterfalls… I’m sure it’ll be pretty nice.” “Indeed. Can I join you?” “Of course.”
We made our way up there, through the rolling hills and past the stray cattle slowly plodding about; rising mountains and pastures and terraced rice fields. It seemed impossible to think about where I had come from. The endless non-stop craziness of Seoul—workingworkingworking 6 day weeks, getting yelled at by my boss, having strange trysts with dumb white men, and the cold cold winter.
Here I was among the beautiful tropical flora, the pinks and greens and startling yellows. This beauty, I’ve seen before, but there is something so lovely about seeing it here in this setting—Among these lovely people who smile and yell “Sabahdee!”. Most men and women have a smile to flash and sun-browned kids raise their hands for a high-five as you pass. This beauty, it is evermore increased by the people of this lush, fiery land.
The waterfalls were shaded by the surrounding forest and spilled into turquoise-blue pools. The colors were dazzling—startling to look at. Again, though my eyes have beheld spilling water before, it is hard to understand how molecules of hydrogen and oxygen could possibly be this color. I took shrieking leaps from the top of a 15 meter fall, and then swung into the pools from a rope swing. Clean turquoise splash.
Jackie had to leave back to Vientiane to catch a flight and possibly have a romantic encounter with a French guy she met out there, and I was going to have a night alone. The dusky afternoon led me to a coffee shop/bookstore that a friend had recommended to me from a trip here long before. When I got there, a movie was playing—one of those Winter block-busters I had been curious about. I lay out on a cushion that was spread on the floor, in front of a fan that cast breezes from outdoor Laos over my lightly perspiring body. This is perfect. The ginger tea I ordered stung my taste buds pleasantly and I was cast into 19th century England...
Oh no!! it’s already 9 days into my trip?? How did this happen? Luang Prubang was a dream:
While I sat in the dusty bus terminal in Vientiane, I wondered if it would be hard to procure housing when I got to Luang Prubang late that evening. I made a few calls, but they all were full. I was a little nervous, but the lady I spoke to on the phone reassured me that I would be able to find a place to stay if I told the tuk-tuk to go to the area of the post office.
It was a long hard 10 hour ride. At first, I had some sunlight so I was able to read my book, but when the night descended, I had nothing I could use to distract myself, save for a moment of writing that first journal entry.
We stopped almost every hour and a half—almost for no obvious reason. The bumpy roads wound up and down and the driver blasted and sang along to the LOUD Laotian music (despite the crying baby), and almost everyone on the bus looked at me with a half-smirk, knowing that I was a foreigner who was getting tossed around in the mix of their incomprehensible vowels and consonants and dried frogs.
I was still wearing my sundress from the Bangkok heat and had smoked a cigarette nearly every time we stopped. We stopped for dinner at a random truck area type of place. My status as a non-Laotian made me feel somewhat self-conscious. I was getting stared at. The guy who was taking the tickets laughed at me several times and made rowdy, snickering commentary while looking over his shoulder at his buddies and then pointing in my direction. I simply smiled back and offered him a cigarette. He was more considerate after this.
At about the 5th time we stopped, the night had gotten inordinately chilly and I asked to get to my backpack so I could cover up. Ticket-master opened the storage space and gave me a hand with my bag.
The night wore on and it grew later and later—I watched the sky and thought about how the clear stars made me think about Tennessee and my old life. Out of caloric necessity, I ordered a bag some strange pastry with a chalky yellow filling. It was pretty disgusting, but I didn’t feel enough fortitude to mime what I wanted to eat at that point. I had been stared at too closely for too many hours at that point.
When I arrived at Luang Prubang at 2am, I felt slightly concerned b/c Laos seemed like it shut down early. Also, I had a moment of apprehension because the guy sitting behind me had pulled out a rifle and slung it across his back. He glanced at me and as he tried to pass. I quickly lifted my heavy backpack and backed up as far as space would allow. Yes. Gun-holders first, of course.
I was ushered into a tuk-tuk with no explanations. The guy across from me asked me where I was from in broken English. I gave him my demographics, figuring he was just a curious Laotian.
Ah. Originally from America but living in Seoul, Korea.
He was from Tokyo, Japan.
Let’s find a hostel together?
He agreed.
When we got to the hostel lane, most of the lights were off, but we confidently strode around with our US dollars figuring there would be some place to sleep. But after knocking on several doors and being turned away (“we’re full”) we both began to worry.
A cute Asian girl with a funky haircut was smoking a cigarette and sitting on the street. When we passed her the second time, she looked up hopefully and then said in perfect English—“I’ve been sitting on the street for the past 2 hours because I couldn’t find a place to stay. Could I join you guys?”
Of course!
Our little motley crew set off as the hour approached 3am, in search for a bed for the evening. We finally found a beautiful little place and paid the exorbitant price of $30USD, but we weren’t homeless for the night. Plus, we roused the sleepy-eyed bedraggled overnight manager at the late hour. The girl (Jackie) and I instantly connected because she lived in Seoul, Korea—and a 3rd generation Korean American—I’ve never met one of those before. We spent much of the night talking and accidentally got up after only 3 hours of sleep because Jackie had set her alarm to Korean time and not Laos time.
Well, the 3 of us ended up parting ways and finding different hostels to stay in—I ended up at a place on the Mekong River. A bright room with cool breezes and magnolias coloring the sunlight that filtered in. Lovely.
I walked around and found a riverside restaurant with an incredible view. I ordered some laap (Laotian spiced meat) with a huge mound of various delicious greens and cucumbers. After eating, I then walked a little further down the Mekong and decided I wanted a fresh fruit shake. $.80. Amazing.
It was hard to sit still and just read. I still felt so stirred up with life and didn’t know how to slow down and just relax. But somehow, I forced myself for a period. And then, I got up and began to do a little exploring of this beautiful little town.
Bright flora, flapping laundry, rusting corrugated tin, sandwich and fresh fruit smoothie stands, and these beautiful Laotian children laughing and running and smiling and waving, “Sa-bah-dee!”
I had heard about Phusi—that it was one of the places to hit while in Luang Prubang. While I strolled and then saw the sign, I slowly climbed the 400steps to the top. The vegetation crowded around me as I ascended and I enjoyed the frondy respite from the sun. I had no idea what I was going to see, but it certainly more than what I expected:
The city outstretched below me was lit up by the bright sun overhead—the beauty of the people calling out to each other and riding bicycles below the bluest sky and the whitest cottony clouds.
While I attempted to take pictures of myself, a monk dressed in brightly colored orange came and shyly greeted me. Was I willing to talk to him?
Of course!
And so we conversed for about half an hour while my skin began to brown and glisten with sweat.
He was 19 years old, had been in monk school for 2 years and entering his last year. He knew how to speak English because it was part of his training. He asked me if I wanted a picture of myself with the backdrop, and of course I agreed, but then he couldn’t accept the camera directly from my hands. I had to set it on the bench and then he could pick it up. But after snapping the shot, he commented on how beautiful he thought I was. That felt a little confusing.
Eventually, I left for the night market and ran back into Jackie. We ate dinner and then drank beers together at Utopia—a bar that hung directly over the Mekong at the end of a twisty winding alley. We shared our lives and stories and commented about how long it had been since we actually saw stars. I went to bed feeling tired, happy, and slightly drunk.
(from 17 days ago... will keep on posting as i get my thoughts together)
So, I’m officially on the 3rd day of my Thailand/Laos extravaganza. It’s been a rushing whirlwind-suddenly-Summer along with dozens of new sensations and perspectives. Although I’m sitting somewhat uncomfortably on a forever-bus towards Luang Prubang, Laos, I feel like I'm settling down.
The definitive decision to come to Laos today was a split second one after traversing the swirl of Bangkok’s endless peacock palms, honking cars, glittering palaces, Buddhas in every size and posture (sitting, standing, sleeping), plumes of throat clenching exhaust, and gently drifting magnolia blossoms as they detached, spinning from trees.
This past month has been an exhausting one in pretty much every arena of my life. I wonder: Am I just not able to handle stress that well? Or are there genuinely *that* many crazy things that happen to me? And if the latter is true, why me? Why the hell me?
Well let’s examine the past month: I was working extra long days and hours while negotiating the tricky issue of quitting a job and getting my shit together for the next one. After too many cluster fucks with paperwork, getting yelled at by the only boss I’ve ever really respected, being charmed by a handsome/smart womanizing imbecile—then having strange friendship dynamics arise as a result, I drank like a fish while making new friends, and smoked myself into a lung infection. I’m still coughing up that bright neon greenish goo out of my lungs.
I felt dizzy with exhaustion throughout, and had these strange moments when I felt like I was losing my memories. Or my mind. I don’t know how else to explicate upon the chaotic nuclear implosion I was having.
When last Saturday finally came and the closing ceremony for Winter Camp wrapped up, it was hard to believe that it had finally arrived. Drinking beer and soju with my co-workers and (now apologetic) boss was relieving, but it all felt like more of the same. I was out until 7:30am dancing and flirting and letting loose, but the tension was still there. After the monotonous story of packing/moving/saying goodbye to my studio and then meeting a friend for dinner, I ended up a homeless person in a jimjilbahng for my last night in Seoul.
The 12 hours of flying and transferring from plane to plane to bus to subway to foot continued to abrade my weakened state, but I was determined to get some noodles for my first night in Bangkok. And so I did, and had a lovely conversation with a Thailand-born Chinese man who insisted I looked either Japanese or Chinese—definitely not a Korean. It was mysterious. While we had a beer together, I realized that his overly jovial manner was actually genuine, and this charmed me.
I smoked many smokes while I said ‘hi’ to all of my loved ones via Facebook, then coughed out lung infection until I fell asleep. That first night, I slept and slept until I awoke, somewhat refreshed. Surprisingly, I was able to sleep a full 8 hours, which truly indicates how tired I must have been.
Over breakfast, a handsome blue-eyed man nodded a hello to me. I decided to engage him. His name was Sven. Sven from Germany.
Sven was a 37-year old man who had a lot of money and used to be a workaholic. While we had a city tour in a tuk-tuk (which later turned out to be a failed scam), he told me about his life: How he and his ex-girlfriend had bought an enormous house together on the border of Germany and Switzerland and they had spent 6 years renovating it together. Until she got sick of it. And sick of him. And she fell apart, began to drink--‘losing her mind’. They parted ways.
For the two years following, Sven womanized many women and/or had unfulfilling short relationships. He threw himself into his work and gathering possessions. He has a 15 bedroom home, 3 motorcycles, a Porsche, and even a Caterpillar excavator. These things were ‘not enough’: “There was no end to it. The women, the work. There is nowhere that it gets you,” he said earnestly in his clipped German-accented English. We veered and turned through the pink taxis and roaring buses, sometimes through narrow alleys and headlong into oncoming traffic.
The flowered rosary swung from the rearview mirror of the tuk-tuk and our driver kept on smiling knowingly at us, “Boyfriend-girlfriend?”
“No no no. We’re just friends,” I smiled genially.
Sven smirked, “for now.”
“You’ve got a new girlfriend, Sven. You just told me about her. Don’t be the typical guy that makes me never want to date again.”
Laughter, “all men are the same.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Sven and I took the subway and then the express boat up the river to the amazing view of the Bangkok that existed on the river: modern shiny buildings, the dangerously creaking rusting porches that hung over the water, palm and magnolia trees, a curious tall white structure shaped like a bishop chess piece, and the rising form of Wat Arun (The Temple of the Dawn). We shared the river with all variety of maritime vehicles. The drivers of the boats nodded at each other as we passed.
As we walked through the bustling city together, we snapped pictures of each other and of the dazzling structures covered in gold, turquoise, and thousands of carefully implanted mirror chips. There were brightly painted designs on nearly every surface.
“This is incredible.”
“I have never seen anything like this.
“Hey, what is that sound?” I asked as we stood atop the Golden Mount (Wat Saket).
Pause. “I think that’s the call of the macaws… Yes. Look, there’s one up in that tree.”
“Sven—look at the orchids! I can’t believe I’m actually looking at any of this.”
There were moments of slight awkwardness. He said he had a girlfriend, but kept on making slightly suggestive comments. It was odd. He seemed like a decent guy… but then again, he is a man. Not to be trusted.
When we finally made our way back towards the area our hostel was in, the sun had long since vanished and I was ravenously hungry for some more Thai noodles. An old man on the corner of Sukhumvit road and the subway scraped and spun his metal spatula in two enormous woks on the street. I watched as he threw in half a cup of oil to fry up the vegetables, noodles, meat, cilantro, sauces, hot spices, and eggs. He talked to me about how he’d gotten an award for his culinary skills, and spoke about the differences between the different dishes of his expertise.
The Pad Kee Mao I ordered was certainly the best I’ve ever had—but hell, I have to say that many Chicago places have got it pretty close. After our meal, Sven and I went back to the hostel and he talked to a few other travelers while I tried to find a ticket to Laos.
Being in Bangkok, albeit beautiful and exciting and someplace I’ve always wanted to visit—was not the change in pace I was looking for. And there was something so worldly and traveled about the place. I just wanted some quiet. However, there was no direct flight to Luang Prubang from Bangkok.
I’ll just take the bus. How bad could it be? Well, while I waited at the dusty Northern bus station in Vientiane, I cracked my Lonely Planet and was chagrinned to read that the bus could take anywhere from 9 to 13 hours. Well, there goes my Wednesday, huh?
However, I’m pleased to watch the Laotian countryside pass by in the fading dusk, sometimes read a book, and intermittently doze despite the blaring karaoke music the bus driver is cheerfully singing along to. It’s slower. I think I like it. This chance to do nothing but introspect and watch the headlights appear in the inky sky above and bouncing on the road ahead, feels alright. It’s all part of the journey of this trip—the extremities making me appreciate the adventure of what I’m doing in life all the more. (A banana box with the rooster and hen was pulled out of the storage at the rest area and encouraged to mate.)
I’ve been thinking a lot about my ex-husband lately. Bouncing with the ruts of this road, I am having strange contemplations of how much the wild vines of this darkening jungle reminds me of the ravaging cudzu in the rolling hills of Tennessee.
And then, the stars!—the clearest diamond bright sparks in the sky; the clarity of the Dippers and the Belts and the cloudy swirl of the Milky Way. Again, this reminds me of the first time I actually saw this—a different lifetime ago. A completely different woman, though it was the same brown eyes that the star-light reached. This slowing of pace is going to give me a chance to think.
so here's another one. another day and night. the more i think about the 'resolutions' that i need to make, the more i can see how wrong it is to even think too hard about the possibilities of being w/ someone who is still in a relationship. this is obvious. well, it's easy for the objective observer. girlfriends abound have the same thing to say: he sounds fucked up. he sounds like he's playing w/ you. something is wrong w/ that guy. of course, that is the natural thing to think of an attached man who is flirting w/ another woman. i would say the same thing to any other friend who would present such an instance to me. fuckers they are. those fuckers. why can't men be faithful to their women??
i have to wonder though: is it possible to develop a friendship w/ someone you are attracted to? after you've crossed a line? after you've already kissed and discovered that his lips are compatible w/ yours? it's hard for me to completely cut off a relationship w/ someone w/ whom i am fascinated by. it is ill-advised, i know. but i've decided that i have to test the waters. chemistry is difficult to find w/ friends and lovers alike. and i'm too intrigued by the situation. if the flirtation continues, then i must take the higher road and run away. i MUST. i WILL. it would be disrespectful of me to continue to allow a tempting situation where we have to keep on resisting something that's stupid and wrong. phew. it helps to put it out there.
it's been too long since i've posted, but my book-writing has completely stalled b/c of lack of motivation and direction. part of me knows that there won't be people checking my blog b/c of my long repose. so, it is w/ less trepidation that i can publically post such a blog.
hardly in my life have i had that authentic mind-racing type of chemistry w/ a man. off the top of my head, i can think of 4 men w/ whom that that has occurred. it would be dumb to name them all, but undoutedly, my ex-husband was one of them. when we first had met, the conversations were endless, the laughter constant. we would lay in my little twin bed and stare forever into each others' eyes while the sun traced across and down the walls. we would eventually be roused to action to order a pizza or stretch our muscles, soft kisses and enveloping each other comfortable hugs.
there is always so much to talk about when you find someone that 'just fits'. you begin to create that strange secret place that only you two share. this is true of most kinds of intimacy: the siblings, the friendships, the romances--the tree house fort that only select members know the password to enter. there is a natural delight that occurs in the hearts of those that are being bonded. we are becoming better known. we all want to be valued and hear our name--to be chosen--selected and called specifically because of who you are.
when this happens in the context of a person that you're physically attracted to, there a different kind of excitement. like the childish adolescents that we are, we long to be w/ that person, hear them call or text or email or hear that knock on your door. and when they do, there is a release--like you've been holding your breath the whole time since the last time you heard from them.
now i describe this--not so much b/c that's where i'm at--in fact, i'm avoiding these types sensations b/c it is w/ a very wrong person. just b/c you feel the potential chemistry, you do not necessarily have to respond to it, right? you can make a choice to turn around and run in the other direction.
thus, after a few sudden, then delicious kisses--where i had forgotten what i was doing and gave into the desires of the moment, i turned and ran. i have had my life ruined by 'the other woman' and i cannot be her. it took some serious mental steeling for me to reject the text that followed my departure to "come back and sleep".
i must not be her. i cannot--i refuse. though this situation is drastically different from my ex-husband's infidelity... i can remember the devastating heart-rending, and the havoc that was wreaked in my life b/c another woman had no respect for the fact that she was taking something that was not hers. the more i reflect upon this, the worse i feel that i have stolen another woman's kisses. those were not for me to take. i should have flinched in horror, been repelled by the unfaithful nature of his heart.
there might have been chemistry, but that is probably b/c he likes women and knows well the art of seduction. and he has been w/ a lot of them. in the sweetness of the temptation, i was probably lying to myself--that we have such a connection, that he respects me, that there is *something* there. ok. i must make some resolutions.
i'll be on a *vacation* in less than 24 hours. i haven't traveled/taken a real break since my trip to Ireland in May, and the pressures from work and my apparently over-active social life has made me distinctly ready to 'watch the world go by' w/ NO demands from overly-needy-everyone. i plan to fade into the scenery as an anonymous nobody w/ my nose in a beach read--(it's pretty embarrassing what simple book i've chosen for my travels.)
how has life gotten like this? so over crowded and demanding? this was apparently my choice, i suppose, but i resent my position, nonetheless. i just got a call from an acquaintance about a hair salon disaster. when did i become *that* person for this acquaintance? what did i put out there that made her think that i was the one for her to commiserate w/? not that i've got a serious problem w/ this, but sometimes i want to blast Madonna's Immaculate Collection into my ears while riding the bus, undisturbed.
i'm so tired. i love people, but i feel drained. i feel selfish as shit for saying this stuff, but maybe that's why i clearly need a vacation.
holy shit. i can hear someone weeping loudly down the hallway (sounds like a break-up cry) and my heart aches like i should make sure she's not suicidal. (i've got a problem. but is it a problem to be concerned? i didn't respond one time--to egregious ends. hell. what do you do?)
i need to get the hell outta this country for a minute. or is it getting the hell outta my head?
so, my blogging is going to be sporadic b/c i'm going to be working on my book, however, taking this little break has reminded me that i need to keep writing here--taking much more than a week off of blogging leaves me unsettled and uncomfortably... full of *something*. i've been treating this blog as a journal, and i've found that not writing here causes me to spew my bad stuff all over people--something that isn't healthy.
i've decided to maybe be a little more plain in my story-telling--partly b/c i need to keep up w/ my ambitious target to finish my book by the end of 2010, and partly b/c i'm sure it's boring to read endless explications about my *feelings* w/ no context. so, here is a new, differently painted leaf.
i don't know how many dates i've gone on in the past two months--i think there's been about--5-6 men involved? it's odd. i have no true idea why i've been getting so many propositions.
but, here's one hypothesis:
about two months back, i suddenly decided that i was tired of feeling hung up on men. i just wanted to be free to do what i wanted--i've mentioned this. i just want to be single. this revelation manifested itself in many things: i really threw myself into my friendships and have had many many wonderful moments of closeness w/ new girlfriends--people i want to be friends w/ until i die. i got involved in a local production where i acted in a few skits that were written by local writers. i participated w/ a fun group of people to do the 48 Hour Film Project--an international contest to complete a film w/in the space of 48 hours. the realization of liking singlehood gave me the impetus to begin writing my book. every moment of my time was occupied, and frankly i was a little exhausted. exhausted but happy. it would've been ridiculous to complain.
however, amidst this swirling activity, there was man after man asking for my hand in dating. i have the feeling that the "i'm single" pheromones were coming out of my pores. i felt comfortable making myself pretty--just for me and i knew that i would keep things casual--w/... whomever. i figured that it might be a humorous experience i would be willing to engage in.
"Mary. honestly. you're going to end up hating it."
"why? what's so awful about it?"
"all of those 'getting to know you' conversations. it sucks--you just get tired of doing all of that after a while."
"i don't know. i wouldn't know. i haven't dated for a decade."
"well, you're not going to really know how bad it is unless you do it."
"it honestly sounds like fun @ this point."
"trust me, you'll remember we had this conversation."
i've gotten more settled w/ the issue of being a divorced woman. now that my eyes are no longer downcast while i mention this sordid detail, it's been interesting to examine the faces of the people who hear me say it for the first time. shock. sympathy. embarassed chagrin. anger. empathy. there are many different reactions. i have watched the expressions of a number of people change when i have actually got into it. it's come up on a few of these 'dates'. sometimes i mentioned being an ex-wife b/c i hoped it would turn him off. but actually, i've found a surprising lack of judgmentalism regarding this issue. or maybe they just wanted to get into my skirt? i know. i'm really jaded, but i'm also not stupid. dates were kind of fun @ first: he would by me dinner, pay me some compliments, look attentive while i told stories, sometimes try to make a move... but inevitably, things like this get complicated.
"Mary, you're pretty, you're smart, you're interesting, you're funny--you'll begin to have to explain why you can't keep dating them."
"again, i can't imagine that happening. you've dated people for forever. and you're pretty, smart, et cetera et ceterta... and anyway, are you saying that they'll all want to turn it into something more serious?" "this is what i've found. for some reason, the guys are usually more interested than the girl." "huh." "at least this is the case w/ me and my girlfriends. but anyway, you will encounter these conversations." "and? so what do you say?" "i've learned that i have to make it about me." "hahahaha! you mean the 'i'm the fucked up one. you don't want to be w/ someone like me' line?" "precisely."
it began to get exhausting to go on these dates. i remembered how to play the "game" and it surprised me how naturally adept i was at it. there was one interesting man--maybe two--but i never had a strong enough interest to keep on playing. not every man wanted to yank me into his world, but i found that it was *me* choosing to tone down the engagement. i still got texts and messages to go out to spend time w/ him and him and that other guy, but i truthfully regaled them w/ tales of my busyness and they generally backed down.
that is, until the Korean guy. now, there were two Korean men in this messy dating mix. the first one i had met while he was dating a girl--so i thought it was safe to go meet him. but, he surprised me w/ the news that he had just broken up w/ her when he met me for our first coffee. interesting. i didn't want anything to do w/ that--shady shady. though it's too bad b/c he was pretty cute and smart and funny, despite the linguistic barriers.
J, the Korean guy i'm referring to, is the one that i'm currently avoiding on IM and acting pretty bitchy to when he calls. he is such a nice guy. smart, sweet, looks to have a stable future, really wants to take care of me, is at my every beck and call--even when i don't want him to be. in some ways, this reminded me of my ex-husband's attentiveness, though Chris really got me in way more ways than this Korean. J and i met about 4 months ago on a group outing. he had asked for my number about 2 months after we had met, but didn't really call/text me, at first. he would drop me a text about once a week or call me to talk for about 3 minutes. it was a little weird/confusing, but i didn't think much of it. it was nice to just have a guy who just wanted friendship. then, our conversations got deeper, and i found it somewhat enjoyable to converse w/ him in the mother tongue. about a month ago, he called me while i was out on a date w/ another whomever. "what are you doing?" "i'm out for wine w/ a friend." "who?" "you don't know him." "how come you never ask me to go out for wine?" "what do you mean? you never ask me out for wine." "you always seems so busy." "well, look--i'm going out for coffee w/ Val and Art tomorrow. do you want to join us?" "yes." we made quick plans and then i smiled and laughed and sipped wine w/ another man. the next day, i met J before meeting our mutual friends b/c the plans got too complicated. our conversation was getting pretty deep when Val and Art showed up. the 4 of us had to dial it back to more casual matters b/c of the linguistic issues. when we were ready to call it a night, J offered to walk me towards my home. given that he was pretty good company for the evening, and neither of us were tired, i consented. we walked and walked and talked and talked. i told him about some of my dating misadventures b/c i felt confident that we were *just* friends. he had given me no indication that he was interested in me in more than that. until: "i'm getting really tired of dating, J." "why?" "i don't know. guys all suck and they only really want to sleep w/ me." "i don't suck," he reached for my hand. i hit him hard and laughed, "stop joking w/ me." he didn't try to do it again, so my alarm bells were silenced. but then, he missed the last subway b/c of our walk. i felt bad b/c he had been gentlemanly enough to walk me home, so i told him he could crash on my floor. of course, as much of a gentleman that he was, he saw his opportunity and well, i'm weak. there was just some making out and inappropriateness of that sort. he left early the next morning b/c i told him i couldn't sleep and i had a full week of work ahead of me. i got up groggily the next morning b/c of the lack of REM. there was some chagrin and slight regret. i'll just apologize. he's a nice enough guy. we can still just be friends. i hopped in the shower, washed off the weekend and thought about my upcoming week. as i stepped out of the shower, my phone rang. "uh. hello?" "did you get up ok? will you be late to work?" "oh, yeah. listen J, we need to talk. i don't feel right about last night." "no. don't worry about it." "well, i still think we need to talk. can you find me on the Net today? IM w/ me?" "yes. let's talk. make sure you get to work on time." "uh, i know J. i'm an adult. you don't need to tell me that." "i just want to make sure you do." "ok ok. later." i shut off my phone and checked the time. what? he called me twice and texted me while i was in the shower? what the...? and then, there were a ridiculous number of text messages and repeated IMs for the next 48 hours. in between an audition and the last subway train, i met him to 'break up' w/ him. "look. you don't want to be w/ a girl like me. i'm dating about 2-3 other guys right now and i don't want to make you number 4." "that's ok w/ me." "what's ok? that i'm dating other men?--probably kissing other men?" "yes. just look @ me as one of the contenders." "no. listen. i really like you as a friend. i don't want to end up hurting you." "you won't hurt me. i'm really thick skinned." "seriously. there will be hurt feelings." "i'm promising you there won't be." "please J. there are already hurt feelings." "my feelings aren't hurt." "but it hurts me to have to have this conversation w/ you." "i promise you that no matter what happens, we'll be able to stay friends." "you're promising me?" "yes." "ok. then let's stay friends." "ok ok. we're friends." i wish i could say that the story ended here--w/ an awesome friendship w/ a sweetie pie Korean guy. but he kept on texting me and IMing me. he checked in about daily matters like: did you eat lunch? dinner? was it good? are you feeling tired today? why are you tired? this sounds crazy, i know, but i've discovered that this is Korean dating culture. J was being extraordinarily attentive and showing me the kind of care that he assumed that i would want in a boyfriend. at first, i was a little charmed by his persistence. i thought after enough rejections he would back down and turn into a flirtatious friend. this resulted in another moment of weakness on my part--which i ended up regretting for days. i regret it even today. "look, J. i like being single, ok? i like you as a friend, but i can't date you." "that can change. let's just spend time together." " i'm in a fucked up place. obviously. i don't want want more than friendship." "stop calling yourself fucked up. you're fine. just move forward." "i'm trying to. i just want to make sure that there are no misunderstandings between us." "stop bringing it up." "stop bringing what up?" "stop talking about how you're not interested in a relationship w/ me. i know i know. i understand." "i'm just afraid that you're not really getting it." "i do i do! stop bringing it up." "what??! so you're allowed to say that our relationship has potential to change into something else but i'm not allowed to respond to that?" that shut him up.
this saga has been exhausting to deal w/ and think through for the past month. J is a great guy. he's smart, caring, and would treat me like a queen. i have gotten confused looks from my co-worker for whom this sounds like a dream-come-true. but i'm way too complicated and he's way too simple. and when there's none of that exciting chemistry, why? there should be some of that heart quickening adrenaline at the nascency of a relationship. no lack of conversational topics. nights that turn into dawn b/c you're so into being awake next to each other.
though i had been saying that i liked being single, this situation w/ J has given me concrete reasons for why a futureless relationship is simply a waste of time. i've got things to do and friendships to really invest in. and let me crass enough to say--i can get my physical needs filled by kissing random boys. there is really no lack of them here in Seoul, Korea. i know. i lack maturity in this department. i just have more important matters to attend to.
this'll be a messy blog entry--i'm not even going to edit.
i've printed out my blog and it's over 200 pages of text. insane. anyway, in the past two weeks i've gone and begun reading about all the craziness and have finally formulated an idea of what i'm writing and where it's going to end.
so, for those of you who keep up w/ what i'm writing, i'll let you know when i'm starting back up--i imagine in about 2 weeks from now.
it was extraordinarily exciting to read and read and read the stuff i've written this year. it's incredible the insanity have i've gone thru from the emotional to the situational. i realize so much more about myself and have come to a strange sense of philosophy about why i'm on this earth. finally. i think that this is why i can start this book--b/c now i've figured *something* out, no matter how paltry.
some missteps and mistakes to record for today. it took me a ridiculous situation w/ a Korean boy, who had one of the sweetest of dispositions (tho he stalked me a little) to fully fully get to the point of feeling settled in my singlehood. i don't want to hurt nice boys. and i don't want to be hurt either. this will definitely happen if i engage w/ any of them right now. particularly if they aren't longer-term material (which would also frighten me). and hell! i don't want to have to answer to anyone right now. i love the freedom of being involved in all of the activities i'm involved in and meeting different people every night. i'm investing in some new and wonderful friendships (tho i won't be able to keep pace forever... it is burning me out a little). i don't have to feel bad that i'm leaving anyone behind @ home--as i did w/ my ex-husband.
last week, over smokes and crisp Fall weather, i said to Praise: you know, i'm really happy these days. i know i've done some stupid and crazy shit in the past few months, but i am actually beginning to feel more stable. pause. thoughtful look @ the curling smoke from her cigarette: "i can see that you're actually happy. a few months ago, you were saying the same thing--and emotionally, you seemed happy in the moment, but you were subject to be shaken by an awful thought or memory. today, you're actually doing it. it seems like you're getting your identity together and doing things that you want to do." i feel like i'm chasing myself down. and finally figuring out who that is and who that is not.
this is a spoiler for the end of my book. today, i'm really living happy.
hrumph. well, again. another 72 hours, another sordid story about the problematic choices one might make when muddling through the murky waters of this adult life.
i'm not feeling annoyed w/ myself, though maybe i should. it's mysterious how one falls into these same cycles. i feel like i'm making the same kinds of decisions i made 10 years go. though i am older and wiser and can have a better perspective about myself as a single woman in this soju soaked city, i desperately need to find better, healthier outlets for myself.
the last handful of times i've gone out, i've been propositioned to go to a motel or go home by @ least one or two men. i find this very mysterious for several reasons. i am certainly not the prettiest thing in the world, nor do i dress in an overly sexual manner. if anything, i've taken to the baggier style of Korean dress that hides my body, rather than flaunts it. i have no idea what i'm putting out there that would intimate that i would have any sort of interest in a slutty night of gratification. of course, i have not gone home w/ any of these lackluster men, despite the fact that they are often pretty good-looking and have sometimes been charming up until the point that this request exits their mouths.
when i was single, a decade back, i don't remember the scene to be so crass. i did go home w/ different men, or had them over @ my place, but i never actually slept w/ any of them. but, i remember how dirty that film of misguided decisions felt. there was the paradoxical feeling of wanting them to stay and wanting them to get the hell out of my face. there were actually a few that wanted to continue the relationships after the sun came back up, but i was always too disgusted w/ myself--and them, to want to.
i've been extemporizing about how i like single life and the wonderful things that come along w/ it. however, swimming against the current of this swirling drain isn't easy, particularly after you've allowed yourself to idle towards the middle. it's twice as much work to get back to the edge of the sink and pull yourself out. let me ennumerate the pros of singlehood so i don't forget: i'm investing in myself (hiking, acting, writing, reading, smiling) i'm investing in others--new friends, new activities, funfunfun i like myself and my emotions aren't so erratic when i'm single i can do whatever the hell i want, whenever the hell i want, and i answer to *nobody* my self is getting better rounded and developed i'm crying less and laughing a whole lot more
this appears to be a no-brainer. i hope i don't prove myself to be a dog returning to its vomit.
many many things can happen in the space of 72 hours.
i am certainly a fallible creature and have been shaking my head about my indiscretions over the past weekend. however, i made some good decisions--well, one in particular. it did not cancel out the host of slightly unhealthy decisions that i had made, but it didn't turn a scandalous decision into a colossal, tragic mistake. i promised myself in the past year that i *wouldn't* such-and-such, and for once, i did not. whew. maybe i'm growing a little? possible.
so, this time around, after having stumbled and made a few errors, i won't fall into the self-deprecating annoyance that i always fall into. this is new. this is good.
anyway, enough w/ the veiled comments--i know how irritating it must be to read enigmatic statements about scandal w/o a more thorough description. i've just realized that maybe i need to keep some of this stuff to myself, lest i remind myself how often i fall into the same muddy pit. what's the use of endlessly recounting what that dirty stain looks like? i need to record those stories in a more appropriate forum--maybe in the tell-all book about what my life has been like, about, etc from before and in the last year. (who would read about this? who knows? me?) but, it's been quite an amazing year, and i'm excited about where i'm at. i feel *good*.
about a week ago, i was talking w/ a friend about some of the above (and below) thoughts. she marveled that it has only been a little over a year since my life was fucking shattered and splintered into an unknowable mess. i've had a many highs and many many lows during that period. but i finally feel that i have hit an equilibrium. i feel that i've settled down a lot w/ myself and where i'm at--in geography and in life.
i think i've discovered that i'm a likable person? not perfect by any means, but i like to laugh and hear people's stories and make people happy. i think i'm pretty good at forming real bonds and connections w/ anyone who's amenable to that.
although, meeting people in Korea has been somewhat difficult. the ex-pats are super young or like to party a little too hard (which i'm prone to slip into if i'm not careful). bottom line, there's just not a commonality of interests and these kids are just at a different place in life. i've been there and i didn't like it. i was fairly discontent and didn't actively pursue things. i'm still working on that, but i'm beginning to find things that i absolutely love to do.
so, how to find the 'quality' of people that there is a commonality of interests and like-mindedness? i think that there really isn't a formula. i think it's simply--just get out there as *much* as possible. try everything. taste touch feel smell fumble around with everything. i was doing this for the past few months (when i wasn't busy w/ everything else). most people actually sucked pretty bad, but, eventually i met a soulmate here and there. finding people who match w/ you that you can really connect w/ is an incredible blessing and feat. it only comes w/ time and patience.
i've also realized how much i love hiking. i love the burn of my muscles and the sweat that forms on my body and face. i love looking at landscapes from high above and seeing how enormous, yet how strangely small the world is. this feels good. it feels healthy.
i also love singlehood, though my body resists this. i love not having to answer to anyone. i'm running out to meet people almost every night this week and weekend--(admittedly, this is a little exhausting)--but i'm investing in people i'm actually interested in. i can do whatever i damn well please. i love that i can stay out until any hour i feel like, and then crash at a jimjilbahng in the middle of the early morning hours. i'm accountable only to myself, and now that i'm beginning to like myself, this too feels good and healthy.
though there is the other side of it. one of the things i miss most about being w/ a significant other is the time spent around sleep. falling asleep while being pulled in close; an arm around my body. then being awoken to warm kisses on my neck. being touched is nice. after having tasted it a few times of late, my body craves the closeness. but is it worth losing this newfound freedom?
about; rising mountains and pastures and terraced rice fields. It seemed impossible to think about where I had come from. The endless non-stop craziness of Seoul—workingworkingworking 6 day weeks, getting yelled at by my boss, having strange trysts with dumb white men, and the cold cold winter.
The waterfalls were shaded by the surrounding forest and spilled into turquoise-blue pools. The colors were dazzling—startling to look at. Again, though my eyes have beheld spilling water before, it is hard to understand how molecules of hydrogen and oxygen could possibly be this color. I took shrieking leaps from the top of a 15 meter fall, and then swung into the pools from a rope swing.
