9/3/10

"Today was all relax, though I wish I could transport everyone I've ever met and loved in my life to this place with me, and we would all swim and spin in the sea laughing for all the happiness in the world."
--Boracay, PI
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SCUBA certification with Team Lone Rangers and Big Blue Diving in Koh Tao, Thailand on September 22, 2010.

Bus in PI going to Taal from Manila, when Lizzikins was still with me.

Recently I've been thinking a lot about my travels. Dreaming of the days spent wandering in wonder, and I'm in love and I'm lost. I can't help it; September's the month of change, new beginnings, and I feel like I'm back at square one. I'm thinking a lot about where I've been: "this time two years ago I was living in Korea" and "I was in Thailand, living out of a backpack and sleeping on bouncier than you would believe buses this time last year." Right now I can't see where I'm going and that's feels more scary than exciting now that I'm back home.

But that fear of the here and now and seemingly desperate times is something else that's not for now or here, and so we move on: I just started re-reading my travelogue which feels like kind of a big deal - probably because I built it up as such. I have a slight inkling as to why it's taken me almost a year to re-crack the bronze-wood journal's binding. At first I thought it was because I didn't want to have to come to the realization that my travels were over, and I suppose that is a part of it, but the main reason I discovered was fear that my words wouldn't hold a candle to the truth, thus sparking no memories and completely void of inspiration. In truth, I hope that my fragmented thoughts spin themselves into stories with my prodding.

To end with the words of a man I dubbed "Jacksonville" on flight KE621 from Incheon, KR to Manila, PI who sat next to me and spoke about the book full of  25 potential wives to the woman who was returning home after 30 long years (GOLDMINES ALREADY!!! Skeletons that I must flesh out.): if you are confident, you will be a success.

My Oh My: Chiang Mai!!

I knew it was going to be a good trip when I boarded the sleeper car in Bangkok. After purchasing a few beers and a "dinner snack" of this mysterious pizza bread from the station convenient store, I stepped out into the smoky platform area...

(I started this around this time last year, and then I was probably distracted by something more exciting going on outside the internet cafe... Story to continue some time.)

there is no perfection, only life

en route to the Dalai Lama's Residence in Dharamsala (Upper McLeod Ganj), India

I have a strong desire to re-read Milan Kundera's "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" for a number of reasons:

In recently moving (this weekend) I re-acquired a heavy burden of old possessions from a friend's storage space, this is great in that I now have books and DVDs and furniture and clothes, but it all felt very heavy when I had the truck loaded (maybe it was just my muscles) and I found myself slouching into the self I was two years ago, though things do not hold possession over you if you do not let them, it was still a strange sensation. Needless to say, I look forward to the Great Release, during which I will slowly rid my life of its physical clutter and unnecessities, and lighten the load on my soul; starting fresh in a new place, in my old city full of memories from moments past.

Also, a girl I know just moved to the Czech Republic.

And it is a book which I currently do not hold in my possession as I left it in MO, at my mom and step dad's house. Therefore, I want it because I do not have it. Which I know is missing the whole point.

"The goals we pursue are always veiled. A girl who longs for marriage longs for something she knows nothing about. The boy who hankers after fame has no idea what fame is. The thing that gives our every move its meaning is always totally unknown to us."  --MK

From Posters to Frames...

The posters to frames thing is weird, and one adjustment that I'm not altogether ready for, maybe more so financially than willingly. At first it was strange to see all my friends older because that must mean that I'm older, too. And, yes. I am. 

I turned 24 two months before I left America. I arrived back in Chicago days after turning 26. In the time between these dates my friends have upgraded from posters to frames, weekend boyfriends and girlfriends to live-in ones, or husbands and wives. I think maybe that was one of the most shocking things of all to return to: seeing all the changes my friends made face-to-face after hearing about them for so long. People moved, lost jobs, got jobs, had babies, or fell off my radar screen; such is life.

After a month and a half of worrying that I made the right decision in coming back to Chicago, I'm finally feeling good about my decision. I'm employed (albeit temporarily), moving into a new apartment soon and riding my bike all over the place (though I have a bad feeling that it won't hold out on me much longer). I'm happy here, even though good ole fashioned nature is at least an hour car/train/bus ride away... And I just signed a lease, so I'm staying put for at least a year, though after that... who knows.

Unfortunately with employment comes a weekday exhaustion that I'm still getting used to on top of my 21+ mile round-trip commute to/from work, and I'm spending more time thinking about writing than I'm actually writing, though my friends and I are in the beginning stages of putting together a creative team of folks who want to write and create sketches for a YouTube video channel. Things are in progress, slowly but surely.

I just wanted to drop a line about what I'm doing to those who I haven't been so great about keeping in touch with. I hope you're happy and healthy, and that we talk soon.

Feel good time (with NPR's "All Songs Considered").

peace and love,
Kate

FACT:

Working in an office is decidedly less fun than visits to my dad's office as a child.

But boy does it feel good to be employed! I wrote the above during my first week, if not first day, of employment (back at the beginning of August - where is the time flying off to?).

More and more I'm thinking that I might want to go into the education field... we'll see. I want to do a lot of things, and right now I seem to be just checking the scene.

Trickle. Trickle. SHEETS!!

It's been raining a lot in Northwest Missouri recently. It didn't rain last night, but it rained the night before that. And maybe even the night before that, but I was asleep in Kansas City, so I'm not really sure.

And not just rain. It's been thunderstorming, which is apparently not one word, but because I want it to be I am not going to insert the "appropriate" spacing.

But oh, the thunderstorms are so lovely. I haven't experienced one of those in a long time. The smell of the earth and lava rocks moistening. The sound of the grass growing. Splish. Splash. I can bathe outside. But then the lightning strikes, and I'm forced inside to peer through the blinds as the flashes of white dance across the sky to nature's crashing cymbals.

The other night it sounded like legions of leprechauns were throwing rocks at my windows. It was hail. HAIL!! I haven't seen snow in over 14 months!! I felt like I was at the beginning of Garcia Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude! Cold to the touch. I wanted to gather a handful and put it in a glass of water to give someone (I prefer room temperature; I have sensitive teeth), but everyone was asleep. Sheets of rain and driving winds woke me up at 4am. It was either that, or my bladder. I stared into the darkness in between the flashes of light, watching the blinds clang angrily against the window. Worried. The window was open because I like falling asleep to the sound of nature, but in waking up in the middle of the night I convinced myself that it was an early warning system of sorts. I wanted to be able to the hear sound of an approaching misplaced train - or tornado - over the thunder. First alert to holler to the family and run down into the cellar. Or basement, Dorothy.

Is that a green sky, or metallic blue? Pewter. Ochre. (That wouldn't be right. But at 4am when I wrote it, it made perfect sense, and the sailor's say to 'take warning' in the event of a red sky at night... oh wait, it's morning...) A flash of lightning simultaneously coupled with a crash of thunder, indicating the storm was directly overhead. I moved away from the window and back to my bed. As I drifted back into a fitful sleep I imagined downed trees and power lines, crushed roofs, and ruined dreams upon waking in the morning.

The sun shone slanted through the blinds the next morning as my mom's dog, Ditka (a Foxoodle - Fox Terrier/Toy Poodle mix) licked my face awake.

(Do yourself the favor and imagine the following story as if it were a Robert Stack "Unsolved Mysteries" narrative.)

Did you know: Lightning can go inside houses. It doesn't even have to knock or be invited in, unlike the Land Shark or vampires, respectively. Well, a door or a window has to be open, so maybe the thunder knocks and the next lightning comes in. My mom said it happened to her once when she was a small child in Lincoln, Nebraska. The front door and back door were both open as to allow for circulation, she and her siblings were playing a board game in the living room and her mother and father were on the couch, when BLAMO!! lightning cut straight through her house. My mom remembered being scared, and said that her mom ran to shut the doors and was very hesitant to have open doors in storms ever after that.

Something Else

That's how I would describe Los Angeles. It was something else; definitely not what I had made up in my mind's eye. Oh yeah, it was fun. A real good time. I was so happy to see friends I haven't since August 2009 to farther back in time.

PROs: overheard conversations (I love you, loud Americans! You're so inspiring!), hiking in the hills, murals and graffiti, celebrities as normal people, ocean, pho, the buses, Richard Simmons, LACMA, trees and houses, that my friends live there

CONs: all the cars and lack of public transportation, that my friends live there




My plane landed on Monday, May 30th at 4:40a.
My amazing, awesome, fantastic, Chicago concert companion, mind boggling buddy, Ty, came to pick me up at LAX. We dropped off my luggage at his apartment and went for omelets and coffee, and stories at some real American diner.

Everybody in LA wears hats. This is not an overstatement.

I was in a daze as Ty drove me from the airport to his place, passing through the neighborhoods - we opted for the "scenic" route instead of the freeways - full of houses and trees. (For some reason I thought everyone in LA lived in mansions or cardboard boxes, and that it was full of streets, highways and byways. Some childhood fantasy that was only recently dispelled, along with Madonna being in every limo and all my friends being only children orphans until I met their parents, shocked and confused that said friends didn't actually live in train cars with wealthy grandfathers bringing them meals and letting them play in gardens and solve mysteries in their spare time - which, let's face it, all time was spare time in childhood.)

The day was jam-packed full of LA/America overload, but in the best way. My eyes zig-zagged across the scenery as if watching things fly by from a train window.

I was actually in a daze for most of my first week in LA. Maybe it had something to do with the smog, but there really didn't seem to be any. Stereotypes!!! Shattered! It was cold though. So cold. After living in the 80s for the past year, essentially, 60 degrees with the sun shining was a major shock. Unpleasant, LA.

We went to Target. TARGET!! That beautiful store. I got toiletries and a trac phone. Then we drank bloody marys (Ty should win an award) and my friend, Katie came over.

After laughing and catching up for a glass, we headed out to Griffith Park and hiked all over those hills.

There was one point we came to - under Ty's beckoning - that seemed to be a sheer vertical climb, with a family to the left of us using a system of jump ropes tied together to pull each other up. Katie and I looked at each other nervously and scrambled up after Ty who had scaled the face in a matter of seconds, and stood at the top, looking at us with his hands on his hips. Tapping his foot, too, I'm sure.

That evening there was grilled fish and veggie kabobs (I'm currently not eating animals of the walking or flying variety. Someday I might stop eating those swimming ones too, whether out of consciousness or the fact that there aren't any more, I'm not sure yet.) and confusion in my exhaustion of the longest day ever: jerking asleep on the couch, I wondered aloud what time it was. Eight fourteen. But the sun was still up!!! Ty was confused. I was confused! In Guam it set at or around 6:30 every day, being only 14 degrees north of the equator and all. Summertime in the middle of the northern hemisphere, days last forever, it's like the opposite of Siberia in the wintertime.