Trusting Skeletons

I've been thinking about relationships a lot lately. I've probably been thinking about them more because mine seem to continue ending whether I want them to or not and I find myself back in the same snotty, puffy eyed place I was before. But I guess the truth of it is, that it's not the same place. I'm moving forward whether it feels like it or not. Through this process of starting over, letting someone in, allowing myself to be vulnerable, getting attached, and then having it all go away, I've learned so much about the nature of relationships and the truth about letting go. I thought I'd share a few nuggets of wisdom. Imagine this...a woman goes on a date with handsome man. They sit down for dinner in a romantic, candle lit restaurant. They begin talking about life and love and art and music and she starts to feel herself get excited about this person sitting across the table from her. Her stomach starts to get butterflies and she begins to imagine wha...

I am haunted by the past. It creeps in at night in my dreams. It's in this house full of memories. It drives with me in my car through this town where a younger version of me learned how to make it on my own. It surprises me with e-mails and coffee and late night drinks. And I find myself holding hands with this passenger of mine, thinking how easy it would be to slip back and make friends with the past. To live with it again, to live through it again. It has not been an easy summer. It has been lonely and full of worry and pressure to plan again, to move forward, to forge something sustainable. To step away from the past. And so Seb and I are off again. This time to New Zealand with hopes of something long term, some place to create a future, and leave the past in the past. I am cutting ties that have kept me holding on, and I am revisiting the things I will hold on to, the things I will carry into the future. I have had people tell me how brave they think I am for tr...

She liked to lie on her back and look through the puzzle of mango leaves. She floated in the salt water, her ears just below the surface drowning out the surrounding sounds of crashing waves and the steady scream of cicadas in the jungle. She let her legs go limp, arched her back and breathed out. When the tide was high, she would wander down the beach, sidestep the sand crabs and chase the schools of thousands of sardines in the shallow water. Sometimes, if she was lucky, she spotted a black tipped reef shark, its fin cutting through the water as it hunted the black sardines. The two cliffs that jutted out of the island reminded her of two angry Gods in a duel; rather than the head and back of a she dragon as the legend told. She liked these moments, away from the people, away from the dark room of dreams. She liked the way the water filled her ears, crackling as she lowered herself and tickling the inside for just a second before her ears adjusted, full of water and then silence...

I live for the boat rides just before a storm when the water reaches for the sky in sharp points like meringue, and there are no guests in the boat, just Rippen and I and sometimes Sebastian. Rippen drives faster then, careening off the waves like a roller coaster, surveying the water for logs or garbage. Where I see debris, he sees the shadows the waves cast on the water. He is a skilled driver, born i n a village called Mukut just south of Bagus Place, where he grew up on the water. He knows when the sea is angry and when it will be calm and flat like porcelain. On these boat rides, I scan the horizon, watch the beaches and the jungle of Tioman stretch out in both directions, search the water for giant sea turtles, and feel the salty wind whip across my face. It’s the only time I feel movement, as if I’m getting somewhere, traveling to a point somewhere in the future. I can’t help but smile. But when the boat pulls into the harbor in Tekek and the heat of the day p...

After a slightly troubling bout at the airport in London (which seems to be a trend with me), where we found we had to prove that we were leaving Singapore, a feat which was difficult to prove seeing as we were planning to take a taxi from Singapore into Malaysia and it’s hard to prebook a taxi on the internet, forcing me to book two bus tickets from Singapore to Kuala Lumpor, a place we were not going just to prove that we were planning on leaving, we finally boarded the plane. A long, exhausting plane ride later, we arrived in Singapore, found our hotel and ventured out for some fish head soup or frog leg stew (apparently a popular dish in Singapore). The next day, tired from jetlag, we found our way to the bus station, haggled our way into a taxi and began the three hour journey to Mersing, a small port town on the eastern side of Malaysia. We arrived in Mersing, found the ferry port, had a few beers and then boarded the boat to Tioman Island. Seeing as we were both exhau...

In light of my recent escape from Korea (for the second time, this time with only minor hand sores to show for the month's worth of work and the continued battle against South Korean winter pollution), I have decided to write a reminder blog about some of the things I find interesting in Korea. "Interesting" being used as a homonym meaning annoying, intriguing, frightening, and entertaining. Koreans can sleep anywhere. Case in point: As I rushed into the bathroom at Eulijiro-sam-ga subway station, thankful it was a sit-down toilet and not a squatter, I noticed a strange sound. Seeing as I was in the bathroom, I tried to block it out, afraid I might be witness to a sound I'd rather not hear. But the strange sound continued, muffled slightly by the stall wall between us. After minor embarrassment for the person in the stall next to me, and curiosity as to why they didn't use the "courtesy" button to drown out any unwanted sounds, I began to recognize...