normal

Have you ever thought too much? Thoughts like waves crash in my mind, without ceasing.

The last two days I was in Columbus. Which reminded me of that one time, and then you. And all those nice friends I met five years ago.

Columbus to me is like a piece of home. I don't know it well, but it is comforting. It will always be there.

This morning I hugged and kissed my nephew goodbye. Six hours later I stilled smelled his sweet smell on my sweatshirt. He melts my heart.

I drove home. It was snowing, I slid around a little on the highway. I drank way too much coffee. At a gas station a lady asked about the sheep and misspelled lettering on my sweatshirt. I sang a little, cried a lot, and just tried to come to terms with life. It's OK that I'm just OK right? Maybe less then OK. I'm not brilliant, nor fantastic, sometimes I feel like a failure. This numbness weighs on my heart. Please go away.

I'm in Ohio. I went to work tonight. I don't really like my job, but it's a job, no?

Don't know why I even write on here. It's like medicine to my heart though. Very much so. It's funny how I process my thoughts out in different ways. I'm learning some ways are better than others.

I've payed too many bills the last few months. I guess this is life. But is it?

Thailand will always be special to me. You know this. I really love that place. It's as if so many places and people have become home to me in different ways. And I've said goodbye to them. I've left, or they've left me. And then I'm just here, wherever here is. Trying to figure out a normal, a balance. O and there is this place called India, and a place called Michigan.

I miss you Varanasi. I miss you Grand Rapids.

I hate goodbyes. Hellos are better than goodbyes.

Today it's Thailand. I miss you very much. The smells, the streets, the outside view of my four apartments that I called home. I miss my friends. I miss laughing with them, meeting up for dinner on a Friday night at Little big; where we would summarize our days, share languages, eat sun dried pork, and tom yam gung, and sip on strawberry tea until our bellies hurt. We would stroll down the street, and shop a little in the humid air before hoping on a bus or whatever to go home. That was normal. So normal.

Knitting a hat to pass the time in traffic. That was normal.
Standing on a bus so tight between gross wet bodies, or sitting on the hot motor in the front of the bus.
Bucket showers. Just plain cold water.
sqwatty potties.
those brooms made with dried grass.
Big C, Lotus, central, and how it is pronounced centan.
giving up my seat to the elderly, a child, or a monk.
ants. pomello. rambutan. pineapple, and the pineapple cores from the lady in samroong. She would save them for me, and get excited if she saw me coming. Unripe mango with chili and sugar.
Sausages, and fish balls on sticks and in bags.
Loud Internet cafes. I learned all the latest pop songs going to those faithfully.
big spoons. outrageous shorts and t-shirts. 7-11. clashing colors.
Wanna and Utais sushi.
visa runs, and hot van taxis.
Issan music.
slipping your shoes off gracefully.
Likit Jet, and those sweet and bad kids.
siting on the floor until your legs were numb.
Those school uniforms, and teenage chatter on the songteaws, and skytrain.
The Soi Manghon market, where the ground is dirt and uneven. Fresh produce, grilled fish, spicy curries, and overwhelming smells. I once found a pair of used shoes there for B20.
crossing the dark highway at night dodging traffic. Go with a group of people, it is safer and more fun.
Iced cafe yen from the street. All super sweet with that condensed milk.
The ongoing construction on sukhumwit.
Bus 365 -the green one, 116- the old white and blue one, 132, the old one, and then the new yellow one which made life nice. 544, 545 both blue with those disgusting curtains. Only 544 ran past Sea nakarin and Nam Daeng, and sometimes they would make you get off early if you were the only one, and because they were lazy to go the extra distance.
Yellow on Mondays, pink on Tuesdays.....
big smiles, polite and shallow conversation.
baby powder, beer, and water to celebrate the new year
the grand coffee boy, air conditioning, hazelnut lattes, and long long conversations. It was a piece of heaven.
cheesy humor
Thai TV and Karaoke
Polo shirts
fresh seafood, and picking at a whole fish in the center of a table.
sharing your food all the time.
my neighbors curious ears, and big hearts.
pink and purple, and green plastic.
sleeping on the floor with my fan.
plastic bags and straws.
walking on the left, and walking slow.
seeing pain, brokenness, and hopelessness everywhere.
getting rides from motorcycle taxi drivers who were high.
the added salt in orange juice.
splashing water on myself to cool down.
hats, and gloves and long shirts to cover up in the sun.
my courageous friends who gave up much, living in a place they hated to provide for their families, yet always gave, always cared.
the king.


This all became normal.

Change, O God that word. I crave it in my life, but once I have it I somehow despise it. Every place is a treasure, Going from one place to another can be an adjustment and lonely, but I don't like the term culture shock. It's a shock to what? I don't want to compare this or that.

Yeah, I adjusted to that culture, and now again to another culture, my own. But it's my own so it's easy right? It's comfortable, but I don't know if I like comfortable. That place became normal and comfortable, and this place is normal, and countless things and ways in India became normal. They have all changed me. So how do I live true? Maybe it's that you constantly expand, grow and never stop learning from your experiences. I hope I've done this. I love deeply, and embrace much, and I fail. But I'm still me.

Anita.

In every place, I believe beauty can be found. I want to observe it, give to it, take from it, and flourish with the knowledge and truth of it. But there is pain in life too, and it can grip us as well. Sometimes break us down. This is life I guess. What is love without feeling, friendship without heart, or joy without sorrow.

A Home. Wherever that would be, I'm ready to create a home. Maybe mostly I'm ready for a friend, a constant friend who will never leave, and someone I will never leave. We would be together, move and change, but we would be together through all kinds of experiences. Maybe you don't know or trust me fully, but I know me. I'm not perfect, in fact I'm flawed; but I'm a treasure, I'm one of a kind.

I've got no idea what I am doing, or where I am going. I've got no plans. These are just my thoughts that are tumbling around in my head.

I am learning to be more honest with myself and others. I've always been honest, but I'm learning to be more intentionally honest. I feel like I've lived some of my life in a happy bubble, and at some point it burst. I want to be honest when life sucks, feel pain, and embrace it. I want eternal joy to be my delight. I'm realizing it's normal to feel something other than joy sometimes. If this is what it takes. I embrace it.