Slipping on wet concrete.

I know it's a bit late for this, but...

And now it is time to go. I woke up early the other morning and watched the sun rise. I didn't actually get to see the spherical fire raise above the water, gentle waves frothing at the debris on the edges. Instead, I saw it behind clouds, unable to shine through. I saw a tear in the clouds though, and waited for the sun to expose itself at 5:47 a.m. It finally came with all of its glory. It was strange because I looked directly into the light, I saw the shape of the sun. It didn't look like a million fires, but more so like a smooth surface, a clear atmosphere of plastic concealing the fire beneath. Of course I thought about how the sun gives us life, and about it exploding, or being extinguished by the next superpower. And then my mind came to my own life, the overwhelming fear that I feel about going home, and the idea that this emotion is what I feel the most life for having. Fear is what keeps me motivated; I just hope that it doesn't discourage me to do the great things that I wish to do in the future. The sun was reflecting off the water from the farthest point I could see, the horizon, nearly all the way to my feet which rested against the concrete wall above all the sand. My mind went to a metaphor that I used for life in a story I once wrote. About how the ocean reflects the sun and a life that goes on for what seems to be forever. The reflection of the sun on the water is my life; it's going to be a long one, but there is a point where I can't see anymore. There's a point where the water breaks off and reaches the edge of the earth. There's a point in my life where I will be walking on water and all of a sudden I will have reached the edge of the earth. I hope that I don't fall off. I hope that I fly.

I was in one of the most beautiful places last weekend, Koh Tao. It's monsoon season, well it's turned into that any way. I was heavily intoxicated the night before, so much so that I didn't know that I was asleep until I awoke in an unfamiliar place. Luckily, it was the bungalow that we booked the previous day. I was still slightly drunk, but I was in that place where I feel the need to ponder about life's issues, my family, my friends, the past that extends behind my being, and the future that I am always trying to live in. And then my mind drifted to darker places, to the suicide of a friend, to my father ceasing to exist to any of us. I sat with my legs dangling from the rasta bar where friends and I were enjoying a beer, and I couldn't stop feeling, feeling and living for the first time. It stung to be alive, especially with the grit flying in with the monsoon. The clouds darkened and the wind began to blow violently. The water below was still crystal clear and reflecting blue from somewhere, but the crests became larger, white with furor. And I thought about the people who I wish that I could share this place with. The people who I know are living the best that they can, but dont' have the opportunity to look out over the water, or the trees, or inside of others, or inside of themselves even. Those who haven't taken the time to write in order to work out their feelings and who they really are, and the things that make them them.

And it just crushed me to think that there are people who throw all of it away. Those people don't get to see things like this. I feel like that if I was given the opportunity to flash this all before their eyes just moments before their fateful decisions, maybe the outcomes would be completely different. I thought about watching storms roll in with my dad on the porch. He loved to do that, and I did too. And waking up early in the morning to ride the waves with him. And the two things have come together, and he's not there to even call about it. He's not there to appreciate it, or for me to gloat to. And most of the time I don't blame him for it. Maybe if I flashed this in front of him, he would have made the decision that he made still, because he would see that he was not happy and that happiness was possible, in the water, or in a place far away from the life that he wrongfully blamed. I hope that now he blames himself, the same way that I blame myself for not being accessible emotionally to him.

But there's no use in living in the past, the present is an instant, and the future won't ever really be felt.

And now I ride in a car with 6 of the most amazing people I have met in my life. We are on our way to Bangkok, and then to the rest of our lives. We are going to take a plane to those, to St. Louis, to Kentucky, to Georgia, hopefully one day to South America and to the rest of the world. I sit here and I think about the experiences that I have had in Thailand and the rest of Southeast Asia, and how I wouldn't change anything. I wouldn't change anything because while this wasn't the most of a culture submergence like I was hoping, it was exactly what I needed. It wasn't just some wasted vacation to the beach where we sit in awe of the sunsets and become iritated with the sand in our asses. Don't get me wrong, there was plenty of that happening, but I found myself and I found the kind of people I would like to surround myself with. I found that I need to help people, that survival is not enough any more. I will no longer live to survive, but I will live to strive and hopefully to help others strive as well. For what reason? I'm not sure, but it's enough for me to just meet these people and to show myself and others that everyone is just as deserving of survival and a second chance as anyone else. If nothing else, I would like to show you that there are things worth living for, even if the present seems unbearable, it's bound to fade in an instant.

I look out the window and I feel the most perceptive that I have since I have been in Thailand. It always seems that when something is ending, I tend to pay the most attention. The clouds are rolling over rice fields to my left. Sarah is lying on John's lap eating sour skittles to my right. And everything is exactly where it should be, and going exactly where it belongs right now. There are windmills that I haven't seen previously, made of worn brown canvas, and the scraps of wood that used to make up a farm shed, blown over by many years ago's monsoons which tear at the rice fields digging up their crops.

And now I suddenly find that the present is me sitting in an airplane from Tokyo to Detroit, drinking cabernet out of a plastic cup. It is one thing to see the sun set or rise over the ocean from just beyond the shore. It is something completely different to see the bright red fire drifting beneath the surface of the earth from above the clouds. This is the way that I view my life right now, from above it, objectively, with hopes for the future, regrets of the past, and a clear understanding of what my life is as it stands. I have fear going into the future, but I have ambition, the combination of the two could be either helpful or detrimental. I don't want to lose sight of the world from this vantage point because that is when it becomes the worst.

In eight hours I will be back in the United States. I hate to say it, but I already find myself being agitated by the English language, and the large frames of the flight attendants which sharply contrast those who work on the Asian flights. I do, however, see that there is more to be shared with two individuals who use the same language.

Five dogs lie still on the sand, beige and irritating. The ocean ferociously delivers debris. One seems startled; the rest spring to their four feet bouncing confused circles around him. His eyes concerned, he starts to gnaw at the jumping fleas near his behind, false alarm. They lie back
down and re-assume their positions as potato sacks littering the tourists' beach, sand on their noses.



This is a trip. We are the dogs. The sand is in our eyes.

I haven't written in three weeks and a lot has happened since then. Bangkok's drunken 7-11 stoops, Kuala Lumpur with it's covered ladies and bumpy rain forest, VIP (home) and it's fashion catalogue poolside. I know who my friends are, they are adventurous and crass, sometimes to the point of stinging; some of us are worse than others, sometimes I feel like the worst.

The other day, it was a Friday, I was bored. I told Mac (the roommate) that I was bored and getting sick of the monotony of Hua Hin and the days of lazing by the pool, tingling in the washed out light. It was true. He suggested that we go to Bangkok (a three hour bus ride). So we boarded one of those buses an hour later and were on our way. Josh (a photographer) and one of my new good friends was there, going to Bangkok too. It was one of those unexpected trips that you cannot recreate; some pretty memorable things ensued. Another drunken weekend in Bangkok.

Upon arrival we booked a night at a hostel on Sukhumvit, a pretty touristy street near Central Bangkok. Then Mac and I met Sarah and John at a German restaurant, where they have bells on the table to ensure prime service and I ate warm meats and sour cabbage. The mashed potatoes were flaky and had the sweet taste that butter seems to take on in Thailand, nothing like the creamy subdued flavor which slides down my throat in the states. I usually don't partake in this warm meat eating, but as they say "When in Bangkok..." I think they called them Bratwurst, but they were pale and tender, like no bratwurst I have ever experienced. It didn't take much for my teeth to break through the exterior skin of the sausage and I was shocked. I drank two gin and tonics there, but only paid for one!

Then after that, we went to the 7-11; this was our first encounter with the wonderment that was the 7-11 stoop on Nana Road in Bangkok. Our agenda was to pre-drink there and we did, prior to going to the Bed Supper Club where beds run along the walls, and sluts dance to trance music. I could see that this was the kind of place where all of the hip people go to be seen. Western and Asian men alike broke out their stiff dark jeans, too shiny black dress shoes, and colorful oxfords. Prowling threads, I presume. I decided to wear my tight girl jeans and my purple, regal lion shirt. It was 700 baht to get in, which is about USD$20: 2 cocktails included. That's just how hip it was. I spent most of my time on the upper level looking over the edge at all of the people dancing, and thinking about one girl in particular. She was wearing a metallic purple dress which reached the middle of her thigh; she had one of those holiday in thailand tans and blonde hair. I kept imagining how the club would have changed if she jumped from the ledge onto the dance floor, which would have been about a three-story jump. One gold stiletto over the railing at a time, subtly suicidal. She would have fallen to the floor, chest first. Her chin would have slammed into the sticky black surface and started bleeding; a real buzz kill for the Bangkok hipsters. The sound of her fall would not have been heard, but after the DJ kills the trance music, she begins to wail. What attention she must crave to do such a thing.

Later on in the night, we went to a bar where the band sounded just like the black eyed peas and that bitch Meredith Brooks. We danced a lot, and the asian stud who was singing kept smiling at us and pointing to us in his kitschy way. We went home and I got yelled at for talking to Cameron too loudly on the phone in the hallway of our hostel at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Mac and I took the metro to the train station amidst the farangs (thai for foreigner) and the suspiciously kind train agents. Anywhere I go I am skeptical about people who try to help me, it makes me wonder what kind of money they want out of me, how they're going to rip me off, or what dead end they're going to lead me toward. I'm not sure if this is western skepticism of the other, mysterious eastern people, or if I'm just living up to my reputation by ignoring them due to fear of being taken advantage of. Regardless, Mac and I ignored the train agents until we realized that they were only there to help us figure out which line to join for train tickets to Chiang Mai (where we are going for Songkhran over our second break). Then leaving the station, we were bombarded by those others for whom skepticism is warranted. They are ruthless about offering new services that they seem to believe everyone needs. As if I hadn't just walked out of a train station, many of these short men wearing pink shirts asked if Mac and I needed cheap train tickets from their special agency, or if we wanted a ten baht tour of Bangkok, which inevitably lead to some made up temple where the entrance fee was outlandish. But no, I only pay outlandish entry fees to swanky bars, not to artificial cultural experiences. And the mind-fuck continued.

I stood still amidst around 30 other people, mostly asian, all eyes fixed on a man darting furiously into the clouds and up to the sun in a modern day kung fu film. DVDs were being bootlegged behind the scenes. They were previewing the film at the dvd store which was one of hundreds. Stands lined the floor in three rows leaving only room for about two people to walk the aisles. Cell phones with their metallic plastic glitter behind glass counters. I was on the fourth floor of MBK - Bangkok teenage paradise where bartering is encouraged and each of the eight floors is dedicated to a different purpose: clothing, shoes, electronics, cameras, a food garden where you can feast on treats from around the world. I went for the Japanese food and got some savorily delish fried dumplings.

Then we went to Hard Rock Cafe, I ate some hot wings which tasted like pork rinds, and a cheeseburger which was decent. We spent a lot of money, but there was free entertainment! A Thai band which kind of just mumbled along to top 30 hits of the 90's. Then was the 7-11 stoop with Mac, Sarah, John, and Josh. It was magical. We played circle of death in central Bangkok on the stoop of a 7-11 for three hours. The circle was successful in getting all of us drunk and we continued the party at the streetside bars which stay open until the wee hours serving the hottest tourists on the sidewalk as they play "what the fuck?" and scream profanities. I have never felt like such a stupid American.

And then I went to school as usual, spent some time alone, thought about how I am going to explore more of Thailand and get to know some of the locals. And then I went to Kuala Lumpur and I changed again.

It was Chistine, Jordan, Mac, and I who went to Kuala Lumpur together. My first time eating Indian food was in Malaysia, and it was a burst of delight on my tongue and down my throat. The Petronas Towers were phallic in a materialistic homo-erotic kind of way. And the art was profound at times and confusing in other cases, as art usually is. There was one piece, in particular which sticks with me. It was titled "Happy... New Year" and it depicts various expressions and festivities associated with the holiday in paintings which were collaged together. It seems to be a pessimistic outlook on the holiday. It makes me wonder if sometimes Asians have a similar outlook on the Chinese New Year as some Christians do on the commercializing of Christmas.

Little India in Kuala Lumpur

Then we went to the rain forest And this is what I have to say about that:

I have hiked eleven kilometers through Malaysia's Taman Negara, the oldest rain forest in the world. The sensation that I felt most of the time that Mac and I were struggling up and down the hilly forest floor, was hurried. From the very beginning I had a certain destination and I wasn't relaxed enough to realize where I was and to appreciate that I was surrounded by endless green shadows with speckles of light - the sounds of birds and giant insects. There were times when I stopped and looked around, speculating why I associate all of the sounds that I hear with modern-age technology - sirens, alarm clocks, cell phone rings, chainsaws - and why they happened to be the most annoying and abrasive of sounds. Then I went on to think about how it must be to live in what are considered "primitive" societies - with the squealing beast and the nearly naked man with spear chasing it in and out of the light in the forest. How fit that man must be - to live in the jungle, to hunt boar, and build, and to gather. How far away we have come from the root of what it is to survive, and to be healthy humans.

"When I get out of here I will drink and gin and tonic, or maybe 7." Why can I not have the desire to stay in the jungle for more than one night? Why am I so weak? Maybe I just don't have the interest in that sort of thing. But then I realized that is not true. I realized, again, that I am accustomed to being comfortable, and in order to grow I must deprive myself of these every day comforts. The real reason why I was so miserable is because I was rushing through the rain forest, with no time given for soaking it into my pores and into my being.



















I saw some aborigines between tree trunks and across the river. They were black and it made me wonder why they were practically the only black people I saw while in Malaysia. A part of me, which I do not want to divulge to people, wondered if they were transported in by tourist authorities for another feature to be given to the lackluster oldest rain forest in the world. Signs advertised going on an outing to look at the Aborigines, breast feeding their children, fetching water from the river, sitting in the shade of their A shaped huts made of logs and tarps. I can only hope that they are exhibitionists.

Speaking of exhibitionists, the only wildlife which I saw were insects, giant ants which I am convinced marched for a mile, and a stream which ran down to the river.

So we reached our hide standing pseudo-regally on stilts in the center of Taman Negara. Mac and I were exhausted from stumbling over the thick root which covered the forest for 7 hours, and the contemplation, and faces of god which we probably saw inside of ourselves. I took a cold shower and it felt refreshing. Then I sat on my bunk made of two by fours which split my back into uncomfortable segments. I peered out the window to see if a boar or a panther may have decided to grace us with their presence, but no. Nothing but the sound of sirens rushing down a city highway, it's roads overlapping like spiderwebs in the forest. And I can only assume that these sounds were coming from the mouths of birds and toads and those nasty cicada insects which hit the light over and over forcing retardation. So I attempted to go to sleep and Mac began to breathe heavily: asleep.

It was black now and I caught the moon in my eyes. I wept the night away. At first I was unsure as to why I was weeping, and then I came up with reasons to continue to do so. We always do that, don't we?

Part of it was beauty, part of it was very ugly and scary, dark and piercing-loud like the jungle in the night.

Sometimes the water here is sweet out of the bottle, a taste similar to sweat, especially if it is warm. And the flavors of the food are spicy in an eclectic way. Flavors that I have never tasted before. At times the spices taste like soap, but not in a bad way. Rather in a way that makes me feel as though my body is being purified possibly, made to be new.

In other ways my body feels confused. When my stomach twists endlessly on itself, back and forth starting and ending settled. I don't know what it is that makes my stomach loose like this, maybe the same spices that make me feel pure, and that this experience is something different. Maybe it's the endless realizations and the unsettled feeling of seeing yourself from the outside. I look at my life differently, as if I am drifting above it on a cloud. I see my father in the distance as an elusive puff of cigarette smoke. It still lingers in the room, but we may never see the source of it again. Maybe it's my fault that he lost interest, maybe I failed him because I forgot to tell him that he was okay, that we were okay. I feel for things that I had lost feelings for previously. I love it that I tingle like I used to, I've been made human again, despite the debauchery that ensues too frequently.

Last weekend the same group which went to Koh Tao went to Bangkok. We stayed on Kao San Road which is a real granola-fest. There are backpacks as far as the eye can see streaming down the center of the road. Along the edges are various merchandisers trying to impress the white-skins with their products: toads with ridges up their back which can be caressed to sound just like what they imitate in shape, knock off diesel, chanel, bathing apes, hipster-style t-shirts which show no evidence of where they were purchased. That's what the hipsters go for right?

The Australians love to take their holidays to Thailand. They spend months here after working and saving for months. And from what I've seen, they love to party and to drink. That is what I have done too.

Friday night was a mess. It was all greedy beings and "every man for himself" because we didn't have the minds to make reservations before venturing to Bangkok for the weekend. I had quite the sickness, a sinus infection and a terrible cough. At one point in the evening we thought that we were going to have to stay out all night and wait for one hotel's rooms to open up at 6 o'clock the next morning; at this point it was 10:30. I was up for it because I didn't want to be a needy nuisance which seemed to have surrounded me. Apparently there were too many of us once we got there; on the way everything was fine. But as we were racing to a hotel which might have room for five of the nine of us who were still homeless for the night, it could be heard that there were too many fucking people for this hotel, and implied that four of us didn't belong. Disgusting. I'm not sure what the fuck is wrong with people. People are made to feel too special growing up, as if there is always somewhere for them to sleep. Everything turned out though. John and I settled with a cute boy from Slovenia who liked to take pictures and woke up at 6 o'clock every morning to do so. The little (of course!) Japanese lady who owns the hotel set us up with him. Only one person with three twin beds.

Then we went out, binge drank our stomachs full and our minds into oblivion. Our limbs flailed on the dance floor, and I probably kissed a girl (her name is Chris) more than I should have. Then Nelly came on and I felt a certain right to it which I have never felt toward any rap song in my life. I had this insatiable desire to frolic around the club informing everyone of where I had come from, but I refrained. I don't think I have ever felt so patriotic in my life, and it was induced by a Nelly song. He's a rapper, in case you aren't down. Then I kissed another girl, someone got pissed, I almost got my ass kicked and realized that perhaps some people aren't as relaxed as I am in Thailand.

Saturday morning felt promising initially. We were going to enter the machine that is Bangkok and make our way through the huge weekend market. So 7 of us took taxis into town. The sun was piercing and drawing sweat out of the pores of my already dehydrated body. I felt vomit coming, but I tried to suppress it. We walked around and I was unable to focus on anything beneath the endless blue tarps where all of the merchants attempted to impress us once more. The smells of curry and hanging meat were overwhelming and trapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I took a cab back to the hotel and spent one of my few days in Bangkok trying to make sense of the second half of "Everything is Illuminated" and sleeping. I woke up at around 6 pm, tried to find the gay district, and we did it all over again.

"Ping Pong show?" Every seven steps there was a middle-aged Thai man propositioning twenty-something males and females alike. Some of us got more irritated than others. After being asked probably twelve times, Chris became especially agitated by one of the hair-thinned Thai locals, his red polo tucked into his jeans which ballooned beneath his belt. Her arms shot backward as she screamed "Mai Chai!!" ("NO!!"), alike to an elegant mythical beast ready to pounce on the agitator. Meanwhile I peered into the doors of the various clubs with names such as "Super Pussy." The women were hesitantly dancing on the stage amongst shiny poles, all with numbers pinned to their bikinis. It was a human auction, living, walking meat like at a 4 H conference. It makes me wonder what their fate was for the night, who outbid who to walk out of the club with a Thai treat on his arm? Is it detrimental to those ladies who aren't chosen? And then my mind went to ping pong balls shooting out of vaginas as though they had been manufactured by the Nerf ™ Company. Razor blades being pulled out on a string, and darts being shot at a target. I decided I would have enjoyed this a little too much seeing as how I was intoxicated, either that or it would have ruined my evening. I will return sober, and contemplative.

Our night in the gay/sex district was not so fruitful. We went into one bar and watched a Thai band do black-eyed peas covers for about an hour. And then we went on a search for clubs for dancing, but found that we were in the wrong part of town for that. We returned to Kao San Road and replicated the previous nights activities, with less drama, apologizing from the man who wanted to assault me for kissing what he thought was his property, street pad thai, and popped red balloons.

Bangkok was all fun buckets and disorienting.

Everyone went back to Hua Hin and some of us stayed behind. Jessica, Katie, and I went to the Golden Palace and the Lying Buddha on Monday. It was one of the most impressive things I have ever witnessed. The architecture and mosaic tile work was extremely intricate. And it was built for a king in the late 1700s! It is a religious structure where there is an emerald Buddha in the center. It's interesting when religious things are built for a secular ruler. It was raining, which in a way made the experience more serene, but in the sort of way that made me contemplate about how there is so much money and manpower put into these things. It certainly puts people in awe at the glory of the king and of the image of Buddha, but I didn't see it as spiritual, seeing as how the colonial style buildings and the parading chino shorts with DSLRs made me feel as though I was visiting Disney World before entering the gated temple structure.

It is now a week later, and tomorrow

Jessica and I are going to try and find a waterfall. I always feel much more serene and I am more likely to have a spiritual experience when I am surrounded by nature and not tourists, kackling away in their
various tongues.

Until next time, America.

so much past inside my present.

Thailand can smell of shit to my over-sterilized American nose. I can see how these smells could be confused with having a bad experience here. I'm doing my best to take it all in and embrace it, knowing that I very well could miss these things once I'm gone. The toilets, along with many of the shops, have a strong stench of mothballs and piss. Perhaps it's something that you become accustomed to, like how the locals become accustomed to the smell of fish hanging in the local night market, or seeing a pig's head sitting on the table next to slabs of the rest of the very same pig. There was a tear in the pig's eye, and thinking about the pig's struggle to hold on to life is what kept me from eating meat that night. Later the same night, I ordered fish thinking my stomach would be able to hold that. They brought out a whole red snapper, scales and all. Needless to say, I couldn't eat it and I should probably be a vegetarian instead of someone who is only okay with eating meat that has been deconstructed and prepared behind the scenes.

A group of thirteen of us took a trip last weekend. Koh Tao is a beautiful Island in southern Thailand. The ride there was on a bus which wreaked of mothballs at 1 o'clock in the morning and lasted for about five hours. We then reached the boat station which was run by a group of four roosters, crowing abrasively. Leather skinned and toned European and Australian men, divers I presume, ran rampant both on the boat and at the island. There were far more charred skinned Caucasians than there were vendors or taxi drivers to accommodate them. We reached the station just in time to watch the sun rise over the ocean. The roosters were an annoyance, and most of the people vomited on the two hour boat ride, excluding me.

Koh Tao is one of the most aesthetically beautiful places that I have ever visited. The overwhelming amount of tourism - one of Thailand's chief economies - was a bit of a damper on my personal experience despite the immense numbers of attractive Europeans. I expected it, though, going to one of the biggest spots for scuba in Thailand. Koh Tao is also where Leo Dicaprio pranced about through the jungle in the feature film, "The Beach." I didn't see any marijuana fields, though.
In Koh Tao, we stayed in a bungalow that had a view of the crystal clear water. It was Jessica, Sarah, John, and I who shared the fungalow. To be honest, that's not where most of the fun happened. Most of the fun happened at Moove, a bar on the beach owned by Mr. Moo. Moo knows how to party. His beach is filled mats for sitting, candles recessed into the ground, and with lights draped with colorful fabric. If getting drunk was the mission for the night, then I'd say that the thirteen of us who went to Koh Tao were successful. We danced around on the beach to mixing done by the DJ inside the bar. Some of us got to release lanterns into the sky and watch them float away into obscurity above the water. Probably trance music, or pop hits from the states and 3 years ago. The drinks were terrible, but strong. I ordered a gin and cranberry and it tasted like a bloody mary without the tomato juice. mmm... mmm...

















The next day, most people were hungover or depressed, excluding me because I didn't get all that drunk. People have been surpassing me every night since I've been here, and I'm okay with that. We went to town to go shopping. I bought a couple of postcards, season two of the Showtime hit "Weeds" for $9, and "Factory Girl" for $3. The sun was going to go down in a few hours so we decided to go kayaking around the series of bays near our bungalow. This was the best part of my trip. I can't really put it into words eloquently that could convey any sort of feeling that I was having. Jessica and I shared a kayak and made our way out through the choppy waves. It was pretty rocky, so we started to feel a bit queasy and made our way back nearer to shore. There, we talked about our lives, how dad's suck, how strange it is to be conscious tourists in such a far away place, the things that we want to get out of our trip, and of course about our lives back home. It made me realize how much the past affects the way that I am today; Feist also helped me to realize this. Sometimes this realization stresses me out, like when I eat spicy food and I confuse it with bad stress. But most of the time I am thankful for the things I have been through, good and bad. They make me who I am, and they make me more of a conscious person I think. We then lied back and watched the sun set behind the clouds, dip beneath the earth as we knew it.



That night, we watched a man dance with fire on the beach.

Our return back home went much more smoothly than the ride to Koh Tao. We sat on the inside of the boat this time and watched "Transformers" which is pretty entertaining. No one even vomited!




Then we came back to VIP and I went to school for three days. Homesickness strikes me arbitrarily. It's what I assume is homesickness, but I cannot label the feeling as so directly. It's a void inside myself, the desire to have familiar ones around me. I love the people who I spend my days with here, but there's something to be said about a high-context relationship with my friends and family at home. There are implications there that cannot be learned in the amount of time that I have been here. My new friends and I are becoming closer everyday, but I need to have patience with them and I think that these bonds will last all of my life. The circumstance that I find myself in creates indescribable friendships. Soon they will understand me, and the elusive feelings of depression will become easier. I still miss everyone. That's how I was feeling during those three days.

Then the icebreaker party came at Webster, and I sang Karaoke with my new friends. Bohemian Rhapsody, Yesterday, Backstreet Boys, Like a Prayer, Zombie by The Cranberries. Oh wow. Clearly I was intoxicated for this. And the dancing!


Yesterday (Sunday) I went to monkey mountain. There were monkeys everywhere, and a Buddhist temple at the top. The monkeys were scandalous and certainly do not stand for honesty. One in particular was especially sketchy. He stole Amy's water bottle and soaked himself with the contents of it. Then he proceeded to climb up my leg and jump across me onto my bag, where he attempted to go rummage through the insides of it. He was cute nonetheless, but not as cute as the babies! I still don't know how I feel about these monkeys becoming so accustomed to interaction with humans. It's definitely better than a zoo because these monkeys are certainly not caged. We climbed to the top of the "mountain" where there was a temple and monks. I donated some money to the monks and they gave me a bracelet and incense. I offered the incense at the temple. It wasn't quite a spiritual experience; maybe at a later date. Probably one of my favorite things so far were the monkeys. Their expressions are so ape/human.




























I have realized so much about myself since I have been here. Ethnocentrism is a concept that I have heard time and time again in the context of college courses, but something that I never had a firm grasp on until I came to Thailand. Living in one place all of my life, I never really realized that there are different routes to take as far as living are concerned. Not every place is drowned in excess, concerned with time, getting stressed over the small details. As a result of this way of life and an increasingly global economy, Thailand has become one of many countries like it which is easily exploited by foreign countries and large corporations. I've only seen this through the tourist industry, which is definitely the lightest of the harm done. I would like to explore this exploitation further with my camera. I just hope that I will be allowed to bring my camera with me to see some of the atrocities being done in Thailand. I would like to change something, if only it is inside of myself during this trip, and I think the only way to do that is to face the consequences of a society that lives in excess and how it affects societies thousands of miles away. I would love to see the economy of Thailand in a vacuum and how it would have developed had it not been affected by globalization.

My blogs are long and random, bear with me. Next weekend we go to Bangkok.