I've been thinking a lot about why I've been neglecting my xanga. After all, I process best when I write things down. Lately, I've been feeling as though it's become harder and harder for me to write. My mind doesn't seem to ever rest and I can't seem to keep up with it these days. I've been busy...but busy is actually a state that I enjoy. It's unhealthy I know since I kind of use it to avoid processing. So, I'm thinking about 2007, I was telling Jane that I'm going to spend one night a week at Borders even though we are done with our applications and use it as my processing night or something. We shall see... anyways, I came across this old journal entry from when I was in Thailand. Kind of explains why I've been writing about my fantasy leagues instead of what I usually write about, not that Fantasy is bad or anything. =) I'm on a journey back to processing I guess....
July 23, 2004
It rained last night…hard. It rained the night before as well…hard. It rained so hard both nights that the sewage overflowed and flooded the streets. The water was so deep and so dirty that I felt as though I was wading through a river as I walked home last night.
It’s monsoon season here in Bangkok. I’ve never been in a country that has a monsoon season. It seems that whenever it rains here, things become more interesting. The streets become rivers, the usual desperation for business among the street vendors dies down, the noisiness of the people, cars, and animals become drowned out, and the kids at the daycare where we work, even their behavior seems to change.
I can’t believe I’m writing about rain. It isn’t because there’s nothing going on here and I have nothing to write about, but rather there’s too much occurring, so much that I can’t seem to process through it anymore.
Last week, I hit the ultimate point of wanting to go home, missing America, being fed up. I was tired of the language, not understanding and not knowing how to speak Thai. I was tired of the lifestyle, taking bucket showers, having my feet be black all the time, not being able to exercise. I was tired of the food, Pad Thai, Pad Z-ew, and sticky rice can only be good for so long. I am ashamed to say that I was even tired of the people. The kids at Baan Chivit Mai were becoming increasingly unruly and rough with one another. The people of Klong Toey seemed to be deficient in their understanding of sanitation. The mentally disabled teenagers at work obviously had no concept of personal space. And then there was my host sister Ploy whom I was really feeling irritated with and at certain times wished would just go away.
I felt a sense of relief on Saturday morning when I woke up remembering that the mid-project retreat was only a day away, but then God always seems to make things more interesting, just like the rain.
It started Saturday morning at the AIDS hospice. It was only my 3rd time there. I guess it only takes 3 times to build a relationship, or even one. I met Bpang last Saturday. I was playing with her son, not knowing that he was her son and that she was watching me out of the corner of her eye as she sat sorting through her handcrafted bags and goods that she was planning to sell that day.
I noticed the bags and wanted to buy one for my sister, so I asked her for the price. She said that they were 250 baht per bag but that she would sell me one for 200 baht because I was good to her son. For the next half hour or so, she showed me pictures of her family. I learned that she was a Christian and that she, as well as her 3 yr. old son, both had AIDS and that her husband had died from the disease three years earlier. She gave me a small change purse to remember her by..
And then there is Uan, the 23 yr. old girl at the AIDS hospice that I’ve been massaging for three weeks. We shared about our favorite foods, our birthdays, and our families. I told her that I had studied accounting in college and that I wanted to be a lawyer. She told me she liked listening to music and that she thought the man on television was rather handsome. She pinned a small stuffed koala to my shirt before I left, took my hand, and told me that she liked me very much. I told her the same.
I find myself feeling confused about second chances and even more confused about first chances that never seem to happen.
I feel like a rainstorm occurred last Saturday and I got caught in it and haven’t quite yet recovered. Will I ever recover? And I guess that is why all I really want to do these days is to think and write about dull and easy things like rain…but then again rain always makes things more interesting and doesn’t seem all that dull and easy to just think and write about anymore.
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