The birthday weekend hovered around a B-. And ended with an argument that has got me thinking very seriously about the life lessons learned and other such 36-year-old appropriate thoughts. 36. Looks strange, feels stranger to assign myself that new number. The best description I have for this current mental state is one of being at the eye doctor's and he's just changed the lens - 1 or 2, and everything looks a little skewed now.
One evening last weekend was spent drinking whiskey with the motorcycle taxi drivers who'd take a day off to play Tacara (volleyball without hands) in the field next to the apartment. I found myself sitting on a mat thrown over a pile of garbage, next to some Thai guys who'd been drinking Thai rum all day long, a thick cloud of flies settling and unsettling around us constantly.
I excused myself to get more beer and a stool which brought a lot of laughs from the locals when I perched gingerly on it's 10x10x10 inches. The game was heated, fueled by the hot day (the players down to thier boxers), littered with empty Hong Thong bottles, and multiple games between two teams getting more competitive as the betting grew equally heated.
A fight broke out between two players, the taller one slapped the other across the head and there was a muay thai scuffle with friends jumping in the middle. After the taller one cooled off, he approached the other with multiple bows and there was a tense hug. Two more guys jumped in with the same knees and elbows ending on the ground and getting up smiling and laughing. I took a bunch of semi-blurred pictures, drank my whiskey and soda and enjoyed this slice of life.
When it was too dark to see the ball, we gathered in a circle, tried out our Thai and English and had a great time until it was bed time.
The game
Ferocity
player
post slap tension
post slap tension
the apology
muay thai street style
Sunday was Chatuchuk market and I was on two missions. Impossibly, I wandered right into the three shops I was looking for as though I knew where in the rat maze they were. I puchased some t-shirts in Thai (no idea what these say) and wandered with Aaron until we spotted a bar that had always pumped out deep house and tech house into the crowded market. Starting the tradition of the live DJ is a Thai woman in her mid-50's at the turntables, fist pumping as she spun. I have no idea how long it will last, but that one tiny spot was now spilling out into the walkway and jammed with farang and Thai alike, Aaron recognizing a host of folks from the deep/tech house club scene there.
We parked our butts there, started ordering beers, and passed the afternoon into night there. I lost count of the beers I tossed back and proceeded to act like a total ass when I'd reached drunk. Aaron got me back to the apartment and we argued, him finally heading to bed as I emoted alone for a while longer before passing out. I managed to get through the next day with a colossal hangover, negativity, and a wall of silence. Tuesday was the reckoning. I did one line from a BK worksheet and there it was: I was left with a naked truth about myself that was a self-honesty bitch slap. I'm an unapologetic flirt when I drink that much, and make the people I care most about around me uncomfortable. A lot uncomfortable.
she who started it all
vintage motorbike
fireman, or mechanic, or electrician, or...
aaron appreciates his pic
nose job
There is something about intimacy that freaks me out. I don't trust others, particularly men, and spread out a safety net of adoration to offset my increasing anxiety about potential rejection as I get closer to someone. If this sounds counter-productive and potentially damaging to the important relationship, you'd be right. This realization resulted in an immediate apology to Aaron and later on an apology to my ex-husband for this behavioral pattern. I've also limited my drinking.
An acquaintance from Portland arrived Tuesday and on Wednesday, I took him out on my tour of Khoa San Road. One Buddhist book store (ordination procedures, novice handbook, meditation pamphlet, and Buddha travels book later to the tune of 300 baht), one Wat, a whole lotta shopping, alley wandering, the National Gallery, a shisha and hummus lunch later and it was naptime.
khoa san homeless
no idea what they sell...
makes you want to look, doesn't it?
Wednesday night turned out to be a bunk night for the typical club rounds and Aaron and I were satisfied sitting at a neon-lit VW bus bar, playing dice games and drinking (me slamming down soda and lime like it was going out of style). We finally ended up in some clubs, me getting brain freeze from the intense air con and bad house/disco blocking any kind of meaningful jokes or conversation.
We made it through one drink and caught a taxi home.
Today is Bali prep day - a trip to the book store, a quick review of greetings and other minimal Indonesian phrases, and work. Again, I'm pulled in two directions, the now and the coming experience for which I have no frame of reference. I appreciate the openness there is in my imagination for this next phase. I also appreciate the familiarity of where I am.
Lately I'm finding myself envying my friends and their current successes (of which there is many!). I wonder if I'm doing enough just surviving living here. If there's more I should be doing, and when the hell do I have the time. I also play with the idea that searching for my happiness might not be a large enough goal, that there should be accoutrement to happiness, goals met, accomplishments, acknowledgement.
Then comes that inner voice that points out that happiness might not depend on external accomplishments or acknowledgements. That the kind of happiness I'm seeking is the happiness with what is right now, a happiness that can free me to move into new goals and experiences without needing success, just the doing. Or not doing. A lot turning around in my brain, not a lot of action per se, but a whole lot of mental jogging.