i got a million ways to get it: choose one

shout to josh eddy, who got me hip to a band called bitter:sweet, who has a song called "dirty laundry," that is HOT.

moving on:

moving, literally. i have to be out of my apartment on 31 august and leave for nyc on 1 september. no real plans beyond find a job and find a place to live. i'm sure i'll have some interesting sagas to report from the front lines.

it's weird what an introvert i've found myself to become since i've been home from the jungle. i prefer keeping to myself even more than usual now and am kind of trying to make a quiet exit from los angeles. i'm even a little burnt out on life blogging and exposing my naked soul to the world for examination.

so! i've decided to start reviewing things - anything i suspect will provoke you as it does me - in addition to relaying the colorful little incidences in my life. (plus it's way easier to be funny when you have a springboard to launch from)... ultimately this will be my narcissistic recollection of the banal circumstances and minor distractions of and in my life.

today i'm spending the day packing and getting myself organized to move, which might create some chaos worth mentioning...??? after dodging malaria and wading through elephant shit-infested water for a month, suddenly my life seems so boring.

video archives

the internet was too slow in laos to upload video, so here's a little archive v-logging following my first and last weeks on the trip.

week one:

week four:

Allow me to re-introduce myself ("smile all the way in your liver" - Eat Pray Love)

Today's preface: if I wasn't before, I certainly am a woman now. And for that, I am smiling, deeply, all the way in my liver.

I have embarked on so many new adventures and experiences this year, most recently the nearly unparalleled experience of living remotely in southeast Asia for an equally raucous and gratifying summer. This has been a process of self-discovery often disguised as self-annihilation; a journey through which I've found myself both learning and reaffirming various components of my worldview. In the past month, through facing my own personal demons head on, by listening to the often unimaginable and shattering stories of the people around me, and by absorbing the richness of a culture that is so deliciously far away from my own, I've come away with so much.

Just before I departed on my jungle venture, my mom accused me of running from something. With all my erratic, danger-seeking, non-committal behavior these past few months, I know I’ve caused my parents a great deal of worry. And I definitely agree that I’ve been running… but not away. I’ve been so desperate to “find myself” that I’ve run in every direction possible. This has manifested in the ultimate battle of wills: me against myself. What it’s sadly taken me so long to realize is that there is no winner in this war; either way, I lose. I spent so much time searching for the person I want to be that I never took time to just enjoy being the person I am. And although I know old habits die hard (and thus I won’t change overnight), this was a huge revelation and I like to believe I’ll be a much more fulfilled woman as a result.

There is a Balinese meditation called "four brothers," which is the belief that we are all born with four brothers, intelligence, strength, friendship, and poetry, who guide us through life. While this practice is unique to the tiny Indonesian utopia, the broader concepts of guardian angels and similarly atoned protective spirits are found in every society throughout the world.

The four brothers meditation, however, is particularly special because it provides us a peaceful acceptance of the terms of our lives. By consenting to this truth, we allow ourselves to be free to live a life, precarious as she may be, of both fate and free will.

Discovering the four brothers philosophy has reaffirmed my belief in the important balance between confidence and curiosity; of knowing when to take charge and when to have faith. Not everything can be controlled, but some things must be harvested. The beauty (and the ugly, depending on how you look at it) of life is that sometimes it's up to you, and sometimes it's up to God. Deciphering which rule applies when is the troublesome business.

As a result of this spiritual epiphany, I've learned that the most valuable virtues I must strive for in this lifetime are patience, courage and prayer. Through the attainment of patience, I am releasing anxiety and achieving Zen. In finding my courage, I am learning to live and love life for the moment I am in; the beauty of which allows me to let go of the past and stop panicking about the future. And through prayer, I have found a benevolent, remarkable and deeply personal relationship with God, providing so generously to me an opportunity to make sense of my place in my head, my heart and the world.

I recognize that these virtues are of particular importance, for me, in love. I admit without hesitation that today my heart remains locked tightly in a bitter contest of wills with itself: impatient and terrified and closed-off. But I know that in order to reach the plateau of faith in love that I so desperately desire, I must be patient in knowing that love in my life will be when it's meant to be, and not a moment sooner; I must be fearless in allowing myself to move on when necessary, but also love valiantly and forcefully when necessary; and I must be open to the value of prayer in the process of finding and maintaining love, because without the mind-soul-body balance achievable only through prayer, I will surely never feel enough external balance to recognize, maintain, nor appreciate love when it comes to me.

I’ve grown a great deal in my understanding (acceptance?) of the world. My entire life I've struggled with the karmic concept of fairness. How unfair, that a girl born in rural Laos has no opportunity to see the world beyond her village, while a western man born to money in the US, is granted the luxury to see all of it. How unfair, that a Saudi Arabian woman has no chance to make her own decisions, but a French woman can move about as she pleases. How unfair, that royal bloodlines denote prestige without work, when peasantry demands so much labor without any real compensation.

In this regard I've learned there's no such thing as fairness. There are only existences and circumstances, some of which are lovelier than others (and loveliness is really quite contextual). But what has come most importantly of this revelation is that within this paradox is an international acceptance of the sacredness of beauty, something that is found in and unified by happiness.

I've learned that happiness, once thought to be measured by an arbitrary combination of luck and destiny, is in actuality a tangible calculation of it's pursuit; humanity doesn't merely achieve happiness, nor is it automatically bestowed upon certain peoples. Rather, anyone, anywhere in the world can theoretically and literally secure bliss through understanding the delicate dance between engagement and complacency. We all need to learn to thread that needle of striving for more but being happy with what we already have. And at the end of the day one of the truly miraculous things about life is humanity’s ability to find happiness proportionate to what’s available to us. It almost seems like the less we have, the easier it is to discover and sustain real joy.

I’ll end on this: although much has been learned, much remains unanswered, underdeveloped. I still struggle with tempering my demands for urgency, everywhere, at all times. Great fear continues to grip my heart from time to time. I remain cynical about the prophecy of real, lasting love, and struggle with consistent, effective prayer. My mind still races with discontentment at the endless cycles of social and economic imbalance that exists in this world. Even amidst so much beauty, I sometimes find reasons to be sad… After all, a summer is a deliriously short period of time to have perfected the many things I've learned. But perhaps this is the greatest and most easily attainable lesson of them all: I am not perfect, likely never will be, and must accept and admire that fact.

For isn’t it imperfection that makes life beautiful and valuable? Perfection denotes immortality, which we will never, ever achieve. But who would ever desire immortality? Mortality is what gives life meaning.

So it's okay to cry until your face runs out of tears, or to laugh until your face muscles yearns for relief. The gamut of emotions that we experience are what embellish and celebrate our imperfections, our mortality... our meaningfulness.

Rustic Pathways… still living day-by-day… still no future… future still very dark…

In two days, my work as a Rustic Pathways program leader will be complete and although most of my energy has already gone into writing a final reflection piece (working on the finishing touches; posting tomorrow or Wednesday… and it’s bit of a barn burner if I do say so myself J), I thought it appropriate to jot down some notes on the highlights of week four.

I should’ve read the tea leaves early on in my relationship with Rustic Pathways. The company, for all its good intentions, is poorly managed and disorganized, more often than not leaving major decisions to the last minute. At first, I found this day-to-day lifestyle exciting; I thought it was the perfect remedy to my extremely structured, well-planned life at home.

Within a couple weeks though, I found myself not necessarily homesick, but rather plan-sick. I never knew what was going on more than ten minutes before anything happened, so I could never answer students questions about what we were doing next, and I had no idea which city, or for that matter, which country I could be expected to be in on any given day. The adventure grew to be emotionally nauseating.

That said, I’ve just completed four weeks of day by day travel, allegedly leading groups of students through various parts of the jungle (in actuality it was more an exercise of the blind leading the blind, thankfully, safely), and I am psychologically exhausted.

So like I said, I wanted this prologue to the final post to cover some of the most notable features of my final week of work. As I’ve already mentioned, I really put so much of my soul into the manifest that I’m posting before my departure, so please excuse my laziness in boiling week four down into bullet points:

· Due to poor planning on the company’s part, I was forced to work at elephant camp for a record third week. Typically program leaders are shifted around to different programs throughout their visit, and very rarely does anyone work the same program more than two weeks. It should go without saying that this city girl was physically drained after one week at elephant camp (overloads of bugs, mud, extreme isolation to the tune of living on an island, sleep that requires mosquito nets, etc), so when I was informed that I’d be overseeing a third week, I was less than thrilled. However, since the group is so small, I was given the authority to break up elephant camp a bit and spend more time in the city this time around; this necessary break from elephant isolation brought welcome relief.

· Luckily the new group is made up of only two students and they are considerably easier to live/work with than the last group (remember my lovely bipolar roommate?).

· Because our group was so small this time around, the elephant camp was able to open its doors to more outside visitors, two lovely families and a pair of backpacking twenty-something guys who ended up being hilarious and intellectually stimulating company… one of my favorite moments of the entire trip was a profound exchange between these travelers, an Iranian-Canadian and German, and myself about US defense systems and budgets. After spending the past month with teenagers, however amazing as they are, it was so nice to have a thought-provoking political conversation with my peers.

· Today I indulged in spa treatment number six (two traditional Thai massages, two foot massages, a facial and a body scrub) of the trip. For a total cost of about $65… for all six treatments… ‘nuff said.

· Lastly, I realized today that there are three things I’ll miss most about Laos: first, the sincere graciousness and earnestness of the Lao people (especially the children! Oh the children really tugged at my ovary-strings); second, the carefree, leisurely lifestyle that although throws a bit too much caution into the wind (babies are frequently seen riding in the front of motorcycles without a helmet), allows us to just throw stress into the wind, too; and third (and of least value to me in any way), my extremely fattening habit of visiting the crepe stands every evening (oh how much do I adore my peanut butter and Nutella crepes!).

Tomorrow is a day of total service, as we’ll be offering alms to the monks at sunrise and spending the rest of the day working with Rustic’s rice fields program at a pottery village and a rice village. Wednesday marks the last day of the program, where we’ll trudge back into elephant camp and the girls will take the final ride on their elephants and receive their “official mahout certification” (every student is certified a mahout at the end of the program, which is mostly laughable, since no one really controls those elephants, the actual professional mahouts can barely accomplish that task… but the ceremony is very cute nonetheless). From there, I’ll officially say goodbye to Luang Prabang and begin the loooooong journey home – Luang Prabang à Vientiane à Bangkok à Singapore à Tokyo à finally, so sweetly, Los Angeles.

I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like

So I know I said this was going to be an intense piece on love, and as much as I hate to disappoint my 13 constituents, it’s just not ready yet. What I have written is honest and at times both heartbreaking and heartening… but it lacks cohesiveness and closure, and I just don’t think I have the emotional wherewithal yet to really tie it together the way I’d like to.

So what you get instead is another banal update from the jungle.

We’re wrapping up another week at elephant camp and the excitement of vacation has long since been replaced by the exhaustion of work. This, my second week living in the jungle amongst the quiet villagers, erratic students and docile elephants, has proven to be an emotionally stirring experience.

The isolation of elephant camp has its ups and downs. Two weeks here has forced me to really tap into the centerpiece of my soul wherein I’m comfortable truly being alone. I’ve gotten to know myself and tested the boundaries of my strength (weakness?) in ways never otherwise possible. Although I am physically, emotionally and spiritually drained after another week in the jungle, I know I am a better person as a result of this experience.

Within moments of arriving back at the camp this week, I knew the group dynamic would be different this time around. This time, I’m the only American counselor on the island, and the group is smaller, only girls, and much more… delicate, to boot.

Upon arrival, one girl had a total emotional meltdown. She felt left out by the group and threw one of the most turbulent tantrums I’ve ever borne witness to. She kicked and screamed that she wanted to talk to her mother, that she wanted to go home, that she hated the world… stopping just short of announcing that the apocalypse was en route and that she was the second coming of Satan herself.

Long story short, she ends up deciding that she’s going to stay after all, and I have the lovely fortune of having to share a hut with her (counselors typically have their own living quarters or share with other counselors)… lucky me. Turns out she has bipolar disorder (amongst other obvious emotional and personality issues), which ultimately means in the context of this experience that she turns on and off like a light switch.

Other incidences of note this week have included my being called on on several occasions to ambush the spiders, roaches and preying manti that invade our huts, cleaning and bandaging a wound that required stitches, tending to severe heat and elephant rashes, and generally serving a position of much greater maintenance than I had to the first time around.

So I reiterate, elephant camp, week two, represents both the turning point in which vacation became work, and the awakening that was oh-so necessary in the physical-emotional-spiritual growth process that I came here to seek.

Now that my last week at elephant camp is coming to a close, and I’m embarking on my final week in southeast Asia, I find myself reflecting on some more pragmatic issues, too. Namely, my return to the states and where my life will pick up after this month-long traverse into a fantasy.

My life in the states picks up with the end of a lease, the nearly 100 percent likelihood of a move, the search for new employment, and the pursuit of passion.

I return home on August 13, my lease expires August 31, and I have a one-way ticket to New York City on September 1. From there, so many things are possible.

I’ve never been a sound decision maker. Not that I make bad decisions, I’m just really bad at making decisions. Nutella or peanut butter on my crepes?! Rush Street or Café Boogaloo for happy hour?! Spend $200 on that to-die-for Bebe dress or $30 on the ehhh Forever 21 dress?! Settle down with Him forever or gamble it all away on a shot at _______ (I have no I idea what I was shooting for, really)?! Stay in LA for the foreseeable future or move to NYC/DC/SF?! Keep teaching or chase some bigger dream?!

From the mindless to the life-altering, I’ve struggled with the decision-making process my entire life. Only recently has it dawned on me that this all stems from my inability to really commit to… anything.

I changed majors three times… only to go to graduate school in a fourth discipline… then become a teacher in a fifth. I’ve pursued at least four careers since 2006. I’ve moved eight times in the past eight years. I left a perfectly functioning, loving, happy relationship for basically no reason.

I recognized my commitment issues awhile ago, which some might say is a magnificent achievement. But now what? Should I attempt to address the causes of my neurosis or just move forward toward recovery and rehabilitation? In this case, is the effect dependent on the cause?

Running out of time at the internet café. Until next time folks…