Grit,

My dear laotong, and maybe this is perhaps where the dragon and the horse speak a different language. It's the Pam question- Why isn't being a mother enough? Now I know this is some sort of existential question, like why isn't being X enough. So I'm not dismissive of you grappling. And let's forgo that, yes you could use the money so that you're not on the razors' edge every month, AND that as a human being you need mental stimulation outside of your 24/7 never stops work as a mom. So let's just not argue those points. I get those. Absolutely. I just don't like these sorts of things tied up into your worth and ultimately your VALUE since I love my friend, I don't like to see her abused in any way, even if it's by herself- especially so. And it's good; you need to have, find those avenues in which to have another facet of your life, but not just so that it's not just (while valid) the relentless pursuit of money, or filling up time.

And as we process aloud, I did the job that most people were like really you? And I was like really me? Granted my job made it sort of a worst case scenario and I was drained 2 hours into the day and still had 3 more to go. And ultimately I do probably need to teach older kids and ones with a creative streak, but that aside- so while I encourage the stretching of borders, and I do think you'd master the kiddos, overall, I get like you, the keyword, exhausted. And the words introverted, sensitive and not brought "alive" by children in general... but your love and your boundaried hands will make you excel in the job regardless. (I do sort of see your sympathy with the kid crying in the corner. Like they're away from their moms too soon sort of thing or a general overwhelmed misplacement. But well on ya, for doing it in the first place! And you would be rife with stories. There's that. And as Bruckner said, we're not getting any younger. Oh he meant me, since I am currently lacking a family and a job. Nevermind.

I'm too busy soaking up my last days, of your aptly named garage sale that is Laos. You gotta hit at the right time and place and it's magic or it's NOT. And while Vietnam had it's fairshare of travel annoyances. I just don't know. Either way memorable ? Tomorrow I leave to Vientiane. The plane has decided there's enough people. Yesterday I actually rented a scooter- so easy on the feet, and went down some dirt roads with Elena to a not really there waterfall. Which getting up to was a bit hard on my foot as it's back to more sore than before, but the local teen set were at the top tier with their bottles of beer lao so we turned back. It was only a few hour outing but daring enough and budget right for me. Though my butt hurts from sitting on it all day. Literally. Can't believe.

What else? Yes, HOME. Yikes. I don't know. The idea of anyone picking me up besides my mom sort of unnerves me. I get so travel cranky. But it will be really lovely to have a friend welcoming party too. But then as you know, the job question looms, and just coming back and fitting back in? Church makes me nervous, like coming back from summer break and finding everything the same but not? I have anxiety over all of that. Just coming back and being adrift. I guess that feeling won't last long. Maybe I'll make a routine of job searching and going to 24f between meeting with friends. Much like my joblessdaysbefore. Down to the - no, I can't afford that. Ok processing, processing. Needing a queen mattress, a whole new wardrobe or a seamstress.

ok friend, godspeed to us both, as we cross the waters.
xo, m.







 

pass the spatula

I need it to scrape my jaw off the floor re: your encounters. Casual brushes with sextrafficking! A DEAD BODY by the side of the road! I mean. Wow. Also I found the whole experience with this noncommunicative family bizarre and offputting, but then you soldiered through so well. And is that a cultural thing or maybe just a family-cultural thing to have this noninclusive approach to guests? I feel like it was just them. Because it sounds like in spite of the procedural differences abroad you've still encountered warmth and the effort to accommodate or welcome. Like that at least doesn't have to be lost in translation.

Aw, you're going home-home! It's settled! I'm sad not to see you but remain hopeful about our eventual meeting. And you'll back to your place and your people and seek a job and pack some boxes and chain yourself to the lot trees just as you should. Oh, and help aa move into her new abode!

Puppy has pretty much lost her fuzz and jelly legs, already. So, so fast it goes. But you know. Like children, you enjoy the stages and forgo lamenting the progression of time. So help me if I turn into that old lady who accosts the weary mom with the screaming toddler at Target and tells her to ENJOY EVERY SECOND of this beautiful misery. Puppy fuzz goes out the window, but so does waking up allnightlong. Squishy skin and a tiny form morph into a furry little girl who knows the drill and how awesome is she for that.

Also, at the moment, she's lying on my foot. I feel her heartbeat.

This morning I'm missing oldtestament Bible Study and a meeting because oh, K.Lo has the Death Cold. Of course she does. Just when J.Lo was getting over it. Please affix the IV of wine to my vein immediately. Yesterday she hid under a blanket on the couch all day and today it's a lot of sniffling and vocalized misery - "Mommy, I don't feel good." Um. I know. My sweet, sweet dear. And I know how much this particular virus-thing sucks, and I hate it for her. While at the same time battling my own selfishness/anxiety over the things I want/need to accomplish this week (articles, interview, agenda meeting, prep for CABIN CAMPING this weekend) and trying to trust it will all work out.

Sort of related, I'm wondering if I'm evolving into more of a morning person? - I loathe the actual waking up - so brutal, wretched and I fight it with every fiber of my being. But once over that hurdle I have this air of chutzpah over allthethings I might accomplish during the day. And then as the day wears on, I can practically see the battery/energy indicator over my head as it drains from green to red and by say, 9:30 p.m. I'm so done. Wall, hit. Battery, needs charging. Whereas in the past of my wholelife I feel like I was more productive in the afternoons, and said screw it both the morning and night. Hmm.

May you have a beautiful evening/day ahead ~
penelope

Dear Penelope, [part2- the dark north]

We did need to eat something after all. So we chose starbucks. I chose it because it was one of the first places mtoo and i went together and I knew she would complain or just refuse mcds out right. I assume anyway. We took pictures on the plane. It all went. Damon was there to meet us, taller then I remember and darker hair- and aging of course from the youthful days of yore. He remained enigmatic as he constantly walked 10 paces ahead wondering why we weren't within earshot. Seriously claustraphobic apparently which left us wondering why seoul. Where everything is compact and 5 sizes too small. I guess we get locked into the familiar.  We got along though. It was an offkilter strange time in an expedition of... 2 intjs and an infj/p somesuch thing.

And then instead of dropping our bags at his apartment like he suggested and then ended up not fulfilling I ended up dropping my bags at the Seoul station- and having to pay a total of $20 or so for opening it once, oh and keeping it in there too long! (@*&(!*! So much for a time and money saver that turned out to be.Whatever. But before all that we walked in the frosty dark and found a hot chocolate place, and ate fancy tacos and queso like we were in some hip eatery in america. The owner even hostily wondered why mtoo was taking pictures. Uh? What? What?! Just walk away jerk before you ruin our dining experience. But Damon treated us to dinner like a gentleman and it was nice. And even over fatigue and mtoos phone dying didn't keep us from wandering and finding a resplendint french eatery. i cried out when i saw it because against all odds we found it, and where i accidentally drank damon's tea thinking it was for the table and eating chocolate tarts and walnut maple icecream- and then mtoo and me finding our way to a sauna where we wandered around naked and sat in pools of hot to cold water and exfoliated our skin. And slept on mats in a haze of other pink clothed people- feeling like i was on some oceanic tanker from the hum and drone of the white noise machine and the creak of the wood planks. Telling mtoo in a tired haze that a black snake was trying pull her down to earth...

I almost got sick plagued by allergies and lack of sleep since the guy was all blah-blah-juseyo and rolled me off the 2 other mats i was hoarding, but it was worth it. Since it is such a wheninkorea thing to do. And I did it. The next day the coffee place wasn't open since they dont understand morning coffee. They absolutely don't get it. IT's infuriating. And then we almost missed the tour of the secret garden which was the one and only thing i wanted to do- mtoo mistook my breakneck pace for hostility but i just wanted to get there. Again not about you babe. And in 18 degree weather i'm not sure what the point is to sauntering. And besides she began to lose circulation in her feet because of some condition- of course. And then her phone died again and the taxi kicked us out because he wouldn't help us find the restaurant we wanted...and said to her in korean that we should research where we wanted to go better first- and then he made us pay for the 30sec cabride... and i thought he dropped us fortuitously near the olleh store who refused to help even when mtoo asked in korean, but we kept standing there, and then even offered our charger until he was like, oh you mean this charger? Over here? Yes. Asshole. Thanks! Thanks seoul! You assholes.

We did find the wood and brick place but there was nothing i wanted to eat but i lost it and ate not only spagetti but bought a load of walnut/cheese bread and some jam- which i ate over the course of two days. And it was delicous. And then we went to the traditional neighborhood that was too frigid to see and there was no room at this awesome coffee house, though that in the meantime seated a couple after they had shoved us into the shed where they roast the coffee but it was just too cold to stay. The guy was cute and nice though and gave us a discount for the assholery and frost we were surrounded with. Mtoo chatted him up in korean... We don't blame you. You were a warm memory on a cold almost better forgotten day just like my walnut bread. But then we got to a tea house. And we lost precious time getting damon there but i had this persimmon tea. And some lovely pumpkin ricecake. And time slipped by. And we tried not to be reminded about the schizophrenic nature of life- or life as a foreigner because it can so easily slip one way or the other. One good experience, you go back and it's gone bad. You stay a little longer than you should and it gets ugly. Directly racist and then warm and hospitable. It's hard sometimes. As i was reminded by mtoo and damon- he was almost refused entry onto a waterrafting trip because he was white. Mtoo was shunned by my coworkers. Remember they wouldn't even try her food. I've been living and skirting by in ahow can they be mean to me? idyllichaze. And seoul just reminded me how precarious our preceptions are/ours.

Somewhere in the back of my head i kind of hate korea. I'm glad to be done with it. But how could that possibly sum up the whole of our experience. When there are so many things I love. It's just trying to tell me the door is closing for now. With some time apart. And though Mtoo is not quite the villian of this tale, the unpredictable piece? she was responsible for every delicious thing i ate or drank- and the care and keeping of me and for that i thank her down to the last ricecake i ate.

Anyway we had dinner, i don't remember where. Thai? We took that awkward photo which has become cool in my mind for its absolute strange awfulness. We drank coffee and they again argued with mtoo- are you sure you want that? it's small. are you sure you want that? it's not sweet. We said our goodbyes to damon. We went to the hostel where i mostly ignored mtoo's complaints about possibly being robbed and murdered in the night. She went to tango. She got text-harassed by an employer threatening to sue her at 1130atnight. She forgot her chocolates at the hostel. We got up early needlessly and forgot to check out- mtoo went back for her chocolates later and found out-- the flight got delayed for "mechanical" problems. 6 hour delay. and 2 meal coupons. Awesome. It was all rolling off me. Every little twitch or problem. Just trying to keep going and get to the next step.

But mtoo wouldn't leave. She stayed with me. Sarah came in perfect synchronicity on a flight back from Thailand. She wouldn't leave. They both stayed with me. I had been surrounded by people for a solid 2+ weeks straight i had no strength for sentiment. I just wanted to be alone. But not alone. But alone. And they walked off with their luggage. And I waved goodbye with a detachment bourn of wearniess since i love them still.  I killed time. I wandered around. I spent every cent of my coupons... i made a traditional craft. I watched the royal court walk by. I sat. and i sat and it passed by not at all like 6 hours. And then somehow and someways i made it to Hanoi, Vietnam. To be told the visa price had risen and that yes they'd take my koreanwon...To be met eventually by a driver half-heartedly holding a sign with my name on it. Too busy texting, too bored to see me. We swept out into the night. And it's always the same thought, where am I? And what have i done?

m.

 

When we were,

young.

We understood the value of detail like acorns or gumballs dropping on tin roofs. Magical. As the detail now goes out beyond us, to a memory of that one time on that one particular day in an approaching fall.We saw things and we communicated them with a breadth that would shock us now of what it was to describe the infuriating nature of salt build up on windows and how mildew almost destroyed a fragile pile of memories that rose up in conflicting bites of savory and sweet and bitter. I just found some on my bowling shoes. Not sure what to do about it. At least we did all that work before hand and the roots while sometimes i think they must be shallow are actually really deep. Not that our friendship is dying off, but that it's spread beyond is such a lovely thing. A canopy. A network I wish would outlive us. Is that my sole reason to want kids? Maybe.

But long distance is hard right? Let's get back to that. We seem close. Maybe just nextdoor away. But that's only because I can picture what you're putting on your eggs right now as i cook mine. We spent a couple years perfecting Chi-NC, We spent even more years managing NC to LA- for better and worse and less blogging and now KOR. what do we have if we don't have letters? or emails? or postcards? Especially if the details are lost. If we don't push ourselves to share them... because that's when we see the fragility and the strain and the sudden forgetfulness of really important things. Not just vacations, but shifts, across continents of what shapes us.  Of course we won't let that happen. I'm too neurotic. You're too sensitive. But we can see how suddenly our knowing of one another can in an instant cease to be.

But revisiting always brings about discovery and familiarity. And I love that. Anyway, you'll be spared from more meandering philisophic since i'm itching to just sit and stare into space and perhaps write a postcard or two as i nurse the last of my large iced latte in the atmosphere of the idyllic inbetween of approaching fall and reminents of summer as a Kpop soundtrack plays over head and the wind rustles a plant that looks like it is either dying from lack of water or is still traumatized from typhoon sanba. (Matt says he survived a typhoon but he was really only out and about in a tropical depression... I hope this lovely weather lasts through his coming too. Yesterday morning his mom emailed me and asked if i'd heard from him and i hadn't in the last week. I wasn't too worried but I was prepared to do some calling if I had to but he surfaced not 6minutes before I came home to check on his itinerary. Ah international traveling.)

And me, this sunday will mark my official 9months/36wks out. 19wks/4 months left.
I am wearing an emily shirt (an eddie bauer red and white pinstriped cotton longsleeved thing and black workout pants- luckily with working elastic) and flipflops. my toenails are hot pink. and i'm wearing my grandfathers wedding ring on my right hand. The layering in my hair is growing out pretty fantastically and i'm determined to do (unrelated to hair) more ab exercises to help strengthen my lower back... and volleyball this weekend... and who knows what else. good food i hope. and sitting by the shore.

Sending my love in your direction,
xo
m.

Typhoon Balven? is coming or somesuch?

Humidity at 100%. Everyones a bit grumbly but i dont mind the rain quite yet as we has a pretty dry summer by all accounts. I really do enjoy the new names that typhoons bring.(khanun for instance) I never was at all impressed by the US hurricane names. The russian curmudgeon thinks going through two of them is enough. And i wasn't particularly impressed with the first. A downpour yesterday left a good water spray puddle on my floor and a small moat in my double window sills...

I knew there was something more i had to say as i was about to pass out from boring myself- I tested negative for the 6 other allergans- like the things i eat everyday sort of thing. Besides chocolate which will come back soon? Or something? Anyway weeeee. Also i still have a higher level of whatever present which indicates something is still undectected. My rather ambivilant doctor stated that it "could be anything" and suggested that I just try and spend my time taking care of myself and relaxing. I can't fault that assessment. He says, life as a foreign teacher is very stressful- and intimated that i might be allergic to stress. I like it. Further "research" is required but the couple articles i've read  seem to suggest that stress can heighten allergic responses and prompt sensitive areas like sinuses and the skin to an allergic response- like hives, blocked airways, and excema- which i all occasionally have... so there you have it. Of course i could really be allergic to air or something but let that go. I'm not going to keep spending money on them not fully testing me for stuff. I already feel a bit like- ach, to that $80 i just spent on top of the $60 because of course it didn't find anything. Finding out i was allergic to pork and cockroaches..pretty priceless right? And though i need a chiro i'll probably wait until the states for one too. And do yoga like a goodgirl should? I dont know somebody remind me. The nerves still pinched and the neck feels like its about to go on strike. What do you mean that's all indicative of stress... hunched shoulders and the what knots.

NEXT.

What else. I'm reading that book on Corrie TenBoom. She's pretty frickin' amazing and pretty inline with what i'm discovering here. How much life is about Jesus and Jesus alone- LOVE. How to love through, because of... and all the rest. Though i don't really want to be at home with God anywhere at the moment. I'm usually all for that but right now... not so much.

Other than that i really should begin to plan the wheres and hows of going to SEA in Feb. Seeing you. Jobs? I mean at this rate though I wonder if i'll get my head in the right order to do any of that. I hope so. I'm sure I will but i'm too busy blogging, eating fruit, drinking lattes and working. And then there's all that relaxing i have to do.

You feel better you. And take care of yourself. Lots of the laughing and chocolate and the goodthings for you my friend.

All my love,
xo- M.
(here it comes, here it comes, look how it rains. it sounds over the radio and the repeat of csi. it says, i am all around you. i encompass. )
 

Um, Pen

So day 2... i mean we didn't officially talk about it but i think that one belonged to you? I'm here at a coffee shop called cafe bene. I think my latte was made with half hearted interest, as ive become a connoisseur now of lattes being made with love or indifference or in my mind weak coffee. Eventually i'll have to give up and go on to cappuccinos. But never mind. The day has been idyllic despite sand blowing into my ears at the beach- puffy clouds, cool water, loveliness. Then a trip into town for food- the conveyor belt sushi belt place isn't open until later so I suppose if i stayed here a few more hours i'd have dinner there - but i don't know. I ate at burger king. Which i inherently feel bad about like it's food wasted, time wasted but nevermind.

Work is fighting it's way into my consciousness as it looms closer. With that feeling of dread of going back. And that need for a hobby it doesnt seem i have time for. The tension from loveliness to that feeling is making me not want to type- to give up and resume reading or staring into space. It's because I can't resolve it. It just is. What's to work out except to say, God, please I dont want to dread work. And why do I dread it... I know why... but why must i work in a place that makes me dread it.... is it possible like that mythical story officespace to arrive at a place of peace and be like "fucking A." as you clean up the debris of a burned corporate enterprise. I want to believe in a place like that- that i can reach that place....

So I'll go onto something else. I got an allergy test yesterday, four years or so in the making right? I can go into shin on tuesday and get the results. I'm curious. It seems so unneccessary and yet i do love tests and information that's directly related to me. Win/win right? I asked him about the numbquad thing i've had for the past 3 years and he said yes, it is probably related to your lower back and you probably should try a chiro first- and we are our own best doctors yes? Weight loss, correct posture. Etc. Yes. yes. Mmhmm. And i was already so exhaused by Megs freaking out over skin cancer and her irish ancestory and to the thick and heavy psychic energy surrounding hospitals in general that going back for any length of time whether xrays or "other" seems almost impossible to me.

It might be time to go back to tanning. The threshhold of thoughts being held delicately on... i may be in a foreign land but the thoughts are the same. The structure i find myself in new, but familiar. I'll try to talk about love and prayer in the other place or here. Someone ask me some direct questions.

Through timea nd space.

my love, m.

hiii m,

I’m working on a new theory that the thieves, scamps and other criminals of the world are like the cockroaches of the world. Their existence is unfortunate but inevitable, incomprehensible but there. They thrive in darkened corners, feast indiscriminately on whatever opportunity presents itself, no matter how unsavory… Well, anyway. I could go on. It’s just a theory, and how I think of whomever hacked your email and FB accounts. Which I’m so glad you have back after all, even if you’re now seriously unpopular and sadface, weeping into your watermelon. Temporarily. It’s all temporary.

Addressing a laundry list of items that have irked me forever, such as chipped moldings, outdated switch plates and rusty porch railings, it occurs to me that we’ve been here 5 years, and how can that be. How did it all pass in a blink? It’s just life and The Way It Is, but still. Astonishing. At the same time, how have I had children in my life nearly 5 years? Been done with school for 6? Only have a few years left *heartbreak* with Bailey and Bender? Etc.

Have you ever pondered – I’m just saying…*cough* *smirk* – how Jessica Fletcher, in spite of her unflaggingly curious nature, never experienced even a touch of PTSD, encountering 264 murders? See, this is where the mind of the HSP ventures. And Ash’s “emotional parasol” analogy is beyond brills. Loves.

We’re going on a picnic this evening for church – I’m thinking a big bucket of fried chicken will suffice. And maybe some tater salad. Oh, and a green vegetable of some sort of course. But right now I have to go celebrate my birthday with a  sparkly hat, noisemakers and a cake full of surprises. So says K.Lo. They’re singing to me right now – time to close my eyes and blow out the candles.

xo,

pen

the art of unproductivity

New Sunday tradition at the Lo house: False Labor! It really is a fantastic way to spend one's time, highly recommended. At least this time I wasn't dumb enough to go to the hospital only to be sent home. And I ate my protein. There were contractions, all day, strong enough to be timed. But they were erratic. Nervewracking. And essentially pointless.

I'll admit that I am hitting the wall as far as wanting this kid out of me. I realize that I still have a good 2 1/2 weeks until the actual due date, so my impatience isn't fully warranted. The more reasonable side of me acknowledges, too, that I should be savoring these last few moments of only having one child to look after, as opposed to one child and a newborn. Even more whining, even less sleep. BUT. Everything is bulky, sore, uncomfortable. I can no longer do my super-hero tricks. It's exasperating to drop something on the floor, but downright insurmountable to drop a favorite shirt in the dark alleyway between the washing machine and the water heater. I mean, are you kidding me?

False labor is especially frustrating to me because it inspires me to do the exact opposite of what is smart, productive, or zen. Instead of focusing on other things around me to make time progress at a reasonable rate, instead of accepting that true labor will come when it's time, I focus completely on the labor, forgo all normal activity. The hours and minutes become an oozing puddle of slime. K.Lo amps up the whine factor, J.Lo and I become nervous wrecks. It is a most unfortunate way to spend the weekend.

Today I vow to:

run 2 loads of laundry

dust the living room

finish cleaning the bathroom

watch Desperate Housewives, decide whether it will make the cut

take Bug for a walk

or something to that effect.

May I only continue to be so wise.

Hola!

In my on going effort to fight blog silence I patter these words now- i can't believe it has such a strong pull, everything but writing... when i'm surrounded by books and reading jacket covers at work- i think enough is enough- i need to fucking concentrate. Go home and work on my stories... and then i glaze over. I did happily go swimming today and every dive was luxurious. I think despite my teeny addiction with burgers and fries I've lost 5lbs. But I fear the slump... and in an odd, unrelated turn my left hand has been tingling and numb. which is as you know good times. and i actually told the manager- i need a handrest- what day would you like (i asked)- tomorrow, thurs or friday? woo. so tomorrow it is. even though she gave no sign of being worried about workers comp claims...

anyway, contributing to the malaise of feb/march was my visit to my great grandmothers house- which is in a poor and super-urbanized part of LA. there's something wonderful about it still standing though in most breaths i say, "abomination" and make a wide biblical sweeping motion with my right hand. they bought it for 1,000 or so in 1918... and it's still standing. my great-grandmother's house was my favorite place in the world to my memory- velvet drapes, closed drawing rooms i couldn't enter, rikety stairs, lace curtains, sprigs of flowers, and one exploration of hazy summer butterflies after another. and when i think about it, it's like taking a fresh breath in a stagnant and ordinary smog. so of course encountering the reality of time and neglect, there is very little to add but a sad nostalgia. luckily i only had my camera phone with me, as i hadn't seen the house since i was a kid it was a spontaneous visit, it gives the stark grit of concrete and sagging stucco a gentle blur which makes the pain and ruination of art almost bearable. the form still survived- i said, as i drove by and stopped, wow, there it is... and the house next to it too- wow. huh. huh. i thought. i want to somehow print out the old pictures and mail them to the current owners... explain to them what it could all look like again if they wanted... maybe break up the cement island and plant grass... maybe? that would be a start. and then the bars on the windows... possibly? like a nice letter encouraging them to care.

i don't know.


next up is a brief pondering on my tea and magic castle visit.