Dear Internet,
So begins my vacation - DC to Singapore by way of Tokyo, a few days in Cambodia, a few days in Myanmar, a few days in Bali, a few more days in Singapore, and back to DC. August 6 through August 28. (Also Internet, if you were thinking of robbing me while I'm traveling now that I've shared this information, please do. I can't afford my debt, I'd like to write off a bit to fraud. I also need a new DVD player, so please take mine. Thank you.)
At the moment, I am underwhelmed in Tokyo. I was excited to arrive in a modern, technologically humbling airport from the set of The Fifth Element. Instead, I find myself in a little cafe by my gate that serves ramen noodles, Sapporo beer, and cigarettes (misplaced modifier expresses how technologically advanced I'd hoped to find the Tokyo airport). Annoying, as I am not in the market for any of those products. After over twenty hours of flying west over the date line (which assures my complete awe at the malleability of time and space), all I want to consume is fresh fruit and ice water with cucumber. This cafe is playing pop music, and I'm on my laptop. Yuppiness is a global way of life.
Speaking of my flight, there's very little to say. I had a window seat, an empty seat next to me, and the aisle seat was occupied by a curious young woman. She managed to be young, thin, well-dressed, and completely unattractive. I mean I know that's not a very feminist observation of me, but it was so odd. How is that possible? Her features were symmetrical, her hair was long and thick and clean, dark eyes, fair skin. Her face was fine. Her figure was fine. She just... wasn't.
Anyway. I took photos of the American Southwest from the aeroplane; the views were stunning. You would see the photos below, except I can't figure out how to get them from my iPhone to my Chromebook on the airport wifi. I'll figure it out at some point, perhaps. None of my photos will be good. Not an exercise in self-deprecation so much as in laziness. The entire premise of this blog is a lie.
Warning: the drivel that follows will suck to read. It will suck badly. It's for me, it's not for you, dear heart, dear Internet.
It will seriously suck. It's a diary entry. You'll hate me and you for it.
Ok. Your issue. I have my own to deal with.
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I hope I don't philosophize on this blog. The point of this blog is to reflect my trip so I can remember one day when my memory fades and life gets shorter. But I want to resist the temptation to get all assholic about seeing a temple in the sunset. Everyone knows what that's like, and if anyone wanted poetry about it, he'd read Rumi or something. Right. Ok. I like the word 'blog' quite a bit. I will note quickly though, a few overwrought thoughts. I feel like, the point of an adventure--and this is an adventure for me, as I've not visited these countries before, and am overall fairly unfamiliar with Southeast Asia--is to live outside your comfort zone and grow into the world a bit. Like a bird or something. So I'm a bird now, apparently. So to give context to where I'm growing, I'll note where I'm coming from. I just finished the phase of life called early adulthood that comprised the last seven years. Career-wise, this means I just went through a few intense jobs, simultaneous with evening law school, entering the job hunt, and most recently, taking the bar (hopefully just the one time). I have sucked down DC into every pore of my being, and I think my glazed eyes and general hum of rage have started to become perceptible, to me at least, which is all I care about. Family-wise, I am slowly becoming a normal family member; that's unexpected but nice. Relationship-wise, I've just left a handful of light friendly relationships at varying levels of destructiveness and productivity like post-parade confetti. The heavier stuff has settled down, the lighter stuff is still floating around, I think. Financially, I am free as a bird, on the cusp of being utterly broke, but then I hear that's one of the least unique situations in the world. I shan't dwell.
So here I am. Hoping to fall in love a few times, maybe marry a wealthy Brasilian in Cambodia (I love my latinos...they're like my minority, but they deliver misogyny in much silkier tongues than those of my people), maybe be "discovered" for my latent talent in [] and have a wildly successful career I never saw coming.
I would really like to discover that I can sing. But I don't think traveling works like that. Unless the dateline is more powerful than anticipated.
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You may resume reading here.
I'm going to find food not exclusively comprised of salt.
Xo,
-s.
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