Who I am now...because of who I was then.

I’m dropping in, slowly but surely, I’m feeling this new thing I’ve jumped into. This mind-fuck of a shift in my life, and today I found myself walking through campus, my breath pooling in front of me in the crisp morning air, coffee cup in my hand, RHCP in my ears, and a smile on my face.
I’m still reeling from all of this. From everything that’s happened in my life in the last month, the last 3 months, the last year. I was still in Korea this time last year. Korea. Thank God for Korea.
That’s right, you read that correctly. I’ll say it again.
Thank God for Korea.

Thank God for the time and space I was given there, to think, to love, to be…to write. Thank God for the taste I was given of what it feels like to be an outsider, a visible minority, my skin and language both envied and damning.
Thank God for the doors that it opened for me, a world of love, a world of pain, a world I never thought I would see or experience. A world filled with beaches and blue, sweet, sticky air, burned out buildings and blood. White sands as soft as flour and the energy-draining sensation of wounds being healed.
Thank God for showing me what it was like to slow down amidst organized chaos, to stop and feel and breath and be.






And thank God for getting me the fuck out of there, and home safe and sound.
(Grateful? Yes. Insane enough to forget the other “list” of reasons why my countdown to Canada started at 57? Hells no.)

One year ago, I had never set foot in Cambodia. It was not even on my radar, Dave and I had planned to spend the entire month of November in Thailand, we both felt we wanted to try and experience one place as fully as we could rather then many, in a lesser sense. But our rubber arms were twisted by the urging of some friends and we touched down in Phnom Pen and never looked back. Cambodia. Amazing, humbling, dirty, crumbling, burned, blackened and blood-spattered. Terrifying, warm, beautiful, and sad. My stay seemed tragically brief, and yet how deeply it cut me. Like so much in life.







One year ago, I had no idea where I would be one year from then. What I would be doing, who I would be with. Save a precious few. And here I am. Sitting in my apartment, books and papers strewn around me, my new H4n Zoom audio recorder that I’m apparently going to know how to use by the end of the semester staring me in the face, sipping Earl Grey Vanilla tea, listening to Radiohead, looking at a weekend of schoolwork, brunches, working out, schoolwork, sushi, cupcakes, wine and more schoolwork….smiling. One year later.

I’ve been given a lot to be grateful for. And it’s easy to lose sight of that when you let your life get too cluttered. I may, MAY, at times, sort of, maybe, have a slight tendency towards being a bit too….I don’t know…..Type “A”, if you will. I like being busy. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But I have come to realize, very recently, that if I’m having trouble finding 2 hours to sit, chill, have a cup of tea and write…I should maybe do something about that.
I am who I am. Who I’ve always been. Loud, busy, sarcastic, fun, full of laughter, tears, opinions and fear that I pretend and act like I don’t feel. I’m also sensitive, more than I should be at times, a good friend, sister, daughter, woman. Complicated. Thoughtful, sweet, smart and thoroughly fucked up. In a wonderful, confusing, happy way.
I’m learning to own that. Own up to where I’ve been, where I am, and how I’m here because of that. Ready to settle down….for the time being….but never settle…for anything less…than butterflies.