Why open yourself up to being torn apart again? Because some of us apparently have to learn the hard way.
Even as I wake up in them midst of sunshine and lush gardens, my heart inside my chest is ravaged like a set of hash brown potatoes sizzling in the pan. You wont show up at my window again, and we wont share a day of motobikes and waterfalls. I have no choice now but to come to grips with the reality that even here on the road, Ive picked a damaged fruit. My love as strong as it maybe cannot mend you, or fix the past and even as the sun beamed down on us for a few hours happy and care free. It will not last. You will always leave, and I will continue to cry.
So without you around, I will plan my trip again alone. I will discover alone and be alone once again. Figure out how to hold my head up yet again, greet strangers and try and not let them see how detached I really am. I am offically lost, theres no getting around it. There is no place for me, here there or anywhere really. At least here it is warm and the clouds they part for moments at a time. If I could just forget you, things would be so much easier. Wipe you out like a wave clears a lovers name from the sand.
The next few days will be bad, I can see them coming already. A tiny bungalow, and a huge gaping hole in my chest. Ive sutured it up now on several occasions, but I manage to tear them out each time as if it never happened. Maybe as you get older its harder to let go, as the prospect of love is a scary one. Maybe Im just as damaged as you, as lost and frightened of the real as you pretend not to be.
Dont cry ....you tell me. I watch as the last of your colored skin flits past my window and the pain sets in.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Loy Kratong in Bangkok
Touch down in Bangkok again. Cant exactly say how many times its been now. This city never seems to be the same every time I come here the experience is so very different.
This time I spend four days work/shopping and crashing on my friends floor. Celebrating Loy Krotong and learning that sexual tourism not only can overwhelm some people but can become an all distracting force that ruins their life.
In a small garden apartment in Sukhumvit my friend has spent the last year, doing the basic farang (white people) activites customary to bangkok. Sleeping with underage thai women, teaching english, and overindulging in all kinds of drug and alchohol related activities.
I am not impressed by his hovel like apartment, or the stuffy days filled with exhaust and ciggarette smoke he shouts to the rafters about. Party here and party there and falling in love with this thai girl or that massage worker. Hollow exhistance for a hallow confused person. I find myself having trouble adjusting, the city traffic keeps me up at night and the days are spent sweating through the shopping markets for goods to send home. The whole time I cant wait to get out of there. The ciggarette smoke and floor sleeping are not helping my acclimation back into Thailand. I insist we do something more interesting than stare blankly into our computer screens after day two.
Saturday night we go to the flower market on the river for purchase of flowers and materials to make our Kratongs, The following day is the Loy Kratong festival. The theme of this festival is to create the Kratong a floating tiny raft made of a bannana tree stem covered in bannana leaves,flowers, candles and incense. Then place it in the river and light a floating lantern into the sky. You are supposed to ask for forgiveness when floating your Kratong for any bad deeds you have done that year and give blessings to the water goddess. You can buy kratongs along the street for pennies but due to the lack of creation in my friends life I insist we make ours from scratch.
We spend half the night wandering drunkenly through the flower market along the river collecting flowers we will need. Then make our way back to his apartment where I begin assembling our Kratongs. He sits staring into his computer. I cover mine in flowers and candles and start on another, somewhere around here the beer and boredom get the better of me and I insist if Im going to be sitting on the floor I at least have some company. A half hour later Opal a thai gogo appears at the door. She is beautiful and in traditional Thai style very interested in helping with the Kratong. Only however if she can have some drugs. By this time I am wasted and not interested in furthering my intoxication more with Yaba or speed. My cohorts take part intensively. The house is alight with cigarettes and Opal swirling around. Our Kratongs get bigger and bigger and more elaborate. Im trying to find a way to keep occupied but really just doing a good job injesting beer.
The morning finds us, me throwing up from injesting far to much beer and cigarette aftersmoke, Opal sitting in the bedroom doorway fighting with her boyfriend on the phone and my friend staring still into his computer typing feverishly.
I am tired and over this scene so I curl up in a ball on my sheet on the couch and wait for morning.
Sunday dawns and my hangover is immense, all overtaking. I crawl to the corner and eat my rice with egg as quickly as I can. The heat is making me sweat out all of last nights beer in a hurry. Deciding that the fear has crept in I pack my bag, the overwhelming stench of the apartment and debauchery is to much. I make my way to Kosan to a familiar clean fresh bed and room. Its loud here with revelers for the festival. The fireworks have started and tourists are crammed on the streets. I call my friend who is confused by my recent vacating of the apartment to the other side of town. We agree to meet back up and float our Kratongs across the river together. By this time I am so tired I fall asleep for almost three hours undesturbed. I wake just in time to shower and make my way back across town for the festival.
I float my Kratong down the river flowers incense and all. Take pictures of my friend and his Thai girlfriend who blew into town sometime in the evening. We watch the fireworks and mayhem on the river bank. I miss my mate.
This time I spend four days work/shopping and crashing on my friends floor. Celebrating Loy Krotong and learning that sexual tourism not only can overwhelm some people but can become an all distracting force that ruins their life.
In a small garden apartment in Sukhumvit my friend has spent the last year, doing the basic farang (white people) activites customary to bangkok. Sleeping with underage thai women, teaching english, and overindulging in all kinds of drug and alchohol related activities.
I am not impressed by his hovel like apartment, or the stuffy days filled with exhaust and ciggarette smoke he shouts to the rafters about. Party here and party there and falling in love with this thai girl or that massage worker. Hollow exhistance for a hallow confused person. I find myself having trouble adjusting, the city traffic keeps me up at night and the days are spent sweating through the shopping markets for goods to send home. The whole time I cant wait to get out of there. The ciggarette smoke and floor sleeping are not helping my acclimation back into Thailand. I insist we do something more interesting than stare blankly into our computer screens after day two.
Saturday night we go to the flower market on the river for purchase of flowers and materials to make our Kratongs, The following day is the Loy Kratong festival. The theme of this festival is to create the Kratong a floating tiny raft made of a bannana tree stem covered in bannana leaves,flowers, candles and incense. Then place it in the river and light a floating lantern into the sky. You are supposed to ask for forgiveness when floating your Kratong for any bad deeds you have done that year and give blessings to the water goddess. You can buy kratongs along the street for pennies but due to the lack of creation in my friends life I insist we make ours from scratch.
We spend half the night wandering drunkenly through the flower market along the river collecting flowers we will need. Then make our way back to his apartment where I begin assembling our Kratongs. He sits staring into his computer. I cover mine in flowers and candles and start on another, somewhere around here the beer and boredom get the better of me and I insist if Im going to be sitting on the floor I at least have some company. A half hour later Opal a thai gogo appears at the door. She is beautiful and in traditional Thai style very interested in helping with the Kratong. Only however if she can have some drugs. By this time I am wasted and not interested in furthering my intoxication more with Yaba or speed. My cohorts take part intensively. The house is alight with cigarettes and Opal swirling around. Our Kratongs get bigger and bigger and more elaborate. Im trying to find a way to keep occupied but really just doing a good job injesting beer.
The morning finds us, me throwing up from injesting far to much beer and cigarette aftersmoke, Opal sitting in the bedroom doorway fighting with her boyfriend on the phone and my friend staring still into his computer typing feverishly.
I am tired and over this scene so I curl up in a ball on my sheet on the couch and wait for morning.
Sunday dawns and my hangover is immense, all overtaking. I crawl to the corner and eat my rice with egg as quickly as I can. The heat is making me sweat out all of last nights beer in a hurry. Deciding that the fear has crept in I pack my bag, the overwhelming stench of the apartment and debauchery is to much. I make my way to Kosan to a familiar clean fresh bed and room. Its loud here with revelers for the festival. The fireworks have started and tourists are crammed on the streets. I call my friend who is confused by my recent vacating of the apartment to the other side of town. We agree to meet back up and float our Kratongs across the river together. By this time I am so tired I fall asleep for almost three hours undesturbed. I wake just in time to shower and make my way back across town for the festival.
I float my Kratong down the river flowers incense and all. Take pictures of my friend and his Thai girlfriend who blew into town sometime in the evening. We watch the fireworks and mayhem on the river bank. I miss my mate.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Time Travel
A ten hour layover in Souel South Korea can leave one feeling a bit empty inside. Flying in around 5am to a desolate airport in another country with nothing but your backpack and a stale airline muffin. No one to meet you at the gate and no one expecting your call. Thousands of miles from where you came, and still a few hundred from where you are trying to go. A wandering time traveling zombie, hours ahead of the time zone you just left.
Watching the city lights twinkle as the plane pitches forward and the lights flicker on and off heading in for a landing. Sitting between two Korean men for 12 hours has taken its toll on me. Sleeping on my arm and twisting uncomfortably between one side of the hard arm rest and the other. Fading in and out of consciencness earphones plugged into my head to try and drown out the snorts and sniffles of the man sitting next to me. He seems to have contracted some sort of snorting disease uppon entering the plane. He sits next to me uncontrolably snorting like a mad horse. While the man to my right seems to have forgotten to wipe. Odd fecal smells loom around him, or could that be the fact that we are sitting next to the airplane bathroom? The fact that the fecal smell seems to be mixed with a stagnant kim chi odor leads me to believe he just forgot to wipe. Plus its too early for the recently cleaned bathrooms to smell like that. Limbo is interesting,boarded the plane on Wednesday its Friday here already, still Thursday where I came from and when I arrive in Bangkok it will be Friday night. So here I sit, in limbo, waiting for the jumped hours and days to catch up. The sun will be up soon, and the quiet will disappear as the local flights fill up and go out.
Everyone is speaking another language and the airport looms around me ominusly tall and bright. I catch my breathe and then begin my marathon wait for my next departing flight. The hallways are empty and quiet, no restaurants or food vendors are yet open. I tug at my backpack straps nervously as I make my way from one hall to the next.
People come in waves, filtering out of the planes and into the terminal, waiting, the rushed,the hurried and the sleeping.
The huge red sun begins to show itself behind the tarmack, and it rises up above the flight tower in all its glory. Bringing in a new day in Korea, I stand in the window a speck watching the red ball of fury rise, in between flashing signs for boarding Istambul, Turkey, Singapore, Washington, and New York flash around me. For a minute it feels like a strange game show. Pick a place, and the door opens. A completely surreal experince happens in airports if you pay attention. The world becomes your playground, and anyone with have an imagination can spend hours entertaining the possibilities.
For now I need to stay awake. Badly. I can feel the jet lag creeping towards my brain, begging me to close my eyes to fade into blissful sleep for hours while I wait. I have played this game before, and I know all to well the doom that impends should I give in and sleep here in Korea. The depression and lag will follow me for days into Bangkok and kill my motivation and ambition. Leave me confused and twisted for longer than this layover. If only they were serving beer now.
Sleep dep is starting to blur the real and whats next and my movements have become slow. Watching my backpack and making sure to keep putting everything back is key now. Losing your mind is one thing but losing important documents is completely another. The walls beging to wabble and shake, and I feel like Ive just run a marathon. Outside the planes land and take off one after another. The sky has turned to full daylight and the tarmack is a bustling center of activity.
Asian airports have a host of ammenities lucky for me creating pleanty of distractions and tasks to take part in during my layover. I quickly lay out a plan for the day before the sleep dep completely drags my brain into a stagnant lull. First stop will be the shower room, what an ingenuis idea. A bathroom with nothing but shower stalls private and complete with hot water. Perfect for wasting an hour freshening up and pouring water overyourself to stave off the halucionations. Eating and reading are out, both require to much sitting. Eating especially rides the line a bit to close. Everyone knows all you really want to do after eating is take a nap. Having a resting lounge complete with reclining leather loungers doesnt help either. There are tons of stores in the airport unfortunately they are all the same. Its a bit like a cartoon you walk and the backgrounds change but only in a loop. Burberry will appear again in exactly six more stores. Stores are good for staying awake though, lots of activiy and harsh lighting dont allow for alot of sleep related problems.
Right now nothing really makes much sense, my brain is offically melting. Wandering keeps me moving but I fear I will get lost if I dont watch myself. With all the stores looking the same and only one information desk with my boarding pass held hostage for the rental of a universal adapter. I must keep my wits. I watch as people like myself wander around the airport. Dishevled and lost, "do you speak english?" "can I buy a CD player here?" I field questions from other brain strained travelers.
There are people milling, standing staring into space and vacantly idling here all around. Children are screaming somewhere far away in the vastness of the airport and I flash back to my last day in LA.
I shuffle on back into the stream of traveling people bustling about. Watching the Asian girls furry boots and sno hats in front of me as I aclimate to the other-side of the world.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
One Colic filled day in L.A.
I planned my trip with a 24 hour layover in Los Angeles to visit a friend who had in fact just birthed her first child. I had previously thought that two or three days would be a more appropriate time frame for hanging out with the baby and seeing her but as fate would have it airline tickets were not cheap for the weekend and I ended up having only a 24 hour window between my arriving into LAX and leaving out for BKK flights. This was a blessing in disguise.
Before I left SF my friend and I chatted on the phone about our current situations, of course most of this conversation consisted of updates on the child's looks, smells, stomach issues, and bowel movements. She mentioned that the child seemed to be suffering from colic and cried all day and all night due to gas pains. This sounds to me like something no one should have to sign up for. Still I wanted to share in the magic of my friends child and spend the day in L.A.
My arrival proved uneventful, welcomed by her stressed looking babies daddy in a later model gold Toyota corolla at the airport. Bags in the trunk and myself in the front seat we drove to the outskirts of Hollywood to their apartment. Nestled in the concrete wasteland that is L.A. their apartment is everything that I dread in a place to live. Wall to wall carpeting, blank white walls, sparse furniture,the hanging plastic blinds, a narrow kitchen and tiny bathrooms. All the blinds are closed lending the inner sanctum of the apartment to a grey sad sort of light. However opening the blinds means a wonderful view from every window of some sort of concrete or stucco sidewall, the parking shed, or the front street complete with more stucco buildings directly across it.
The baby is crying, from the time I walk in the door. Wiggling violently and crying. Tiny and pink, eyes closed and mouth open screaming. My friend explains to me that the crying is due to his stomach cramps and these cramps are caused by her lack of discipline in eating. Breast milk absorbs everything you put in your body and transfers it directly to the baby. So spicy Indian food for lunch means tiny Timmie's belly at dinner is going to be burning.
Why on earth someone would not change their eating habits for just a few weeks to prevent endless hours of screaming child I have no idea. My friend welcomes me into the house and sits me down wth the screaming child. I am horrified inside, but I instincively know what to do. Rocking him I try and ease the crying but to no avail be cries harder. My friend has lost her ability to speak in normal adult voice, and now speaks to me and the baby in this strange sing song baby voice. I cant quiet tell if its me or the baby shes talking to at any given time. She is huge. Buldging in all the wrong places from the pregnancy, she explains in detail to me about what its like to have a C section instead of a vaginal birth. She said Vaginal by the way, like I need to or wanted to know this. The child looks like a tiny smashed face version of its father. It kneads my neck with its tiny fists, and crys again in fits of pain I am sure from the feeding.I can feel the babies stomach a hard rock full of gasses and I can hear it crapping in its pants right next to my ear. Ten minutes in and I am ready to run for the door. My friend contiunes to speak in tounges at us. I am pretty sure at this point that something may have come loose in my friends head. My suspicions are confirmed later in the day when we take the baby out of the house in the stroller for a walk to the closest strip mall we can find for lunch.
L.A. is one big strip mall.. if you've ever visited you know you can drive for hours through endless beach communities one strip mall after another. Subway sandwich shops and Safeway's rule the landscape and cars are the main stay in droves.
The child had to be fastened into a car seat which then was attached to a stroller bottom. The baby had to be wrapped up and wrapped up again and then tucked into the basket top of the stroller and covered completely. My friend bundled the child up like it was snowing outside, an Im staring that the news reporting a 70-80 degree day. I say nothing, I don't have kids and I begin to wonder if putting more clothing on the child will make it quiet down somehow, clothing to screaming ratio effect. The sweaters and blankets unfortunately do not change the screams.
We embark on our walk, around the block and into a strip mall. The child has stopped screaming for a minute apparently lulled into sleep by the potholes and bumps in the road on the way to the strip mall. My friend insists we eat Indian food from the strip mall, I hate Indian, haven't eaten it since I returned from India and have no desire to. Plus I'm thinking to myself after the horrible reaction the baby had to her eating pringles and breast feeding why on earth would she want to eat spicy ass Indian? But I'm not a doctor and I'm not a mother plus I'm trying to be as helpful and accommodating as possible so I agree to the Indian. We wander in to the strip mall restaurant, my skin begins to crawl as the scents of Indian curries waft from the buffet style counter.
Everything is vegetarian, and made with watery curry sauces and fake meat products. Nothing looks appetizing, I choose three things from the choices and defeated take my seat next to the sleeping child outside on the patio strip mall restaurant enclosure. With a lovely view of the street traffic whizzing by we eat our lunch and chat about people we used to know and places we used to go. The child roars to life once or twice during lunch and then settles back into sleep. I count my blessings. I eat some of my food as to not be rude, but getting it down it hard. It tastes like cold porridge all of it, and the fake meat product isn't helping with the textures. My friend has finished her plate minutes after sitting down, while I am still pushing food around trying to make it disappear somehow. She upon seeing that I have called it a day on the dishes takes my tray and finishes my lunch for me.
We make our way back to the apartment, the stroller will not close so we spend about a half hour outside trying to collapse it until a woman with three toddlers in tow walks up behind us dragging one child with two broken feet home from school. After depositing her broken child into her house she comes back out and attempts to smash the stroller closed. With all her muscle and attempts the stroller will not give she tells us in broken spanglish the stroller is broken, returns to her apartment and slams the door. I drag the child and the stroller into the apartment and inform my friend that she will need to figure out how to close the front door with the stroller sticking half way out. The apartment is tiny and not allot of room left for large strollers that wont collapse it stays fully blocking the entrance.
The child begins screaming as soon as my friend disturbs it, I wonder again, why she would voluntarily wake the child when it was so clearly sleeping quietly in its car seat. I suppose taking care of infants in my teen years has made me appreciative of silence and taught me to let sleeping children lie when they are asleep. My friend appears to enjoy the screaming or at least not mind it as she drapes the child across her back and starts burbling it again for no reason. It screams and gurgle screams and screams some more.
My head is starting to hurt, and there is a pang of something in the back of my neck I cant quite put my finger on. I don't think I would make a good parent and immediately decide that I will never have children once again. My friend feeds the infant, it attaches itself to her breast for what seems like ages. She burbs it, which means it projectile vomits on her repeatedly for about twenty minutes. Then she feeds it some more. I cant help but think how this is just a scene of constant torture, I am clearly to selfish for child rearing.
This feeding process goes on and on, the worst thing is is that the child clearly after eating is in pain, from his gassy stomach situation so as soon as the feeding ends the screaming begins again. This is not normal screaming either, this is the shrill, ear splitting, violence inducing cry that only small children in pain or extreme uncomfortable situations can create. I watch and learn, and go over reasons to never had children yet again in my head. Im saddled with the child allot during my twenty four hour visit, holding him as he screams uncontrollably while his mother takes her first shower in three days. I put him down on the floor and he stops crying, TV seems to be a great pacifiers. I then begin to see a horrible pattern coming out in my friend. It seems she cannot leave the baby alone, never once will she leave the child and walk around the apartment. Babies are able to be left in the cradle, I mean I have done my fair share of time taking care of infants. She however cannot seem to understand the child is continue to scream if he knows every time he does you ll come pick him up or feed him. Sometimes letting them cry out is the best thing. She doesn't seem to understand this advice given from both me and her mother in law on the phone. I finally get her to put him down to sleep again, after eating hes passed out mid disgusting barf burp on her back. Babies actually sleep allot during the day if you let them. She hoovers over the sleeping child like a hawk. I'm completely creeped out. I tell her he should be fine, and I will watch him but she refuses to leave him alone. Dropping more blankets on him, moving him, rearranging the stuffed animals near his face. I'm now sure my friend has gone insane.
I'm sitting quietly trying not to wake the beast again and my friend is poking at it with a stick. I just don't understand. I would be using this time to clean up my apartment or myself, do some laundry and clean the dishes. She stands and stares down at the child.
The day creeps by, the child wakes, screams, eats, barfs and craps some more before it is all over. I am subjected to a full camera of images of the birth. C section and all, I view horrified the images of my friends warped body during the pregnancy. Images of the half section of her stomach as the child is removed by the doctor make me almost loose my mind. By the end of the day I'm so tired of watching and hearing about the child's poops and seeing my friends engorged milky breast feeding I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
My friend used to be a normal person, I think this happens to many people Ive seen the expressions of insanity on them after birth. The father always seems unaffected and able to see things in a sane and normal state of mind but the mothers go all nutsy with the first child. I couldn't do it and its a sad state of affairs, I watch my friend waddle down the hallway three times the size she used to be, with her spandex support panties showing and baby barf all down her back. Screaming child face staring back at me from the wall to wall carpet hallway.
My plane for another country leaves in less than six hours, I have never been happier to escape L.A. While most people are happy for my friend I can only feel a huge lump in my throat and sadness in my heart for her. I see the long road of nothingness expanding in front of her. She tells me its different when its yours, and I agree. It would have to be.
I have respect for her, doing something I could never and will never do. Wandering head long into pregnancy and child rearing.
I cant wait for my flight.
Before I left SF my friend and I chatted on the phone about our current situations, of course most of this conversation consisted of updates on the child's looks, smells, stomach issues, and bowel movements. She mentioned that the child seemed to be suffering from colic and cried all day and all night due to gas pains. This sounds to me like something no one should have to sign up for. Still I wanted to share in the magic of my friends child and spend the day in L.A.
My arrival proved uneventful, welcomed by her stressed looking babies daddy in a later model gold Toyota corolla at the airport. Bags in the trunk and myself in the front seat we drove to the outskirts of Hollywood to their apartment. Nestled in the concrete wasteland that is L.A. their apartment is everything that I dread in a place to live. Wall to wall carpeting, blank white walls, sparse furniture,the hanging plastic blinds, a narrow kitchen and tiny bathrooms. All the blinds are closed lending the inner sanctum of the apartment to a grey sad sort of light. However opening the blinds means a wonderful view from every window of some sort of concrete or stucco sidewall, the parking shed, or the front street complete with more stucco buildings directly across it.
The baby is crying, from the time I walk in the door. Wiggling violently and crying. Tiny and pink, eyes closed and mouth open screaming. My friend explains to me that the crying is due to his stomach cramps and these cramps are caused by her lack of discipline in eating. Breast milk absorbs everything you put in your body and transfers it directly to the baby. So spicy Indian food for lunch means tiny Timmie's belly at dinner is going to be burning.
Why on earth someone would not change their eating habits for just a few weeks to prevent endless hours of screaming child I have no idea. My friend welcomes me into the house and sits me down wth the screaming child. I am horrified inside, but I instincively know what to do. Rocking him I try and ease the crying but to no avail be cries harder. My friend has lost her ability to speak in normal adult voice, and now speaks to me and the baby in this strange sing song baby voice. I cant quiet tell if its me or the baby shes talking to at any given time. She is huge. Buldging in all the wrong places from the pregnancy, she explains in detail to me about what its like to have a C section instead of a vaginal birth. She said Vaginal by the way, like I need to or wanted to know this. The child looks like a tiny smashed face version of its father. It kneads my neck with its tiny fists, and crys again in fits of pain I am sure from the feeding.I can feel the babies stomach a hard rock full of gasses and I can hear it crapping in its pants right next to my ear. Ten minutes in and I am ready to run for the door. My friend contiunes to speak in tounges at us. I am pretty sure at this point that something may have come loose in my friends head. My suspicions are confirmed later in the day when we take the baby out of the house in the stroller for a walk to the closest strip mall we can find for lunch.
L.A. is one big strip mall.. if you've ever visited you know you can drive for hours through endless beach communities one strip mall after another. Subway sandwich shops and Safeway's rule the landscape and cars are the main stay in droves.
The child had to be fastened into a car seat which then was attached to a stroller bottom. The baby had to be wrapped up and wrapped up again and then tucked into the basket top of the stroller and covered completely. My friend bundled the child up like it was snowing outside, an Im staring that the news reporting a 70-80 degree day. I say nothing, I don't have kids and I begin to wonder if putting more clothing on the child will make it quiet down somehow, clothing to screaming ratio effect. The sweaters and blankets unfortunately do not change the screams.
We embark on our walk, around the block and into a strip mall. The child has stopped screaming for a minute apparently lulled into sleep by the potholes and bumps in the road on the way to the strip mall. My friend insists we eat Indian food from the strip mall, I hate Indian, haven't eaten it since I returned from India and have no desire to. Plus I'm thinking to myself after the horrible reaction the baby had to her eating pringles and breast feeding why on earth would she want to eat spicy ass Indian? But I'm not a doctor and I'm not a mother plus I'm trying to be as helpful and accommodating as possible so I agree to the Indian. We wander in to the strip mall restaurant, my skin begins to crawl as the scents of Indian curries waft from the buffet style counter.
Everything is vegetarian, and made with watery curry sauces and fake meat products. Nothing looks appetizing, I choose three things from the choices and defeated take my seat next to the sleeping child outside on the patio strip mall restaurant enclosure. With a lovely view of the street traffic whizzing by we eat our lunch and chat about people we used to know and places we used to go. The child roars to life once or twice during lunch and then settles back into sleep. I count my blessings. I eat some of my food as to not be rude, but getting it down it hard. It tastes like cold porridge all of it, and the fake meat product isn't helping with the textures. My friend has finished her plate minutes after sitting down, while I am still pushing food around trying to make it disappear somehow. She upon seeing that I have called it a day on the dishes takes my tray and finishes my lunch for me.
We make our way back to the apartment, the stroller will not close so we spend about a half hour outside trying to collapse it until a woman with three toddlers in tow walks up behind us dragging one child with two broken feet home from school. After depositing her broken child into her house she comes back out and attempts to smash the stroller closed. With all her muscle and attempts the stroller will not give she tells us in broken spanglish the stroller is broken, returns to her apartment and slams the door. I drag the child and the stroller into the apartment and inform my friend that she will need to figure out how to close the front door with the stroller sticking half way out. The apartment is tiny and not allot of room left for large strollers that wont collapse it stays fully blocking the entrance.
The child begins screaming as soon as my friend disturbs it, I wonder again, why she would voluntarily wake the child when it was so clearly sleeping quietly in its car seat. I suppose taking care of infants in my teen years has made me appreciative of silence and taught me to let sleeping children lie when they are asleep. My friend appears to enjoy the screaming or at least not mind it as she drapes the child across her back and starts burbling it again for no reason. It screams and gurgle screams and screams some more.
My head is starting to hurt, and there is a pang of something in the back of my neck I cant quite put my finger on. I don't think I would make a good parent and immediately decide that I will never have children once again. My friend feeds the infant, it attaches itself to her breast for what seems like ages. She burbs it, which means it projectile vomits on her repeatedly for about twenty minutes. Then she feeds it some more. I cant help but think how this is just a scene of constant torture, I am clearly to selfish for child rearing.
This feeding process goes on and on, the worst thing is is that the child clearly after eating is in pain, from his gassy stomach situation so as soon as the feeding ends the screaming begins again. This is not normal screaming either, this is the shrill, ear splitting, violence inducing cry that only small children in pain or extreme uncomfortable situations can create. I watch and learn, and go over reasons to never had children yet again in my head. Im saddled with the child allot during my twenty four hour visit, holding him as he screams uncontrollably while his mother takes her first shower in three days. I put him down on the floor and he stops crying, TV seems to be a great pacifiers. I then begin to see a horrible pattern coming out in my friend. It seems she cannot leave the baby alone, never once will she leave the child and walk around the apartment. Babies are able to be left in the cradle, I mean I have done my fair share of time taking care of infants. She however cannot seem to understand the child is continue to scream if he knows every time he does you ll come pick him up or feed him. Sometimes letting them cry out is the best thing. She doesn't seem to understand this advice given from both me and her mother in law on the phone. I finally get her to put him down to sleep again, after eating hes passed out mid disgusting barf burp on her back. Babies actually sleep allot during the day if you let them. She hoovers over the sleeping child like a hawk. I'm completely creeped out. I tell her he should be fine, and I will watch him but she refuses to leave him alone. Dropping more blankets on him, moving him, rearranging the stuffed animals near his face. I'm now sure my friend has gone insane.
I'm sitting quietly trying not to wake the beast again and my friend is poking at it with a stick. I just don't understand. I would be using this time to clean up my apartment or myself, do some laundry and clean the dishes. She stands and stares down at the child.
The day creeps by, the child wakes, screams, eats, barfs and craps some more before it is all over. I am subjected to a full camera of images of the birth. C section and all, I view horrified the images of my friends warped body during the pregnancy. Images of the half section of her stomach as the child is removed by the doctor make me almost loose my mind. By the end of the day I'm so tired of watching and hearing about the child's poops and seeing my friends engorged milky breast feeding I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
My friend used to be a normal person, I think this happens to many people Ive seen the expressions of insanity on them after birth. The father always seems unaffected and able to see things in a sane and normal state of mind but the mothers go all nutsy with the first child. I couldn't do it and its a sad state of affairs, I watch my friend waddle down the hallway three times the size she used to be, with her spandex support panties showing and baby barf all down her back. Screaming child face staring back at me from the wall to wall carpet hallway.
My plane for another country leaves in less than six hours, I have never been happier to escape L.A. While most people are happy for my friend I can only feel a huge lump in my throat and sadness in my heart for her. I see the long road of nothingness expanding in front of her. She tells me its different when its yours, and I agree. It would have to be.
I have respect for her, doing something I could never and will never do. Wandering head long into pregnancy and child rearing.
I cant wait for my flight.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Where will you go? When will you come back?
While I dont know where I will go or even what I am looking for. I know I have never been happier than at the begining of a journey with no defined end. - C.F.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
I woke up from the most amazing dream.....
When a dream starts out with a kiss... you know your in for trouble. This is the loose interpretation of an on going dream I had last night. When I say ongoing I mean I woke up repeatedly during this dream and went back to sleep to the same dream.
This is strange as this is the first dream I have had in months, possibly the move into the front room has changed my sleeping environment into one that is more feasible for dreams.
Kiss
To dream of a kiss, denotes love, affection, tranquility, harmony, and contentment.
Stuck
To dream that you are stuck, represents a feeling of helplessness and not being able to escape from life's problems or stresses. You have lost confidence in yourself and in your ability to move ahead in your life. Your lack of clear goals and low self-esteem may be a common cause for such dreams.
Cabin
To see or dream that you are in a wood cabin, indicates that you will succeed via your own means. It suggests that you are self-reliant and independent, yet still remain humble. You prefer the simpler things in life.
To dream that you lose your passport, indicates that you are trying to find yourself and get a sense of who you are. Alternatively, the dream means that opportunities are closing off to you.
To see your boyfriend in your dream, represents your waking relationship with him and how you feel about him.If your boyfriend is away and your dreams of him involve a lot of touching, then it signifies how much you are missing his presence and having him nearby. The dream is telling you not to take the day to day things for granted. Learn to cherish the smaller things in life.
Rocking Chair
To dream that you or someone is sitting in a rocking chair, signifies a life of ease, comfort and relaxation. You have no worries.�
To see an empty rocking chair in your dream, represents sadness or quiet contemplation.
To dream that your mate, spouse, or significant other is cheating on you, indicates your fears of being abandoned. You may feel a lack of attention in the relationship. Alternatively, you may feel that you are not measuring up to the expectations of others. This notion may stem from issues of trust or self-esteem. The dream could also indicate that you are unconsciously picking up hints and cues that your significant other is not being completely truthful or is not fully committed in the relationship
To see hair in your dream, signifies sexual virility, seduction, sensuality, vanity, and health.�It is indicative of your attitudes.
Sunset
To see the sunset in your dream, indicates the end of a cycle or condition. It is a period of rest, contemplation and evaluation.
Sad
To dream that you are sad, suggests that you need to learn from your disappointments and just be happy. Try not to dwell on the negative. The dream may be a reflection of how you are feeling in your waking life.Happy
To dream that you are happy, may be a compensatory dream and is often a dream of the contrary. You may be trying to compensate for the sadness or stress in your waking life.
Stars
To see stars in your dream, symbolize excellence, success, aspirations or high ideals. You are putting some decision in the hands of fate and luck. Perhaps you are being too "starry eyed" or idealistic. Or the stars may represent a rating system. You are you trying to evaluate a situation or establishment. Alternatively, the stars signify your desire for fame and fortune.
Sky
To look up at the clear blue sky in your dream, denotes hope, possibilities, creativity, peace and freedom of expression. As the saying goes "the sky's the limit."To see a colorful sky in your dream, denotes romance. To see a green colored sky in your dream, symbolizes high hopes. The strange color of the sky helps to instantly draw your attention to it. The color green and the sky itself both represent hope, nature or creativity. So these are the qualities that you need to focus on. It is also indicative of a positive outlook and prosperous future.Clouds
To see fluffy, white clouds in your dream, signify inner peace, spiritual harmony and compassion. An issue in your waking life may be clearing up.
This is strange as this is the first dream I have had in months, possibly the move into the front room has changed my sleeping environment into one that is more feasible for dreams.
Kiss
To dream of a kiss, denotes love, affection, tranquility, harmony, and contentment.
Stuck
To dream that you are stuck, represents a feeling of helplessness and not being able to escape from life's problems or stresses. You have lost confidence in yourself and in your ability to move ahead in your life. Your lack of clear goals and low self-esteem may be a common cause for such dreams.
Cabin
To see or dream that you are in a wood cabin, indicates that you will succeed via your own means. It suggests that you are self-reliant and independent, yet still remain humble. You prefer the simpler things in life.
To dream that you lose your passport, indicates that you are trying to find yourself and get a sense of who you are. Alternatively, the dream means that opportunities are closing off to you.
To see your boyfriend in your dream, represents your waking relationship with him and how you feel about him.If your boyfriend is away and your dreams of him involve a lot of touching, then it signifies how much you are missing his presence and having him nearby. The dream is telling you not to take the day to day things for granted. Learn to cherish the smaller things in life.
Rocking Chair
To dream that you or someone is sitting in a rocking chair, signifies a life of ease, comfort and relaxation. You have no worries.�
To see an empty rocking chair in your dream, represents sadness or quiet contemplation.
To dream that your mate, spouse, or significant other is cheating on you, indicates your fears of being abandoned. You may feel a lack of attention in the relationship. Alternatively, you may feel that you are not measuring up to the expectations of others. This notion may stem from issues of trust or self-esteem. The dream could also indicate that you are unconsciously picking up hints and cues that your significant other is not being completely truthful or is not fully committed in the relationship
To see hair in your dream, signifies sexual virility, seduction, sensuality, vanity, and health.�It is indicative of your attitudes.
Sunset
To see the sunset in your dream, indicates the end of a cycle or condition. It is a period of rest, contemplation and evaluation.
Sad
To dream that you are sad, suggests that you need to learn from your disappointments and just be happy. Try not to dwell on the negative. The dream may be a reflection of how you are feeling in your waking life.Happy
To dream that you are happy, may be a compensatory dream and is often a dream of the contrary. You may be trying to compensate for the sadness or stress in your waking life.
Stars
To see stars in your dream, symbolize excellence, success, aspirations or high ideals. You are putting some decision in the hands of fate and luck. Perhaps you are being too "starry eyed" or idealistic. Or the stars may represent a rating system. You are you trying to evaluate a situation or establishment. Alternatively, the stars signify your desire for fame and fortune.
Sky
To look up at the clear blue sky in your dream, denotes hope, possibilities, creativity, peace and freedom of expression. As the saying goes "the sky's the limit."To see a colorful sky in your dream, denotes romance. To see a green colored sky in your dream, symbolizes high hopes. The strange color of the sky helps to instantly draw your attention to it. The color green and the sky itself both represent hope, nature or creativity. So these are the qualities that you need to focus on. It is also indicative of a positive outlook and prosperous future.Clouds
To see fluffy, white clouds in your dream, signify inner peace, spiritual harmony and compassion. An issue in your waking life may be clearing up.
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