Back and rebounding sloooooowly...

The last month or and a bit has been a whirlwind homecoming and personal activity. So much has happened. I reunited with my boyfriend and family, interviewed for a job, killed my camera, went to FL with said boyfriend to visit my grandparents, returned from FL with a fiancé (hehehehe! Guess he missed me), got the job, and am now cranking away at a 9-5 in northern VA. Slow economy can’t slow this girl down…

In all of these endless and exciting changes, I am slowly getting back into the groove of being home in America and figuring out what that means to me. I know I wasn’t gone that long—just enough to settle a bit somewhere else before coming back and turning my life topsy-turvy again, but it is amazing the things that stick out, stop you in your tracks, and cause you to hate or delight in life after the homecoming glow begins to fade. Some days everything flows together and I almost forget that I ever lived anywhere else because the temperature is comfortable, the wine is excellent and the BBQ is grilled to perfection. I read my crisp copy of The New Yorker with the NBC nightly news on in the background (because I can) and bask in my American-ness. It is like I never left. Other days, like today, I do asinine things like broadcast the size of my ass to all of the people in my office because, after a year of export and black market shopping, it no longer automatically occurs to me check for and remove size stickers from new cloths before wearing them...

Welcome home farang.

My Love Was Premature

While it is true that Anna Karenina is one of the best reads I have experienced in a long time, my love affair with Anna the character was short and full of angst.
In my last post I wrote:

I’m not sure what I feel towards Madam Karenina, but it isn’t pity or disgust. The other characters admire in Anna the same things that they condemn her for—the realization of independence, pride, beauty and desires that have no ties to the life others planned for her. I don’t dislike Anna. In fact, I like her very much and even, to some degree, admire her as well.

Uhhhh, that’s because you hadn’t finished the book yet silly girl. I was enamored with Anna’s vitality, but the last 200 pages of this novel scattered that spell. The beauty that once made her pride excusable is chipped away until there is nothing left but haggard self-loathing. There is nothing to admire, no tricks to retain the reader’s loyalty and distract from her selfishness and disgrace. By the time the book is finished, you are so exhausted by Anna’s manic behavior that the reader is relieved that their suffering with Anna (not necessarily Anna’s suffering) is ended by her date with the train. It is so messed-up, but true! But why the relief? Is it really because we come hate Anna and need the social order reinforced? I dunno. Occasionally, I could see parts of myself in her pride and paniced isolation and it made me squirm with an phantom guilt. What a great book...

Karenina, you sassy minx...

“The mist that envelopes everything during the blissful time when childhood is just coming to an end, and the path away from that vast, cheerful and happy circle grows narrower and narrower, and you feel cheerful and eerie entering that suite of rooms, though it seems bright and beautiful…who hasn’t gone through that?” (73)

Leading up to/since coming to Thailand, I have been on a bit of a Russian kick; on my way to Thailand I read Lenin’s Tomb and I have spent the last week gleefully eating large chunks of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. One of my roommates, David, brought over a copy of the Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky translation (award-winning 2000 edition), and having heard awesome things about it, I couldn’t resist diving in. I don't remember much from the last time I read this book; I was in my teens and a lot of the themes went right over my head. I do remember finishing it and thinking it was okay ( Just OKAY? Who was I?).
I read Anna Karenina in an imposed high school blur and I wasn't excited by it. Nine years later, I can't put it down. I think that this is due to the translation and my age. This translation has received a lot of hype and I have to say that none of the praise has been exaggerated (the end notes are phenomenal!). I was sixteen the last time I read this book and had never experienced the conflict between duty and desire, obligation and personal expectations--how could I begin to understand a woman like Anna or anything in her world? Russian history, philosophical and theoretical debates within the text, social structures and character motivation were all over my head. I got that she was wealthy and married to a man 20 years her senior (and I remember thinking that sucked and was gross), had a son, high social status and a happily stable life until, at the age of 30, she gave it all up for Count Vonsky... with disastrous consequences. At 16, I thought Anna was weak and to be pitied, but now, at 25, I am reading Anna Karenina again as if for the first time. It just might become my favorite book... I’m not sure what I feel towards Madam Karenina, but it isn’t pity or disgust. The other characters admire in Anna the same things that they condemn her for—the realization of independence, pride, beauty and desires that have no ties to the life others planned for her. I don’t dislike Anna. In fact, I like her very much and even, to some degree, admire her as well.
It is Vonsky that I can’t stand. Right now, I am laying all the blame with him and his selfish pursuit of a married woman. Isn’t it odd that I want to rob Anna of her freewill and place all the blame with the count? How unexpected and unfair of me; I must be falling under Anna’s spell just like the other characters. Interesting…
I love it.
Something else that stands out to me as I reread this book are the philosophical and theoretical arguments of the other main characters—reform in all spheres of social interaction are discussed, including communism and the place of the worker within Russian society--topics that would fuel a revolution within the next few decades. Tolstoy also pulls in discussions about art, music, poetry and real social events of the period--it is a dazzlingly intricate work. I think I could read this book once a year for the rest of my life and come away each time with a new discovery.

Alaska looks like heaven, who knew?

Hey everyone,
I didn’t think I would get a chance to write before I hit my new home is Chiang Rai, but look at the little surprises in life---I am in Anchorage Alaska. I am in Anchorage, Alaska surrounded by some of the most beautiful snow-capped mountains ever wondering why I have never been here before when it is so fucking beautiful. There is even free entertainment. Right now, a Chinese businessman is sprawled out on the floor in a suit doing his morning leg-lifts. I love life.

Yesterday was a rush, but I did have a wonderful lunch with my parents, youngest brother, and Jason at Pentagon Row before heading off to the airport. Goodbyes were hard all the way around, but I felt steady. My boyfriend says I have been Zen for weeks, and I guess I have. I’ll take Zen over frantic meltdown panic any day.

First leg of the flight to JFK & up here was good. Caught that Hillary is out of the race--a nice way to end any evening, and then had a full 3 seats to stretch-out across and sleep all the way into Alaska. I think we are getting more passengers here though, so if I am all alone on my seat for the rest of the journey it is only because the flight crew has decided to quarantine me. I asked one of the crew to clarify something and he cut me off to demand ARE YOU SICK? Kinda.....
People were sleeping with masks on the plane--I'm not vain enough to think that it is because of me, but it did make me feel like an uber jerk whenever I coughed.

Anyhow, I have to go board for my flight to Taipei. Next post will be in Thailand.

Bye!

Visa Me

I have my Kingdom of Thailand visa. Yippeeeeeee!

(But this one isn't it -- Hehehe.)

Back in Word-nappies

Oddly enough, the speaking Thai thing isn't giving me night sweats. The whole spoken language barrier junglegym that will be my life next year is daunting, but I feel very calm. This is weird because I am not a language wizard; generally, I find learning other languages about as fun as de-hairing the drain when my youngest brother, the wookie, is home from school--but I am psyched to learn Thai.
I did relatively well in my high school and college language courses (C-H-E-A-T-E-R), but I certainly never obtained or retained any level of information that entitles me to claim bi-lingual or even passable communication skills. Because learning languages made me anxious, I convinced myself that it was pointless to dedicate myself to anything beyond lingual regurgitation. Bottom line: I was lame and now I am another sad example of the American monolingual stereotype.
This time I am not going to be so easily intimidated. I want to learn Thai so that I can be part of life in Chiang Rai rather than observe from the outside and make the most of this next year. I will take language lessons, babble to strangers at every opportunity and see where that gets me in 9 months. It is going to be an adventure but not a reason to freak--or at least it won't be until I land in Bangkok...


Details are falling into place.
My mom and I went to Ft. Meyer and got a super-sized super-light suitcase (dubbed Gilda the Smurff Destroyer because it looks like it is made of skinned Smurffs) but I plan to pack light. Over orientation weekend, I had the opportunity to meet and get friendly with a lot of the 150 fellows, and I have every intention of crashing on their floors before the year is out. Allegedly there is a PiA record of countries/floors crashed on in one year. I’m not sure who holds it, but there are a number of us ’08-ers who are going to try and smash it.

Grandma

My mother’s mom, my grandma, Susan KC passed away this afternoon.

Grandma was 5'3" of determination and 125 pounds of whimsy.

She was our blessing on loan.

"Hereafter, in a better world than this, I shall desire more love and knowledge of you."

- William Shakespeare, As You Like It

Action!

They are filming a movie in Fairfax. I’m not really sure who “they” are—but we were assured that it is a “real” film for the theaters and not a George Mason University project of some kind. It is all very hush-hush; no one would tell us what the movie was about even when Aneliz turned up the sugar and worked a poor geeky set-hand like he was Father Christmas.
They did let us wander the blocked-off set (Main Street, North Streets, and University Drive) and ogle at the vans, light fixtures, giant screens, and bagel trays. We were ready to give up on the mystery when we located a chatty young security guard who gave us the following information: it is a Hollywood based film group, the movie is an untitled thriller-drama, some dude from General Hospital is in it, and one of the lines in the script is “Go back to Manassas, you dirty whore!”
Really, who needs more information than that?

My last day of work was last Friday, May 2, and I am officially unemployed or self-employed or a professional volunteer…I’m not sure what I am technically, but it doesn’t really matter. My car drove off with a new owner yesterday, my insurance is closed out, I turn in my final paper on Mary Rowlandson later this afternoon (Please) and I have started to sort through my stuff.

P.S. I have a lot of stuff.

I have an embarrassing volume of stuff.

I have a shamefully embarrassing volume of stuff.

It is nice stuff. It is good stuff. It is not at all necessary that I have this much stuff.

I am a bit disgusted with myself right now.

Purple Heart is going to receive quite the donation…

Tomorrow morning I fly down to FL to visit and say goodbye to my other grandparents before I take off for Thailand next month. I will get back on the 15th, just in time to hug my family and take a nap before I head up to Princeton for orientation. IT IS ALL HAPPENING! People I meet-up with and see every couple of weeks have started saying goodbye just in case we don’t run into each other again before the 3rd of June. It is a very strange feeling to be missed before going anywhere.

Mortifying Moment All-Star

While doctoring my coffee in the shop this morning, the girl near me tripped over the briefcase of a 40-something John Wayne (cleverly disguised as a government contractor). She and her coffee went flying and she would have gotten hurt if John Wayne, who obviously lettered in football, had not redeemed himself by catching her. The Wayne was pleased with himself, the woman was horrified yet grateful, and I was torn between my concern and the impulse to clap in gratitude for the free entertainment.

You think I am a horrible person right now, but I know that I am not the only one who finds the clumsy moments of others amusing. Besides, I contribute my fair share of mortifying moments. In fact, those moments are some of my favorite memories...

Theresa’s Three Favorite Mortifying Moments 2001-present

2001, The Lock Incident

My freshman year of college, I ran in the mornings with my house key on a chain around my neck. One morning in the stairwell, because I was stupid & too lazy to take the chain off, I leaned over, put the key in the slot and---stuck! The door wouldn’t unlock. My key wouldn’t come out of the keyhole, the chain was too taunt to unclasp or slip over my head, and I was stranded bent over in that position until some (hot, of course) student athlete found me. I believe his words, after the laughter, were “Well, this is awkward...need help?”

2005, Why I Don't Wear Stilettos

The mother of my sister-in-law, is what we would call a “big deal” and so, when Grace married my brother, there were tons of reporters at the wedding. Please imagine a majestic hotel reception on the Irish coast in mid-July. The bride & groom, followed by their wedding party, descend a long series of stairs to the hotel entryway where guests mingle. The bride is beautiful, the groom is handsome, and everything is going off without a hitch--the reporters are eating it up. At the bottom of the steps bride & groom are presented with glasses of Champaign; they lock eyes, smile, toast each other and then lift the glasses to their lips. The multitude of cameras lift to capture the perfect moment, and just as the bulbs flash ---BAM! The groom’s 6”1’ (in heels) sister falls face-first down the stairs and into her brother's shin…

Luckily, my strapless gown was very fitted...

2007, Cubicle Dance Party (my favorite)

Bored, I was plugged-in to my iPod & dancing in my cube when my off-site, 60+ ex-Marine boss came by to deliver my paycheck. I didn't know he was there until I turned and saw him leaning against the doorway.

“A little early to drop it like it is hot, ain’t it kid?”

"Of course this is great news, kid! What did you think I was going to do, hit you?"

Awesome:
When your boss is excited about your new adventure.


I gave notice yesterday.