missed writing

the last month has been fast, it’s like it never stops. trying to mix travel, review season, compensation updates, hiring, visits from executives, jetlag, missed guitar lessons, emotional distance and now a strange lingering feeling of sickness has really gotten in the way of writing.

i have been reading a memoir written by a british expat living in pre-merdeka malaya. the book is made of letters and diary entries which have a consistent thread of apology for not writing sooner, for not keeping up to date with those expecting him to send news. his writing is supplanted with other activities which are described for their tedium and which hold no strong affection to the writer. yet, they are the things which take the majority of his time, and which come first before writing.

selecting a book describing expat life in malya at a time without long-haul airlines, internet phones, email, satellite television or “affordable” DVDs as a conscience choice. standing in a book store in indonesia looking for titles i may not find in KL shops, the cover with a photo of a matsaleh bermalas-malas with a machine guy lying on the floor almost out of frame piqued my interest. the back cover describing the chinese brothels in penang and pillow dictionaries, both gone but in some ways echoed in KL today, added to the choice to purchase.

this blog was originally created as the contemporary equivalent of letters and diary that makes up the book. the stories and thoughts that come from being dropped into new cultures can be things you want to write down. although I constantly say, “that’s something to blog about”, and although i write down notes to remember what to later write, living life takes precedence over writing about it. this is odd, because writing about the thoughts is what helps me feel that it is real.

i can definitely understand the feeling of malas (bahasa malaya meaning: laziness or reluctant) that can come with living here. even things you enjoy are at times anything but simple. simple is easy, easy is boring. i know, but no matter how much this feels like the US, its not. things are different here. having tapas places, irish bars and the ability to stay connected with those at home makes it worse. it might just be better to have the complete physical, cultural and emotional separation that would come from living far way in a place where you can’t or won’t have chances to connect with the people whose life you do not share.

i need to write more, it helps to process the events. i can go back, think about thoughts and remember the moments. this is the other side of my photography. freezing an event in time, locking the thoughts down and making sure they are not altered by the haze of memory. photography is able to freeze the things that happen around me. writing freezes the things that happen where the camera can not see.

maybe that’s why i have not been writing? it’s not that i am busy, it’s that i am not sure how i really feel about things right now. i tend to not say anything when i am not sure of what to say.

i have missed writing, if i have been suppressing myself from saying something this could be the need to get it out. either way, i am not good at being quiet.