two spoons

there was a time a few years ago when i was struggling to understand who i was and where i fit in.  my life was both overly complex and minimalist-simple.  i kept it that way on purpose because i did not like the directions life had taken me in, i did not like the responding directions i went in afterwards and i was not ready to make the corrections needed to course correct.  allowing, or more honestly engineering, the chaos allowed me say, "things are just complex" while living with only two spoons in the kitchen.

i had a fully stocked kitchen in the US.  i had no intention of going out and stocking a new one here.  when i came to asia, i stopped cooking because i didn't have an oven.  i ate take out, because it was fast and easy.  the lifestyle came with no need to clean up, no need to plan and no need to have my own plates, bowls or utensils.  my landlord had provided some kitchen items when i moved it, but they were not mine and i didn't care.  i had the bare minimum required, it wasn't mine and it could go away at any time.  it kept things simple in some sense, but it was never simple and i was never happy.

the past few years that has changed.  the condo is still temporary, but i decided i needed it to be more than an unloved space.  i needed to build some comfort into my surroundings.  i finally found myself in a place where i could stop worrying about the kitchen in the US and find the things i needed here to be happy.

this has lead to some real improvements.  not all of these are my doing.  there have been changes in malaysia that has helped.  BSC improved it's expat food market, and now has a much broader selections of goods.  ben's grocery opened in publika, the big groups attempt copy a western supermarket (grocery store, bakery, deli and eat in/out food outlets).  i can now get beer, bagels and other comfort foods that allow a more western-comfortable living experience.  the complexity has dropped and simple stay at home life has taken over.

in the past few months this has settled into an even deeper cycle.  i am going home for tea after work.  a small event between work and dinner, that focuses on rebuilding energy and settling into the night to come.  starbucks now sells via coffee here, and that means very good coffee at home, add a little brown sugar and its the best coffee in town.  there is no reason to go out, everything i need, i have.  i remember the days of teh tarik, but have no interest in having it now.  what i have at home is much better.

i have also started cooking again.  pork/beef meatballs, home made sauce, chorizo ready to be added to an omelet, or fried as a base for stuffed mushrooms, or a quick yummy sandwich are all in the freezer ready to be pulled out when the call of dinner comes.  there is still the chance to call for take out if needed, but its not a requirement every night.  cooking is a way to be creative and loving, and with a ready audience for the results its all the more interesting.

the house is more comfortable.  the books are on shelves. the walls have photos and paintings.   the closets are full, and the kitchen is stocked.  i now have a home, not just a house.  the front door is open, with a sarong covering the grill.  this lets the air blow through the apartment, and provides the modesty demanding shades from accidental eyes.  it's not perfect, the couch needs to be replaced and the question of when comes up when talking about it. but it is more comfortable and move lived in.

the time of two spoons was good.  but having a fully stocked kitchen is much better.  coming home to a bagel with yummy cheese is much better than coming home to emptiness.  sharing the things i love, cooking with simplicity and for comfort are all more than worth the effort put into it.

all it took was getting rid of the complexity and deciding to embrace the comfort.

writer blocked

its nearly three months since i last wrote.  i have been far below the normal production level over the past year.  the last time i made the effort to consistently express myself was a year ago.  it happened when i was away by myself on my favorite beach.  i am back for another holiday holiday, and i have wanted to write, but after a week i am just now breaking out the air to try to let the thoughts loose.  i have had to accept that i find myself blocked, i am not sure how or why but i have not been able to share.

the past year has been one of change and impending change.  during times of change i tend to withdraw, which may be what has happened to me over the past twelve months.  but i have not found myself curled up on the couch, alone with my woobie.  as those closest know, that is the historical sign of my withdrawal.  more recently my version of withdrawl translates to a vacation seeking comfortable space.  but have you noticed that vacations also allow me to open up and write?  getting away drives my need to open up, and it enhances my crave to connect.

i see this as a positive sign.  rather than taking space to allow the inner devils to embrace the darkness, i have come to sit in the sun and strip layers off.  i have been needing to get away for months now.  finally the migration, the post-migration and the reorganization are all over.  strategic alternatives have lingered, but the need to be in the northern kingdom have slowed to the point where i can get away.  there is plenty of work left to do, but it will wait for the new year.  i have disconnected.

the underlying reason for the congestion of thought i have been experiencing is difficult to diagnose.  much like my allergies, what causes them is not always clear, the stuffiness comes when it comes.

in both cases, the causes are hard to pin down because they have complexity.  it is not one single trigger, they layer upon each other.  part of it i am sure is that circumstances have changed.  i have always talked about things happening around me, and given structural changes going on around me i have been less and less able to be open.  some of these blocks were cultural, some were familial or organizational, but some have been legal.  given the cross currents of demands to say less and protect information, i have imposed a "say nothing til you hear more" rule of thumb.  my other default compensation technique to reduce complexity and ensure simplicity.

i have also considered the fact that i have simply not had the space to sit and do this.  given the [overly long] style of my writing, i need time to accomplish this, and i have not felt as though the time was there for me.  but i have been here for almost 6 days, i had my laptop out for google/wiki/youtube and nightly fringe, i still didn't even attempt to send thoughts into the ethernet.

two days ago i spent the afternoon doing cold reads on two very nice new friends.  friends could be too strong a statement, i don't know their names, have no contact information and unless the winds of fate somehow drive us to the same line in an airport some day we will probably never speak again.  but as we sat and chatted over halal-beverages, there was a surprising level of sharing going on.  i learned things, some of which were not expected.  while i was there i realized that rather than writing, i was spending time with real people and talked rather than typing.

this morning i decided it was time to buckle down and cast some thoughts.  i had a 20 minute conversation concerning the correct location.  caffeine, alt-cafe tunes and armchair comfort are all key to my process, the much to long conversation sent me to the starbucks so close that my motorcycle barely warmed up getting here.  i struck up another conversation in line, and a third when i sat down.  going to a very american version of the worlds coffee location and talking to a surprising number of amercians took precedence over typing.  again, real connections over the semi-anonymous conversation this medium brings.

is that it then?  have i somehow found myself in a place where my extroversion has finally wiped away my need for distance?  rather than observing from a safe distance, i am directly interacting.  the nice couple from seattle who live in china ended our conversation by telling me "we come here every day... at 11:00 am".  that kind of specificity seems to invite further conversations.  still no contact information, still limited name exchange, but connection.

i am writing now.  funky christmas tunes are decking the halls around me.  i am watching the multi-cultural groups pausing around me.  an indonesian chinese couple and teenage son just moved from the sun warmed chairs to the shade-covered couch touching my chair.  a little too close for my american sense of personal space, and the dark sunglasses dad is wearing inside do not invite conversation.  mom seems nice and keep smiling at me; actually that is a little more sketchy than the shades in the shade.  i doubt this will turn into a blocking conversation.  good thing, i am typing again and want to keep the flowing motion.

the congestion has lifted, i am able to breath again.  the weight on my chest has gone, i can take a deep breath and feel the air filling my lungs.  i can touch the air and feel myself opening up.

hopefully you are not offended by the sounds of me clearing my blocked head.

comfort hotel

i really need to get away.  i was talking to a friend yesterday, and the analogy for the past few months was the power bar in the HUD while paying a video.  i smiled and realized it captured how people are feeling.  the stacked lines have disappeared from repeated hits without finding the health packs needed to recharge.  the sides of the screen are fading, the sounds of breathing from around the corner let you know the fight is still on, but the lack of ammo and health points also let you know that finding the hidden space with the recharge packs are a must if you are going to keep playings.  the issues are the time and ability to find that hidden door.

as i type this i am sitting in a cafe, trying to find a sandwich to match the comfort food desire i am feeling.  i spent the morning at a six year old's birthday party.  watching kids play in large plastic tubes and swim through pits filled with multi-colored balls both made me happy, and stoked the fires of missing home.  the feeling that a sandwich would be a good idea before going back to the condo took hold as the party broke up.  standing high in the midsts of expat-land, i searched my options for a simple sandwich.

as per usual, the solution does not match the demand.  the seriously delicious burger is not, the "classic" reuben is actually a rachel (substituting pastrami for the truly classic corned beef) and the    "classic" hotdog is a sadly chickened sausage that has none of the bite, snap or flavor of a truly a real hotdog.  all of this is acceptable by the those who do not believe that something described as classic should actually be a reasonable example of the original.  i went with the chicken avacado sandwich, which is not described as open faced, but comes that way.  i ate the chicken and ignored the brick-hard toasted piece of bread.  the comfort of enjoying the mingled flavors of meat and bread a lost-cause.

this lunch is the smaller example of the issue i am really struggling with.  how can i do a quick get away to allow myself to relax and recharge, while actually having the flavors that will help me feel relaxed.  i was almost in singapore this weekend, and that may have been close.  the san diego run by disney vibe would have helped.  the library-sized book stores, genuine-feeling hipster-staffed starbucks and non-sambal infused western restaurants would all have given comfort.  the taxi queues and casino-culture would not have.  low blood pressure delayed the trip, so i won't know if it would have given me a chance to relax.

which leaves me in not-so-truly asia.  as i was driving home last night i began to consider my options.  where can i slip away to, sleep in a big comfortable bed, have room service that is non-halal comforting and relax by the pool with a drink in my hand.  much of this i can get, sure alcohol is not a problem, hotels exist and have comforting beds.  there are hotels in KL that i have checked-in to check-out before, no flights and room service, but they do not deliver the "classic" feel.  they are weak examples of a truly 5 start hotel, as though polish and badly designed parking garages are enough to make the trip worth it.

i live in a minor city, that tries to believe it will be major within 8 years.  when i got here there were 15 years to go on that goal, and there was some chance of it happening.  but with each year that passes its clear that it won't happen.  to become a major-city you need to be able to attach the top talent, the best and the brightest and make them want to stay.  this is what hong kong and singapore, new york and london have done.  they allow the communities who move in to feel welcome inside their own enclaves.  they allow them the comforts that enable the newcomers to feel welcome, and overtime make those comforts part of the larger single community.  note that although the "big breakfast" is here, the british have left.  my point is that if malaysia had known how to keep outsiders happy the brits, japanese and even locally born chinese would not be heading for the doors so quickly.

this isn't meant to be a flame or to turn into a bitch-session about the lack of comfort i have felt for a long time.  but i am tired, i need a break, one that will not have anything to complain about. i can get on a plane and go to indonesia, thailand or vietnam and have a short break.  but i don't want to the flights.  or i can hang in there, and wait for the next trip to the land of smog and exports.  i know there i can slip off to NOLA or home plate and find some moments of non-halal happiness.  but why do i need to?  can a community building itself on diversity not support a single hotel that does nothing more than provide the same as other world-class hotels.

no wonder i am tired.  the same issues stay out there, i can hear the scraping steps and raspy breathing around the corner.  the bullet count it low, the energy meter is flashing red and i am staring down the corridor wondering what is hiding; ready to take more shots.

fight or flight; when neither is really an option it really is the time to check in and hope the room service menu is good.

second shot

i started writing this blog... a long time ago.

i started writing this blog to raise my voice and keep a record.  it gives longevity to thoughts that might otherwise be lost.  i am doing this for me, and for a very select few who i actively want to share with.  i have never thought of this as a forum for general consumption, it is too personal and frankly too boring.  these are the thoughts that bounce around in my head, the posts have given them a vehicle to escape into the wild while also being stored safely for later.  but, mostly, the posts allow half-thoughts to be worked into a completed form, my version of cleaning up a workspace.

my first opening volley was more of an invitation than a thought.  it was the commitment to carry on with a goal.  it may feel like one and a half lifetimes ago, but was truly just a moment at a cross road.  for anyone who has been following, i am warning you now that i am at a cross road again.  i remember hearing that we change every seven years to become a different person, and although i am in the middle of the calendar cycle, change is looming.

i am declaring the close of one phase and the opening of another.  as i sit on a balcony overlooking the south china sea, i am feeling like a nordic athlete soon to be transitioning from skiing to shooting portion of the biathlon.  i know i need to lower my pulse rate before i transition, my legs are tired, i am dripping in sweat and my fingers are tingling with the effects of adrenaline.  it is almost time to stop and focus on the target, the driving effort has to be tempered, so i can take on the shot and avoid a penalty.

if the metaphor of biathlon while hiding in a resort on borneo doesn't work for you, stop reading now.  i am going to write; long, strange and personal, because it is what calms me.  this is my way of settling myself down for the effort.  this is my race, and i want a record of it for later.  i want to be able to look at the tape and see my form as i took that hill.  it's not for others to see me win or lose, but for my inner coach to monitor and remember how i felt on days like today.

this is my second shot, let the new chapter begin.

good life

i woke up this morning to the quiet sound of falling rain. i love rainy days, but while on vacation in paradise, rain is a mixed blessing. today it would be a good thing, because my skin is crispy, painful, red and itchy from too much sun. rather than giving up on the beach, i decided to ride over to have breakfast. kopi bali and jaffle pisang was the thought, but just spending the time on the sand was what i was hungry for.

the day has been slipping by, and it's lunch time now. i just finished a wonderfully simple burger. it was served dutch style with mayonnaise, to which I added soya. empire meets local; or east meets west on the crossroads of trade. enjoying is all about finding the fusion. after this long in asia, i have given up on the idea that american burgers are the best way to eat. it's impossible to find them consistently, and using the local ingredients just make it taste better. i did skip the sambal sauce, there needs to be limits in life.

while sitting on the beach this morning, the third squall of the day passed. most of the other early beach-goers had abandoned hope during the second squall. it had lasted more than an hour, and prolonged tropical storms while sitting on the beach are just too much for most people. i waited it out because i had a feeling it was going to clear. at the first short break, i hopefully moved down to the chairs. minutes later the third gentle squall came through with another extended rain that brought visibility below VFR. i sat under an umbrella not made to protect anything from more than sun, and listened to the rain and surf. water dripped down my back, as i laid comfortably within the white noise cocoon.

as i walked back towards the cafe, i was coaxed into a visit to the beach-side massage hut. i amused myself by playing with a local kid whose mother was telling him to take a nap, while getting massaged by the aunties. it's hard to remember that they are my age. after 20+ years on the beach they look as though they have a generations head start on me. the beach community is a village of families who watch each other, we are just visitors to their lives.

it's when i experience others lives up close that i think about how blessed i am. i get to travel, but have people i love to keep in touch with while on the road. i never feel as though i am alone. my major fear 7 years ago. but while learning to enjoy being solitary, i also learned that out of sight does not need to be out of mind. distance does not need to limit connection; if you work on it. technology helps; sms, email, youtube and voice have all been used in the past few days to allow holidays around the world to be shared.

these are good days. the sun is out and the rain is losing its 60% chance of impacting beach time. i am drinking storm and i can feel the energy levels rising. it reminds me that i have been playing doom with a red light flashing; warning me to take cover. the trip feels like i have slipped into a quiet room, steel door protecting me from attacks, and i have found an energy pack to bring me back to health. just in time, because one more blast and i could have lost this level.

when ash was here this summer she told me that I was living large. she meant that expat housing, jockey parking, friends who own restaurants and the ability to slip away to the beach should be appreciated. sometimes i forget that, and i should apologize for my semi-occasional tantrums. i am not one of these 9 year olds, working on a beach selling bracelets and hoping for good luck to make a sale today. but sometimes, i do feel like the distracted kid being told to take a nap.

i get to have connected travel. i get to relax with my storm. i get to talk to the aunties, or strike up random conversations with nice strangers. i can go back to my hotel and take a hot shower, send my wet clothes to laundry, order a car for tomorrow's angel, and think about what i want for dinner. if i add in apple store purchases, and coming christmas presents, i know my bug is right. i am living large.

all I needed was a few days under a wet umbrella to realize:

this is the good life.

happy holiday

i just paid USD 2.45 to drive my motorcycle onto one of my favorite beaches in the world and for an umbrella with two chairs to hide my burnt skin from the sun. i was met by smiles, "selamat pagi" and high fives as i walked to my chairs. i know the kids will swarm be again today, because i proved to be a good mark with the bracelet purchases yesterday. but i don't mind, it's part of the process of being remembered the next time i come to geger.

i woke up this morning and called family in the US. one call covered the kids, their cousins and my christmas purchase partner. I was able to send hugs to others opening presents in grandma's living room. my gift was hearing the fading sounds of christmas past. it was good to connect with a bit of holiday cheer. it's also important to remember where you came from.

i then called my mom and had a long conversation about moving forward when you just want to stop. she is missing my dad, but she got her rose today and has friends and family around her. we discussed afterlife on multiple levels, reminding me why i always loved the way she thinks; and how lucky i was for the conversations of my youth.

as I got to my umbrella I noticed clouds on the horizon. less than five minutes later it started to rain. big drops of tropical rain, shimmering against the blue sky just off the beach. the clouds look like they will pass off to the north, so i made a move to the sand-side cafe just before the rest of the beach caught on that the clouds behind them had malicious intent.

the tables around me are filled with other non-traditional christmas revelers. in front of me are the aussies with tattoo-surfer dad and happy mom who talked to me accidentally and then told me a joke about a wankers miscommunication in the men's room. to the side, a bit behind me actually, is a local transvestite who smiled at me shyly. she is with a P90X addict who seems to think no one has caught onto their ruse. the younger daughter from down under waited until they passed before asking mom if she was a he. more new friends on my favorite beach.

as i sit enjoying my morning storm, i am thinking about jk rowlings. i watched a profile on her this morning. not being particularly harry-fanatic i was not sure why i watched. the day was passing, and with it precious beach time. but the profile ended with a quote she delivered to a harvard graduating class.

the knowledge that you have emerged wiser and stronger from setbacks means that you are, ever after, secure in your ability to survive. you will never truly know yourself, or the strength of your relationships, until both have been tested by adversity. such knowledge is a true gift, for all that it is painfully won...

the entire speech is titled "the fringe benefits of failure and the importance of imagination". when i read it, i found the paragraph immediately before this qoute was the real reason i was not able to leave the cafe on time this morning. some how, one of the jk out there was sending me a message. it was a message that i knew, but clearly i needed to hear:

failure gave me an inner security that i had never attained by passing examinations. failure taught me things about myself that i could have learned no other way. i discovered that i had a strong will, and more discipline than i had suspected; i also found out that i had friends whose value was truly above the price of rubies.

the sun has come out and it's time to move back onto the sand. my storm is gone, and i have ignored the water for to long. i know that i now have the skills needed to see the rain before others and to get under cover before the crowds make a move. but i also know i can make friends in the strangest of places or moments.

even the happiest holidays can be in places you don't expect.

slow train

i am so relaxed. i am away, and i have absolutely nothing to complain about. i am laying on a rounded couch, under a roof. there is music playing, i can hear the waves from the andaman sea coming ashore. the day is slow and easy. i am at sala resort phuket, quietly tucked onto the near deserted beach; and far-far removed from the patong craziness further down the island.

the draw of this resort is three fold, pool suites with a literal wall of privacy, beautifully quiet surroundings and an american chef who serves begniets and sublime american pancakes for breakfast. add to this quesadillas lacking the metallic anti-taste of malaysian beef, or the heaven sent chorizo version which was not on the menu but was easily made on request, and you will understand that this is a get away that helps me go home. it has none of the KL tightness, the price is what you would pay in the west for a comprable resort -- and the staff and service reflects it.

three weeks ago was the "malaya day" holiday, it happens to fall dangerously close to my birthday, and the desire to balik antarabangsa felt like the sweaty cravings of an addict. but i had just come back for a tranquil family retreat in bali and thought another trip would be indulgent. i chose to follow the lead of saint augustine and deny the urge for pleasure. i remain within the counter-pleasure city, reminded of the the settlers who stayed next to the muddy river. KL once again taught me that it's lack of quality and style are not a mistake, it's cultural and by design. it must be, why else would it be so sadly consistent.

my birthday gift, a compromise, like giving methadone to dull the craving, was to check into sunway villas, which promised villa suites with pools and private walls, there is the KL version of a beach near by and there was the promise of "american" pancakes to wake up to. along with this was the addition of a steak dinner at the cities highest rated beef kitchen. i loved the presents, because they were given with love, but they were also like a toy that breaks the first time you use it. the disappointment is not with the giver, but with the lack of value in the producer.

the sunway villas were jammed between other buildings, stacked onto a hill, where vans were needed to crawl up the hill but were too large for the tracks built for buggies later proved to underpowered for guests and baggage. the sunway resort beach was close enough to see, which also meant the sound of waterpark entertainment was constant. but the most lacking element was the "pool" which was ten foot square and only three feet deep. too small for a proper plunge, and completely impossible to enjoy a swim for two. add to this under-trained staff and the theft of the credit card account, later used to purchase internet video games, and the overall experience was more one of guilt for lacking cost benefit. we will not even go into the USD 200++ steak that was good, but far from what i thought i was ordering; or the pancakes that were as american as the honey they tied to pass off as maple syrup -- twice.

so, here we are. we decided on the trip at the last minute, because i was told i needed to get out of town. it was somewhat of a ... take a break and reset after a couple of stressful weeks. this is a place that we knew we would enjoy, and was the compromise to my "i need to be in the US, i need a taco, let's go to LA next week... okay too far, what about hawaii?". the food, the alcohol, the waves, the walls, the pool, the irish coffees before bed and the massage hut for 400 baht (USD 13) all sounded so right.

the upside is that it has been better than expected. i was having steak and eggs for breakfast this morning. the coffee and beignets before had been wonderful, and the special request to replace the fried egg with a small portion of the chorizo scrambled eggs and a side of the black pudding was met with a "thank you ka". they delivered the smoothies which were the suggested drinks for the day, and a flood of memory came over me. the banana-strawberry lassie tasted exactly like my first favorite alcohol drink, brick alley pub's slow train to mazatlan, i just needed to get them to add peach brandy and light and dark tum. could it be true, could i take this comfort weekend to the next level by getting back on the train to home?

it was a very fast negotiation, jame the bartender and i worked out the mix, found a pitcher, struck a price for my ticket and within 10 minutes i was transported back with a properly tasting drink to go with my yummy breakfast steak (built into the room rate no less). this weekend might have been indulgent, but it was also exactly what i needed. being in KL can be beyond frustrating, with very limited exceptions you see things half done with no recognition or embarrassment for the lack of success. you live with an eye to the day when the quality that you need to remain and be happy will be replaced with a crappy substitue jammed next to a noisy waterpark.

if this is a drug, and i am an addict, i am okay with it. because it feels good, and the majority of the peninsular pleasures are not able to strike the chords of pleasure. this is why people work, why i stay, because i get to feel the quality that comes with it. it's the wonderful things that standout and shine, those that you get to enjoy just being around that make the difference.

happy hour is not for two more hours, but i am already there. i am on a slow train and i am feeling good.

sexy heavy

i was talking to my daughter a few years ago and she was telling me about winning a race and how good it made her feel. we were discussing her successes in life and how good she felt about it. which was when she brought up how others might look at her and see her as heavier than a star swimmer and captain of the tennis team is expected to be. she laughed at it and said she was happy with how she looked and felt, society might expect thin as the norm, but her body let her feel strong while she was kicking some skinny girls ass in the pool. i had to smile, because attitude goes a long way.

i have been on a roller coaster of weight for most of my life. i have fallen into a 7 to 10 year cycle of loss, maintenance and long-slow gain. to be fit, i need to exercise. i don't mean go to yoga, or take a walk, i mean hard work to burn the weight off. the last time i did this, i took a break from work and got control of both diet and exercise. i kicked my own ass as often as i could muster. i was taking my bike out into the mountains, and dragging my fat ass up hills that i didn't think i could make it to the top of. when i did find the crest, gravity added to spinning hard in the highest gear would provide an endorphine rush of speed that balanced the pain of the climb.

i dropped so much weight so quickly that summer, rumors started that i had cancer. i was actually very healthy, but even at the most dedicated, deep inside i knew i could not sustain the effort and denial it took to be 195 lbs (88.5 kg). i looked great, i felt great, i was able to take my multi-sport varsity athlete out on the bike and crack him open like a walnut as he struggled to climb with me. but it was not enough. i like to sit in front of a computer, fly on an airplane, or lay on a couch more than i like riding up those hills. i put my need to tri below my groups chance to win.

the difficult part of forcing myself to stay in shape is that i don't see myself falling out of shape. yes, i have noticed that i have gone through two sets of clothes since moving to KL. the shirts i was wearing when i first got here are now dress-down friday options for my girlfriend. i have written about being offered business cards by attractive chinese women who want me... as a client for their weight-loss program. i am not beyond understanding that people no longer see the high-school athlete, the college lifeguard, the twenty-something runner, the thirty-something cyclist or the 40 year-old triathlete. they do see the out-of-shape workaholic, who always seems to have bronchitis but who is surprisingly still happy with how he feels.

i know people who get upset by putting on 5 or 10 lbs. i am not sure if this is the norm, but i don't feel it. i have the ability to gain 5 lbs in a single week, and tend to do so when i am flying on business. the issue is that it takes me 50 lbs to really get motivated to do something about it. less than that, its just not enough of a challenge, or enough of an issue to worry about. i feel more guilt from having someone walk into my office while i am running than i do at the thought that someone sees me as fat. i would rather be a slacker for not exercising than to be accused of doing something for myself when i could be working.

besides, i am not unhappy with the way i look. i don't love the shape, but my personal impression of myself isn't something i dislike. i am not perfect, but overall i am far from worried about how i look. i can still exercise, last year i climbed one of the highest areas of the great wall, faster and stronger than the younger people around me. in many ways i have never been more at ease with who i am.

but, i have reached a tipping point. i have known it was coming, it really is getting harder to run. i feel less comfortable moving around. it's time to feel the burn, to drive the demons of my inner-slacker away. i am 46 years old, i have gotten my allergies back under-control after a week in beijing that tipped me over into two months of asthma induced coughing. work, at least this week, does not appear to be in crazy-mode so i am going to recover from the past 5 years of not taking the time to ensure there was less of me.

i ran 4 times this week, i cycled twice and all of it felt great. i weigh in at 285 lbs (129 kg), 50 lbs more than i could be. i like myself as sexy-heavy and as beaten into shape. it might be unfortunate that i do like both, if i disliked the over-achieving-weight of myself more it could be easier for me to start the burn earlier.

but happiness comes from within, and inside i am good and happy. that being said, the inner athlete needs to dig his way out. i am older, but i also know i enjoy the pain more today than i ever have. let the pain begin then, because we are now on the down hill, and that is when the speed picks up and the endorphines flow.

when i get there, just remember, i am still that sexy-heavy guy. he is inside no matter how hard i try to burn him off. and, i am always happy the ash is there.

comfortably upset

living on the other side of the world, especially in a place that goes out of it's way to make people believe that everything must follow rules that make no sense, can get frustrating. the worst of those times are when you don't feel well and you crave the comforts that you left in the patriot homeland. it makes you focus on the things you wish you had, but can not get.

i have gotten used to not having access to certain things. not big things, little things, things that a pampered amercian would have at all times, things like medicines that work, services that serve and comforts that provide comfort.

panadol doesn't work for me, it does less than nothing, and taking 8 pills for a headache and having it pulse away is just no fun at all. so i stock up on pink jelly-coated tablets when i am in the US and hope the number of headaches between each trip, multiplied by 3 or 4 tablets needed to combat each, is less than the stock count of pills i carry back to the land of strange and ineffective drugs.

the fact that i have headaches and have a solution doesn't change the fact that i have other needs like stomachaches, which are called oddly gastric here. this of course also means that i need a solution for acid reflux, again i have to import and manage my own supply of pepcid AC because the bottles of chalky white liquid and the pills the pharmacist will offer also do nothing to stop the acid that chews my stomach and wakes me up while i sleep. the list continues, but the solutions begin to run out.

it might be possible that i am difficult, or that i simply like products which work for me; even if i need to carry them from the other side of the world. but there are limits to the things i can bring here. my favorite wine, beer, whiskey, swim shorts, bicycle, pizza, pasta, yogurt, classic DVD and head bands are a few of the items i can not get here, and have almost no acceptable replacement. the fact that i can't get them is something i am normally okay with. the reason i can't get them is beyond me. a country that says it is trying to become a high income economy sometimes tries to have high quality items and good service as the backbone of the system. crappy service, bad products and lack of access is the hallmark of a dysfunctional system.

as my day progressed today, my stomach started to grumble and pressure built in uncomfortable ways. i began to think the best thing for me was to go home, lay on the couch and eat some comfort food. i didn't need much more than time to recover from this, but i wanted to feel comfortable and happy as i laid down with a grumbly tummy and waited for it to pass. the bump in my plan was that i had no food in the fridge and no desire to eat the standard dinner choices, sadly indian, thai, vietmanese and chinese foods are just not comfort food for an irish american with an upset intestinal track.

room service is a company that delivers dinners to expats all over KL. they have a strangely shaped catalog that collects the menus of the restaurants you can order from. i read the menu front to back, and found a single restaurant to order from. there was pizza with false sausage i almost ordered, there was chicken in strange sauce that i could have ordered, but i went with german/swiss pork and whipped potatoes with a gravy that tastes like ketchup. if you don't know it potatoes are like children, they should never be whipped and gravy should never, ever, ever taste like ketchup; even if it is a german kitchen.

there was no comfort from the dinner. it was just not what was needed to settle me down and allow me to feel better. so i am laying on the couch, watching an 11-year old television show about american politics, and thinking about the lack of access to quality items that help improve life and comfort. i am looking forward to the day that KL has all of the quality and comfort that the rest of the world enjoys.

until then, i have a headache, i need to go take a couple pills.

private walls

i have always known that i have some pretty serious walls. i started building them the summer of 1974, just as the nixon administration was falling apart. well, maybe there were elements of the walls before that, but august 1974 was the first time i mixed the cement and filled the cracks to ensure my walls would be strong and lasting. as the years have passed i have been told that my walls are limiting and i should work to take them down. last weekend i realized just how much i need walls and why they make me so comfortable.

the summer has been filled with stress and pressure. my kids came for their 5th trip to asia, most of the stress of this trip is the time and effort to organize the logistics of flights and schedules for a family full of over committed and under organized people. even those not actually flying have needs that must be taken into account. it makes the spring a season of delicate balance, as the flowers are blooming back in the US the opportunities to discuss and debate come to life.

i had the added fun of spending most of the spring on yoyo flights between here and china. other than the weekend climb of the great wall or the afternoon walk through the forbidden city, there were few things i would want to do in beijing again. the fact that the two elements i enjoyed were a 4,000 mi long wall known as "the long fortress", and a city built of a series of walls enclosing ever smaller areas ending in the final space that was to protect one man from those closest to him, should not be overlooked as indicators of my inner self.

after the flights, after the kids, after the crazy push to finish a crazy project, it was time to get away and regroup. this sounded like a good thing and there were enough reasons to make it seem acceptable. but getting away came with another cycle of organizational logistics, location + flights + resort + leave time all come into play. the final location was the second choice of island, in the third choice of country. it was the place that flights were available to, and where a room could be found. the resort selected was done as a whim, almost randomly selected based on a photo and the hope that there would be space to spread out.

the room was exactly what i had hoped it would be, and spreading out is exactly what it allowed. a quiet resort, tucked into a tranquil area with nothing near by and nothing to do but relax. but best of all, a room surrounded by walls that allowed sunlight to bounce off the private pool and stream in the open french doors to the room within. add to this room service, a pile of books and a broken WiFi system and the ability to keep the world at bay for a long-long weekend was nearly complete.

so what i have learned about myself during this time is that although i live in a high tower with low walls all around, although my tower overlooks rolling jungle hills and distant city scape, what i really need are the private walls that surround me and allow me to disconnect from the constant needs of communication and connection. i don't need this everyday, but after the stress of successful projects and parenting, diving into a pool and not worrying about who is watching, who is going to question or comment, who is going to have an uninvited opinion, is very relaxing indeed.

walls are there for privacy, for comfort and for protection. i have built up walls in the past few years, repairing those that i had allowed to fall into disrepair while i was being told they were not needed. but having them again reminds me of why i put them up in the first place. and now that they are back i am much like the campaign slogan from nixon's successful presidential run in 1968:

"the new nixon: tanned, rested and ready"

smooth journey

all relationships have bumps along the way. people have issues over all kinds of things: sex, money, children, religion are the big four. sometimes, it seems relationships are vehicles for issues more than solutions. you end up disagreeing about the most inane points of rhetoric, without really knowing why you would care as much as the conversation makes it seem. but, what if none of the items above are an issue? what can you find to disagree about if there is nothing else?

i was driving home from work recently and watched the high-end luxury sedan in front me do what i saw as a very strange thing. as we approached a speed bump, it slowed to a crawl and turned it’s wheels to traverse the bump on an angle. the road up the hill is two lanes, and to an american in a rush to attend a conference call, the maneuver appeared to be nothing more than attempting the block the road so as not to be passed. i barely notice this bump as i pass it every day, it is just not enough to slow me down.

i have seen other malaysian drivers do this slow diagonal approach to speed bumps, and made a note to ask someone about it when i got a chance. as the other car moved to the left and i cleared the very small obstruction, i moved right and accelerated. i bumped over the next two speed bumps and pulled into my complex without another thought. leaving cautiously crawling vehicles in my wake a normal event.

a week or so later i was driving with someone. the mood in the car was strained for no good reason, and i was attempting to navigate the emotional obstacles while allowing the navigational obstacles to pass quickly beneath the car. in the uncomfortable silence i noticed the car ahead approach another speed bump in the slow diagonal move. i decided to ask the forgotten question about this; and found that bumps can be constructed out of almost nothing.

my companion told me that the maneuver was taught as a way to protect the vehicle from damage. i understood that large speed bumps can do damage if taken to aggresively, but decided to use the discussion as a metaphor for social differences. my basic premise was that americans are taught to access the danger of obstacles and surmount them as quickly and directly as possible. i provocatively questioned if asians were conditioned to see all obstacles as requiring a slow and indirect approach.

as the conversation unfolded, i again used a passing acceleration to leave the car in front of me far behind. new bumps approached and were taken quickly and directly, a not to subtle reinforcement of my point. we quickly climbed over jalan bukit pantai, the decent faster than the initial climb. as the car bumped over the next yellow striped lump my answer to the social differences came with a simple answer, “we are more interested in a smooth journey”.

the generically western, or is it my personal, focus of ignoring the latent danger of others need for a smooth journey was brought into immediate focus. the benefit of approaching obstacles with caution, and being willing to take them less than straight on was ringing in my ears as we raced forward. i appreciated the dual meaning of the answer, impressed with the use of metaphor.

i probably should have taken the warning and slowed the car. i could have admitted that a smooth journey had merit. i could have tried a new approach to see if it would bring less damage. instead i watched the next bump coming, i said, “sometimes getting to your destination quickly is more important”.

the car hasn’t stopped working, but do you hear that rattle? those bumps might have shaken something lose.

less noise

i have noticed something unexpected in the past few days. the world without wheat is a quiet place. i am beginning to wonder if this is what most people experience world as, a clear and quiet space that flows along a smooth flat path. this has been a holiday week, and work and life have both been unnaturally calm, but this is more than that. each day has shown that life does have the ability to move without the thrill of a bungee jump.

the last time i was decarbonated i was trying to vainly plug the hole of a dam that was set to burst. the process of holding back the oncoming wave, and asking how things had degenerated into a leaky mess springing holes faster than they could be patched, was enough to eliminate all hope of quiet time. whether i was driving, riding or sitting still, my mind was moving at full pace in directions of it's own. carbonation levels be damned, other things created their own noise.

this time is different, i have been waking up early and listening to the quietness inside and out. my near constant multi-tasking has dropped away at the same time that the light levels have come up. the room is bright and shiny, with the noisy neighbors apparently away on holidays. there is no distraction, and no urgency to begin moving. rather, there is the ability to sit on the couch and read the paper, or in a cafe write, without the normal extras.

what is missing is the chatter of the day that i am used to, the dialogue of debate that i have come to enjoy. i feel like a new yorker who has been dropped into the middle of the beautiful field with wildflowers and tall grass. i am sitting under a shade tree and watching the clouds drift by. the quietness is welcome. after the noise of the city, it is good to be out in the countryside with time to relax. but the lack of noise reminds me that i am truly a city kid.

choosing to live in the city is about being close to the action, to have a cafe on every corner, book stores on every block and a restaurant scene that you need to work to keep up with. it's about having amusement parks that allow you to ride a roller coaster when you feel the need. with these distractions come the noise, pollution and other distractions that staying in the country help you avoid. country living is about comfort not thrills, but the thrills can be missed.

stepping off the curb in decarbonated country does not come with the tension of dodging on-rushing taxis. this sounds like a good thing, until you find yourself wondering what will replace that tension. the flat, quiet country road is nice; easy to slowly glide down. but, the pace of city streets, even with congestion, horns and danger, is what is missed by a city kid as they travel that slow country road.

sometimes, noisy neighbors are good to have around. how long can a city kid watch puffy white clouds silently drift by?

comfortably boring

what is it about me that makes people think i spend my nights in clubs or on dates?  even the people close to me seem shocked when they ask what i did last weekend and i say, "same as normal, i worked, wrote, read and stayed home".  it's as though they expect me to have done something different this week.  is it that i am a single expat with no issues talking to people? 

last night i was home watching a movie about the triangle relationship of man, woman and mutt.  i have an email this morning from a close friend sure i was out gallivanting because i didn't reply when pinged.  the assumption that i would be home and was just not thinking about communicating with the outside world apparently wasn't considered.  this is someone who knows me and should know better.

i have a small collection of hangouts where i am a regular.  when i walk into them the staff knows where i am going to sit, what i am going to order and what i will be doing while i am there.  the latter is the easiest of the three to project; there is 80% chance i will be doing email, 15% that i will be writing and 5% that i will sit and read.  i am a creature of habit, but these parts of my life are obsessively repetitive.  

i came to a cafe this morning for a quick breakfast, i am still here hours after i planned to leave.  this is day four of sitting in cafes for long stretches of time, day two of doing little more than core dumping random thoughts to the web.

there is no email going on, it is a holiday, my out-of-office auto-reply is turned on and i am carrying my mini-laptop.  the one that does not have work email access on it.  there is always web-based work mail, but i am simply refusing to open that in a browser.  tomorrow is also a holiday, but i plan to crack and work on that day.  i think this is more balanced than working straight through holidays.  it is an attempt to be a bit less boring. 

 

but boring is what i accept i am.  i have repetition built in, and i crave comfortable routines.  i was talking to my daughter yesterday and we discussed a movie that we can each quote long segments of.  we can do this because we have watched it over and over again.  i woke up this morning thinking about the conversation and realizing that i wanted to watch it again tonight.  actually, tonight will most likely be a long night of re-watching movies i have watched over and over.  comfort movies, with dialogue that i will be able to hear the kids quoting as i watch them. 

when i am not working, being repetitive with movies and cafes or writing random thoughts, i tend to spend my time reading odd books.  as i type this there are two books in front of me.  the first is "mutants: on the form varieties and errors of the human body"; winner of the guardian first book award in 2004.  it is a great book, and is only second best to "good germs, bad germs: health and survival in the bacterial world" which i finished earlier this month.  the second book is, "flirting with disaster: why accidents are rarely accidental", a book that talks about the organizational and psychological impediments to avoiding disaster.

"flirting with disaster" reminds me of "engineering is human", a book i read years ago which focused on how technical issues were allowed to creep into designs. issues which later caused the design to fail.  this newer book discusses how and why organizations fail to accept and correct issues which are causing them not to succeed.  given the project i was assigned last week, to make suggestions to correct the issues effecting our organization, and the press announcement this week that our organization did experience a public failure, it is no surprise that this title caught my eye while i strolled the shelves of a massive bookstore last weekend.

i need to finish these thoughts.  i am going to go home and curl up on the couch with my DVDs, i have take-out that i bought over the weekend.  i knew my favorite restaurants would be closed for CNY and i was having preemptive cravings for the comfort food they provide.  i stocked the fridge with tau pow nachos, corn bread, butter chicken, garlic batura and chocolate cake.  i will be able to relax and enjoy the foods i love, as i watch movies and read books i love.

this does sound boring, it probably is boring... but its also exactly what i feel like doing.  just a simple and easy night with no pressures.  this sounds so much better to me than being out and yelling over the sound of amplified music, coughing through smoke clouds and chatting with people who put more emphasis on building their wardrobe than their book collection.

so i am still not sure; what is it about me that makes you think i am anything but comfortably boring?

craving comfort

five or six years ago, i started every morning with a double hit of a steroid inhaler. this was a prescriptive act resulting from constant bouts of inflamed lung tissue and periods of unexplained illness. it was part of managing a condition i didn’t really understand, but one clue led to the next until i realized the things that i craved the most were the ones that were making me sick.

i have strange allergies, strange in the sense that the more i want something the more it makes me sick. being an irish catholic kid who loves asian/indian food and microbrew beer, or who started his day with a vente latte, made it all that much harder when i realized potatoes, rice, yeast and milk made me sick. i went to the people i loved and told them what i thought this was the cause, they thought i was nuts, but i removed the items from my plate anyway.

when you do something like this, you are not sure how you can live without the things you love. they are part of you, part of your day, they make you happy. irish catholics use food and beverage to celebrate events, and to assist in mourning. you ask yourself, how can you cut the comfort from your life? where would you find the strength?

day one is just strange; day two is worse; day three the cravings begin. people around you are helping but it doesn’t make it any easier that you are living in an uncomfortable place of self-denial. how can you deal with the feelings of need? on day seven, you wake up and you realize you slept through the night and feel rested. you also realize you can breathe, for the first time in over a year, you can get a full breath of air when you wake up. you pick up your inhaler but put it back down; it’s the last time in years you need to start your day with a pipe full of medication.

fast forward a few years, you are in a new place in life. you don’t have the foods you have come to rely on, you have all new things to pick from which at first is great, but you realize these come with a cost. they are causing the same reactions you suffered from in the past. so you look for things that are more like home. you can’t find a perfect match, but you find items that give you a warm feeling of comfort. the downside is they also cause issues and the ones you really enjoy are more expensive and harder to find. cravings are there, and you question if these things are good for you or not. is health or comfort what you really want?

how is it that even when we know better, the things that we desire are the things that make us sick. they make it so we can’t breathe; they take our sleep away, leave us feeling itchy and scratchy. but we still want them. is the immune response a result of prior overindulgence, or is it protection against future potential damage?

does our body know things we have not yet realized? or are we just a set of systems that we need to work harder understand? life and diet would be so much easier if your head made the immediate connection; i ate that, i got sick, maybe i should stop eating it.

but have you tried the aloo tikki at saffron? it’s a mix of crispy crunch and starchy pleasure that could be denied by itself, but when you add butter chicken, garlic batura and mango lasse… there is no chance to walk away.

i am craving comfort, i want to taste the things i love. bring on the benedryl.

loving life

i woke up with a question. what do you think about life?

the short answer is i love life. you only have one, and if you f-it-up somehow what the hell do you have left.

i have been told this week that i am depressed, that i look upset and that i am distant. the reality is that i am tired. i have been travelling so much that i feel like i am falling behind; not only in work but in life itself. that doesn’t mean i am upset, just that i want to take the time to catch up inside myself.

i found myself watching a youtube lesson on playing blues guitar. these were the classes i was taking last spring before i jumped with both feet into the crazy behavior i have been allowing this year. on the drive home i started to think about the box of books on learning mandarin that i lent to “wo loa shr” in hopes she could customize my learning of chinese. that stalled out too, and i have been feeling the tug of desire to get it back on track and get those skills. the fact that i was forced into using my spanish in LA, and found it hard until i met esteban my two-year old business lounge friend who i gave the crayons i was carrying around in my bag. estaban showed me that if i tried, i could dust off my spanish and get it functional again.

i have 62 gig worth of video that i downloaded after the conference which i largely missed. work came before learning, even when i scheduled the week with no distractions and in a time zone to make it easy to avoid getting sucked in. clearly saying yes to an opportunity came before the planned ability to learn things i had been interested in for months.

overall life is good; no life is clearly great. i have opportunities that people only fantasize about. i have people who love me sprinkled around the world. i know that if i knock on certain doors they will be opened and i will be welcomed in. i am physically far away from my family, and in many ways i am closer than i was when i was in the same house. i am sure there are people who know and accept me; that is a very good thing to have in your life.

people misunderstand my need for distance. i simply like to be alone. i like to do my own thing and go at my own pace. i have been sitting in a café, writing, thinking and generally doing nothing productive, nothing that anyone else would find interesting, for many hours now. it feels good to be alone and to do the things i want to do. i get like this when i need to recharge myself, when i feel drained and in need of filling myself back up.

life is good because i have this opportunity. the idea of being in a situation where i was not able to take this kind of room is like considering living on the top of a mountain for me. the view might be beautiful, the company might be stunning and full of energy, but i have been in the mountains before and i was unable to breathe.

i was built for the ocean; wide open spaces where you can sail in any direction. people are scared of the ocean for its size and strength, i love it because i have a strong compass and can navigate. i also don't fear the strength. i crave it. i love the challenge and the ability to ride the wind and waves. i need the ability to see a storm on the horizon and turn away from the strongest winds; even if i have to swim for shore now and again. that seems much saner than living perched in a fixed place you cannot catch a breath and where you cannot to get out of the way of a storm.

people who don’t love life seem to allow themselves to get into situations where their freedom to choose, the ability to steer their own direction, is taken away. some people appear to crave someone else to construct rules and tell them the truth about all things. but the type-As of us want exactly the opposite. we need to be in control of everything; our thoughts, our actions and the simple direction of our days.

add a strong libertarian spirit, and the inability to control a few core aspects of life and you find we tend to create distance to regain control. this does not mean we don’t love life, exactly the opposite; we love it so much that we want to experience it fully. we want to simplify it to the extreme; ensuring there is no need to explain, negotiate or compromise.

life if good, if you allow it to be.

packing system

i have a thing for bags. it has been called a fetish, it has been a point of contention, but deep down inside my love of bags is something that i really enjoy. i find and buy bags all over the world; they are all shapes and all sizes. every bag has a unique personality and purpose. being able to reach into my bag and have the thing i need come out of it is comforting to me. when stressed, i find myself reaching down and touching my bag, knowing its there so i can get through the day provides a physical relaxation. but bags come with challenges, and having multiple bags creates problems.

a few months ago i was travelling in europe. it was late at night and i was walking along with two guys who are friends. one of them is a guys-guy, when about the most important bag of his life he discusses a sack he lugged through jungles, carrying food he was not allowed to eat. the other guy may never have had a bag he truly loves, but he just smiled when i stopped and stared at a set of soft luggage that i said i would be mine. i "needed" a bag that was different from all the rest, something to be with me when i travel, one that is flexible and easy to spot in a crowd.

i was just in LA on a trip. i had my favorite bag with me, but it was just too big. the effort to carry it around with me was too much, i needed something lighter and easier to swing into a cab. the common feeling of needing to search began to bubble. the next day i found a shop and walked out with my newest bag; just the right size, just the right shape. the favorite bag is there and not forgotten, no less loved, but the new bag now takes over and in fact is sitting next to me now.

so what do i need these bags for? the following is what i carry with me day to day:

• books on whatever area of software i plan to play with next (webparts and ajax, linq and silverlight)
• books on random subjects that bore most people, but that i love (the canon, a whirligig tour of the beautiful basics of science and aspirin, the remarkable story of a wonder drug)
• my notebook for random thoughts
• a chess board
• a power adapter, that supports all plugs worldwide
• a full-sized power strip (surge protector)
• external hard-drive(s) for backups, actually today i have 4 with me
• an arm strap for “tennis-elbow”
• an inhaler for allergy induced asthma
• a big bottle of pepcid ac
• a power adapter for my laptop
• power adapters for two phones
• a small digital camera
• a small digital camera tripod
• a fold-up umbrella
• a split-cable for sharing my ipod
• two sets of head phones for my ipods
• sync cables for ipod, phone, and external harddrives
• pens and highlighters
• a flash light
• a leatherman
• a blue tooth hands free for my phone(s)
• extra batteries for 3 hand phones
• a box of safety
  (3, not 20... i brought them to the sales conference in india... but i spent the night with sprinklers hung over the dance floor and an open bar, alone in my room talking to us based hr people working out a compensation leveling process for my whole center... a conversation which provided much more safety than anything in the box would have)
• a toothbrush and floss
• a dew rag; to keep my head warm under aircon.
• a first-aid kit (you never know when the next boo-boo will happen)
• a toiletry kit (you never know when you need to sleep in the office)

that seems like almost enough to carry on a regular basis. other things are thrown in and taken out over time, but this is the basic packing set. if i am carrying my passport (in a small bag of its own of course), i can get on a plane and go for a week and only need to buy clothes to survive. (i have another bag at home that is packed and ready to go in about 5 minutes for a 3 day trip).

so here is the issue. no bag is perfect for all occasions. my standard bag does get to be crowded, heavy and difficult to maneuver. my other bags are easier, but they are missing the substance and the supporting comfort. what i have found i need is a way to organize and change without losing the essentials. i realize i need a packing system, i need someone who has OCD to step in and help me organize things to make my ADD life simple and easy.

no matter what anyone tells you, bags matter, they help you get through the day. they allow you to pick up and go quickly. they stop you from forgetting the cable you need to recharge your ipod when you are confronted with a long flight and a nearly empty battery.

one size fits all is a fallacy unless you are willing to compromise. when you try to live that way you will find yourself living with the least common denominator, that only works if you can invest the time and effort to simplify your complex fractions.

but, if you are capable of living with some complexity, building a system to make the complex appear simple and to invest the effort to carry the extra items, life in a bag can be simple and enjoyable.

comfortable storm

for first time since coming here i realized i fell asleep to the sound of rain and woke up to it. it’s that hard tropical rain. a rain that sounds heavier than western rain. the sound wraps around you and feels like it envelops you from all sides. its rain that you know is warm, but that would soak you to the bone immediately if you were to step outside into it.

i am lying in bed and watching the streaks on the windows. the morning twilight of a rainy dawn struggles to fill the room. the steady beat of the millions of drops falling together just outside my window push me back to sleep, coaxing me back to my dreams, the comfort and warmth of sub conscience. i lay, stretching my body and pulling the blankets closer for warmth while the demands of the day force me to open my eyes and concentrate on reality.

thunder is in the distance. the violence of the storm is away from me. barely heard as an echo, the rumbles getting further apart as i feel the reverberations in my head. the distance is too far to sense the flashes of lightening. they must be there but can not be felt from the comfort of my lonely bed.

it's time to throw the covers off and put my feet down on the icy tile flooring. the sensation of energy draining from my body through my feet, pulling the accumulated warmth of the night out of me is a daily reminder of the harsh transition between worlds.

i need to rush to the shower. if i can get my body under the temporary heat of the spray, feel the deep soothing warmth of the water spread through my skin, i can reclaim the energy sapped by the cold floor and start my day recharged, ready to take on the storm raging outside my window. ready to walk though the rain, feeling the drops beat their random symphony of white noise on the world around me. feeling the smallest percentage of drops touch my skin, while others come close but fall just short.

the shower water will be dried off, but the drops of rain will merge together, left to pool on the skin, tropical rain drops leaving streaks on my skin like the ones on the window. both barriers meant to protect the warm and dry insides from the wetness from outside. leaving trails of their passing, but not penetrating beyond the barrier.

it's time to get up.