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.

indonesian scrooge

what do you do when you realize for the second time in 4 months you need to break with convention and escape your responsibilities? the past few months have been difficult. i have been hanging in more or less one week at at time. but weeks ago i knew i needed to escape. i looked at flights to asia/oceania locations with the hope of mexican food and good beer. it took me three days to decide on my second choice, a process of whittling hope and fear down to action.

as an american in asia, i am constantly asked if i am going home for christmas. it's a strange question because i am not really sure where home is anymore. if home is where the heart is, my heart is spread over the world. i do not have a singular location to go where all the people i love will be sitting together as a unit of holiday joy. there are my american and european families, both of which i feel joining would be intrusion.

i have two groups who i love in KL. one is a mixed bag of non-christmas people; atheists, communists, muslims, sort-of-muslims, hindus and buddhists. there are a few christians mixed into this group, but walls limit the sharing of holidays. there is also a fully formed family group who will be celebrating praise and worship without me. this is an interesting ensemble that i enjoy being a member of; but i did what i have always done during holidays, pushed myself away from the table.

my parents allowed this to become a tradition of mine. i am not really sure why i am this way, but i am. when the holidays loom, i feel the need to back away. i love the christmas spirit, the trappings of the holiday, the food and buying presents for kids, but i feel very uncomfortable in the family setting. thinking about it, it's not being together that bothers me but the thought that i might not get to be with the family at the next holiday. echoes of divorce bounce in my head as i am visited by the ghost of holidays past. i love the memories, i cherish them, but i will never be invited to join in again.

if the ghosts of christmas past are haunting me, the ghost of christmas present has been a warm and loving soul. she and i discussed my separation, and agreed that i needed to get away. there is mass missed, dinner and singing to follow. there will be no tree to wake up to, there will be no stockings to stuff. my ghost of christmas present is allowing me to get away, to sit in a cafe serving bad coffee and pseudo-parisian pastries, to listen to spa-christmas fusion muzak and to write alone. having gained enlightenment about being holiday-solo, i am not upset by christmas present. but then ebenezer wasn't either until he realized family missed him; or was it their pity.

this leaves me with the ghost of christmas future. with birth parents gone, siblings 25 years separated and acquired family lost in agreement, i can not honestly imagine a future christmas like any of the past. i can imagine a time-share christmas, the exact thing that i have been avoiding for 4 years. having a tiny tree at home sounds good, but being away on the beach has become a bit of a tradition now also.

i realize that i am dangerously close to bringing my ghosts with me on my impaired holiday. in some ways, this year is a dry run, a phased approach of escape followed by reconnection. i honestly wish i were able to enjoy the holidays without the angst, but as i said i know this is who i am, and i appreciate that my parents, living and dead, my ghosts and my children understand that being here is not a way to say that i don't want to be there. i want to be there more than anything in the world.

the scared kid who cried the christmas eve he found out santa was a evil hoax, the young man who closed the door thinking of a camera, the husband horribly allergic to christmas cheer and the sun burned pirate are all looking forward to many happy holidays to come.

haunted duck will be served, god bless us all, every one.

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.

avoiding balik

it is hari raya weekend. this is time is equivalent to the thanksgiving of the malaysian community. a time when seemingly everyone exits the city and goes home to kampong. it is time to celebrate the end of fasting and beginning of the month of feast. years ago, my first raya was an experience of KL emptiness, as though a dystopian event had descended and driven the population into the hillside. it was actually the cultural bias to return and spend time with the family who had not transitioned into the emerging-modern world of KL. so why is it different this time, the city is full, the cafe is loud. where is the desire to go home?

the downside to having the city full the coming week is not severe; it's just not what was hoped for. KL is a place that ebbs and flows with the holiday calendar. this weekend is the combined holidays of medeka and hari raya. merdeka is a semi-secular holiday of independence from british colonial rule. hari raya is the two day festival that marks the end of the fasting month of ramadan. they are overlapping this year, making for a holiday week, because of the islamic lunar calendar which moves ramadan forward a month each year. given the length and importance of the break, it has been expected to provide space for those of us who are without kampong.

in prior years, balik kampong would empty the city. the streets would be clear, the restaurants would be empty. i should have seen the signs of this not happening this year, over the past few weeks i have asked if places would be closed, and each said they would be open. the person saying they would be open normally said it with a tone of disapproval. they appeared to want to be closed, but some owner was forcing them to be open. they are not yet comfortable to openly condem the decision, this stage of maturity only gives them the teenager angst and glare.

these were fully expat locations, coffee shops owned by kiwis and weak-copies of US hamburger or pizza places. the latter owned by mysterious malays who happily sell beer while restricting pork, but who also recognize that the economic opportunity of selling pizza to a chinese family out weighs the need of their staff to go home to mom's house and enjoy the feast of thanksgiving. actually as i think of this, this does seen like progress. economy over imaginary friends and time with mom.

on the demand side of this, there are more people who appear to have nowhere to balik. i have overheard conversations about this by locals, those who never returned on these breaks have been wondering why so many people are making the choice not to go. the common thread seems to be that family back in the hills have either died off, or have moved to KL to be cared for by the younger generations. there is no reason to go back if mom is already here.

maybe this is the right time to stipulate a few points. i have not been home is almost a year. the two homes i have in the US are both sitting unvisited, long flights away. emotionally i do not feel the need to go home for this holiday, i probably would not have gone to my isolated island family this weekend if i were there. there was a drop-off that needed to be done in the mountains, driving hours through a depressively overrated tropical storm. but i just spent the summer with 2/3 of the people i needed to celebrate, and the flights are literally a pain in my ass.

as i sit with my espresso roma, i am thinking of jodie foster's movie "home for the holidays". it is a celebration towards the sadly-average american family. through the haze of turkey, you feel the dysfunctional loving embrace of people who drive each other completely crazy, and from whom they cannot escape. in this clip you will see a strong resemblance of my father saying a thanksgiving blessing. for a more painful image, watch the infamous turkey scene; carving much to close to the bone. there are painful images, but they represent the peril of spending time with people who know the complete truth, even as the truth comes out; or returns from days long past.

this is what spending time with close family is all about. being able to remember the good old days, embracing your childhood, and dropping the pretension of adulthood. but it can come with a painfulness that you hoped you left behind. the awkwardness of youth can creep back to the surface and if you are not careful you might get hosed down on the front lawn. i don't see the local family being as honest, or is it brutal, with themselves as is jodie's purely american story.

KL is normally a crowded, but empty, city. this week we hoped for a simply empty city, but it's not happening. the crowds remain, which could be indicative of the weight that the city continues to gain on the population. if there is no other place to go, it could be that the villages are no longer holding a rural attraction, or it could be that people just want to stay home and be out of the rush. either way its another sign of change here. the people of KL are less kampong-centric, the emptiness is not what it used to be.

i need to watch for the next ebb, and may need to balik with the flow.

meeting people

i have been thinking about what travel is for me. i am in a place that i really like, and have come to multiple times over the past few years. there is a certain comfort to the place and the pace of life here. there is both a history and a future that is clearly visible on the streets. i am here to relax, eat, drink and sleep. travel is about meeting people, places are more about the people you interact with than the locations themselves.

sunday afternoon i walked into a tailor shop hoping to get a new jacket. i had been to this shop a few years ago, recommended by the hotel i was staying in i had gone in for a suit; and came out 4 days later with 3. those earlier suits are wonderful, they are not only high quality at a great price, but they remind me of the fittings. i remember complete conversations, with a tailor who speaks little or no english. i made a friend that week, the experience made the trip and it was one of the reasons i am back now.

a few months ago i needed a jacket for a business trip. i started hunting in KL for a sports jacket. in contrast to buying suits here, doing almost anything in KL is an experience in frustration, inter-mixed with delay and miscommunication and ending in either expensive disappointment or complete failure. i have lived in KL for almost 5 years, i have no tailors who are friends and find it cheaper, easier and much more fun to fly to communist country to buy clothes. so many things are just harder than they need to be in my new home, and that frustration builds up.

i do have a favorite cafe in KL, i go there and the staff call me abang. i feel welcome and they know what i want. they took the time to figure out what i like and to smile and talk to me. but this is far from the norm in KL. the malaysian mindset is one of transactional encounters, with scant interest in building friendships over the longer term. this might be centered in retail space where staff are not owners and are not planning to be there for very long; but i think it goes deeper than that.

early monday morning the train to the mountains pulled into its final stop and we disembarked into the darkness. there was confusion with the pickup which taught that viet-english of "one minute" in no way means 60 seconds, or anything even close. the eventual pickup was followed by a slow climb up the valley, 30 km of switch back curves with piles of rock and heaps of sand blocking lanes of travel. if the roads where not scary enough, the mute driver was yawning and shaking his head to stay awake. i really wanted to know the viet-english for slow down and stop passing on curves.

checking into the hotel was made very easy with a helpful receptionist who spoke good english. she was dressed in a local costume with a red turbin and drop earrings with pearls hanging. she was pretty and punctuated sentences with a large smile, but there was something familiar about her. i noticed how closely she would watch the people she spoke to, gauging their reactions and adjusting her approach. i recognized i was watching a lionese, stalking along the edge of a waterhole, looking for signs of weakness to be exploited.

the next day i was leaving the hotel to walk to the village a few km away. the promise was that the level of aggressive selling experienced in town would be lower in the village. the suggestion came after i had complained about being unable to walk the streets without being followed by calls of "buy from me, buy from me". i was told that i had to expect this, i was white, i clearly had money and too nice.

i had a laptop in my bag and asked to leave it in the lobby safe. the same receptionist asked, "is this for me?". i replied, "do you want it?". she said, "no, i want you" with the same cool smile. the words were said in barely hushed tones, and again i sensed the prowling lioness. i felt like the aging water buffalo, momentarily separated from the herd. i retreated to safety and went hiking down remote mountainous trails towards a raging waterfall at the bottom of the valley. somehow walking into the wilderness added to the comfort.

when i was checking out of the hotel the receptionist again brought up the aggressive selling in town and again explained that i needed to understand the people here had grown up poor and were just trying to make a better life for themselves. i said i understood, i had also grown up poor and knew the desire to push for a better life. this is when she told me that if she told me of your childhood i would cry with her, and preceded to paint the picture of the 5 person family living in a small house, roof open to the elements, one bed, one blanket that was too small to cover them all from the winter cold. i paid my bill and moved away. i felt sympathy, but not for the story, for the need that drives the predator.

as i travel and meet people, i have noticed there are three basic groups. survivors, victims and predators. survivors and victims are common people who are living their lives, and i believe some move between these groups over time. predators are the outliers, they are the ones we need to watch for as we move towards the water hole. they hide themselves behind a smile with no real warmth, or the practiced tales of their victim or survivor personal history. i have met this same person a few times over the years, and did not recognize what i was seeing at first. it takes me a few data points to identify a trend, but once i see the curve i am good at projecting the next event.

beautiful women who show quick interest, who have an aggressive approach and stories to explain why the aggression should be understood are now one of those curves. i got in the overly expensive private bus, driven by the same mute driver, down the same winding curves with rubble on the road. this time, the mountain roads were covered with thick clouds and 3 foot visibility. the same behavior of passing other vehicles on curves was now a few orders of magnitude more dangerous than the drive up. i was glad to be on my way, i had a fitting with my tailor the next day and i was looking forward to the city.

i had gone to the tailor this time to get another sports coat. i will be leaving with two new suits, two sports coats and two shirts. buying in pairs is a thing for me, but it is not an indulgence, all of this is only slightly more than the price i paid for the single sports coat i bought a few months ago in KL (or less than the price of one suit off the rack in the US). the tailor does great work, and better than that when she walked into the shop as i was picking materials she smiled and laughed. she remembered me from two years ago, she came over and gave me a hug. it was the hug of a friend, i knew i was not at risk.

meeting people is good, the more you meet the better at it you can become. safety comes from awareness and if you are aware you can make good choices. a few years ago i made a choice to buy a new suit, that choice came with a friendship of sorts. travel for me is meeting people, and staying safe. maybe i am getting older, or that i am just craving the quietness that safety brings me. but for me, as i meet people i keep thinking:

safety first.

relaxing travels

i started saturday morning at 3 AM, forced awake by an alarm set to stun me out of well earned sleep. i stumbled around in the dark, afraid of the blaring lights that would replace the night with the flip of the switch. i had started another holiday, time away from work and the standard pace of life that i bury myself within. what sounded like a great idea when originally planned, was forcing me up, when i would much rather snuggle into bed and let the weekend slowly creep past. i laced my boots, shouldered my backpack and headed for the door. pushing the grumpiness away, i tried to relax and draw in the comfort of a promised relaxing vacation.

driving to the airport i called my son in the US and found him preparing for a 10-boy sleep over. how he ever convinced his mother that having 10 boys over for a lack-of-sleep over is beyond me. allowing a small horde of laughing tweens to commandeer your home is right up there with running away and joining the circus. it sounds like fun and adventure, but when you get right down to it living with monkey poop all around you has its limits of enjoyment. then again, there i was hours before sun-up being slowly driven to a discount airport so i could fly to a communist country, board a train and go into the mountains. who was i to judge?

i need this holiday. the timing was set months ago to allow me to juggle three projects. the planning has appeared to work out, the first seems fully stabilized, another that is in test but is coasting down its planned slope, and the last is running ahead of the curve a bit like a runaway train. the past few months have been a roller-coaster ride; and it is clear i need to get off and take a break from the "fun".

a roller-coaster is probably the wrong metaphor here, it has been more like bungie jumping must have been before the sport had a name. in a moment of boredom someone started a sentence with "what if we..." and for some reason thought it would be fun to actually to try it. we then cobbled our gear together and found a high ledge and at the last moment called home to warn the parents what we had decided to try. there was tension and some coercion to force us to let go before we were completely ready, but we survived the first thrilling fall before hearing the onlookers say, "dude, that was awesome, do it again".

this is what i needed to get away from, the desire to sieze the day with white knuckles from fear of death secondary to unrestrained free-fall. it does feel amazing when the stress is replaced by the reality that you did let go, you accelerated toward a short sharp shock, and then just as you were sure you had overstepped, you where snapped back and the curve reverses itself to one of upwards safety. it clears the mind, but there can be a hangover, and taking a rest from the party is a good cure for that.

so here i am, walking a neighborhood i mapped in my head on previous visits. i know where to go for a morning ca phe sua da with banana pancakes, or to get a very good croissant to eat while strolling along the lake. i am ready to move around the city on foot, cyclo or motorcycle. i am looking forward to sitting on a corner for hours, drinking bai hoi and eating pho ba for less than the price of a single coffee at starbucks. i am also going to eat at my favorite italian restaurant in asia, go to mass in french, and if i am really lucky get my name on a wall of fame for drinking 10 shots of "rocket fuel" the rice wine served straight or with infusions of your choice from lemon to snake. why in god's name would i want to drink rocket fuel, not once but ten times in row? well, it will get me a t-shirt as well as the bragging rights of success. it will also probably give me a serious headache, so this will have to wait until after the train to the mountains.

maybe that is why i needed this vacation. i needed to have a challenge that would not matter if i failed to do it. i mean, who cares if i stop at 9, or push to 10 and then fall off my stool. i really do want to get to ten for the t-shirt, but the shirts are only 5 USD and i could always buy one rather than drinking my way to ownership... but that really isn't the way to get the t-shirt is it?

just like all the other stupid things i do, it's the doing that is most important. owning the shirt means that i also own the experience. i can wear it not because i can afford to buy it, but because i stepped my ass up to the bar and ordered the drinks while someone was keeping count. if no one cared to watch, if it didn't matter to anyone at all, why would the doing matter. i don't want to wear a shirt if i didn't earn the damn thing. and, i don't want to celebrate something that is easy enough for anyone to do it. it might sound stupid, but it's true that there are too few challenges in life, you need to be proud of the ones you have survived.

if you are really lucky you can look around the table after your jump and with a steady voice say:

been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

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"

festivus season

part of living in a foreign country is giving up the cues related to the traditions at home. this might not always be the case, if i were living in europe easter would be a shared tradition with the same springtime cues of softening weather and newly grown flowers. but attempting to get into the christmas spirit by listening to the playfulness of monkeys in the jungle, competing to be heard over the muezzin's melodic adhan (call to prayers), is harder than it sounds.

tropical days, monsoon storms and sweaty nights all hinder the ability for an american to sense the impending return of the giving season. after spending an afternoon of frustration at a local temple of commerce. the strange part of the trip was realizing that other than a few other mat salleh, no one else there was christmas shopping. there were lit trees, fake presents, signs of santa and carols playing over speakers, but most people were there to do back to school shopping.

the trip began and ended in the cork screwed patterns of congestion which derive from asian expectations of difficult lives. the roads, parking garages and escalators which are keys to the malls here all move in patterns of reversed decent. i was reminded of dante's inferno, the decline into the levels of hell with the warning "abandon all hope, ye who enter here" can only be appreciated after a trip to malaysia's malls. liberal arts students in catholic colleges back home should be required to travel here before exams. it is the only way to truly understand the meaning of the divine comedy.

i have pending invitations to holiday parties. one i think i will miss is tonight, it is for the dongzhi (extreme winter) festival. the invitation came from an tamil mom who is making tangyuan for her chinese kids. the whole yin and yang aspect of this holiday has a strong draw, but the need to celebrate the lengthening of the days when the difference between winter and summer is only 20 extra minutes of equally intense sunlight is lost on me. the symbolism of reunion that the sticky balls of rice evoke might be better savored alone.

tomorrow night i am going to a festivus party. a celebration will be hosted by an iranian amercian athiest and will be celebrated with stark lack of decorations, airing of grievances and feats of strength. this is clearly a no miss event that is core to the expat holiday season. the guys back in the US add in street hockey and liberal use of alcohol, this will be replaced by low contact wii sports and culturally sensitive non-haraam beverages. as long as someone raises their voice and possibly throws food, it should provide the feeling of a trip home for the holidays.

this will bring me to the end of week hunt for legal turkey. the normally halal favorite of benjamin franklin has a reputation of improper murder in malaysia. the symbolism of needing to search for dinner with an approved death certificate, on the celebration of a prophet's birth does make me smile. what would a holiday be without a question of the legality of the main dish.

i will end the day listening to the jungle outside, hearing rumblings of distant thunder and thinking about christmas morning in the US. as i watch the sparkles of light through clouds i will think about opening of presents, shoveling of walks, driving to the in-laws to exchange gifts and trade custody of kids. the true nature of christmas is best understood while watching it from half a world away, yet another event that is only truly experienced by watching it from the outside.

winter solstice is the shortest day of the year. it is celebrated across the globe in many different ways. the semi-dry festivus for the rest of us is the one i am looking forward to, for others i should just look away.

planning relaxation

the end of ramadhan is closing in. next weekend is a double-long weekend, and those of us who do not need to "balik kampung" have made our plans to exit the smallest of the asian capitals in search of relaxation. in my case the plans are a trip to asian bohemia. the trip has been suggested, tentative, mostly-committed, replaced, tentative, mostly-cancelled and finally booked. the expected relaxation is based on the prospect of being able to order foods and have them resemble the origin cuisine, as well as sitting in a brew pub and playing checkers. it is sad that i need to fly three hours to a country with a barely working economy to get fresh beer and an acceptable italian dinner.

this morning started with a quick dash to the embassy for a visa. the standard method of doing this is to have a travel agent have a runner pick up and drop off your passport. these professional line-standers, make the process appear simple and efficient. the busy professional focuses on their work and life while someone else negotiates the bureaucratic minutia.

this didn't work for me for two reasons, first is my general horror at the idea of handing my passport over to anyone who leaves eye contact. my passport is my history, and my future, i have no interest in having it lost because i was too lazy or spoiled to stand in a line. i keep my passport in two places, locked in a safe and hung around my neck. the need to hand the passport over to a face behind a glass wall is stressful, but to hand it to a random guy on a motorcycle who i don't know, that one is just too much for me.

the second reason is that my malaysian IC expires this week. i have been approved for my new IC, have the visa in my passport and am now ready for step three in the process. step three is where i need to give my passport and IC back to the government for the second time in the process. this will allow them to swap one piece of plastic with my picture and title for another. i need my passport and IC to keep me legal in malaysia. a secondary, but real, benefit is that as i enter and exit i get to use the "expat" carpeted lane, rather than the "other passports" cattle queue. with the exception of blocked lanes caused by the abu dhabi womens cricket team, having this express lane is major plus.

so the morning was planned for a quick dash. the embassy "officially" opens at 9:00, so i went to have a coffee and do email before that. i had visions of slipping in after the initial rush, paying to expedite the process from the standard 2 day, to the much more convenient "right now visa". the fees are paid in RM, and compared to the simplicity of getting a entry visa in the bali airport, they are expensive. then again, the visa i just got for china was even more expensive, could it be the more communist a country is the higher they have jacked up the fees?

when i pulled up to the embassy at 10 AM, the crowd of visa waiters sweltering in the sun could be seen from two blocks away. they were pressed against the locked gate, and spilling into the street. i avoided the crush and sun, but that put me at the back of the line. by the time i got a deli-counter number i was 30 tickets back in the queue. given the complete lack of respect for the ticketing system, people just forcing their way to the window and conducting business, it was clear that the quick dash was out of the question.

all in all, it's done; step one, that is. the "right now" visa is apparently no longer available. the clerk told me it was never possible. i reminded her that she was the one that helped me with it two years ago. she smiled and said, "it is no longer available, they now must to go back to vietnam for processing". the salary impacts of taking away the chance to process "expedited" visas locally was a source of pain; if the grimace of regret that accompanied the smile was any indication.

i need to return to have a hopefully approved visa added to my passport. that is two days in the future. in the mean time, there is work-work that will more than fill up the week, an IC to have replaced and i noticed a lack of open space in the passport. it looks like i need to go to the american embassy and get the second set of extension of the pages in the past 4 years. visas that take up a full page are a serious waste of space. needing a new set of pages is one more impact of planning a relaxing weekend away.

wednesday morning is then another sweaty wait at the communist embassy with no visible security, and then a trip to the capitalist embassy where service is smooth and easy, but the process to pass though security is a minimum to two scans and the prospect of a cavity search. the communists have a thin wooden door, and the capitalists have ten foot thick walls. i am not really sure which system is better, they both have elements that could help the other.

can someone explain to me why i am not using a line-stander? this really is a lot of process so i can go to a comfortable cafe and have breakfast that includes sausage made from the animal god created for the breakfast plate. relaxation, simplicity, cafes on the lake, brewpubs, pho and music CDs for RM 1 (USD 0.28)....

yup, its worth the process.

KL emptiness

finally, chinese new year is here, it's not a moment too soon.  

the first full-year here, i took a trip to hanoi and halong bay during the lunar new year.  true to form, i traveled to place with limited plans or research completed.  i found that town largely shut down, the fact that vietnam had been run by the chinese for hundreds of years, and their political grip on the country was only eliminated by the colonial investments of the japanese and french were not clear to me until i got there and experienced the country.  later return to hanio was done during hari-raya, and i found the bohemian city fully open and energetic.  

that year i was warned about KL and how it empties out during CNY.  the people of KL, chinese and other, balik kampung during this long holiday break.  most of the mat salleh stay in the city and enjoy the quiet times that an empty city permits.  the chinese owned shops are mostly closed, but the expat hang-outs are open and operating with the non-chinese staff at the ready to serve.  as i type i am looking at jalan talawi tiga midday and with open parking spots.  the pace is slow and comfortable during this holiday.  the noise level is even lower, the larger and more vocally demanding voices have elected to leave the city behind for less demanding of us.

what surprised me this weekend was that there were so many people still here.  this is my third CNY in the city, and i had expected less people.  i asked around yesterday and was told it was the economy that was keeping people in the city.  i laughed and had to point out that only in malaysia would people decide to stay in the most expensive city in the country to save money because of a declining economy; and then spend all weekend shopping in overpriced malls, eating in cafes targeted at those with EUR and USD based incomes and generally continuing the conspicuous consumption lifestyles of normal KL.

one of the changes i have enjoyed this weekend was waking up and listening to the sounds of birds in the jungle bukit outside my window.  normally i do not hear these sounds, they are drowned out by city sounds that encroach into my edge of the city.  with the city in low-gear it is moving slow enough to allow these lessor sounds to come forward.  being alone to just enjoy the sounds of simple life have been one of the easiest enjoyments of this weekend.

the second has been the fact that i have been able to write.  not only do i have the time, but i have the ability to let the words flow from head to fingers to web.  the past few weeks have been focused on things other than sleep and releasing thoughts.  dealing with situations from outside, preparing to execute on choices i had no decision in making and bracing for the new year have been consuming.  the emptiness and quiet of this weekend have allowed me to pour myself into the void this has created.  removing the block has given me the chance to drain off the fluid of the purulent cyst that has been growing un-managed for weeks.

the relief is welcome and comes when most needed.  relief is the first step, recovery is the next.  the risk is of course that things will simply go back to normal.  recurrent relapse could occur as the city and life both return to normal.  but this CNY has shown, even if things are not as empty as we had hoped for, you can make room for recovery and relief.

one step at a time, finding the empty space and moving to it.  that is the plan for the rest of this year.

holiday blues

so, is this what it feels like to really be relaxed.  is it supposed to feel this strange and foreign?  i am in a country where the language is 98.7% compatible with my native dialect.  i can understand everyone as they speak, at most it's no more than two "excuse me"s to come to comprehension; and then accept that our common language has its limits.

i am feeling great, the climate, cuisine and culture are working for me.  my upper back is cramped and a massage, hot tub and breathing exercises are not helping.  i am starting to think that it's the lack of stress has just become too much for me.  i feel like the door on an airplane which developed micro-fractures from the continued take offs and landings of life without proper maintenance.  i can hear a former boss saying, "this is the week you are going to snap"  but, the answer is still the same, "not now, not ever".  i will not explode over the the ocean and allow passengers to be sucked out into free fall.  

explosions happen when you quickly depressurize, i have come in slowly; this week is easing me into focus with my inner bohemian.  today is a rainy-day on a beach vacation; and i am beyond happy with the weather. it allows me sit in cafes all day and feel zero guilt over feeling zero guilt.  i just need a way to sustain the holiday vibe long after pendulum has swung back to the real world point of imperfect-balance.  

i walked into a guitar store this morning.  i have been thinking about the travel guitar i almost bought in AMS.  i knew there was no way i would find an item like this in a place that has no traffic lights, but i went in anyway.  stu, my new scots/aussie musical guru, first suggested a hand-made mandolin as the perfect travel companion.  but i picked up an electric guitar and drunkenly stumbled through a 12-bar blues.

he read where i wanted to go, took the guitar and showed me how to get there.  the lesson had me feeling good about building a skill i failed to acquire 30 years ago. i was locked in when he said, "it comes from inside, don't try to push this in with a book, feel it from inside and you will have it".  i have a new guitar and amp, let the other guests in the hotel beware, the worst blues man on the planet has moved in. true blood disk 4 and my little black electric will be my sober new years celebration.

so here is the way i will keep balanced.  i have come down a long winding road, i have ended up on an empty beach and have realized i could have the blues.  the economist i read on the plane explained "why we love music".  the thesis was that, like language (which it may be related to), it's evolutionary for us to have music.  if darwin and stu are right, the blues are within me, i can simply open up and let them out.  it's funny though; opening up is not always the most natural thing for me to do.

no pressure, this is holiday and letting the blues out is the release i need.

trophy life

i was interviewed for a show on RTM this morning. don't be impressed, the show was on breakfast in KL and i was picked because i am white and round. the woman who was producing the show sat and talked to me afterwards, one of the things we discussed was how people show themselves to the world. this reminded me about asking why malaysians are so focused in brand items. the fascination with watches, bags, cars and sunglasses is something i don't understand. especially, given the fact that all of these items are outrageously overpriced when compared to buying them outside of the land of datuk protectionist taxes.

i sit in cafes and compare the lifestyles i see in front of me with the financial realities. after three years i have a grasp of the fiscal weight most of the people here live under. they are eating out in cafes priced for expats, driving cars which cost three times more here than they do on the world market, and carry designer bags sold at twice the retail price in the US. but they have salaries which do not support this rock and roll lifestyle.

i watched a movie the other night where a central character was in his childhood bedroom with his future fiancee. she finds the trophies of his youth buried in a draw and asks why he does not display them. he shyly rubs MVP on one of them with his thumb; brushing the dust off, before he closes the drawer. this scene is meant to show that he doesn't view the trophy as achievement because they came to him so easily, but it also shows that he is who he is without needing to remind the world.

the items we collect, those we invest time and effort in having and keeping, provide a window into us. when you look at my spaces you see books. i have them at home and in the office, i will point to a book and discuss the theme. in the virtual world, i do this with my photos and writing, these are the things that are me because i created them. i was there, i saw that image, i had that thought. they are the threads that make up part of the my fabric.

but these things aren't the core of that fabric. they are the items of display, much like the overpriced designer bags and gaudy watches that are the rage here. they are not the things that i consider a victory worth being proud of.

i realized this morning that "boxing day" is for choosing which items will stay on display and which you will put into the closet. as the year closes, you have new things to show-off and others to put away so they don't take up space on the shelves. when you look at my shelves in addition to my books you see polytheistic statues from trips around asia and pictures of my family.

central on the shelves, and within me, are the moments captured in the pictures. a few days ago i realized i have not changed the pictures in three years. they are the same images i displayed when i first got here. i have new pictures of "my family", but i have no new "family" pictures. my family are the trophy's of my life. they are the things that give me identity and make me proud of who i am. this is why i give then center stage.

but like the trophy's in the movie they are collecting metaphorical dust. theses pictures are of a past which is slipping away. i travel and capture "the faces of the world". it's a project i love, and work i am happy with.  its also something i never thought i would have the chance to do. i never thought i would make the choices needed, even if i did have the chance.

trophies traditionally represent success, success that brings later opportunity. but, sometimes opportunity also comes from failure. the opportunities i have taken have been to photograph strangers, the opportunity i hope i still have is to take new pictures of my family, and love them as much as i love the ones that they will replace.

these trophies are much more precious than an LV bag; at least to me.

love actually

it's christmas day in cloudy KL, other than the less than congested parking situation this morning, you would never know it was a special day. i received my first verbal merry christmas from a malay waiter, one who has no idea what the holiday means to the west. i considered going to midnight mass last night, but went for roti cania at my local mamak after the julia child era western restraurant i had dinner in simply did not hit any of the spots i was hoping for. the day is moving along smoothly, brunch of chuck's eggs and espresso will be followed by a massage to release the tension burning in my shoulder and then home to call the kids and watch a holiday movie.

the choice i have for a christmas movie is either a dysfunctional NPR family which is answers why the family is "so special" with "we're not, we are just all we have", and a film built from novella's of love stories that intersects at an arrival gate. the choice here is pretty easy, the NPR family was watched 4 times in 3 days last week. it is a movie that brought me to tears on an airplane three years ago, but now helps me with homesickness. the more foreign movie will get nod this afternoon based on my need to see two people who speak different languages have a conversation that makes sense.

the basic premise of this movie is that arrival gates at an airport represent one of the most wonderful places on earth. they are a location of egalitarian equality, where people of all colors, religions, professions and nationalities stand next to each other and wait for their traveler to come down from the sky and reenter thier lives. they are special places; i have seen almost shy hand shakes between people who should have grabbed each other with passion, children scramble up on to a trolley full of luggage to jump into their fathers arms and normally reserved people picked up and swung with joy.

i walk through airports with the stride of someone who has a frequent flier gold card in my pocket. i know the location of business class lounges, transit counters and preferred coffee locations in 9 timezones. but, i have realized why the love actually moment is a central plot point of the movie i will watch on my KL christmas. it is because the moment of being there when someone gets off an airplane is more about giving than receiving, it's about showing the person you are there for them at the very first moment possible. if it weren't for security gates and machine guns you might have met them at the gate, standing among the queue of welcomers is the best you can do.

the sienfeld moment is when someone asks you for a ride from the airport and you need to construct a reason for not being there. the love actually moment is exactly the opposite. it is about being there early, having sent a welcome sms so they know you have not forgotten them, and then smiling and showing them you care when they do come to you safely. these are moments that matter, and they are the christmas spirit that you can show all year long.

i am going to relax and enjoy my KL christmas. it's a comfortable day, there is no stress or pressure. i have come to terms with the lack of turkey because of the 5 day waiting period that is required when ordering holiday dinner here; normally i associate waiting periods like this with purchasing a handgun, but apparently even restuarants connected to expat grocery stores are not able to plan for the busy matsalleh who does not think about stuffing a week before the the meal. it will not matter, i am going home to watch a movie about an aging rocker, a adolecent drummer, a lonely minister, a blocked writer and a guy who was born in the wrong country.

collectively, they do show that love actually is everywhere.


/************************************************
the scenes i enjoy the most are those with two people who triumph because they learn to speak each others language. they prove that more than being there, learning to open up and communicate is what matters. well those and when the girl naturally says "f@#$" in front of the prime minister.

************************************************/

getting started

i am having some serious issues getting started lately. i want to start things, i want to be productive, i wake up thinking about the day and the things i am going to do. i am carrying books around with me, i have software to write, i have shopping to do and all i want to do is sit in a comfortable spot and hide from the world. i have a trip coming up, one that i have a week of downtime and then a week of work. the downtime is edging dangerously close to being a week of sitting in an airport. i haven't booked a hotel at the beach, or a flight that will take me from the airport when i land there early. i just can't seem to get beyond the conceptual stage of planning.

i promised i am going to take this time to burn off some of the crust that has built up over the past few months. my allergic coughing has slipped back to remission, it is now something i can keep at bay by closing windows and monitoring what i put in my mouth. but i feel the pain in my chest and know that one wrong move and it will start over and i will be living with the autoimmune reaction of rejecting the things i crave.

what am i doing? i am sitting, reading, writing and basically hiding. i find it easier to stay with the things i know than venture off into the things i don’t know. thoughts of snow storms, cold drives and plows have been intruding into the warmth of KL. as friends sit in traffic i am walking from one café to the next, looking for a stable internet connection to send an email or post a blog entry.

the year is coming to an end, the holiday break is about to start, vacation plans need to be started, and projects need to be finished. here is the issue, i am not sure if i am at the beginning of something or the end. it would be easier if i had my plans worked out, but what i have is a list of to-dos, no firm deadlines, along with the ability to choose to simply not focus on it now.

how do you get started when you really just want do absolutely nothing? i have been called a procrastinator in the past. i just looked on wikipedia to see what it has to say about the term:

Procrastination is a type of behavior which is characterized by deferment of actions or tasks to a later time. Psychologists often cite procrastination as a mechanism for coping with the anxiety associated with starting or completing any task or decision. Psychology researchers also have three criteria they use to categorize procrastination. They believe that procrastination must be counterproductive, needless, and delaying.

in the very first paragraph i find that this is not an issue. two of the three required criteria take me fully off the hook. doing nothing is exactly what i need right now, it is neither counterproductive nor needless. as i began the day today i realized i need this more than i had understood. i have slept more in the past three days than i have in any single week since i got back to the country. i have been able to focus on nothing at all. i have been able to put plans aside and find a quiet place inside.

i realize rather than not getting started, the past few days have been about being fully engaged in one thing; recovering from the past few months. the year is ending, i am thinking about the storms in the US and being on the beach. next year is going to be different, it will be busy, things will come and go, the lines of communication and directions will change. but that is not something to focus on right now. for now it’s simply time to stop and reflect.

i am happy i have finally found the time to prioritize this lack of obvious direction. but you know what... i better book that flight and hotel, or i will never find nemo.

christmas wishes

it is that time of year. there is no avoiding it, christmas is here. i really have done my best to avoid it. i have one no christmas shopping, not one thing. this is the first time since i was, 12 i guess, that i have not gone out and done christmas shopping. instead, i have run away to a polynesian island full of hindus and muslims, which has horrible internet connection to the outside world, hoping to not be reminded of the holiday. christmas is in two days, and i feel no stress or pressure at all.

i do have some christmas presents i want to give, but since i have done no shopping it will have to be things which i can not purchase. i will not use names, but when i give you your present, sorry i didn’t wrap the gift. [i can wrap now, i had to learn a few years ago, one more skill from growing up and finding independence].

to all my friends at work, i hope you can all make a trip to polynesia soon, if not i hope you find your own way to relax and reflect on the important things in life. work is not life, lets all give ourselves the ability to have balance in the coming year.

i have a friend who is horrible with communication. to this person i would like to give the ability to communicate openly, with themselves and those around them. keeping things hidden, not admitting the reality of the situation and hoping that others don’t find out is not a way to live. it impacts others, hoping that it doesn’t is not enough. to this friend i give the ability to communicate, first of all to them self.

i have a friend who has just made a hard decision, and is not sure if they can go thru with the plan the decision is based on. fear of the future and the regret for the past are the issues blocking you. i give you strength to see the plan thru. if this is what you need than make sure that you get it.

to my friend who is hiding in the hospital and not telling others they are there, first i say congratulations on pulling off a plan that has all the markings of a well run CIA operation. i give health and stability. you deserve both and i hope this year you have it.

to my friend who is always immersed in work, and who is not sure if others can be trusted enough to take the time to give them a chance, i give courage and luck. the courage is to allow you to let someone in, and the luck is to find someone who is worth taking the chance.

to my friend who has been struggling to make a decision, you know what you need to do. i give you the clarity to finally see that you can trust your instincts and move forward. you deserve to be happy; i hope the clarity allows you to see that also.

finally, to my friend who believes they need to stay a course because of how their decisions will be seen by others. i give you the ability to understand that you need to come first, and that others will understand that you need to do things to be happy. if they love you, they will support you, if they don’t support you, well to you i will give a second gift the ability to tell them it’s just too f-ing bad.

to each of my children, i give you the love that fills my heart every single day. you are each perfect in yourself, and i love you all for who you are. you also each light my life. i give you the ability to see how much you mean to me, and feel the warmth of that light from the other side of the planet.

to the rest of my family, i give you all health and happiness. i am sorry i am not there to wish you merry christmas in person. i hope you know i never wanted anytime more than to spend one more christmas with you, always.

merry christmas to all of you, for those of you who do not celebrate christmas, enjoy your presents anyway, they are from the heart.