i enjoy people watching. i am sitting next to the pool, having morning coffee in an effort to jolt myself awake. i could have slept in, but i would rather sit here and take in the people around me. there is a table with an aussie flight crew, two pilots and two cabin crew, there are tables with singaporean chinese and others with chinese from the mainland. there are tables with indians, russians, indonesians and the occasional americans. most of the time its possible to read which group someone falls into at a distance. haircuts, clothes, shoes are all hints that can be used to categorize. if you can hear them talk, you may be able to go deeper, hearing regional-locations and education level. if you have a real discussion, you can read even more.
i enjoy people watching because i like to see how close i can get to the truth. is the woman who just took the table next to me aussie as i thought when i saw her walking across the pool... confirmed when she asks for coffee. why would this matter? i can give examples of when it has come in useful. like when i knew the older aussie couple the other day at starbucks would speak english, and most likely be friendly and open to conversation. but honestly, it's more about the process. the challenge, the fun of the puzzle and the thrill when i find out i am wrong.
human's are natural categorizers. we are programmed to identify in-group and out-group members quickly. a good skill to have on the savannas of africa, when the risk of misreading the membership of the person coming toward you could be fatal. but one that can cause issues when in a cosmopolitan environment with complex social structures. this may be why some people choose to remain deeply ensconced in their tribal group of choice. rather than being asked to choose who is safe, they are given a default zone of safety by staying within "their group".
beyond the opportunity cost this imposes, the most glaring issue with this kind of exclusion is when they find that those inside the group cannot fully be trusted either. once the group becomes suspect, people wonder if anything can be trusted. if the group does not have a strong enough hold, this could drive someone to look for identity outside of the group. it could cause one to learn and accept things that could be a challenge to the wider group gestalt. this is how schisms happen, or how someone commits apostasy.
this risk of losing members is a major reason that group dynamics work to protect the trust that membership brings. why groups have such strong policing mechanisms on member behavior. limiting or stopping actions that risk group cohesion. whether this is living away from the groups warm loving embrace, embracing thoughts (education) that contradict the orthodoxy, or sin of all sins embracing people (dating) outside the group. allowing someone to begin to empathize with foreign groups removes the simplicity of accepting the communal bonds of the original tribe.
i literally lived on an island as a child. i was the fourth generation to be born there. my family was if not well known, then a bit infamous. we were standard irish catholic. it was likely that i would stay on the island, build a life and be happy going to the irish american club on saturday afternoon to have a pint with the boys. but there were issues, my mother was not from the island, she was not catholic, she had come to college in town and met my father. after my parents divorced, 8 years and 4 children too late, i spent time wondering what else is out there? i wanted to know why and how church of england was different than roman catholic. i wanted to know what other family i had off the island. i wanted to take my irish catholic boyhood off, and try on the WASP side of my heritage.
i spent my college years off the island, i began to travel, i studied religion, history, politics and economics in a search for some understanding of the wider world. but one weekend i went back to the island and went out drinking with the boys. my friends, my closest friends in the world, and i tipped back a few glasses and told stories. towards the end of the night, one of my friends came over to me and accused me of having lost my identity. in his view, i was not entitled to drop back into the group like this. he had stayed, i had left -- i should not be coming back now. i had a new life, a new group. in the moment i knew he was drunk, i thought it was less about me and more about his connection to others in the group, i wasn't angry it was more a sense of embarrassment for his display. but that night was the last time i went to the island and saw this group of friends. i have been back, but i never have the time to join this group. i never make the time, because i am no longer a member.
i had always had a sense of distance from this group. to be completely honest, i have always had a sense of distance from almost all of the groups i have been a member of over the years. this may come from the need to be prepared for changes that would change the group dynamic; a compensation technique that a child of divorce could find useful. this could also come from a the early understanding that orthodoxy was at times about stopping someone from asking the questions that come when outside the box.
but i love being outside. i don't trust the easy answer, because they almost never seen right to me. on this trip i am reading about the evolution of god that has been driven by social evolution of humans and why the west rules which argues that the industrial revolution and cultural bias is not enough to explain the history of east v. west. the group i want to be a member of is the one which will appreciate and discuss these theses. both of books challenge orthodoxy, but i enjoy the challenge and care less for the orthodoxy than the wider-view cosmopolitan discussion that they can drive.
i could not have been the guy who never asked questions. i could not have accepted the orthodox through faith, or the simple answer that should not be questioned or challenged. i knew early on that people of the in-group were wrong, dangerous or both. the biggest danger i faced was not being able to search for better answers. it was not being able to see the world, meet new people and share views that would be shut off if we each simply followed the simple path of staying inside our groups and never challenging ourselves and others to think.
i like people watching because i am in situations where there is complexity. if we were all the same, all from a single tribe with shared norms and social expectations, what would be the fun of watching? there would be nothing to parse, it would all be decided for us.
i like people watching, because i like to decide for myself.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
formerly athletic
i am on the beach, have been here for a week, and i have not gone for a swim. today is the day, i am going to go down to the beach and swim out to the far buoy. i can paddle around out there and then come back in. as i come out of the water i will feel clean, and stressed. not stretched to the limit, but warmed up and strong. it will be a half a mile or so in the water, but i will feel better after doing it than i do before. i know this because at one point i was actually athletic.
i still feel athletic. i have a running machine in my office, a semi-stationary bike and an ergometer (rowing machine) at home in a converted bedroom. it takes no more than a quick look to see that it wouldn't hurt if i used them more. but when i do use them i feel good. that athlete inside is happy to get out. he is happy to be used, happy to be free and able to move. he repays me by doping me up with endorphines when i really let him loose. he makes me pay the price when i don't let him free, through creaky ankles and sore shoulders.
nine years ago, my brother had a heart valve replaced. thickening walls of the heart had worn away a valve and a hole formed. my younger brother was now a heart patient. but i was doing triathlon with my teenage son. i had just dropped serious levels of weight and was stronger than i had been since my early 20s. i had not been this fit since before i was a software engineer. becoming a developer, and having starbucks move to boston, were closely timed events marking the beginning of my athletic decline.
when i first got to malaysia i would wake up early every day on weekends. i would strap on water bottles, and put on a hat to shade the early morning sun. i would go for a loop in the expat neighborhood, and feel great as i climbed the hill back to the condo. i needed to push the run, i was racing the heat as the sun climbed higher into the sky. if i took too long, that last climb would literally be a hard steep incline inside a sweltering sauna.
but one saturday i didn't go for a run. i asked myself why i was running. there was no race coming up, and no one would notice if i didn't go. i could snuggle in and go to the bakery later for a croissant. thats what i did that weekend, and the next, and the next. i had started on the downward slope, i let gravity take control and just let myself lean into the decline. the pace picked up here and there, i reacted enough to steady the decline and level it out, but years had passed where stress, travel and dessert had taken their toll.
last week, my sister had a cough and went to see the doctor. she was sent to the hospital, admitted and is now a heart patient. there are follow up appointments planned, but the signals are pretty clear. i need to get my ass out of bed in the morning and go for a run. i need to ride my bike, row my ergo and swim to burn the weight off. i would not call this a race for my life, but the melodrama could be a positive if it added to the commitment.
i knew this was coming, and started moving this last summer. the athlete inside was demanding his time. the little voice got to me before the email from home. but the little voice was not strong enough to keep the trend going when travel and allergies kicked in. now i have something else to use as motivation. with two of the four siblings now heart patients, and stress-induced hypertension looming in the background, i do not want to be the next one to tip over into active cardiac care. there is an element of sick competition in that statement, but it is always competition that drives me.
so maybe my sister at home is willing to race me. her doctor is going to prescribe meds and suggest she get in shape. she was also formerly athletic, not a member of as many sports or as driven maybe, but this is her chance to turn that around. i could use the motivation, i need someone to race. maybe she wants the challenge too. i will let her pick the race, either we focus on the losing side, or we do a race of some sort. i remember her as a sprinter. 400 meter run? i might push for 800 meter. we can go to cardines field and go around the track.
if she doesn't take me up on this, well i am going to need to find another challenge for my inner athlete. maybe the challenge will be to come out and become my outer athlete again. the tides need to turn. maybe i can coax him out and get him to stay around. it's time to feel that hill again. the stress of climbing it, the sweat cooling the body from the heat and carrying the former desserts out of their storage locations.
it is time to get my ass moving again. let the active slacker take note, his days are numbered. the athlete is coming out and he wants to get moving.
i still feel athletic. i have a running machine in my office, a semi-stationary bike and an ergometer (rowing machine) at home in a converted bedroom. it takes no more than a quick look to see that it wouldn't hurt if i used them more. but when i do use them i feel good. that athlete inside is happy to get out. he is happy to be used, happy to be free and able to move. he repays me by doping me up with endorphines when i really let him loose. he makes me pay the price when i don't let him free, through creaky ankles and sore shoulders.
nine years ago, my brother had a heart valve replaced. thickening walls of the heart had worn away a valve and a hole formed. my younger brother was now a heart patient. but i was doing triathlon with my teenage son. i had just dropped serious levels of weight and was stronger than i had been since my early 20s. i had not been this fit since before i was a software engineer. becoming a developer, and having starbucks move to boston, were closely timed events marking the beginning of my athletic decline.
when i first got to malaysia i would wake up early every day on weekends. i would strap on water bottles, and put on a hat to shade the early morning sun. i would go for a loop in the expat neighborhood, and feel great as i climbed the hill back to the condo. i needed to push the run, i was racing the heat as the sun climbed higher into the sky. if i took too long, that last climb would literally be a hard steep incline inside a sweltering sauna.
but one saturday i didn't go for a run. i asked myself why i was running. there was no race coming up, and no one would notice if i didn't go. i could snuggle in and go to the bakery later for a croissant. thats what i did that weekend, and the next, and the next. i had started on the downward slope, i let gravity take control and just let myself lean into the decline. the pace picked up here and there, i reacted enough to steady the decline and level it out, but years had passed where stress, travel and dessert had taken their toll.
last week, my sister had a cough and went to see the doctor. she was sent to the hospital, admitted and is now a heart patient. there are follow up appointments planned, but the signals are pretty clear. i need to get my ass out of bed in the morning and go for a run. i need to ride my bike, row my ergo and swim to burn the weight off. i would not call this a race for my life, but the melodrama could be a positive if it added to the commitment.
i knew this was coming, and started moving this last summer. the athlete inside was demanding his time. the little voice got to me before the email from home. but the little voice was not strong enough to keep the trend going when travel and allergies kicked in. now i have something else to use as motivation. with two of the four siblings now heart patients, and stress-induced hypertension looming in the background, i do not want to be the next one to tip over into active cardiac care. there is an element of sick competition in that statement, but it is always competition that drives me.
so maybe my sister at home is willing to race me. her doctor is going to prescribe meds and suggest she get in shape. she was also formerly athletic, not a member of as many sports or as driven maybe, but this is her chance to turn that around. i could use the motivation, i need someone to race. maybe she wants the challenge too. i will let her pick the race, either we focus on the losing side, or we do a race of some sort. i remember her as a sprinter. 400 meter run? i might push for 800 meter. we can go to cardines field and go around the track.
if she doesn't take me up on this, well i am going to need to find another challenge for my inner athlete. maybe the challenge will be to come out and become my outer athlete again. the tides need to turn. maybe i can coax him out and get him to stay around. it's time to feel that hill again. the stress of climbing it, the sweat cooling the body from the heat and carrying the former desserts out of their storage locations.
it is time to get my ass moving again. let the active slacker take note, his days are numbered. the athlete is coming out and he wants to get moving.
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
object desire
when asked if i like malaysia, i tend to answer with an hedge. there are good and bad elements to it. i discuss them to explain myself. i can tell most people don't really want to hear the answer, they tend to be asking in the way americans ask about the weather or the local baseball team. it's filler conversation, i should just compliment the food/weather/people and stick to the cultural pattern. but, there are things that get deeply under my skin. rather than just accepting them as part of the deal, i work to find ways around them. the most recent irritation is a something i didn't realize i wanted, or thought there would be time for later, but over the past few months has been a constant desire.
let me preface the next part of this conversation by admitting, i know this is a little bit nuts. i can hear a friends saying, "your tendency to for absent-minded multi-tasking, mixed with love of speed and willingness to push limits" make me less than a perfect candidate for this. i realize the above is true, which seems to me to be exactly the point. i am not reckless ... well... what about ... if i am going to concentrate my addictions, in this case my need to push the edge, this appears to be the best of all options.
similar to my coffee addiction, this one comes with some accepted risk. also, i am betting that it will actually help calm the voices. part of my absent minded multi-tasking is that my mind is in overdrive and seeks stimulation, when the environment doesn't provide it -- it finds ways to provide it by itself. with the waning ability to burn for hours through code, other distractions are needed. a few months ago, while reading mens journal, i decided i wanted a motocycle. not the racer in the magazine, but the blacked out v7 classic, i have never been a custom chopper kind of guy, and the superbike strikes me as a penis extension. but when i looked at the classic lines of this bike, it clicked. i want one. what's stopping me ... malaysia.
the issue is not like the christmas presents from amazon or custom bag from timbuk2, like most international sites neither of those companies will ship to malaysia. the reason they give is the amazingly high level of fraud they see coming from my adopted land. apparently, malaysians made a habit of having things shipped, and then they claimed they never got them and refused to pay. i know this doesn't sound like something a malaysian would do... no, never.
i can get a moto guzzi in malaysia, the list price is RM 77,000 or US$ 24,839. it lists in the US for $ 8,990... yeah the same bike is 176% more in malaysia. unbelievable, well for someone who doesn't live here. why is it so high? the most direct answer is that it's malaysia. there are formulas about import duties and approved permits, but that is political cover for the reality that people are getting milked.
earlier this year i decided i wanted to get in shape, and thought the rowing machine i have wanted since college would help. i did my research, and discussed shipping it from the US. shipping was a hassel for family members. because companies refuse to ship direct i needed someone to have a big box delivered to them and then have it shipped to me. the upside of this plan was that exercise equipment is exempt from import. long story short, i bought local for twice the US price. the reason given when i asked about the mark up? import taxes. i mentioned that there were no import taxes, the manager of the store smiled at me and said, "well that is true, but we are the exclusive importer". the twinkle in his eye was ... part of living in malaysia.
there is a process to avoid a bit of the markup on the motorcycle. i can buy in the US, have it shipped here. we are then back to hassel of family members in the US doing the shipping. but first i need to apply for and get an "approved permit" (AP or import licence) in malaysia. then its simply paying 85 - 130% of taxes before it can clear customs. there apparently are "rumors" that each step in this process involves malaysian officials with open palms, which because of my role i am not able to fill for fear of US jail time for "foreign corrupt practices" or lose of my job for playing by local rules. the "rumors" insist not being corrupt would seriously delay, or completely derail the plan.
i know this seems like an intelligence test.
the american viewpoint on this is that i am paying US$ 8,990 for a bike, and US$ 15,849 (RM 49,132) for the ability to ride it inside malaysia. i could pay marginally less if i go through a highly convoluted process and potentially put my career and freedom at risk; neither of which i am willing to do. the other option is to delay the purchase until i leave the country. this would fall into the 6 year delay i have had on using pandora, the two year delay i have had on using hulu (both because access is restricted due to fraud) or the long list of purchases i have not made locally over the years (because of 100% - 300% mark-up with most retail purchases).
when i started this posting i was going to explain why i was going to just suck it up and buy the bike. i really want it. i want to get around KL and slip through the grid lock, rather than sit in the traffic thinking about how much worse it is now than a few years ago.
i would like to have something fun to do, something that would help release the pressure. but as i wrote, the resentment has bubbled back up. that is the point of why i do not love malaysia, bullshit like this happens all the time. i am back to saying, no way i am not going to play this game, i would rather buy three motocycles in the US with the same money.
this is an intelligence test, not for me but for the voters of malaysia. i have the option of getting off this goat rodeo and moving back to sanity without protectionist tariffs and "rumored" corruption. where is the demand for this to change?
enough of me bitching, yeah i love malaysia, the food, the people, the weather are all wonderful. that really is what you wanted to hear right?
you know what would help this mood? if i could go for a ride.
let me preface the next part of this conversation by admitting, i know this is a little bit nuts. i can hear a friends saying, "your tendency to for absent-minded multi-tasking, mixed with love of speed and willingness to push limits" make me less than a perfect candidate for this. i realize the above is true, which seems to me to be exactly the point. i am not reckless ... well... what about ... if i am going to concentrate my addictions, in this case my need to push the edge, this appears to be the best of all options.
similar to my coffee addiction, this one comes with some accepted risk. also, i am betting that it will actually help calm the voices. part of my absent minded multi-tasking is that my mind is in overdrive and seeks stimulation, when the environment doesn't provide it -- it finds ways to provide it by itself. with the waning ability to burn for hours through code, other distractions are needed. a few months ago, while reading mens journal, i decided i wanted a motocycle. not the racer in the magazine, but the blacked out v7 classic, i have never been a custom chopper kind of guy, and the superbike strikes me as a penis extension. but when i looked at the classic lines of this bike, it clicked. i want one. what's stopping me ... malaysia.
the issue is not like the christmas presents from amazon or custom bag from timbuk2, like most international sites neither of those companies will ship to malaysia. the reason they give is the amazingly high level of fraud they see coming from my adopted land. apparently, malaysians made a habit of having things shipped, and then they claimed they never got them and refused to pay. i know this doesn't sound like something a malaysian would do... no, never.
i can get a moto guzzi in malaysia, the list price is RM 77,000 or US$ 24,839. it lists in the US for $ 8,990... yeah the same bike is 176% more in malaysia. unbelievable, well for someone who doesn't live here. why is it so high? the most direct answer is that it's malaysia. there are formulas about import duties and approved permits, but that is political cover for the reality that people are getting milked.
earlier this year i decided i wanted to get in shape, and thought the rowing machine i have wanted since college would help. i did my research, and discussed shipping it from the US. shipping was a hassel for family members. because companies refuse to ship direct i needed someone to have a big box delivered to them and then have it shipped to me. the upside of this plan was that exercise equipment is exempt from import. long story short, i bought local for twice the US price. the reason given when i asked about the mark up? import taxes. i mentioned that there were no import taxes, the manager of the store smiled at me and said, "well that is true, but we are the exclusive importer". the twinkle in his eye was ... part of living in malaysia.
there is a process to avoid a bit of the markup on the motorcycle. i can buy in the US, have it shipped here. we are then back to hassel of family members in the US doing the shipping. but first i need to apply for and get an "approved permit" (AP or import licence) in malaysia. then its simply paying 85 - 130% of taxes before it can clear customs. there apparently are "rumors" that each step in this process involves malaysian officials with open palms, which because of my role i am not able to fill for fear of US jail time for "foreign corrupt practices" or lose of my job for playing by local rules. the "rumors" insist not being corrupt would seriously delay, or completely derail the plan.
i know this seems like an intelligence test.
the american viewpoint on this is that i am paying US$ 8,990 for a bike, and US$ 15,849 (RM 49,132) for the ability to ride it inside malaysia. i could pay marginally less if i go through a highly convoluted process and potentially put my career and freedom at risk; neither of which i am willing to do. the other option is to delay the purchase until i leave the country. this would fall into the 6 year delay i have had on using pandora, the two year delay i have had on using hulu (both because access is restricted due to fraud) or the long list of purchases i have not made locally over the years (because of 100% - 300% mark-up with most retail purchases).
when i started this posting i was going to explain why i was going to just suck it up and buy the bike. i really want it. i want to get around KL and slip through the grid lock, rather than sit in the traffic thinking about how much worse it is now than a few years ago.
i would like to have something fun to do, something that would help release the pressure. but as i wrote, the resentment has bubbled back up. that is the point of why i do not love malaysia, bullshit like this happens all the time. i am back to saying, no way i am not going to play this game, i would rather buy three motocycles in the US with the same money.
this is an intelligence test, not for me but for the voters of malaysia. i have the option of getting off this goat rodeo and moving back to sanity without protectionist tariffs and "rumored" corruption. where is the demand for this to change?
enough of me bitching, yeah i love malaysia, the food, the people, the weather are all wonderful. that really is what you wanted to hear right?
you know what would help this mood? if i could go for a ride.
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.
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.
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