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.

re-hab rules

i am closing the year out as far from work, life and stress as i could go not need to wear a parka and duck penguins.  i did as close to no planning for this trip as humanly possible.  it was very simple; the weeks aligned as though it was a sign from god, there was a thing to do, and a friendly travel agent pointed me in the right direction.  when you need to recover from a crazy year, and prepare for the next wave, a beach on the edge of the gold coast is an easy choice.

sitting in the MAS lounge in KLIA i looked up and saw one of the staff looking at me while she talked to her friend.  they both blushed and smiled when i looked up.  when i went to get a glass of wine i asked what they were talking about.  one of them said, "i think you are handsome.  you have a nice face."  it was my turn to blush.  i said "thanks, that's nice" and went to have my wine.  i wondered if that was the high point for the trip.

three flights, each progressively worse as the planes and airports got smaller and time dragged on.  the last flight was spent wedged into the economy seat trying to stretch my cramped neck.  i decided to just ignore the pain and go to sleep, waking up just before landing in the worlds smallest airport.  i got to experience a landing that felt like the pilot was rushing his mini cooper into a spot in a busy parking lot.  i decided that moment was the last bit of tension i would feel for the week.  we were down, now i could just recover.

a beautiful drive 60 km up the coast, with a roadside wardrobe change to shed the jeans and button down for cargo shorts and sandals, was capped by a check-in where the only issues were deciding on the length of the massage to be scheduled for the next day, and the fact that aussie and american are only mostly the same language.  

for dinner i found mexican and was invited to share a table with a lovely aussie woman; one who had lived in the US so communication was far from an issue.  not planning a thing, and ending up in the best mexican place on an entire continent, finding a wonder dinner companion and enjoying hours of conversation was more than i would have hoped for during the entire week.  being smiled at in KLIA was slipping down the ranking in high points.

back to the room, jacuzzi tub, shower, another chapter of "good germs, bad germs" and dvds of my favorite serial killer followed by louisiana vampires and the night was over.  the morning started with bright sun, a call home to check on my bug and a run to burn the flights off.  when i got back i asked about a coffee place and was told to try re-hab.  the name made me smile, the place is even better.

i am sitting in a coffee house that could easily be on the beach in california. there is music going, the coffee is strong, the internet pass is cheap and they have banana bread.  i am beginning to ask myself why i would ever leave here.  coffee, music, books, internet, beautiful empty beaches, good mexican for dinner and comfort foods that are "no nut" but almost as good as i remember.

if anyone asks, i am in rehab; and its the best thing i have done all year. 

fast break

i woke up this morning thinking about breakfast.  a dinner of indian food had my stomach upset and necessitated a double benedryl nightcap.  this morning, i just needed to get up and get to breakfast.  it was calling to me, "come, sit, relax, put the reactions behind you".  when asked if i thought breakfast was important, and i replied, "it's the most important meal of the day", it sets the tone for the rest of the day.

when i think of breakfast i have two visions in my head.  the first is of bill cosby explaining to an inner-city diverse group of kids that their bodies are engines which need to be fed so they run well.  if you don't feed the engine it will stop running, you will run out of gas and will be unable to get through the day.  the second is sharing a six-burner stove with cartoons in the background to fill a sunday morning before games and errands took over the day.

breakfast is something i now do while spinning through email and making phone calls to catchup on overnight events.  it's not unknown for me to start a morning with multi-continent conference calls and espresso.  the surprising thing is that the conference call is the stimulation and the espresso is used to calm the jolt of the day. 

while in the US, weekday breakfast was either rushed starbucks with their marginal carbohydrate offerings, or on a bagel day, a sweet danish and a comfortable pause.  bagel days weren't everyday, because they were special; they meant taking a fast pause in the day.  the danish was good, but taking a few moments and realizing that it mattered more than the need to rush was the real break.

weekends in KL are a busy, not as busy as the week but they take focus to get though.  a deli afternoon, one with a sweet start, some time to detox and music to set the mood is my preference.  more important than the food is the mood, it is relaxed and easy.  the fact i can go and simply think, work, write and rationalize the time away is what draws me.  this is my private time; it is my personal work/life balance.

lunch during the week is normally skipped, or will happen as an office meeting.  dinner is squeezed in before a kitchen closes, and is wifi-enabled to stop it from getting in the way of communication.  the difference between these meals and my most important meal of the day is that the early one is harder to miss, it sets the tone for day and is a hard requirement.  it can't be called in ahead and is not "tau pow"-able, because it's time, not food that matters.  it does bring energy, but not the carbohydrate type.

cosby was right, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  it is a time to rev up, you can pour in the caffeine, and customize your energy with something sweet or savory.  you can have meetings, or go solo to find your focus.  but no matter what choices you make, you must ensure that your breakfast supports your needs for the day and gives you the energy that you require; even if its a fast break that you need to take.

because that's what breakfast is, the most balanced meal of the day. 

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.