Japanese people intrigue me.

There are so many tourists here from Japan, and I always find myself staring at them. It seems they are either pale white, carrying an umbrella to protect from the sun… or they are chocolate brown, with a beach bod and surf gear. Japanese fashion interests me also. It is so eclectic and unique. They are not afraid to express themselves and experiment with wacky stuff. I knew the day I saw “Lost in Translation” that Tokyo is a city I’d visit in this lifetime. Now I’m sure of it. There’s just something about Japanese people…

Just once...

I would like to go to a restaurant by myself, and not have to speak the entire meal with someone from the staff, who must think that dining alone means available as company to the first person who has no tables to attend. I know this sounds mean, but in this case, I don’t think it’s all about me and my personality. I don’t mind having a friendly chat with someone every once in a while, but I am tired of answering the same nosy questions. And yes, this is a cultural thing more than one of manners, but only the men want to talk to me, and that gets on my nerves.

It is commonplace here to ask age, marital status, what someone has done in the day, or where someone is going later. I know I am a Westerner, and that we tend to keep our personal info private, but after 9 months in Bali, I am still surprised when locals don’t pick up on my attempts to evade answering them. When asked where you live, giving the general area (or even a street name) is not quite enough. The exact latitude, longitude, and altitude is what is desired by this inquiry. Oh I’m sorry, Putu… I forgot to bring my GPS. Not to mention, and yes I swear I have been asked this on numerous occasions by strangers, how much I pay for rent. My income has also been desired, as well as similarly personal info on my boyfriend (or in the present case, my fictitious one that I often allude to in order to get people to back off).

My imaginary boyfriend has been very helpful here, especially while trying to get some relaxation on the beach. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get out of the water… he’s a surfer” has proved to be the magic phrase. And to be fair, the foreign tourist men are just as big a pain in my ass, except they tend to employ the traditional, cut-to-the-chase pick up phrases. Being approached by unwanted company is of the annoyances of being a lone female here, but I am learning how to deal with it, and I actually think it is good for me. I’m forced to build some assertiveness and to not be so accommodating, as I usually am by default.

I’m still trying to figure out how to just tell someone that I want to be left alone. I guess it should be as simple as saying, “I would like to be alone.” But it’s hard for me to just say that. And I guess my point is, I don’t want to have to say that. I also don’t want to have to lie, or say that I am waiting for someone. Random approaches do not seem natural to me. They are too forced. It makes sense to ask where someone is from. But it makes sense after you have already established some verbal contact. It does not make sense to approach a sleeping female on the beach, peruse her from head to toe, and then ask where she is from. It does not make sense to walk up to a person eating a meal, and ask where they live. That’s just how I feel. And now I am just ranting. Case closed. I cannot expect others to change, I just have to change how I feel about being approached, and how I react in such situations.

My doctor said Mylanta. Again.

Last night I had a really nice dinner from one of my favorite restaurants in Bali. The place, like many of the less expensive dining establishments, doesn’t really have a name. And if it does, nobody will ever call it by that. People will say, “Let’s go eat at that place down the street that has surf boards inside as decorations… the one next to the Indian place that has lots of pillows.” That’s how I’d give directions to go there anyway.

I ordered my favorite vegetable, steamed broccoli florets, which are quickly sautéed first in a very light garlic butter, but still left with much of their crunch. They give you a generous serving, which I could not save for later. I had to devour all of it, even though I really had no space for it. It was so good.

Right now I am sitting here on the porch, watching palm trees and listening to the doves make their morning calls to each other. I’m having breakfast: plain yogurt with pineapple chunks, with a dash of virgin coconut oil and a sprinkle of grape nuts on top, and a nice double espresso coffee. Do you see any patterns in my eating habits? Can you say… (insert doomful orchestra sound: da da da dum)… Acid. My diet is so acidic, and my body is thanking me with a generous dose of heartburn and reflux. I have become like a pregnant woman, popping calcium loaded chalk tablets every few hours. I drink a lot of milk, usually about a carton a day, but that doesn’t seem to help much. Acid seems to be lurking in all the foods I love and crave: in the fruit, the veggies, the dairy, the beverages, it’s everywhere!

Does anybody have any advice for neutralizing foods or habits, besides drinking milk? I don’t want to give up my staple foods, but I can’t seem to find a balance. In a tropical environment, you just wanna cut a lime wedge and squeeze it on everything. That’s just how it is. And oh yeah… I discovered already that drinking water to “relieve” acid does not work, and carbonated drinks are like a death sentence. But any advice on the subject would be much appreciated. Now let me pop some chalk.

Polite or just phony?

Today I was wondering... at what point is politeness really being phony? Most of my life, I have made a point to be polite to people, sometimes even just to tell them what I know they want to hear, even if I would not naturally be inclined to say those things. The intentions behind doing so are not to be fake. The intentions are to make the other person feel good. But when I really stop to dissect the underlying intention behind this, it is really so that I will appear nicer in the person`s eyes. And this is really just so that I will be liked more. I never even knew what it felt like to ditch the politeness and only say what I really felt. And to be honest, it is a scary thought. What if I didn't have to say I liked something someone gave to me? What if I didn't have to say thank you the next day for something I had already said thank you for? And what if I didn't smile and nod when I heard something that I really didn`t agree with, but that I felt no need of arguing? My philosophy has always been... if it doesn't hurt me, and it can make them feel better, then give it to them. And I always thought this was the right way of seeing things. But now, I think I am just being phony. And I am starting to think that all forms of politeness are phony in a certain way. Most of the time, its just based on a moral/social code that somehow we all decided was the correct way to act. But I think most people have adopted this code to such a point that they have abandoned their true nature. Why is it so refreshing when a person comes out of nowhere with a blunt, and totally unrehearsed comment? Because we all, deep down, wish we could be that way. I'm gonna have to work on this with myself. I have been too worried about how others see me.

On dreaming...

I have been experiencing extra lucid dreams for the past month or so. And to be honest, I really enjoy them. Even the not-so-great ones. Sometimes I purposely prolong my sleep just so I can stay in the dream state. But the thing is, I can do this without waking. I can know in my dream that I do not want to wake yet, and I can prevent myself from doing so. Pretty cool I think. There is something about the unpredictability of dreams that really amazes me. And to think, its all created directly by us. So dreams must be, in one way or another, intentional. Anyway, last night I had a dream in which I was attacked by a shark. I was swimming in the ocean, and I was the first person to detect the shark in the water. When I got out before anyone else, the shark made its way to the shore, and attacked me out of all people. It bit off the back of my left shoulder... I was afraid to lose my arm, but only the shoulder muscle was torn away. Afterward, I was left with a very free feeling, like I knew that things would be easier after this terrible accident. I went to the hospital (which looked like the inside of a JC Penney store, lol) and mom visited me, bearing very childish gifts. Like stuff you would give a 5-year-old. Harmony came to see me also. I'm not sure why I was so intrigued by this dream, but I really wanted to see what would happen after the hospital, and why I was so damn happy. Well I guess this blog entry is really going no where . I just wanted to say how much I love dreams. I wonder what will happen tonight!

The choice is yours.

No matter where we are, no matter what the circumstances, we ALWAYS have a choice. This is the basis of our human freedom, that the ultimate power lies within us no matter what. You can be on your last breath and choose to laugh. You can be starving and still be full of hope. You can throw a punch or give a hug. You can be destitute and in the middle of a war, and choose to join the fight, or live for the peace. You can spend your last twenty bucks on a train ticket, or a lottery ticket, a buffet ticket, or a ticket to a baseball game. You can save it, or you can give it away. Or you can tear it to pieces. These are our choices. And they are never-ending. What will you do today? Save someone’s life? Save your own life? Make a major change, or just make a pizza? Think about it. In all moments, the power is never exhausted. It can never be. What a liberating thought!

I'm gonna live forever!

To be totally honest, I always kind of knew that my life story would include some sort of fame. For those who know me, being in the spotlight probably seems pretty far away from my natural state, but since I was just a toddler I felt that I would some day live a stint of it, whether it be for my 4-year-old free dancing to dad’s classical music on our state of the art stereo (probably hot), or with my less than good acting skills as a pre-teen. I have never been “great” at much, and as a 25-year-old with a serious introvert personality, I somehow still know that fame will grace my lifeline, and for some reason I feel it is coming sooner than later. Don’t know why or how, I just feel it. I’m no Nostradamus, but mark my words. Something is about to happen, and it will be for the good! :)

Taking care of business!

For the first time in my life, I got my FICO credit score over 700. It was another of my goals that I set for myself to accomplish while living in Bali. For many people, 700 may no be a big deal, but for a girl who totally screwed herself before she was 20, it’s a big deal. Thank you Suze Orman, and thank you mom!

Random Memory

LOL! I can’t even type this without cracking up… when I was really young (probably under 10) Grandma was over at our house babysitting us kids. I remember after dinner that the radio was on one of those light rock/jazzish stations, and Bill Withers’ “I Wanna Spend the Night With You” came on. I didn’t really know the song, but when I heard the words, all I could think of was to blurt out, “Grandma! I dedicate this song to you!” And it was true… all I wanted was to spend the night at Grandma’s house. It meant playing youthful games, being spoiled with all the honey toast I wanted, and taking the bus to Wheaton Plaza, where I would usually score a good meal at Hot Shops, some “peas and carrots” from my favorite candy shop, and maybe some stickers. If I was lucky, I would get to go to Woolworth with her and snatch the stray synthetic flowers that had fallen on the floor from their plastic stems. Well anyway, when I proudly stated this dedication to her, you should have seen her face! She was SO offended that I meant this “sexual” song to be for her. She turned bright red, scuffled in her slippers, and got her knee-highs all in a bunch. I knew when my sisters started laughing that I had made a mistake with my innocent proclamation. Sorry Grandma, you just didn’t get how pure it was… you were too busy deciding what was unpure!

SO glad I did not go back to Rome...

I just checked something on the internet, and 150 euros are 243 American dollars. If you haven't been using foreign currency lately, this probably doesn't really register, but it registers to me. The dollar is ever decreasing, and the euro just keeps getting better. Luckily my dollar is still very good in most parts of the world, including here, but I'll never go back to live in Europe. And they are some lucky bastards.

Up next on the list of potential living destinations:

Puerto Rico
Costa Rica
Hawaii

I'm not saying it will be soon... I'm just saying. :)

Leave me ALONE!

Today a chubby Indonesian boy, around 20-years-old, who has been following me and staring at me for a few days now, approached me as I attempted to rest by the pool. The conversation went as follows:

Boy: “Hi! You Italy?”
Me: (pissy voice because I saw this coming) “What?!”
Boy: “You Italy? Where you from?”
Me: “America.”
Boy: “Who you come here with?”
Me: (really pissy voice because I can see right through him) “What?! Come where, the hotel?”
Boy: “You come alone?”
Me: “No, I came with my boyfriend.” (grabbing my things to leave after only 10 minutes)
Boy: “Where you go tonight?”
Me: “What?!”
Boy: “Where you going tonight?”
Me: “To sleep.”
Boy: “Maybe you come with me. I buy you drinks.”
Me: “I don’t think so. I have to go now.”
Boy “You give me your number?”
Me: “I can’t do that. Bye.”
I am not pissed because this boy had NO clue, and was EXTREMELY forward with me. That is just stupid. It’s worth a laugh. I AM pissed because last night I saw him chatting with the security guards who work here, and following me with his eyes as he did so. He was gathering information about me, and he obviously got access to something (otherwise he would not have come out of no where with the Italy thing, and he would not have still thought he could ask me out, after I told him that I was with a boyfriend). He knew that I was alone. He probably knew more than that about me. And you know something, I don’t like that. I am going to have a “word” with someone. Grr.

Sick and tired

Today I am physically sick… fever and exhaustion. Taking a day to lay low, and not expect too much of myself productivity wise. But even taking a day to lay low is making me stress a little. Something’s gotta give, I can feel a major breakthrough coming. I know something is about to change. I have gotten some suggestions to just take a trip back to the US for a few weeks. That’s not going to work right now. I’d have to fork out at least 1,500 dollars, find a place to stay, and pay an arm and a leg to get my tooth fixed. It’s just not doable right now. I am leaving my options open, but going to the completely opposite side of the world is not one I am considering, even though it would be really nice to see the family. I think I might move from the house I am living in. This place is within the confines of a hotel property, and I am one of 5 people doing a long-term stay in one of the “houses”. But one of the things I have learned traveling abroad is that there are certain countries in which the culture is extremely nosy. And this is one of them. People want to know too much, and they talk too much, especially since they know you don’t understand their gossip. And homey don’t play that. If I am going to pay to live in your establishment, I will not have the people who work here asking me personal questions, or whispering about me as I walk by. I aint no fool. And my business is none of yours. I need a change.

SH*T, F*CK, and every other bad word!!!!!!!!!!!!

This evening, while eating a very late dinner of beans and rice, I bit on a pebble that was carelessly left amongst the beans (every foodie knows that beans need to be washed and sifted for pebbles!). This is the second time that this has happened to me in the same restaurant, but the first time when I bit extremely hard into a ROCK the size of my thumb nail, I did not complain because I assumed it was the very rare exception. This time, the stone was not even big enough for me to catch, but I felt it, and I sure felt my front tooth break off (my beloved crown that I have referred to in a past posting). It broke COMPLETELY off. I am so in shock right now. What more do I need?! This was my FRONT tooth, and the one tooth that has caused me so much strife, and at the same time so much happiness after it had finally been perfectly completed as a crown. I now resemble Jethroe Bodine (with a tan). Tomorrow morning I will phone these supposed “expat” dentistry places, but I do not expect American service or quality. I am devastated. All I wanted was something to eat, since I have not even been feeding myself regularly, and now I am left with no smile, and no desire to even open my mouth. I am hideous and I look like a hillbilly. Put this on top of a break-up which was actually finalized TODAY, and you have a miserable Leah. I have no more words. I am so upset...

Might take a lil break

I don't think I want to blog very much for a few days. I don't even know how I really feel about many things right now, and I don't think attempting to assign words to the confusion will bring me clarity.

P.S. I really don't like when people hurt you, and then decide they didn't mean to, especially when you didn't ask them to decide they didn't mean to... I probably make no sense. Gotta go review work histories of IT executives entered by an Indian outsourced team that doesn't know UPS and United Parcel Service are the same company. Not their fault. I am in a pissy mood. Grr.

Truth

You can make someone a cake.
You can make someone’s bed.
You can make someone a bet.
You can even make someone a promise.
But you cannot make someone feel happy, or safe, or secure, or alive.
No matter what, you can never decide how someone else feels. And trying to do so is battling one of the only true laws of this universe. Why don’t most humans get that?