Hot wax

Swift sting
instant knowing
it was all nothing.

What a gift…
how often do we realize
the pain is over?

Hey everybody who loves me...

I am safe! I am ok! I could not have chosen a better place to live right now, and despite being alone, all is really very lovely in Leah Land. There is less crime here than in the greater Washington Metro area. This is a peaceful culture. And though I may speak of my trials and annoyances of the human male species, I carry my head high when I walk the streets (with a slight grin always lurking on the inside). I have lived places where I couldn't even walk the streets without having a panic attack, and this is SO heaven in comparison. I have friends here... many. And no matter what, I am safe. Ok, done. Just wanted to throw that in the mix. Love you!

Now Playing on Leah's iPod

Jack Johnson, with a sprinkle of Mana. It just fits my mood... contemplative, imaginative, a little torn, but refolding the paper into some pretty cool oragami. :)

Would you like pride with that?

I haven’t sat down to watch TV in a really long time. Some of the shops and restaurants here have TVs playing, and I am just so over it. In the evenings, I sometimes catch a few glimpses of an Indonesian version of American Idol. There are young girls on the stage covered in make-up, and a flamboyantly “happy” judge on the panel that counsels them on their fashion faux pas, their hair styles, and their lack of voice training (which he demonstrates by singing their own songs back to them in a very feminine voice). I know many non-western countries tend to trail western pop-culture trends, but really… aren’t we globally over this stuff yet? Guess not.

Today as I hobbled with my bad back to get some food, I saw that MTV was on in one of the restaurants. “Pimp My Ride” is still on the air. Come on MTV, are we serious? Not only does this program have absolutely nothing to do with “music television”, other than its potted-out, played-out host “X to the Z, Xzibit!” (if you call what he spews music), but how many hoopties in south LA must we “pimp-out” with the latest 17-foot rims, 35-foot sub woofers, and theatrical hydraulics? It’s a cultural joke. And we are the punch line.

Am I over-simplifying the simpleness? Maybe, but it’s just too damn easy. Call me cynical… but somebody please remind me why I should be “proud to be an American” again? Because the word “proud” would imply some degree of deliberate identity and comradeship with the collective whole that is described, but I do not really feel that way. Yes, I am very often thankful to have been born within the borders of the landmass that is named The United States of America. I am thankful to have been offered a decent education, most natural human rights, and a relatively generous economy. But I have lived on 4 continents, and I have used my civil liberty of getting the hell out when I have so chosen. And when you strain your eyes to see the poetic American apple pie from afar, it starts to look more and more like a rectangular crust in a cardboard jacket from the McDonalds dollar menu. But hey, “at least I know I’m free”.

Just saying no!

It’s been almost two years since I ditched taking any prescription medications. When I stopped, I was on two separate “maintenance” drugs to keep my skin clear. They were two different strands of antibiotics that were to be alternated every other day, in order to keep the effect of the meds after having taken antibiotics for probably the four years prior. Not long before I quit meds, I had a short relationship with an anti-depressant, and another mood enhancement pill, which were prescribed when I was diagnosed with an eating disorder.

So anyway, at one point I was on four different meds, and I can’t say any of them worked so great. I abruptly (probably too abruptly) stopped the mood meds, and not long after I arrived in Rome, the August after my college graduation, I decided that I would have clear skin without antibiotics. Just like that, I decided. And I made a promise to myself that I would live prescription-free forever, along with my decision to ban medical insurance of any type. This might sound strange, but I still stand strong on my decision. You know something… my skin has been better since I made that decision, and I have found alternate ways to handle my mental health. Yes, we all get sick sometimes… and this week has been a perfect example for me, since I am not feeling so peachy. But I think it is possible to make up your mind to be well, and to not rely on pills, programs, or prescriptions. I know that internal feelings are the strongest determinant of physical health.

I regret having been on antibiotics for so long, because I am pretty sure they have messed with my internal flora to the point that I haven’t seemed to find my balance since I stopped them (won’t go into detail, but I know they left their after effects). So I’m straying a bit… but my point was that my back is bothering me again today, which I know is directly caused by emotional stress, and I have decided to temporarily pop some OTC pain pills to ease the tension. Not long after I took them, I began to feel nauseous, sweaty, and by body heat rose substantially. What does this tell me? That my body has adjusted to taking less medication, and it was actually trying to fight off the foreign substance that I put in it for the purpose of fighting off the unwanted pain. This makes me wish I had never taken the pills. I have the ability to heal myself, and to withstand a small amount of discomfort, without ingesting a man-made chemical cocktail that will have its own dose of side effects.

I’m so done with pharmaceuticals… not to mention how corrupt the companies that make them are. They WANT us to be sick, so we can keep buying more pills. Hello! So long story short, more power to those who decide medicine is the first go-to for ailments. I’m not saying I will never take meds ever again, but I personally am going to try to stay as natural as possible when it comes to healing (like the delicious papaya smoothie I had today, which beats any anti-inflammation drugs with flying colors). I’m not becoming one of those fanatic holistic hippies, but to be honest, that’s the direction I would prefer to take. So Pfizer, you can kiss my holistic ass. And your CIO with his highly complex, decentralized IT department (couldn’t resist throwing that work allusion in there). :)

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?

Note to Self:

This has nothing to do with how worthy of love you are. This has everything to do with the fact that you cannot control how others feel.

I'm ok.

Wow. I’m a strange creature. I’ve never been able to live up to the standard, expected human emotional reactions in most situations. But I never expected to wake up this morning… after being dumped, having cried in the dark on the hammock to the melancholy Mexican love songs of Mana, that I would wake up feeling so refreshed and awake, powerful even, and ready to begin a day of intentional feelings and actions. I was shocked and completely hurt by what went down last night. But there’s a line in the movie “The Air I Breathe” that goes something along the lines of, “Sometimes being totally f*cked can be an extremely liberating experience.” I have already decided not to get caught up in the post drama drama, and I feel better than I have felt on normal mornings when everything was supposedly just fine. I feel like I have reverted to inner-Leah, the one who trusts herself, is quick to act on knowing, and is not afraid. I hope she sticks around for a little while, because I definitely don’t need to mourn right now. It does not match where I was headed. And I cannot afford to head in any direction but good.

Dear Joey

You are not my father, nor could you ever be. But you know me better than he ever could, and love me more than he ever knew how to. I think Father’s Day passed not too long ago… I’m not really sure, but I think I remember seeing something on the MSN messenger news brief window. It’s a day that never meant anything to me. I also know that my real father’s birthday passed not too long ago. I only knew the day because Mom alluded to it in an email, I think. Otherwise, I would not have realized it.

I tend not to let myself get attached to anyone. That includes childhood friends who I have pushed away. That includes my own flesh and blood, from whom I am always straying. And that includes those who have past out of physical existence, including one man named Daniel St. John. Even seeing the name in writing gives me a surreal feeling. It was never real, it will never be.

What I do know is that you love me, and I love you. I know that the first person I think about when I dream of purchasing my first car or home is you. It’s not about the fact that you have more knowledge than I do about money, or anything for that matter. It’s about the fact that you are the only man in this world who I know will always look out for my very best interest. You will always protect me. I know your heart is big enough to show the same love to my brother, who didn’t know how to love any man after a dad who betrayed him. I know your heart is big enough to embrace a family that will probably never mesh fully with your own. This is life, and this is the best you have known to do with it. I know that. I will never blame you for that.

You are also the only person I have ever known to truly adore my purest soul mate, my mama. Maybe that’s the biggest thing we have in common, we both esteem her higher than any other human being, and she is the first place we will run to if we need to give love, feel love, and cry for the lack of it. This I know.

From my days of a tomboy growing into herself… shooting hoops with a distant dream of greatness at anything, to my days of darkness in a sad basement room that you built, hoping nobody, including you, would knock on the door. Today, Leah is telling you…. from her days of utter self-fulfillment… thank you. You have made a difference in me, and I will never stop loving you, just like I know you never will. If that is not a father/daughter relationship, I don’t know what is.

Love,
“Leah-Leah”

p.s. Congratulations on the engagement!

Today for the first time in my life

I got dumped by a boyfriend. (tears) This is not going to be easy to get over. He was really special. I don't know what to say... I'm still in shock. I don't know what to think. I think my heart is going to explode from my chest. This is definately going to be a week of new beginnings.

Feet back on the ground.

My "real" weekend was a mess, and that's all I'm gonna say about that. It's time for me to regroup, reorganize, and do what I really gotta do. This week I'm going to start from scratch with many things, because having my head in the clouds made me neglect certain things that I really would like to maintain... my stable work situation, my health, and the secure feeling you get when you KNOW you are working toward something, and you KNOW what that thing is. I know, I'm elusive. I always have been. I just need to give myself a checkup from the neck up. As one of my favorite lines from U2 says, "If you wanna kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel." This can be taken many ways, but for me, today, it means "don't completely leave where you have been on a hunch of pure happiness." Happiness can sometimes just be an idea without the feeling, in which case, it is not. Gotta get to work, because today is really Monday, and this is really going to be a grounded week for me. I will promise myself that.

This is know...

impossible is just another word for hard to believe.

Ze heck?!

What is going on with me? All day I was convinced that today was Saturday, so I went about my life in a relaxed, Saturday sort of way. Then, later in the afternoon, I started to feel that it was Sunday, so I still felt relaxed, but with a silent knowing that I should get some work done before the researchers get in on Monday. Then, I log on to the internet, and my work email, and discover it is FRIDAY! My in-box is full, there's work to be done, and there are people to communicate with before the REAL weekend. It's almost midnight here, but in Maryland it's only before noon on Friday, so I am a wee bit screwed. It's gonna be a long night. Geez Louise. What is wrong with me?! Yes, I ate dinner Mom. ;o)

Two roads diverged...

What does "one" do when "one" knows that taking a certain path will result in all of the following:

1) Immediate joy

2) Intermediate pain

3) Future joy

"One" gets stuck, but "one" knows that joy always overrides pain. What am I talking about, you ask? It's like the Washington Post. If you don't get it, you don't get it.

"You look tired."

Last night I slept a full 12 hours... and I woke up this morning refreshed and ready to have a great day. I did a few chores around the house, did some exercise, even a little pampering, so as i was walking down the street at around 6pm, I was surprised to hear the boy who works at the surf shop say, "Hi Leah! You look tired!" That got me thinking, and then I realized that I WAS tired. Pretty damn tired. I chatted with him for a few minutes, and then realized something that hope to not forget again:

Eating is not optional. If you exercise after breakfast, and you don't have lunch because you are so caught up in what you are doing, you will get tired. And whether you feel actual "hunger" or not, you need to eat, PRONTO!

I have been experiencing this a lot lately. Something has happened in the past month or so... and I have lost my sense of hunger. Eating has felt like a chore, as I scarf down the first thing of any nutritional value that I can get my hands on, and chug some water so I don't choke on it. The pleasure of food is just not there, and therefore my desire for it has dwindled. This is the first time in my life that I have felt this way, and it is strange because it is completely unintentional. When I would purposely deny myself food in the past, I had hunger "pains", as I call them (I just recently realized that everyone else was saying "pangs"). But I don't even have hunger pains, and when I realize I need to eat, I don't even get an appetite.

This is not something I am worrying about, but I do need to be aware of my nutrition levels, because I can see a difference in my eyes (the whites are not as white as they should be, and I am getting dark circles). It's curious to me, because I do not feel depressed. In fact, I feel quite the opposite... like butterflies and high on life. Maybe this is the culprit. All I know is that I SO do not want to be in a state of starvation ever again, and I need to figure out a way to change my attitude about eating. (sigh)

Grrrrrrrr

Since I'm working with our new outsourced team in India, I get a lot of emails with questions and concerns about what they are learning. There's something not quite right about the "proper" English used over there. When you say "Kindly..." followed by a request, such as "Kindly tell us how to edit the (blah blah blah)", it irks me to no end. I know it is supposed to be polite, but to my American self, this sounds a little pushy. Nobody gets to decide whether my directions on the editing process of (blah blah blah) are kind or not. I get to decide that! And I would respond "kindly" anyway, but that is not the point. The kindness will be of my own accord, ok outsourced employees? Kindly use the word "please" instead. Thank you most kindly!

The glass is running over...

I am so on cloud 9, I don't even know how to explain it. The past 24 hours have just been one crazily good thing after another... these kind of things I like to call "life winks", things that remind me what being alive is supposed to be, that remind me of my power, of the magic, of the intense energy of our thoughts and feelings. I just got another wink not even 10 minutes ago. What is going on?! It is always this way for me.... when it rains it pours, and when the rainbow comes out, it goes on forever and wraps around the world! Wow. Let me collect my thoughts and bask in the amazement of life. More details later...

Christmas in June

By pure necessity, I have learned some tricks in the past few years to help with my mood and well-being. This may be goofy, but this is a surefire way to boost my energy and kick up the vibration to a better place: listening to Christmas songs. I don’t care that it’s June. Yesterday I had my iTunes on shuffle, and on comes “Jingle Bell Rock” by Brenda Lee… you know that one? And I swear, I just about regressed into 12-year-old Leah, excited, hopeful, anxious, and expectant… without a care in the world. And you see, this is exactly how I ideally want to feel every minute of life. So why not play a little mental trick on myself every once in a while? Besides, nothing bad can ever come from Andy Williams’ “It’s the most wonderful time of the year”. That time of the year can be now!

Like Whoa.

Today I read my horoscope, and it was “like whoa” (if I may borrow the lingo from my wonderful brother-in- law). I will not disclose what it said, nor how it profoundly connected to the very thing I was thinking before I read it, but I am going to do a little experiment and see if this whole Aquarius prophecy for the month of June 2008 really pans out. If it does, I will fill you in on the details. Man, I am still shocked. How could that have applied to one twelfth of the population? I know every gullible fool says that, but I aint no gullible fool. And of all places, it came from Marie Claire (Australia Edition). LOL.

I am the Queen.

Today as I went to pay the nice boy at the Internet Café (at 1am), I was amusingly informed that I had set a new record for the longest length of time spent on the internet in one sitting: 11 ½ hours. He didn’t hand me an award… instead I handed him my money, and reminded myself I needed to eat dinner. The upside is that I was in a quiet, air-conditioned environment (both precious here), and that I was productive, and I was paid for those hours. Zombie eyes, swollen ankles, flat chair-ass and all… I am glad to have work. And I’m the undisputed Bali Internet Queen! Who wanna test me?!

Virgin Coconut Oil Update

News flash: I am an addict for life. This wonderful gift of nature has become my health/beauty secret for nearly everything. Because of its moisturizing effects, its rich lauric acid and vitamin E content, its antibacterial properties, and more, I have been able to replace so many synthetic products that weren’t even half as good as my trusty VCO. Here are just a few of the ways I am using this liquid gold:

- as a nightly facial/body moisturizer
- as a deep hair conditioning treatment (pre-wash/overnight conditioner)
- as a cuticle serum
- to heal small cuts and wounds, and prevent scarring
- to reduce the visibility of old scars
- as a dietary supplement (2-4 teaspoons a day) to aid in digestive health, boost my immune system, and give my hair, skin and nails a glow from the inside out
- as a tanning oil (since it has a light natural sunscreen, and leaves the skin supple and beautifully, evenly tanned)
- for after-sun/after shower to lock in moisture
- as massage oil for full body massages
- as a lip balm/gloss
- to tame hair fly-aways
- and so much more!
I am very particular about what I put on my skin, especially my face, but this does nothing but heal me and keep me in balance. I just can’t believe how amazing it is. I think Virgin Coconut Oil will be my fountain of youth. I am hooked! If you haven’t tried VCO, please do (make sure it’s organic, cold pressed)! Do a little research on the net. If anything, try it on your hair as a deep conditioner. You will be pleasantly rewarded, I promise. ;o) FYI: I just read in a magazine that Jennifer Aniston swears by it, and that she takes is as a supplement. Hello! She is famous for her hair and her glow!

Sun-kissed hair?

I’m considering some natural looking golden highlights in a few different tones (alla Eva Mendes golden) to offset the plain dark pallet of my hair, since I’m tan and it’s basically eternal summer here… I think it would be more tropical. Any thoughts?

Something I'd like to say...

There is something seriously wrong if I can smell your breath from 3 meters away.

VERY IMPORTANT (to me) ANNOUNCEMENT!!!

This is an announcement to state that I, Leah Fawn St. John, as of yesterday, am officially credit debt free for the first time since I was old enough to make the mistake of getting a credit card in my name. Woo hoo!!!!!!!!!! I am so proud of myself!!!!!! This has been a long time coming, ever since the day I cut up my credit cards infront of Mom, and glued the peices to my vision board I made. It's also one of the severals goals I made for myself while I was living here in Bali. I plan to stay credit card debt free forever. I love my Visa bank card... it is real money! I'm through with the fake money. I'd like to thank Mom for positive financial guidance, and I want to give a shout out to SunTrust Bank... especially Falls Grove and all my trusty bank tellers.... and a huge shout out to Internet Banking, without which, online bill pay would be a pain in the ass. BIG UPS to REAL MONEY!!!!!!! (in accent of Bouny Killer) Yay!

Back again!

Hey, I'm back! I just have been so busy lately. I thought about updating my blog on my down time, but when I did, it just seemed like another thing to do in my inbox, and that is not the place you want to be when you are writing! So I waited a while, and now I think I am ready to get back to it again. I just started a new project "training" some new outsourced people in India, but I think I will be back to my normal work week soon, as they seem to be real smart and are catching on quick. ;o) I think it's cool that we are outsourcing to India, being such a small company as we are. I am actually the closest employee to them... I'm right on the Indian Ocean! As long as I keep my own job, I'm good, and I can deal with the emails in too-polite British English. Anyway... unexpected tangent. Point is, I'm back. Thanks Harmony for the nudge!

Buona notte!

I have been so busy that I haven't had time to blog. It's 3am here, and I just "got off" work. Living in a vacation destination does not equate with being on vacation. Anyway, I'm off to bed because the mosquitos are eating me alive (I only have wireless outside), and I feel like a zombie for having stared into the computer screen for the past 9.5 hours. Night night. Hopefully I will not wake up tomorrow in the double digits.

I'm goofy...

Today I bought a pack of Mentos, and I noticed that on the packaging it said “FOR SALE IN INDONESIA ONLY”. I wondered why the Mentos people went through the trouble to put that there, until I heard the cashier state my total. 2,500 rupiah… that’s like 27 cents. I know in America, they cost about 4 times that, and in Europe 6 or 7 times as much. My question is this: do you think someone ever really tried to export a bunch of Indonesian Mentos to sell in America? Why does that make me laugh? I can already see the face of the imaginary guy who I think did it. LOL.

Random memory...

When I was little, I sent a letter to the directors of Full House, asking them if I could please be an actress on the show, and play one of Stephanie’s friends. I am still waiting to hear back…

Where is Michael Jackson right now?

For some reason, I imagine him sitting atop a plush, red velvet stool, infront of a gold-leafed vanity mirror with a flute of champagne in his hand, as he wistfully checks his make-up and calls to his butler to change the CD to Purple Rain. Behind him on the floor is a twister mat.

Know what I think?

The world would be a much better place if we would all take care of ourselves first.

The Tooth Fairy

About 5 years ago, I was not in a good place mentally. I felt hopeless about myself, my future, and the world around me. Life was one continuous bad dream, and I didn’t want to participate anymore. One of the things I disliked most was my physical appearance, and something that bothered me terribly was my teeth. I had an accident as a teenager, and had a false crown placed over what was left of my front tooth. The crown was poorly done and was dull and gray against the rest of my teeth, but we could barely afford it anyway, so I was stuck with it. I hated it, and would speak and smile with my mouth closed as much as possible.

One day in the car with my mother, she disrupted my normal sad silence, and spoke up, “Leah, I know you are feeling bad, but I want you to know that I am here for you, and if there is anything I can do to help…” I cut her off. “There’s nothing you can do,” I told her. “But let me ask you this,” she said, “if there were anything that you could do right now just to make things a little bit better, what would it be?” And without hesitating, I surprised myself with my answer. “I would fix my tooth,” I replied. I didn’t even think about it, it just came out. Of all the random things that would alleviate my depression, “I would fix my tooth.” I remember it to this day.

It was probably just a week later from that car ride when I was in my bedroom getting ready for work, and I felt something loose in my mouth. I ran to the mirror in horror, to find that my front crown had a crack right down the center. I had not hit it on anything, or bit anything hard. It just broke. Not realizing the magic that had just happened, I called my dentist and rushed to the first available appointment I could make. “The crown was weak,” my dentist said, “but we will make you a new one. We’re very sorry. You’ll only have to pay for the normal dentist fees.”

I went home that day more excited than I had been in a long time. In a just a week or two, my new crown was fitted, and to my utter bliss, it matched perfectly. I had my smile back. And you know what? I began to smile more, which meant that I let myself have more reasons to smile. My well-being changed dramatically from that day forward. The very thing I needed came to me, and all I needed to do was just let it come.

To some, this may seem like a tiny, barely significant coincidence, but I know better. My smile within knows it, and my smile without knows it too. Over time, I have learned to know the magic for what it is, and so I have made it my reality by expecting it. The day my tooth cracked, life winked at me. Do you realize when life is winking at you? Because I promise you this: coincidence does not exist.

By the way...

Internet speed in Bali sucks. If I ever return to working in the US, it will feel like my own personal technological revolution. Bali is not connected to fiber optic cables. All internet is connected by satellite to major cities like Jakarta (or so I’ve been told). So apparently, this is why I am able to write a blog entry while I wait for the page to change. I don’t know much about how the internet works, but I do know that Merkins should be thankful that they moving just as quickly as the advancements. Don’t take it for granted the next time you click, and you see the next page right away!

I need therapy.

You know that pic below of that guy making the jacked up face on the phone? I just put it as desktop wallpaper on my laptop. Every time I go to open a file, I am assured a smile. It’s going to be a long day on the computer. Wait, let me put that pic up in the “tile” format. LOL.

Damnit.

Today I set my alarm for 6:00 am because I needed to start the work day early. I really woke up at 10:30 am. Today is not starting out well. 4 ½ hours behind schedule… the water mysteriously won’t work in the kitchen only. I don’t feel like doing dishes in the bathroom sink. I’m still also thinking about what was bothering me last night, and my back is killing me. I really need to get a descent mattress. I need to get out of this funk before it gets any worse today, but Mondays are always the busiest for me, and when I’m on a time crunch, it’s hard not to be in a funk. Damnit. (update 2 minutes later: I just spilled my coffee.) Come on Leah… happy thoughts.

The phone and me

I’m tired. Today ended not so great. Long distance phone calls do not work when one of the people does not do phones. That person would be me. I have a strong aversion to phone communication. I think it has something to do with my personality, which tends to choose between extremes. For me, it’s either in-your-face, one-on-one conversation (preferably sprinkled through a normal daily life that we actually share), or it’s a message here and there via internet or postcard. If we do not share daily life, I prefer not to fill you in with a play-by-play of what’s going down, and how I’ve been feeling. It’s just not easy for me to offer up a synopsis with someone listening on the other line. I know it’s strange. I’m not sure how to explain it.

I don’t like being asked “How are you?” by phone. Even if I am good, and the question is well-meaning, I always get a lump in my throat, and my thoughts start to paralyze. “What did you do today?” will conjure similar reactions from me. I have no clue why this happens. I don’t like to fill in the gaps between my life and others’ lives on the phone. When the physical circumstances are impersonal, I prefer that the communication match. That way you can tell me what’s really on your mind, I can do the same, and there’s little small talk. I hate small talk. Maybe this sounds cold. Maybe I just get nervous on the phone, and I don’t know why or how...

Anyway, today ended with a phone call that did not go well, and it was my fault. Today also marks 3 weeks that I have been alone here. I wish I didn’t detach from people so easily. I always have. I love them and think about them often, but I don’t lack them.

Ok, we are having a tiny earthquake tremor RIGHT NOW AS I TYPE! MY BED IS SWAYING. THIS IS WIERD! It stopped.

If anything were to happen like a bad earthquake, yes, I would call the people I loved, and I would wish to be near them. But when the news of the day is that the temperature raised 2 degrees and Bush said something stupid, I don’t like to pretend there is more news than that. Wow, sounds insensitive. It would take an earthquake to get me to want to talk on the phone to my loved ones? LOL… I didn’t mean for it to come out that way, but I am too tired to explain. I just hope tomorrow I can make things better to the person I made feel bad on the phone. I’m going to sleep, good night. I hope my bed does not move again.

Red Alert

What is the first part of your body to go haywire when you feel stressed? I think everyone has one body part that reacts first with pain (which I believe is like a warning signal telling us to take it easy). Mine is my heart. It always has been. Sometimes this scares me. My heart rate can go from 60 to 180 standing still in less time than if I were on a treadmill at 8mph with a +10 incline. I also get palpitations, my face flushes at the drop of a hat, and sometimes I even have chest pains. My heart literally hurts. Milder nagging stress always puts my back out, to the point where I cannot stand or sit upright, and this leaves me out of commission for at least a week every time. I’m guessing some people get migraines, stomach pains, reflux, and other ailments, but I am also guessing most people are struck with the same thing when the alarm bell rings. The body is smart. Where does your alarm ring first?

Reaching for Light

When it comes to my relationship with food and my body, this is the most stable I have felt in a long time, ever since that dreaded “flick of the switch” 4 ½ years ago that began the struggled surveillance of what I never thought to notice before.

Intake. Quantity. Output. Restriction. Shape. Size. Awareness before need. Punishment before pleasure. Consequence before action. War with between the body, mind, and spirit. Today I know they are all one, although I do not pretend that every day I let them be. This cannot be an ongoing struggle for me. It just can’t. All signs point to progression, and that is all I can afford to believe in.

But addiction to control is just like any other… you carry it on a leash day by day, moment by moment, second by second. Sometimes you frolick so far from it, that you forget it is even attached to you. Sometimes you are so aware of it that you tug the leash closer, leaving little slack between you and the animal. And some days, you feel no leash at all, and realize you have become it… as you struggle for breath in your tight collar. “Why not just cut the ties altogether?” I ask myself. But even though I know it is possible, I hold tight to the pleasure that all addiction betrays us with.

I used to keep a photo as a reminder. It was a picture taken of me in Lima, Peru during my semester abroad in college. I was standing on a cliff at a famous outlook point above the ocean. My hair was dry and thinning under my baseball cap, my ribs visible beneath my black tank top, collarbones protruding, eyes sunken, chest flat, smile on my face, but no happiness to be seen. At the time, I didn’t see the physical sickness I had become… I only knew that I had to run around the neighborhood park exactly 16 times that evening in order to offset the sandwich I had eaten that day while I was out with my roommates. And this is at a time I truly thought myself to be improving.

I thought myself to be improving because I was now beginning to binge after restricting, and therefore was “eating better”? Because I was no longer in the comfort of my home gym, where I could run 5 miles on an empty stomach, and buy “safe” foods I had befriended from the local Giant? I was getting better, but I would write poems about death, mutilate my own face, and drink alcohol until I had no more mind to worry with. This was improvement in my sad, sad world at that time. This was the picture I kept around for a while, to remind myself how I didn’t want to hurt again.

Today I awoke to a healthy breakfast…. enough food, and the right nutrition I needed to begin my day, but safe and measured all the same. I remain always vigilant of what IS enough food, and what IS the right nutrition, but do I know to what extent? Today I decided to not do any deliberate exercise, and to rest from what little I did yesterday. But still, my reflection changed in the mirror the moment I decided that. I wonder if I am kidding myself with my idea of stability. I’ve seen the picture, I know how sly false assuredness can be. All I can be sure of today is that I am physically and spiritually healthier than ever. The brain is the one, of this trinity of wholeness, who still needs a babysitter. The mind is not as smart as it is clever. It clings to control. So until my leash is cut, which it will be, I will not let it remain in the dark. That is why I choose to share… because nothing unwanted can survive in the light.

What do you know?

Several weeks ago, Francesco and I got on the subject of the similarities among religions, and in their stories and beliefs. Francesco told me he thought he was a "relativist". I had never heard of a relativist, but I believed him if he said he was one. To him, a relativist is someone who doesn't take any scripture or story literally, but that takes into perspective the collective messages of many religions. I think that makes sense. I'm not a "relativist", but I understand where he is coming from. He jokingly asked me "What do you believe in, the Pachamama?" (alluding to my love of Peruvian/Inca culture). I told him, "No. But I do know what I believe, though." I didn't say what that was. He didn't ask.


Just a few weeks after that, I was emailing my mom back and forth... tiny, short and quick emails on random things we wanted to tell each other. We joke about religion often -- about the hypocrisies, about the "funny" things that somehow cannot be explained, about the drama, etc. I'm pretty sure out of all of the four siblings in my family, I am the least "religious", but I was a little surprised when my mom light-heartedly called me her atheist daughter. I wasn't offended, but I was sure that I was not an atheist, so I wrote her back to tell her what I believed. It was important to me that she knew.


I don't have the exact words that I wrote her that day, but it felt good to tell her, so I am going to put it in words again now. Sometimes putting feelings to words can make you surer of what it is you feel.


I believe in God.
I believe I am God.
I believe you are God.

The ultimate power, the creator, the decider, the puppet master, the spirit, all that is, the person behind the mirror, the you that knows the you, the me that knows the me, the anti-ego, the invisible constant...

No big white beards, no gender, no physical image. No books about it, no rights or wrongs about it, just the white canvas before the paint, light, and possibility,
I believe that we are all droplets of the same big splash of water. We each have our own shape and path, and our own unique reflection, but we came from the same place, and we will return to it.

I believe I have nobody to pray to except my inner being, and no one to worship besides my own spark for life.

I believe that we have all lived before, and we will all live infinitely again.

I believe we all chose to come to this planet.

I do not believe in coincidence, good or bad luck, fairness or unfairness... but that we are all in complete control of our paths and how they pull circumstances, people and places into them.

I believe we are each all powerful and all knowing.


There is much more to what I believe, and I feel it as clear as crystal water. I know these truths because I have lived them, and I am them. Do you know what you believe? Do you feel comfortable telling others? I can laugh at what I find amusing in the religions of others, but I am aware that anyone can just as easily laugh at what I have said. The most important thing is KNOWING what you believe. This is where we each bridge the connection between thought and spirit, and that is what true faith is.

Got me thinking...

I just picked up my new passport yesterday from the American consulate. The passport has changed a lot from the old one I got 9 years ago. As I flipped through the pages, I was positively surprised to see that the quotes on U.S. pride that adorn the tops of them did not just include those by old white men who used to wear curly wigs. Some of them do, but not all. Martin Luther King, Jr. has his words in our country’s passport, as does John F. Kennedy, and even Ronald Regan. When I first flipped through the pages, I was the most positively surprised to see the name of a Hispanic American, who I didn’t recognize at that first glance.

The quote was by Jose Antonio Navarro, a born and raised Texas of “prominent Spanish descent”, who fought for the independence of Texas from Spanish rule. I have to say that after googling him, I am not surprised that our leaders have chosen a person of Spanish decent who fought for independence from Spain. So typical. It’s like “we are using you for your obviously Spanish name, most people won’t know who you are, so you can be the cover-all-bases Hispanic American, and you fought to separate our country from the land your blood came from, which is actually in Europe.” Could they have chosen anyone, I mean ANYONE else? All respect to the very late Navarro, but seriously… so typical.

This all got me to thinking. Why was I so surprised that a Hispanic American’s quote was included? I wasn’t surprised that an African American’s words were there. Could this have to do with the fact that most would recognize Martin Luther King, Jr. as a hero of this nation, while I didn’t even know who Jose Antonio Navarro was? Perhaps to a certain degree… for as skewed and inaccurate our textbooks are, and as WASP-y our national educational programs are, I will say something, which does not pretend African Americans are given the deserved recognition in the history of our country: African Americans are present. In the screwed-up version of the life of our nation, they are present. Maybe not accounted for, but present. I was still in the single digits, a little white girl in suburban Maryland, and I knew MLK, Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman, and I will spare you the rest of the too-short list of the “lucky” few.

Hispanic Americans, on the other hand? Um… let me see who I knew about growing up. Did Pancho Villa have anything to do with the U.S.? (I didn’t know who he was, but I knew the name.) The guy from “La Bamba”, Lou Diamond Phillips? No, that was supposed to be about Ritchie Valens. He was important because he died, right? And why did his name sound so white? I knew Scarface, but he was really an Italian American playing a Cuban immigrant drug lord, so that doesn’t really count. You get where I am going… there were no Hispanic American “heros”, nobody present, nobody accounted for. Not even the sad excuse for a place in our books like George Washington Carver, who was story-book-ized (new word) to explain to little white pre-schoolers where their peanut butter came from. None of that.


To be completely honest, I do not think Hispanic Americans are considered as “American” as they deserve to be. Mexican Americans fought in the Civil War. The original California constitution was written in both Spanish and English. This is not a matter of Hispanic Americans being the “new”addition to the country. Granted, there is an influx of immigration of Latin Americans to the U.S., but this seems to me to be all the more reason that America needs to wake up and recognize that Hispanic Americans are a part of America.
I realize that this is a way more complex issue than I can delve into right now, and I do not want to simplify it. But sometime, you gotta simplify things to get a little clarity, right? I will ponder this some more… there are countless other ethnicities of Americans who are not allowed to truly feel “American”. I wonder how, and when this will change.

Amazing Discoveries...

This morning while I was eating breakfast, I discovered something funny: the mixture of sweet, fresh pineapple chunks dipped in plain yogurt creates a aftertaste uncannily similar to that of Krispy Kreme original donuts. It does! Try it before you call me crazy… and yes, I know I'm wierd.

UPDATE:

Mr. Jinlgles has not returned in the past six weeks to his under-the-gas-burner dwelling. This is not to say he is not around, as I have found "evidence" of him. But at this point, I have gotten used to an outdoor kitchen. It requires a few rules:

1) Store ALL food items in the refrigerator, including cereal, bread, fruit, etc.

2) Keep counters extremely clean and crumb-free.

3) Store waste hanging high, in a place where ant trails will be at a good distance.

4) Wash dishes immediately after use, and keep them covered when not in use.

5) Watch out for mice, geckos, cats, spiders, mosquitos, and all the rest of the critters that want to eat you and your food.

I live on a tropical island... I have to get used to sharing my living space with nature, so I am at peace with Mr. Jingles and the rest of the animal posse. But who am I kidding... there's probably more than one mouse anyway.

Leah starts blogging, take 2!

A few weeks ago, I realized that I really wanted to begin blogging. I was really “cised”, as my sisters used to say in the mid-90’s, and I got right to it and wrote a few entries. Well something happened that caused me to doubt the things I was writing. I became overcome with a paranoia that people who might read things I was happy about would find me boastful or full of myself. Maybe the reason this got at me so is because I struggled for a long time to find real happiness with myself. I had been sad for many years. I guess an analogy could be the people who lose all the weight, but still can’t bring themselves to put on the flattering, form-fitting clothes. That’s kind of it. I know there are people who speak positively of themselves and their lives all the time, and there are many who just do it purely… not to make others think they are great, not to make others think themselves lesser, just to wave their own flags tall and proud, because they know they are worth it. I want to be able to do that, and I know I will. And besides, I have other things to write about besides myself. So here we go again. Leah (otherwise known in blog world as Manifiesta) starts blogging, take 2! I deliberately choose to share everything I am about to share, with full knowing that I cannot – and no not want to – control how anyone views me. I have nothing to lose by being misunderstood, and so much to gain by just sharing….

Mice and Men

You know Mr. Jingles from The Green Mile? Umm.... let's just say that we have our own little Mr. Jingles. But he isn't as cute, and I have no intention of setting him up a mouse bed or practicing tricks with him in hopes he makes it to the mouse circus.

Our Mr. Jingles has decided to set up house under our gas burner. Yeah. How do I know this, you ask? Last night when I came home, I turned on the light and saw a small gray object move with the speed of lightning from one side of our outdoor kitchen, to under the gas stove burner. I freaked and made Francesco move it (standing from afar, with a broom-stick) and Mr. Jingles races under his feet to behind the fridge, climbs half way up the fridge wire, leaps to the top of the wall, and then leaps onto the roof. I kid you not. This IS a circus mouse, and he left us to clean up his nice little home, with all his "stuff" he left behind.

I pray Mr. Jingles does not return to his former home tonight. It has been disinfected, and there is not a crumb or turd to be found. On the other hand, he could return to find that the maid service has attended to his fine dwelling. I hope not. I do NOT like dirty mammals in my food preparation area. Grrr.

Self Love

My life is extraordinary. In all humility, that’s what it is…it is in no way ordinary. But it isn’t just my luck of the draw as some may believe.

I planned it this way. I purposely evolved into this place, this lifestyle, this mentality, this me. The choice was to be my own creator, or to just watch the clouds go by from deep within my hole in the ground… and that little circle of sky just wasn’t cutting it for me.

To make life beautiful is an absolute necessity for me, and I mean that as literally as one could possibly put it: I cannot afford to mess with unhappiness, stagnancy, and norms. My will for life decays before my eyes when I get stuck. Leah has been horribly close to not surviving on account of her little hole in the ground. More than once.

I came to realize (and I am still in the midst of this realization) that I have an emergency on my hands. I have to create conditions for myself that are so good that they leave no space for the flat-lining that I have dreaded most of my life. I have to wake up to sunrises so beautiful that I will never open my eyes dreading another day again. I need to be so active that I forget what it feels like to be paralyzed with nothingness. I have to see the plants, the flowers, the birds, and the the ocean so often that I never forget I am alive. That’s what it’s come down to. That’s how I have magnetized toward this little island. And no what my next steps may be, I promise myself this today:

I always will take care of myself. I will honor my needs… and if my needs seem extraordinary, if my needs seem rare, uncommon, over-the-top… then let my LIFE be extraordinary, rare, uncommon, over-the-top. And in this way, I will heal myself. And in this way I will grow. That is self love.

How sweet it is...

Francesco and I just moved in to our new house a few weeks ago. I still haven’t gotten to taking some quality pics of it, but I definitely want to show everyone. It’s small, with an outdoor kitchen and sitting area (with a hammock we added ourselves), and is just perfect for us. We have a gate that opens to a small pebble path that leads to a light embedded in a stone altar. On top of the altar is a huge stone pot with my new adopted friend… a baby frangipani tree. Frangipani is a tree found everywhere in Bali. It blossoms the most beautiful pale white flowers with yellow centers, that have the most wonderful aromatic sweetness, better than honeysuckle. Just devine. These flowers are so special to the Balinese that they are used in daily offerings to the gods, and in ceremonies on the sides of both men’s and women’s ears.

It has become my favorite flower in the whole word, and I wear them often in my hair, as they are bountiful. So you can imagine my happiness to see that we had one in our front yard. But our tree (I named her Leila) hasn’t bloomed yet, so I am making it my mission to care for her and make sure she gets all the love and water necessary in this heat and sun. I’ll be posting pics of her along the way… and soon we will be having breakfast with the sweet smell of frangipani in the air. I can’t wait!

Full Passport! YEAH!

During our last meeting with our trusty Indonesian immigration official, Ali, we discovered something that I think is totally awesome… my passport is full! Yes, FULL! The space taken is definitely not all from single entry and departure stamps, and much of it was visas and extensions, but still I'm happy.

I got this passport in 1999, when I was 16, and at age 25 now, I was due for a new one in a year anyway… but I think it’s cool that I beat my deadline! Go me! Now the only annoyance is that I have to apply for a new one at the American consulate here… and have it back in time for my trip to Singapore on May 12th (called a visa run because I have maxed-out my 6 month stay). Yearly goal I set January 1st, 2007: visit a new country every year for the rest of my life. So far, so good… let the journey continue!