So, it has been about a week

Remember the shooting in Orlando? It was the one six-ish days ago. It was in a gay night club on Latin night? I'm just reminding you because we've become desensitized. It's been, like, twelve hours since someone tweeted their thoughts and prayers. When you scroll through your facebook newsfeed, you're back to how much of a train wreck this presidential election is or, you know, puppy videos. You might've already forgotten. So, I just wanted to hearken back to this event that I learned about 48 hours after the fact because I just wanted a weekend without technology. 

I'm angry. And sad. And angry and sad and angry and sad. But, mostly angry. 

I'd like to draw your attention to the fact that these shootings are no longer isolated incidents of terror. We are a country who lives in terror. We're so afraid of our own shadow. We're allowed to carry concealed weapons to use whenever something spooks us. We cry "self-defense," and all is forgiven. If you wacky liberals take away our rights to own guns, America will go straight to hell in a hand basket.

Guess what, Team America, we're already there. We live in a country that's so star spangled awesome that there was an average of 92.05 gun related deaths per day in 2014. President Obama has had to address the American public 15 times in response to mass shootings. We've normalised death. We've normalised terror. We've allowed gun rights lobbyists to usher us into a country of complacency. And we have done nothing. We've sat idly by while the entire country goes through the motions: outrage, profile picture changes, rabble-rousing statuses, flags at half mast, mild anger, new cute profile pic with a baby, #foodporn, flags fly high, complacency, comfort in knowing it could never happen here. Then, boom, another fucker with something to prove and nothing to lose gets his hands on a military grade weapon and shoots up a space of safety.

And, this, this is what breaks my heart. You wanna know the first thing my students in Korea asked me when they learned I was from America? They asked me if I knew how to shoot people. Not 'how to shoot a gun,' not 'if I owned a gun,' but if I know how to use a gun to inflict pain on another human being. What am I supposed to say to that? How do I even respond? I said, "No, no I don't. I don't know how people hurt each other like that." Their response: "It makes me sad, Kathryn Teacher." It makes me sad, too. 

This is, of course, a multi-faceted problem. But, I would really love it if the gun wielding politicians actually worked on the mental health issues on which they blame all gun related deaths. Or, take a hot second to remember that we are a country founded on immigrants. Or, figure out that the most recent radical terrorist attack in Orlando was a dude born and raised in the United States who believes in a bastardization of the Islamic faith. His relationship to Islam is akin to the Westboro Baptist Church's relationship to Christianity. It is outrageous and inappropriate. 

As a gay person, it would be remiss of me to overlook the location and perceived reason of the Orlando shooting. Gay clubs, like so many have said before me, serve as a place of solace, comfort, release of the constant tension gay people hold. Personally, I have a difficult time expressing my sexuality in public. Don't get me wrong, my rock-a-doodle haircut and proclivity towards Oxfords and trousers clearly show that I am gay, but I don't express myself as a sexual being for fear of making others uncomfortable. This is my problem, I know. But, in gay spaces, I can relax enough to show the kind of public affection that straight people so often take for granted. 

And, on Saturday night, as Latin night just started to heat up, a man disgusted with the idea of two men kissing rampaged through Pulse, flat lining 49 heart beats. 

Some cry, "Terrorism-an affront to the US." Period. Full stop. But, I shout, "Hate crime--an affront to the queer community." You cannot erase us from this history. I refuse. I am angry. I am angry about the social environment in which gay people are less than. I am angry about the erasure of mental health issues. I am angry about toxic masculinity. I am angry about people doing hate in the name of their god. I am angry about how fucking easy it is to acquire firearms whose sole purposes are to kill. I am so, so angry.  

It would be naive of me to think that there would ever be a total recall of firearms in the United States. We'd have to pry the second amendment from the NRA's cold dead hands. But, there is absolutely no reason that a citizen needs an assault rifle. There is no reason that citizens needs a weapon that discharges 600 rounds of ammunition per minute. There is no reason you should be able to purchase a firearm without showing identification. There is no reason you can purchase an AK47 at walmart.com for fifty dollars and twenty-five cents...don't worry, though, it's free shipping. There is no reason for this. Absolutely no reason.







 

So, I've been figuring it out

I've been back in my hometown for about six weeks. I still feel like a visitor. I still feel like I have a flight I need to catch to go back, to go forward, to just go.

I don't. This is my present, and I am really struggling to figure it out. I have an amazing security net of people who love me and want the best for me. But, I don't ask for help--and usually don't want it. Is this stubborn? Yes. Is this reality? Also, yes.

I read all the blogs about going back home after living abroad. I prepared myself for all of the scenarios. All of them. Except my own. I am back, but different. I am finding footing on a path that was. My tread is just a bit too cautious, my shoes don't quite fit, my hiking vest doesn't have enough pockets for all my new things.  I'm living a life I don't know--an adult life in the world of my childhood.

I've visited places that once held magic only to find it replaced by something new, something tangible, something real. I went to my grandparents' house yesterday. After they died, we sold the land to the city because it was technically floodplains. The entire plot was overgrown with spiky flowers so opposite of my gentle grandfather. The giant oak tree loomed above, void of life; fairies used to call it home. Short grass covered the fire pit, the birthplace of Grandma's Magic. And, they paved right over the troll bridge. Who's collecting the tolls? No one. And, all the while the Rock River rolls along, seemingly unchanged.

I see myself in this. Everything about me is different, but there's gotta be a constant somewhere, right? Or, do I make a new constant, a new anchor I trust to keep me from floating away? I dunno.

I guess, right now, let these truths be an anchor, which holds me steady:

1. I have never loved anyone as much as I love my niece(s and nephew--honorary). Or, that's perhaps unfair. I have never loved anyone in the same way I love them. I will drive two and a half hours to babysit Sweet P. I am so excited to watch her learn and grow into whatever she wants to be. I will stop what I am doing to go to the park with my best friend's children. My heart can't even handle it when T chooses me to catch her at the bottom of the slide. I need to be here right now. That's all there is.

2. I miss teaching. Apparently, it doesn't matter if it is English as a second language, To Kill a Mockingbird, or the front crawl. Teaching is my passion, and I am lucky enough to be in a position to continue learning and studying how to do it to the best of my ability.

3. Women's active wear is expensive and limited in selection. I don't have time for that kind of nonsense. Give me a pair of basketball shorts and let's go.

4. My mom is probably the most amazing woman in the whole wide world, closely followed by my sister. Their capacity to take on way more than any person should handle and come through with an air of grace and poise inspires me. I am glad to spend this time together and learn from them as much as I can.

5. The path that was is not always the path that is, and that's okay. I've just got to adventure on.

So, a picture is worth a thousand words, right?

About a week ago, my friend tagged me in the 'Seven Day Nature Challenge,' in which one is meant to post a photo of nature for seven consecutive days. I imagine it is meant to help us take in the utter beauty in which we find ourselves. Recently, she said something about the challenge, and my response was, 'Yeah, I am definitely not gonna do that.' 1) I am already inundating folks with photos of my trip. And 2) I further clarified, 'I would probably be a smart ass and do photos about, like, the nature of truth.' This idea, however,  niggled into my brain while I took in the phenomenal landscape of Da Lat, Vietnam from the back of a motor bike.

So, here is my 'Seven Paragraph Nature Challenge.' And, I nominate each and every one of you to pick the paragraph which resonates most with you and have a solid belly-button day (day of introspection) with it. If you want to message me about it later, I would love to read it.

1) The Nature of Hope
'Hope is a thing with feathers,' writes good old Emmy D. And, Imma hafta agree with her. Hope flies wildly from place to place, intention to intention, and person to person. The nature of hope is inherent. Even if you don't believe in anything, you believe in hope. It is like a phoenix, that even when it seems like there is nothing in your life but ash and destruction, there is a little baby phoenix ready to grow with you and help you soar far above anything you can imagine.

2) The Nature of Dreams
Pipe dreams have been fueling my future since before I can remember. By this I mean, grandiose plans of future seen through a telescope. And, now, as my future approaches rapidly, these dreams barrel towards me, regardless of my readiness. And, maybe that is their nature-- the exact moment when dreams meet reality and they have a gladiator style fight to see which is victorious. What happens if one consumes the other? Does the dream become reality, the reality become the dream? Maybe both, and that is their *true*(I swear to science no pipes [dreamy or otherwise] were used in the creation of this paragraph.)

3) The Nature of Humanity
Much of my recent view of humanity has been kind of negative. With all of this social media, it is easy to feel like we're drowning in a quagmire of hatred. However, I spent the past several weeks with some humans who I feel practice 'reckless optimism' (term coined by Hannah Hart). These humans have recharged my ability to see humanity as the humans with whom I choose to spend my time, I share my world. The nature of humanity *should be* bettering yourself for the communities in which you've found yourself. And, this could look radically different depending on your community. And, I must remind myself to show love and compassion to those who do not agree with me. Each person has a voice, and I must respect that.

4) The Nature of Sexuality
Let's all come to this with a base understanding that sexuality is a spectrum. The right or wrongness of various sexualities, is a gay of a different gaggle, which I may or may not tackle (hey-O!) in a different post. Sexuality is something inside each of us. It is how we express (or not express) our primal desires (or un..ummm...desires). So, why is sexuality such a taboo topic. If people talked about it as something we all have, we would have a much higher respect for sex and the power it can have. Okay, putting the soapbox away. Sexuality is something fluid, as are your feelings about who you are as a sexual being. It is.. it is like.. a Turtle( ice cream) milk shake. No, stay with me through this simile. Sexuality can be sweet and pure like the frothy little bubbles on top, but as you delve deeper, you find a myriad of other flavours, textures, and tastes. There is not only softness, but also some things can be hard to swallow without chewing them over a bit first. There are surprises and sometimes a few nuts. But, when you mix it all together you have something special, something specific, and something that is totally yours. The best part of a Turtle milkshake, though, is sharing it with someone else (Keep in mind, there are people who don't want to share their milkshake at all. And, that is totally cool. Chill out about it.)

5) The Nature of Peace
Peace comes from within--within a person, within a community, within a country, within a world. It takes every part to decide consciously that peace if something towards which you wish to stride. It is about time that we choose peace over violence. It is about damn time.

6) The Nature of Intelligence
As computers slowly take over mundane tasks such as calculation, letter writing, and almost everything else, it is time to go back to our proverbial roots. Intelligence comes from learning. Rote memorisation and book learning are all fine and good...I guess.., but I'd like to discuss emotional intelligence, interpersonal intelligence, all the other intelligence. We gather intelligence to sustain us. We hunt intelligence to satiate our need for knowledge. We share intelligence with those around us, in hopes they return the favour. Every person has a unique set of intelligence, and the world would be less without it.

7) The Nature of Trust
Trust is the most difficult corner stone for me. It takes ages for me to build trust in any kind of relationship. However, today, I experienced rapid trust with my tour guide (also hostel owner). I jumped on the back of his motorbike ready to explore the world around me. About halfway through the day and after a few jokes about me driving for the next leg of trip, he took the backseat of the bike and taught me how to drive a motorcycle, like, a real one. He was gentle and careful. He explained everything before I had to do it. He was so calming. Then, later in the trip, after a few mishaps with a head stand, I had some gravel under my eyelid. My guide blew in my eye to dislodge it. It took several quick puffs, but he finally got it. And, I am not sure about Vietnamese culture, but I think being air-bonded means we're married? So, you can send any wedding gifts to my mom's house. I could do with some Tupperware. Joking aside, I was astounded at how quickly I trusted this man. The nature of trust, then, may be an openness and readiness to explore parts of your self, parts you've hidden from others, and even parts you didn't know existed. I must approach new situations, new people with readiness to learn as much about myself as I learn about them.

So, you only hate the road when you're missing home

Wah wah skittlesnacks. It has been a minute. The above lyrics are from the Passenger song, 'Let Her Go.' And, in the past, I have listened to this song with self-pity and a tub of ice cream. However, it wasn't until recently that I really *heard* the song.

Scene:
I walked past three guys jamming with their acoustic guitars right outside my hostel in Laos. My friend and I sat down to listen to them and just take in the night. Then, they started playing Let Her Go and asked us to sing with them. I looked up the lyrics and started to get into it. As the chorus came, these words caught in my throat and I faltered. I couldn't really continue.

And, here's the rub. I've never not missed home. I have been homesick more than not over the past four years. And, now I am so close to it; I can practically taste the cheese. This long way home has shown me that I don't hate the road. I love it. I love being in new places. I love exploring. I love being able to find my way around with nothing but the sun...and a pretty solid GPS. But, there is something special about talking to my mom and saying, 'Okay, I love you. I will see you in a couple weeks.'

For anyone who's not lived abroad, 'see' can mean anything from skype to emails to letters, but it rarely means actually see with my own eyeballs. But, really, I will see my mom in, like, twenty four days. I will hold my niece and head butt my sister in seventeen. I will hug my dad in sixteen.

And, so I have been challenging myself to 'Let Her Go.' By this I mean, let go of myself. Let go of my fears. Let go of my hopes. Let go of things like past and future. I have the rest of my life to sort out all of that. I hold the present with open fingertips, allowing it to flow through them like sand, appreciating it for what it is and not trying to hold on.

And, in that, I will know that I love fully because I am truly letting go.

So, boys will be boys is bullshit

So, this morning, I decided to go for a run. I donned my shoes, picked my music, and started to run. Up ahead, I saw a Lao man and a foreign woman talking. She walked away. He leaped from the stairs on which he sat and started full on sprinting after her. I rounded the bend and saw the woman on the ground, scraped up yelling, "Are you crazy?"

I asked, "Did you just push that woman? Why did you do that?"

He then turned to the men sitting and watching this episode and said something with utter contempt.

I asked again,"What did you do?"

He waved me off and walked back to the hotel where he works (Mountain View Riverside Boutique Hotel).

The woman got up and we walked towards the town center and stopped at a restaurant I frequented so she could wash her hands. She told me, "Yesterday, I went to his hotel to find a room. He said it was 100,000 kip [13.50 USD] per night. I said that was a little too expensive for me, and I asked him if there was somewhere cheaper. He freaked out on me and just started yelling. Me and my friend were scared, so we said we will write a bad review on trip advisor. He called us bitches, and we left. Then, just now, he called to me and said, 'I remember you, bitch.' I said, 'I remember you, too. I can still write a review, and walked away. And, then I was on the ground."

I asked her if she wanted to go to the police, and she said that she didn't because they weren't  going to do anything about it.

And, that, that is the bullshit for which I refuse to stand. This boys will be boys and men will be men mentality. Violence is not, should not, cannot be gendered. Boys will be what we teach them. If we teach them misogyny, then they will be misogynists. If we teach them kindness, care, compassion, they will be kind, caring, and compassionate. I refuse to allow the boys will be boys rhetoric in my life. Even in children, if boys will be boys by pulling little girls' hair, teach them to not pull hair. If boys will be boys means young men coming in from sports covered head to toe in mud, well, I guess I didn't earn the nickname 'Mudbucket' by having a penis. Children will be children. Kids will be kids. Boys do not have to be what boys were. They do not have to adhere to the ideas that violence is the only acceptable way for men to show emotion. And, lesbiehonest, masculinity is not a singularly male trait. It is a frame of mind. It is a way of expressing oneself regardless of gender, gender identity, or even biology.

I have known too many men (and humans along the spectrum) who would be appalled by this crass generalization of what it means to be a man. My friend Sean is one of the most gentle people I know and is unapologetically a feminist. Ben has come into every conversation about gender with strong opinions but the most open mind possible. Boot has the most patience I have ever experienced in a human being ever. These, these men are the standards by which I judge what it means to be a man. These men and so many others in my life show me that there is a way to be 'both comma and' to be both a man, and be a feminist/humanist/womanist. If we expect our young men to be respectful of others, if we expect our young men to see young women as equals, then, then our boys will be boys who value the humans in their lives. Our boys will be boys who are conscious of the world around them. Our boys will be boys who recognize their privilege and use it to balance the playing field. Our boys will be the boys we want them to be.

At breakfast, even now as I write this, a foreign man is playing peek-a-boo with a little Lao girl, patiently, gently, whole heartedly enjoying this moment he's sharing cross cultural, cross age, cross gender boundaries. And, it is a very beautiful thing.

So, it seems fitting

So, it seems fitting that I am riding backwards on the train from Busan to Seoul. At first, when I sat down, I was nervous about how my tummy has gotten really motion sensitive in my old age. But, after I realised I was being silly, I settled into my luxurious window seat next to a man in a sweater vest. I put on some acoustic jams and started looking. And, when you go forward on the train, you have a feeling of arrival, "I've got my big girl pants on. I am going places and doing stuff!!" But, going backwards has a distinct feeling of departure. Things stay in my line of vision until they disappear. I watched my city, my home slip out of my vision to The Weepies, silently replacing the high rises with rambling hills and a snow capped mountainscape.

It seems fitting that I am wearing my big girl pants. I AM going places and doing stuff. I'm wearing an outfit and personality completely different from the dress and curls clad woman who came to Korea not four years ago. I grew up here. I acquired a taste for dapper ties and snap backs, dry red wine and meaningful conversations. It is best when all four of those things happened at the same time!

It seems fitting that all of my possessions are either in a box or in a back pack. My clothes and books are in transit, much like myself. Moving from place to place, check points and safely landing on my mother's doorstep. My immediate possessions (including the game time addition of Rainbow Bunny) rest in a back pack looking down on me from the luggage rack. The world will be my classroom. Literal geography class moving country to country. Quick math for currency and science conversion. The science of people, culture, oceans, and mountains. History is everywhere. I am the student. I feel like a kindergartner on my first day of school. Kinda ready, kinda scared. Hoping that people like me and don't make fun of my polka dot and stripe overall shorts.

It seems fitting that this post seems a bit unfinished. It isn't my usual first-second-third-fourth-finally published draft of thoughts carefully crafted to note exactly how I want the world to perceive my emotions. I wrote this in one shot on the train. I arrive in ten minutes and I am not ready to finish this post. I am not ready to say goodbye to the people I've met here. I am not ready to live in a place without mountains and oceans. I am not ready.

Or maybe I am. Maybe I am ready, just scared. Just happy. Just sad. Just excited. Maybe I am all of these things. And, maybe, just maybe, that is okay.

So, I drank three cups of tea

I have a lot of feelings about this world, many of which focus on how we're heading towards hell in a stylish yet affordable hand basket. But, that's not what this is about.

My time in Taiwan thus far has been filled with some great surprises, including but not limited to amazing tour guides through the national museum and stinky tofu (thanks M and K). As traveling often goes, there have been some hitches. I have found myself in a foreign country with no access to my funds and a cell phone which doesn't charge with the immediacy I am used to. While both of these are solveable and definitely first world problems, they are frustrating nonetheless. Don't worry, Mom. I will be alright.

So, despite the steady showers, I decided to rent a bike and lose myself in foreign scenery and thoughts. As showers shifted toward downpours, I sought refuge under a tent with loads of furniture seemingly abandoned. Bonus: there was a puppy sitting on the table. So, Jericho and I sat watching the rain for a while.  I was thinking about all the small things (not the song but actual small things) that have been great in this past week.

Then, an older man pulled his bike up and told Jericho to get off the table in a string of syllables (suspicion: Jericho is perhaps not the dogs actual name). The man dried off the table at which I was having my belly button time*, then brought out a huge thermos.

Using no words, he motioned towards the thermos, pointed at me, and mimed drinking. I nodded and he pulled a cup out of nowhere and poured some tea for me. He settled into a wicker chair and had some belly button time, himself. That, that was when I started writing this, furiously penning it into a pocket notebook (in other news furious writing = cursive, I guess. I was surprised, as well). Anyway, I finished my tea and moved to a different spot on the table, so I could write more easily. Before I sat down, though, he snatched a towel and dried the seat and table to make sure my paper didn't get wet. He poured me a new cup of tea and gestured a "continue working" motion, so I listened. He settled down behind me, watching me, watching the rain, watching Jericho-not-Jericho.

And this, this is what I have been thinking this whole writing time: is this my language now? I have been slowly losing my English as I have lived abroad. I am not nearly as bombastic as I once was. I am not even close to sufficient in Korean to make up my language deficit. But, as I embark on a two month journey to all sorts of places, I'm learning a new language: one of kindness, universal gestures, yes, no, drink, friend. It is beautiful and humbling. I put so much effort into verbal communication--saying things exactly right (and often miffed when others do not follow suit). My voice is now a set of movement, a dance with intricate steps.

In that moment, I tried to choreograph the perfect way to express my sincere gratitude for the tea. So, I drew him a picture. It was in the classic Botsford style of stick figures and no sense of proportion whatsoever. I gave it to him, and he looked flabbergasted. He just kept looking at it and smiling. He put it in his pocket and then took it out again to laugh. He poured me a final cup of tea, and we sat and watched the rain fall content in our belly button company.

*Belly Button Time is a Botsfordism which means you take time to stare at your belly button and contemplate the complexities of the universe.

Note: I will update with photos as soon as I can access them.