me? who cares? me. i just write this as a public journal, cause i think i'm smart and figure out stuff that matters to me and maybe they matter to other people too. if you don't like it don't read it.
Hi. I'm 28. I'm married (almost a month now). I have a dog (Foxy lady Woolston) and a cat (spaz samurai figoro Woolston). I live in a nice 2 story, two bedroom apt./townhouse kind of deal. I'm broke and I'm jobless.
I just read this book by A.C. Weisbecker called Cosmic Banditos. It was really funny, and it reminded me to avoid getting sucked into the culture that is cultivated so rampantly in the united states. I don't care to be actively against the man, or against the system right now. I don't care about the starving in Africa anymore. Or to say, I just don't plain care very much for most of the world. It's just gone too far it seems. Even the people that were left as a remnant of who or what human beings could be, such as wandering nomadic tribes of the african deserts, or bush people, or aborigines, or the hobos of the U.S. Any number of different people that knew to just leave the rest of em alone and live live simply and happily. Even these people are now being sung the lullaby. Even these people are worrying about their contribution to society. They all want a piece of the popular pie. I don't care.
I just read a book called Eragon, written by a 15 or 16 or 17 yr. old kid from Montana. It's science fiction/ fantasy emphasis on the fantasy. I loved it. It wasn't written as stylistically or, ummmm, with the same sense of voice as others, but with a simplicity that really pulled me in. It's labled young-adult fiction. fitting. I really got sucked in and delved into my own adventures in Montana as a 15 or 16 or 17 yr. old. I really opened a lot of doors there. There's really something peaceful about getting a little older. There's more terrifying stuff than anything I think. Like the fact that I don't care. That's pretty terrifying to me, considering the amount of energy that I put into my mid twenties anti-establishment ideals.
But then again that's all they were, ideals.
Part of me feels that I should care. I just want no part of this culture. I just want to have a little farm with my wife and my psycho cat and my dog and maybe, someday, a kid, and a couple of nice jobs for us so we can survive and never have to watch crappy T.V. again.
The big problem with that is that the T.V. is on everywhere I go. I went hiking the other day and there it was walking toward me on the trail. I went to get groceries and in every ailse there was a walking talking television. We are all just T.V. ads with opposable thumbs.
We are all singing the lullaby.
ahh, no worries though. something'll come along and change that idea in my head, and all will be well. i'm still smiling anyway.
Totally overwhelmed. Not that that's hard to do with me. I've been known to be overwhelmed by the coffeemaker. However, still, I was completely overwhelmed by this city.
10 million people. I think that's right. That's really quite a few of the little thai guys runnin around. Most of em on motorbikes and in vans. Moderately exciting traffic (so far Jamaica was the most terrifying road experience--later blog for that), that is until you get into the city center area. It got a little crazy with like 8 lanes of traffic going one way and 1 the other, and then all 8 lanes going down to 2, while now there's 7 going the other way. right.
That was the first impression. From the airport to the hostel in a taxi. The driver was a nice guy, and we talked the whole way about President Bush (GET THAT BASTARD OUT OF OFFICE!!~sorry, tangent...) and whether or not I felt the need to find a nice girl while I was in town. A common thing with all of the taxi drivers in the world so far for me. Anyway I stayed in Sukhumvit soi 1 i think, or maybe 4. It was called big john's or something like that. It was ok. it was relatively cheap, and you got free tea or coffee in the morning, and breakfast was real cheap down the street. Actually across the street every morning I got to watch this couple set up their roadside cafe. Both would come slowly down the little, filthy street with big, lumbering carts in tow. And 15 minutes later after a barely perceptable (is that a word>?) flurry, both would be simultaneously operating 3 woks and virtually bombarding the buildings around me with aromas both sumptuous and sickening. I really liked sitting there the 3 mornings that I did, about 6 in the morning (forget about sleeping with that time change) and it's 80 degrees and humid and the hookers are walking back to their spots or their homes or whatnot, and all the locals glare, and the roaches strike up conversation uninvited and everything just drips of different. I said earlier that sleeping was not really gonna happen there, parenthetically. I mean both because of the time change, and because I was sharing my bed with this guy from, ummmmmmmmm, Austria we'll say. Not because I'm hiding his identity, but more because I can't remember. When I checked in the nice girl asked me if I wanted a single or double bed. I'm a total genius at these things. I assumed that a double bed just was for smart people like me, or for people that didn't like heights. As it was, I had signed up to share a bed with another traveller (is traveller two l's or one?). He was nice but smelly, and he brought a hooker to bed with him. yeah. So no sleep for me.
No worries I say, and I'm off to the islands to get away from people and see what's really there. Ok, so I'm at the library typing this, and my times up so more next time. if anyone's actually reading this, please leave a comment on what kind of crap one might rather hear about my travel's, if anything.