yes, I was in China

In about 5 days, I will have been home from the far east for two months.
While time will slowly and surely wash away the majority of my tactile memories of the life I led there, I am staving off the inevitable for as long as possible. Each day I take a few minutes and close my eyes to really remember where I was, and what I was doing. The feeling of each kid's hand in mine, their little voices, the plastic grass that got stuck in my shoes. The taste of the noodles, and pancakes, and flatbread, and milk tea. The smell of barbecue, roasted chestnuts, and stinky tofu. Stories told, songs sung, lips kissed, laughter shared. These will all be gone eventually, but I am grasping at each moment they flash themselves into my consciousness.
Perhaps the most difficult part of my return is that nobody can truly know what I have returned from. All that has happened on this side of my world is the passage of time. Its no news how static Tucson is, and it became glaringly obvious how much so upon my return. Things are exactly the same. Exactly. And while I have returned an entirely different person, with new knowledge and friends, and outlooks, people expect me to be a carbon copy of my former self. And that just isn't the case. Nobody wants to hear my stories, or see my pictures, they just want me to get caught up on who fucked who and why that is important. And thats ok, because my experiences are better left that way. Untouched by the judgmental and cynical eyes that fill this town. Its just a sad truth that the people that know me best, and knew me at my best, are a world away.
I had never been happier than I was there. And to come back to such stark loneliness, although expected, is still a lot to handle.
Things will get better with time, I'm sure. But for now my heart is low and my soul is cold.

sunrise, sunset

It always seems to happen that as soon as I come to terms with leaving this place, that I fall in love with something. Or someone. Maybe its my way of backing away from my future, even though I know nothing will stop me from moving on. It will just make things a lot harder. I recently had my heart broken, and it was the most liberating thing I have ever experienced. I was finally ready. But as time moved along, I found myself becoming closer and more attached to the things in my life. Its as if I finally realized what I have had going for me this entire time. Its beautiful. And its terrifying.

Tonight, Earth experiences a total lunar eclipse. But were I standing on the moon looking back at the Earth, instead of a red haze covering the planet, there would be a halo of light surrounding it. i would be viewing every sunset and every sunrise happening on Earth at the exact same time. And on the shortest day and longest night of the year, I feel like that is something significant. Maybe its a "close a door, open a window" analogy, but seeing sunsets and sunrises simultaneously is a wonderful thought and I'm taking it to heart.

In four months I will be far from anything and anyone I consider to be 'home'. I'm going to make the best of it.

an ode to trying harder

I like to think I try (do?) my best at all I take onto my plate, although lately it seems that sometimes (often?) I take a ‘pass’ for things that are the most important. Now I know, since I am the one who decides what is most important (and can’t let others try to change my mind) then I should be willing and able to adjust my behaviors accordingly, and figure out where to put my efforts. Developing a talent? Pursuing a hobby? Spending more time with the people I care about? Who knows? (I should, I suppose).
Now, the bellyache I developed today after I kamikazed three straight kombuchas in order to make up for all that lost time (due to an absurd recall), got me to thinking. Lost time is just that. (lost, obviously.) And no matter what I try to do, or how much I try to grasp at the wispy little ends of time (and places, and people) past, there is no returning home again. Isn’t that the old saying? Correct context or not, it seems fitting.
So here I am. Carpe Diem or blah blah blah. Now how am I going to take this to heart? Honestly, I wont. At least for the next few months. I’ll go ahead and waste a bit more time, have more regrets about not seeing the people I want to, not working the job I want to, not visiting the places I want to, not partaking in the activities I want to, not attending the things (parties/shows/art openings/happy hours/picnics/etc/etc/etc) I want to, and just work myself to the bone. Why? (funny you should ask). Because just MAYBE: this is exactly where I need to be right now. OK, OK. So I might have regrets, but hey, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. (right?) Give me a few months, and ask me again. (“Are you exactly where you need to be?”) For now, (I feel pretty confident), I can say that I am. We all need to work TOWARDS something, because honestly (I think) the worst thing in life is to be stagnant.
I’ll get there. (really)

I've been home for two weeks. Since my return I have made a point to reach out to the people I need in my life, and to avoid everything I want to...well, avoid.

So on this particular night, I stayed in, and spent the evening digging in the depths of my closet, which in fact turned out to be a fruitful endeavor. My fingers happened to graze an old tape player buried beneath the layers of scarves that never get worn, shoved in the back of my closet. Initially I opened it and tossed aside the unlabeled tape that lie within, in order to play a recording of my family members in conversation that I found months ago, and have yet had the ability to play. They were nice moments, causal and nonchalant, from when I was in middle school. Simple banter between my sister mother and I, but to be honest, not much had changed. Hours later I decided to give a listen to the tape I had displaced from the player, realizing something equally as charming might be written on its shiny magnetic strip.
What I found was truly a treat. Although recorded much more recently than the other, this one being only 3 years old, the sounds coming through the tinny speakers were of three best friends, whose voices and giggles have not been in the same room in a very long time. At least in this capacity.
For an hour I listened to the tape player, with its batteries held in with a piece of packing tape, and enjoyed Carla, Carlee, a guitar, and I, humming and singing and talking in a way so familiar, although now so foreign. Now these were not great moments in the sense that they were rare. These were the same conversations we had had hundreds of times, but this was the only one that I had the ability to relive.
And it got me thinking. I, being the nostalgic so-and-so that I am, am going to purchase a little digital voice recorder and carry it around with me. Every few nights, or every few weeks I will bring it out when I am around my friends, or in a seemingly everyday situation, and just record for a few minutes here and there. I am one who realizes that the things we experience everyday should not be taken for granted. Instead of letting them fall into the past, I am going to preserve them, in whatever tiny way I can.

I'm ready

If this trip has taught me anything, it has taught me that I want to grow up. Jobs in coffee shops and musicians who wanna make it big (or even worse, those who don't even have the drive to try) don't do it for me anymore. I don't want to be an artist, I don't want to be a writer, I don't want to live in Tucson.
But I do want to do amazing things. Everyone I have met and become close to in the last month have taught me that there are so many great opportunities out there, without me needing to give up on adventure. I have an opportunity to work in Palestine, or Toronto, or San Francisco, and there are jobs for me in London and Ghana and Geneva. Why settle? I want to see the world, but not with a backpack on my shoulder and 20 bucks in my pocket. I want to do good things for the world and meet people with ambition. I spent the past 18 years of my life in school, and I'll be damned if thats going to waste.

Hello future, I'm here.

I'm beginning to get anxious. How is my stay already wrapping up? So much we didn't do, and not enough time to cherish what we did. I've fallen in love with a city outside of my own. Who knew it was possible? There are so many words I should write, but I am busy drinking in my last hours here. Au revoir Amman. You have done more for me than you could possibly imagine.

a bit wordy perhaps

I would be content living exactly like this forever.

Where to even begin. There are so many things I have yet to write for nobody to read. Paul has made a nice little social circle of people who share this apartment complex. And their pre-furnished apartments have just as much personality as the residents themselves.
There is Josh, the charming British boy who spent a few years in New York and when not in Jordan has been living in Scotland. He tells stories better than almost anyone I have met, and will hold your attention endlessly telling the most seemly mundane tales. A mysterious creature, he always wears button up shirts gingerly tucked into his waistband. His house is donned with gaudy golden moldings, and sleeps in a huge princess bed each night.
There is Drew, a darling boy who goes to school in Boston, and has no one place he calls home. His manner of speech reminds me greatly of my Jorgenson brothers back home, but that is where the similarity ends. He has traveled extensively, and is a very gentle soul. He would put anyone at ease simply being in the same room as him.
There is Dustin, here visiting his boyfriend Niko, and like me has nothing to do during the day while Niko is off at work. We have adventured clear around this city and shared Fatatri, or Egyptian pizza-type things. He is who showed me the mango juice from the little stands downtown. (Two quarreling businesses set up shop on either side of a narrow alley entrance, and fight for your business as you walk past. He always goes for the one on the left). Dustin is what one might call a know-it-all, but in the most unoffensive way. Full of useful (and useless) information, when he defines words for you, you're glad to listen.
And there is Hannah. Paul's boss, a dear woman who is willing to help in any way possible, and has accompanied us on our adventures over this past weekend. A lovely tour guide, and interesting woman who is never short on stories. A true joy to be around, she is tough and worldly.
These are the few I have spent most my time with, although everyone I have met in this building could easily turn into dear friends I'm sure. After only a week it feels comfortable. It is reassuring to know that I could drop into any place and find amazing people. Although, obviously I must give Paul credit for this whole situation. I have simply weaseled my way into his niche here. I must take a portrait series before I leave.

So with these people I have come to love this city and more recently the surrounding country as well. The weekends here are Friday and Saturday, so Friday morning we had our first out-of-Amman excursion. Accompanied by Drew and Hannah, Paul and I hired a driver to take us to Wadi Mujib. A wadi simply means a valley or gorge, but in actuality they are often huge canyons with tall gorgeous walls. We started off wading through ankle deep water, with walls around us reaching up and touching the skies. Again, no photos or words could capture either the breadth or beauty of where we were. Climbing farther into the canyon, the water got steadily deeper until we were waist deep and approaching small waterfalls which we had to devise ways of shimmying over. 5 or 6 of these obstacles we all decided were not enough. It was truly a great time. At the end of the trail was a 30 or so foot tall waterfall, which we all climbed behind and watched the world from behind a curtain of falling water. On the way out, we sat in the water for 20 or 30 minutes and attempted to soak up every inch and nook and cranny of the place we were. A few photos were snapped, and I will eventually put some up somewhere.
The next stop was a short walk across the road, down to the Dead Sea. Looking like a scene on Tataouine from Star Wars, we descended a hill down to the warm, salty water. Now, swimming in this sea is an experience no human should be without. The density of the water is heavier than our bodies, so you just float. Putting your legs beneath you is a task in itself, and moving gracefully is out of the question. But woah. It is really an unbelievable feeling.
Yesterday we got a bit of sun poisoning, but it was worth it. With Hannah leading us around, we made our way to Jerash. This is a town a bit north of here full of amazing Roman and Byzantine ruins. Things like the Colosseum have nothing on this place. Jerash is an entire ancient city, with column-lined roads, untouched amphitheaters, and temples for the gods. We spent 4 hours wandering, snapping hundreds of photos which again I will post somewhere eventually.

While there has been no shortage of venturing out and about, some of my favorite things have been buying sandwiches from little shops and eating them in road-side parks and admiring the people passing by. Walking these streets with someone so dear to me is treat enough. While Paul snoozed last night, I found my favorite place in the entire apartment. Pushing open the screen in the kitchen window, I sat on the sill dangling my legs over a 4 story drop to the staircase below. I can gaze upon the ancient city and listen to the call to prayer, and pretend that this is my life.

So here I am. Exhausted but exhilarated. I will stroll up to Al Quds, the most amazing falafel stand, and buy myself lunch. Followed by a stop in the Jordanian treat shop for some fresh baked delicacies. I don't want to come home.