going to my journal
One thing with life here in Cambodia is finding expats I would like to talk to. Many I meet that honestly I cannot wait to be away from. Perhaps they feel the same about me. There’s something about them that rankles me. That leaves me rather unhappy or disappointed. I’ve speculated on this before. I believe we are all isolated together here in the kingdom of wonder. We simply are made of different materials and when we are all confronted with life in a completely different culture, we pull apart. Some form exclusive little expat only bubbles. Completely separate from Khmer people and even other expats that are not part of that life.
Others go the exact opposite. Back when I did archeology there was the concept of “going native”. Some cultural anthropologists would abandon all and want entry in the culture they studied. I don’t believe this can happen really. We are built of different star stuff. We cannot just acclimate here or believe we can reach some new zenith in our horizons.
Of course there are just my beliefs. Probably wrong and colored by perceptions and wrong overthinking. I just see the two things and write them out. So two different places and what’s a mongrel to do? I can’t want the expat bubble and I would rather be friendly and a little distant from Khmer people when I can. For me, it’s because I believe we never acclimate and will always be different. Khmer people know this too I think. They don’t really want us to be one of them.
So I don’t try either thing. I feel better going my own way. Finding my path. My daughter here once commented to my wife,
Let daddy be daddy
Up until then my wife wanted me to just be a little Khmer in social gatherings. My daughter was incredulous. Like why would I ever do that. She thought it was more fun and interesting to have me the way I am. After some time my wife stopped and just has accepted me how I am.
So in a roundabout way we get to the subject matter. I don’t think I can ever write in a straight line so humor me. The place I end up often is my daily journal. It’s easy to see why.
- The journal doesn’t judge me or ask me to change. It accepts me how I am. No questions asked.
- I can be what I am there. This mongrel of not here or there. I can simply write it all without fear or favor.
- I own it. It’s between me and iCloud what I say. My fears. My indecisions. My past lies and lives. All are shown without prejudice or judgment.
- There’s no limit. All the words are mine each day. Write what I want. Be mad, happy. Rant or rave.
What all these kind of clumsily point to is that my journal lets me be me. It’s what I need when I’m confused or angry. A little drunk or after morning coffee. The walk and the road become barometers to let me later find words that need writing. I can be not judged because I won’t be like one or other camp.
The journal lets me be me. Like my daughter said. So I’ll park this now because sleep calls. Tomorrow it’s another coffee time. Certainly another day in journal time.
Another day coffee time
So let’s see. Where I was. Ok. My journal and me. This blog and me. Both answer this need to let me be me. I don’t fit into circles or bubbles. I do fit into little spaces where I can write a thing or three. There I find my way down to places that seem to call me or wait silently for me to finally arrive where they’ve been waiting. It takes me always some time to reach what ever arrival or departure point but the writing here lets me find my path.
This morning in a bit I’ll venture down to Spring Coffee. One of my favorite spots. I hope today they have the almond croissant that they will warm for me and that I feel make even more words come rushing and gushing. Now though I write this morning away. Yeah. In my journal and here. I’ve tried using different apps but none of them make me write any better or make things come faster. They also don’t make me feel good about the choice. I’m stuck between these words of markdown from journal to blog.
There’s always some stuff that carries over. To me, the two things are a single expression. I carry the same feelings here and write them there and it works the other way around too. I don’t expect others to write or think or act this way. I’m glad they don’t. I have this little private space and sometimes even when I’m out with the beer or coffee, I still feel it.
See you at Spring for coffee. Yeah right here of course.
spring coffee times
Finally you have reached my coffee moments out. I sit here this morning with the writing. With a coffee and warm almond croissant. With thoughts of all the little things swirling around. It’s why I write the blog this way. Why I enjoy seeing it stretch over days. From a place once home. A vision of this forever sunset. One day in 2020.
See you after the coffee and the wonderful croissant.
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