Music usually swings and swirls my thoughts around based on the song. So, while listening to Neon Indian on my evening walk, that was what my brain chewed on-- the dreams of jelly fish. I feel like this is something I could talk with Michel Gondry about for hours, a conversation that would promptly be followed by some sort of arts and crafts session. Man. That would be awesome. (And by the way, I think that whatever they dream about, it would look like a Murakami piece.)
So, I've pretty much hit the halfway point of my trip, which, among other things, is RIDICULOUS. I've been living in Southeast Asia for a month and a half. A month. And a half. That doesn't seem very long, and I suppose in the grand scheme of things it really isn't, but it feels long to me. I've gotten used to living here. I am comfortable & happy, and living with my aunt & cousin (they are so awesome- I'll write more about them later) has been great. But there's always a nagging feeling in the back of my head reminding me that this isn't home, that I'm a foreigner here. This nagging isn't bad, necessarily. It makes me homesick sometimes, but ultimately I'd like to think that it reminds me to continue to look at & experience everything with the same wide-eyed wonder & unfamiliarity that I had when I first landed in the Philippines in September.
I've settled into a sort of routine here. Chatting with my aunt over breakfast & tea. Internet-ing with loved ones. Yoga. Running. Getting fruit at the nearby market. Reading at a local coffee shop. Eating a banana in between each of the previously mentioned activities. Etc., etc. Routines always help me settle into new environments. Not that I always need a schedule to function. It's just helpful and calming to anchor myself into some type of structure, especially after floating around in transitional spaces & times.
My relationships with people have been changing a lot since I've been away. This was expected, but how they've changed has been largely unexpected. Some have, unfortunately, fallen into dusty neglect; some have hit the pause button and will resume when I get back to the states; others have surprisingly strengthened; and there those that have pretty much stayed the same, with Skype conversations over coffee, pretending to have the usual catch-up chat at Pete's (there's your shout out, Scott!). It's interesting how these relationships change when distance is introduced. Even with the capabilities of the internet, I think the physical distance becomes a mental distance as well, making communication difficult even when outlets for it are ever-present and ever-accessible. I wonder why that is though...
I can't imagine what long distance correspondence and relationships were like before modern conveniences. As romantic and lovely as I find handwritten letters, my proneness to homesickness would make them so unsatisfying as a sole means of communication. Perhaps it's because I'm a child of this generation or because I get so awfully attached to people, but I need more than just handwriting and narrative voice. God bless Skype and Gmail. Really. (They are in no way affiliated with me; I just love them.) Even if the audio lags, making the video look like a poorly dubbed film, video chatting is so lovely. I always feel a bit sad once I hang up, but that feeling is always very quickly replaced by a deep appreciation for who I just talked to and the fact that I was able to.
Yea. I'm just tiredly rambling. I'm going to go to bed now. G'night, world!
<3
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