Bust the lock off the front door
Once you’re outside, you won’t wanna hide anymore
Bigger adventures to come, I hope (more on that below), but for today, at least, I am exactly where I want to be: On the patio, surveying my domain over a High Life. It's been a much-needed day of solitude -- a 20-mile ride this morning, followed by several productive hours in the garden ... clearing out weeds, clearing up the soul. Quiet, sunny but not hot, dirty fingernails ... perfect.
Here's another late-summer garden shot:
Seems like it looks more impressive in photos than it does in real life. Maybe that's true of many things? Good to remember.
I've just sent off a resume and cover letter to the Cambodia Daily, an English-language daily in Phnom Penh. Have I mentioned this before? I applied on a whim just before I moved to New Hampshire; when they actually offered me the job, T and I discussed moving there together, but in the end I turned down the job and went not quite so far east. Always regretted it. A colleague on my Nigeria trip, it turns out, worked there a decade ago; he had high praise for the paper and said I likely hadn't burned any bridges. We'll see.
As for the Peace Corps application, it's ready to go as soon as I can make contact with my recruiter in Denver; I have some technical questions I need to get answered before I hit Send.
Found a copy-editing position in Abu Dhabi this week ... but I think that may be too repressive an environment for me. Can't really see myself wearing a hijab.
What might rise to the top? I have no idea yet. I'll miss this little life I've created for myself. But I'm ready for another, bigger one.
Though it's been mostly solitary (by choice), the weekend was punctuated by some charming get-togethers with friends. I finally met my online friend vmh (author of this lovely, poetic blog) in person on Friday afternoon; on Saturday I met Meleeska and mini-Meleeska at Jones Coffee; just got off the phone with my new buddy Vance in Austin, who'll be coming this way this week before leaving on a monthlong tour of Europe. Come see his badass band at the Zoo on Thursday, and I'll buy ya a drink!
Oh, and I'm reviewing Edwidge Danticat's new memoir, "Brother, I'm Dying," which comes out next month. Left until age 12 in Haiti with her pastor uncle while her parents forged a new life in New York, she draws on much of her early life in her amazing first novel "Breath, Eyes, Memory." "Brother" recalls her early life, punctuating it with her father's fatal illness and her uncle's detention, in post-9/11 America, while visiting on a routine visa ... he dies without charges (as there are none to bring) and without the medication he desperately pleads for, in vain. I haven't read far enough yet for details, but that's enough to enrage me, once again, at how far we've come from the values we supposedly hold so dear.
And the second chapter's title a question we all should ask ourselves now, before it's too late: Have You Enjoyed Your Life?