Let me start over: The Best News Ever

Growing up, I remember a lot of sit down talks with the parents. You know, the "now, let me tell you something" kind of talks when your parents act as a fountain of knowledge and you are supposed to just sit there and absorb their words like a little sponge. I remember them telling me about the importance of things like looking out for my sister, saving money, getting good grades, and, you know, being aware of stranger danger, blah, blah, blah. I remember hilarious moments like when my mom, who, at the time, was unbearably awkward about bodies and "sex" stuff, compared "sex" to a box of chocolate - something about waiting to eat a chocolate, because if it was the first one in the box, it would taste better...and...umm..ahhhh...

Yeah, sorry Mom, but the Forest Gump analogy was ridiculous and will be stuck with me for a lifetime. Haha, sheesh.

However, my parents did happen to give good advice ("good advice" which I appreciate in retrospect, of course), especially when it came to education and success, marrying someone you trust, and not depending on anyone else for happiness.

I will always remember these little pearls of wisdom, but one thing we never really talked about, though, was just being a good person. Maybe we did. Maybe this all took place when I was an impossible teen. Maybe the "Golden Rule" covered these bases, but beyond catch phrases and the sterilized Christian commandments, part of an institution that my parents really never bought into, I think I grew up thinking that if you didn't steal and murder, you were all set and probably a pretty good person.

I can say now, after screwing up friendships and relationships of all kinds, after stumbling through this life with a "golden rule" instead of any real outline for "goodness", that whatever I felt like covered all of my bases for goodness, came up short. Sure, we all have some sort of laundry list, if you will, our dirty laundry, or "goofs" and "mistakes" that have resulted in damaged hearts and relationships left in our wake, but I believe that people can change. I believe that we all have the potential to be good to those around us, someone who can be relied on or confided in. I believe that trust goes deeper than "if you say you'll do something, I'm trusting you to do it". I think trust comes down to standing with your heart in a paper cup, arms outstretched, asking someone to be gentle. I think it comes down to believing that someone will protect you or at the very least consider your emotions, treat you with love, and with respect. I've come to realize that though I have not been a good person, even close to 100% of the time, that when I think back on things that I've done or recalled words that I've said, I almost laugh, because I don't know if I even know that person anymore. I'm horrified. I repeat scenarios in my life and I feel ashamed while the good shoulder angel mocks, "are you serious? You really did that." Though such things have happened in the past, I hope that that isn't who I am anymore and here's the thing, I'm trusting myself to be different.

A year and a half ago, I moved to Thailand and I had no idea what I would find. Amongst the beautiful beaches, compassionate people, and relaxed way of living, coincidentally, it isn't just the best curry place or the hidden beach that I've found; I've been finding myself. I've been releasing the bitter, resentful, and angry self that acted like it was "me against the world", in hopes of finding goodness, grace, and love.

I know I've been hurtful and I know I can still be insensitive and hurtful, but I'm an 8 year old in love and life; I stumble, but I'm learning. Education is important; success, dependability, and character qualities in potential spouses are important. However, I think it's time we started having more talks about how to be better to each other. I think finding love and opening ourselves to trust trumps corporate ladders and stock options. I think learning how to listen and keep secrets is more valuable than dolla dolla billz and satellite television.

And, when it comes to finding bottomless friendship and happiness, if anything is warranting of little kid smiles and over the moon feelings, it's this:

I have a friend, a best friend, who told me just now that he'll be driving all the way to California to pick me up when I return to the states in August. Yes, my dirty, hippie, Southeast Asia-traipsing self will be in Los Angeles at the beginning of August and what is even more amazing, is that I have a marvelous, fantastic, sensational friend who: 1. hasn't forgotten about me, even though I attempted to disappear with my whole running off to Thailand stunt, and 2. has built such a beautiful friendship with me that he's willing to pick my crazy ass up from LAX. I feel completely undeserving.

I'm blessed with incredible friendships - friendships formed when I was a sub par person and friend - hey, like I said, I stumble, but I've gotta keep asking myself about what makes a good friend, because the value of friendship and the importance of being a good person is what makes this life rich. I honestly believe that despite an inability to summarize the formula for goodness or organize a set number of rules or guidelines, we learn from our life experiences about the meaning of goodness, and a willingness to learn is the equation. For me, it's more like a continuous classroom session, not a check list. Like anything in life, to improve, we must practice. So, let me start over. I guess the good news is - it's never too late.

It was as a 12 year old that I remember playing the newest CDs on repeat with my friends, huddling around the boom box, building friendships, and humming along with artists like Macy Grey, singing, "spread your rubber loving and it bounces back at you".

Discombobulated

Holy smokes, May is over and it feels like there were three months of activities crammed into one. May was such a whirlwind and at the end of it all, I feel completely discombobulated. For the record, that is a great word, "discombobulated". I like it. It has joined "coalescing" and "talismanic" in my favorite English words list. However, May will not be making it on to a "favorites" list of any kind. Not that May was bad, but it got a little weird. There was just so much going on! Maybe all of this running is making me crazy! That, and starting at a new school and having to work my butt off with 50 children in a class - knowing very veryyyyy basic English - has been a little stressful. Oh, add all of the rain we have been having to the crazy month mix - yes, Phuket is experiencing sheets of rain. Sheeting rain! That's the only way I can describe this downpour of a month. Today, for instance, I had the good fortune of driving through a wall of rain on two different occasions and it dumped on me. Was rainy season that long ago that I really don't remember all of this rain? Apparently, yes. Well, I've been adjusting. I shall be looking glamorous in a plastic trash bag masquerading as a raincoat this season. Which works, in so far as it makes me look like only a partially drowned rat when I arrive at school each day. Yes, the rain supplies that I have only provide basic protection when a motorbike is your sole mode of transportation. I've started daydreaming about being in cars again! It sounds so strange, but I can't help it - daydreams about being inside something while driving instead of relying on my eyelids as windshield wipers working in panic mode through an onslaught of rainwater that sabotages my contacts and leaves me partially blind (struggling to blink that piece of plastic on my eyeball back into place), while bracing against gusting wind, and romping through pot holes disguised by the flood water! I'm a piece of work this month, I tell ya. So, yes, I'm permanently connected to 7/11's finest rain poncho and avoiding the streets - turned canals, as much as I can help it. That means it's mostly me, my cat, and my jungle this month - staying sane with tasty beats and internet connectivity.

May is about "holing up", as I call it. Some might say Phuket's weather is turning us into hermits, but the alone time has been much appreciated after a month of traveling and having someone else up in your business - all of the time. Disclaimer: My vacation was nothing short of amazing and I'm still hanging out with all of the people I was traveling with, as they are my family after all, but I've been relishing in alone time, watching guilty pleasure television shows, painting, and running. There's only 2 remaining weeks before the big race and I'm actually feeling...ready. Can you believe that? Ready, for a marathon! Despite the month of traveling and vacationing, despite lapses in healthy eating for lapses in junk food and nights out, and despite my negative Nancy attitude/shoulder angel sabotage, I have cut down on my nights out significantly and as a result, I'm running like a maniac. Jason and I conquered about 20 miles on Thursday in about two and half hours...and I felt great! Well, my right knee has been giving me a little bit of trouble towards the end - just aching a bit, but since resting for a few days, I'm rejuvenated and really getting there. Who would have thought - Nicola Rose becoming a runner.

I put the last half of  the word, "runner", in italics, because it was around November last year, when Jason and I were talking about running together, that I attempted to explain to him that there is a big difference between someone who "runs" and a "runner". Someone who runs, I believed to be someone like myself in November of 2011, a person who runs to warm up, likes a bit of cardio, but goes for about 30 minutes (tops!), and calls it a good run. A runner, is someone who really runs. Someone who is fully committed to the activity, runs for the sake of running (masochistic as I might have previously viewed it), and perhaps trains for running events i.e. 5k, 10k, and marathon type races. I attempted to communicate to him as clearly as possible that I was not a runner and that I was just someone who wanted to run to be in shape. He attempted to diminish my concerns and reiterate that he wouldn't judge me for not being a runner, but that he just wanted someone to run with - runner or not. (This whole time though, Jason was laughing at me for continuously putting emphasis on the "ner" part, along with my attempt to beat into him the point that I was not in any sense...a runner. I was desperate in this conversation if you weren't already able to tell. Me, a runner? No, thank you!)

Then, we competed in a 12k Fun Run - just for fun, right? As I told you, my shoulder angel was chanting in my ear the whole time, "You can't do it; you can't finish this." Still not a runner, I did run the race, completed the race, and did pretty well.

And, now? Well, shoot. Here we are. I'm getting ready to run the big race and I guess in these last couple of months, I've become, well, though I hate to admit it, and I swore it wasn't possible, I've become a runner. June 10th is D-day. Stay tuned.





In other news, I'm painting a mural in my house during all of these rainy days Phuket has been experiencing and it is going to be absolutely ridiculous. It is jam packed with color, silly quotations, and it is MASSIVE. I've been painting this thing since March and it is now, finally, almost done. Give me a couple more days and there with photographic evidence of the stark yellow wall's transformation in my house.

Lastly, I am buying my ticket home this week and I'm so freaking excited. I can't wait to make it official. Butterflies aside, this is going to be one hell of a trip! August, hurry up and get here!

Well, after I flushed all of this out, some of the issues that didn't make the blog post, now seem less daunting than before. I guess this is how I deal with my worries or concerns - start writing them and they become a lot more manageable. Life is good and I'm psyched for another month. Okay, I can do it; bring it on!

Money For Moves

My parents threw some money my direction for a plane ticket home. I feel completely awestruck. I'm just stunned by their generosity, realizing that it has been a year and a half since I've seen my dad and sister, and, actually, still a little afraid. The whole thing is just so fantastic and unbelievable, but it also feels like an important chapter in my life is drawing to an end. I guess it is happening; it's been something I've been talking about and looking forward to for so long - and I just need to commit - however, I'm finding myself dragging my feet.

Commit. Commit to planning a couple of months in advance. Hah! That's big when you live in a world that works on "Thai-time" and I barely know what I'm doing each weekend, let alone 2 months from now...

Maybe it sometimes takes getting what we "want" or having things fall into place, to realize where we are in our hearts. My heart has been stolen by Thailand and I am unsure of what lies beyond that.

How To Feel Good In The Skin You Are In

I used to work with a 67 year old firecracker of a woman. She was wild and had lived a fantastic life - equally exhilarating as it was heart breaking. This woman treated her volunteer hours at my office as a informal therapy sessions and though, I usually didn't say much, I listened, and I learned something pretty valuable along the way. I learned that you can't put off forgiving yourself. You can't wait. If you wait to forgive, you will end up as a 67 year old still wallowing in a world clouded by feelings of low self esteem, sadness, loneliness, and negative self body image. Like I'm always saying - I don't think that we reach an age when it "clicks", when we have the world "figured out", or we "grow up". If we want to live fulfilling and happy lives, we have to give ourselves a chance, and we must learn to love ourselves.

Forgive.
It's hard to feel good in the skin you are in since "growing up" appears to mandate a dosage of "self esteem struggles", some point along the way. This period of darkness turns our thoughts into weapons and we seem to spring at the chance to get all comfy in some negative Nancy pants and beat ourselves down. You know that superior critic in our minds that lets us have it, never giving us a fighting chance? We are the toughest on ourselves and the flagellation results in phases of low self esteem, though some of us yo-yo more frequently than others, teetering between the security of "okay", followed by "...not alright".

'Cause it's hard. It's hard learning that the world isn't perfect and that we are not perfect. I don't know how this got built up to be such a let down, but imperfection is what makes this world beautiful; it's not cookie cutters and mint condition lives. Imperfection is what makes us real. It's the good and bad times that create us and connect us to other imperfect people, but it can also make the road to self acceptance long.

This road is riddled with pot holes and speed bumps that seem to derail the whole operation from time to time, and I've been there too. I'm going to share something that I wrote awhile ago, something that is really difficult to talk about and share, because it isn't pretty. It is dark and negative, but it is not who I am anymore, so I hope that this can be like a chapter closing as I yo-yo closer towards "okay". I'm guilty of the self esteem roller coaster, but I've realized that my lowest points are associated with times when something occurs in my life that seems beyond my control. Divorce, being treated badly by someone, failure of some kind, etc. have all emerged as very trying moments in my life. Since disordered eating is tied to control issues, it makes sense that every time some big 'life happening' shakes things up for me, I respond to these overwhelmed feelings by attempting to control food. Beyond recognizing this pattern, I continue to make changes in my life that will help me to better deal with these feelings of 'no control', learn to forgive myself, and continue to move towards a place where these low points happen with less frequency and intensity.


It was a couple of years ago that I scribbled this on a dilapidated notebook page - 

It starts like hydroplaning, like losing control.
And, I am prodding again at my imperfections.
Obsessed with the pimples protruding from my scalp.
Scratching and squeezing through a thick forest of hair -
I am constantly reminded.
Only I can feel this.
The pain of pressure under my skin - sores growing poisonous.
Blemishes aching to be broken where they lie.
Tweeze, pick, poke. I can't stop.
Only I can feel this.
I claw at my body.
Razor burn turned ingrown hairs.
Bruises inside and out.
Only I can feel this.
Scratching my legs - itchy and dry.
Pulling at my skin, love handles and fat make me embarrassed and heavy.
Only I can feel this.
I sit alone thinking about imperfections.
Only I can feel this.
Staring into a mirror at a sad face, riddled with volcanoes and crevasses.
I feel calories and the sick expansion of my stomach.
I can't stop.
Only I can feel this.
I crave food like comfort.
Like cuddling close. 
Like hold me while I cry.
Like this is me feeling weak.
Like this is me feeling afraid.
Like this is me feeling rejected and alone.
Only I can feel this.
I maneuver myself to the bathroom.
Only I can feel this.
I force my fingers down my throat to bring up all of the poison,
the calories, and sick expansion. 
The fat. The pudge. The imperfections. The insecurities.
I release them in that bent over, grappling, embarrassing state and try to be okay.
Alone; Only I can feel this.

That was my lowest point. That is the darkest place I have ever reached. I reread that and was baffled by it, but at the time, the culmination of years of food struggles, my parent's going through the beginning phases of separation, recent rejection, feelings of inadequacy, and a general sense of being lost in the world, left me there. Before I could put the brakes on, I found myself slipping to that dark space and though it is embarrassing for me, even now, I write it down in hopes that I will never return there.

Today, I'm trying to learn to love myself. I have 22 days until my big race and I'm trying to treat myself well and appreciate the fact that my body is strong and able. I'm trying to accept and forgive myself for not being perfect, and instead celebrate my capabilities and strengths. Learning to love yourself can be one of the hardest things that we do, but we don't have time to wait. We can't put off forgiveness for a moment, a year, a lifetime. We can not afford to wake up as 67 year olds who still are learning how to love ourselves. We don't have time. This life is precious and fantastic, but we must embrace it with nothing short of love.

A Whole Lotta Shit's Happening

It's time for a recap...6 cha-cha-cha changes! With movie footage to boot!

#1. May marked the end of vacationland/pseudo fantasy life and my reintroduction to the pseudo real world. I can't quite call what I do in Thailand the 'real world', but I started working again and that adds a little bit of structure to my day. Actually, a whole lot of structure! News flash - I'm now an elementary school teacher!...which means I'm attempting to maintain as much structure as possible despite (what feels like...) a BILLION little Thai children running berserk! Being an elementary school teacher is full on and it makes me feel completely overwhelmed sometimes, because, honestly, I was at a high school for a year where students knew how to write their names and they weren't all 7 year old games and lack of understanding. However, the kids here are absolutely adorable and so fantastic that I think, though this will be a learning experience for me, I am going to totally enjoy this change in scenery. So, look at me - I'm an elementary school teacher now! Never thought I'd see the day...

#2. It isn't just children running rampant that is exhausting, but I'm also less than a month away from a marathon. That's right, I'm running a god damn marathon on June 10th, like I mentioned a little while ago, and like I said, shit's getting serious. I've never really done anything like this before or trained for something this big, but there it is - marathon season, baby. Right now I'm just running almost everyday - with the exception of rest days thrown into the mix and I'm trying to increase my run time slowly, but surely. Luckily, I have my friend, Jason, as a motivator and we have been hitting the trails around this little island to try to get real about this whole thing. Am I crazy? I'll get back to you on that one in ummmm...ahhhh....23 days. Let the games begin. Hey-o!...what have I gotten myself into???

#3. Obama endorsed same sex marriage. What, what! I always used to say that I wasn't getting married until everyone could...and while that was only one argument in my 'hate on marriage' tirade, I'm pretty happy that this has happened and I'm glad people are getting off of the hate train.

P.S. Same sex marriage has been legal in Thailand for quite some time...it's just the western world that's still backwards - imagine that...

#4. I'm going back to America for my 2012 Reunion Tour! This is amazing, because I'm actually saving money like you wouldn't believe. Yes, Nicola, the eight year old - the girl who can't manage finances or deal with grown up stuff...like...I don't know...responsibility?! I still don't know what that is, but I've heard people talk about it...

This trip back to the states is all part of the "can't stop, won't stop" energy that I have been discussing for ages. I'm getting absolutely psyched. Psychedness - which is only further stoked by a ticket to Pretty Lights at Red Rocks Amphitheater -  one of my favorite shows and favorite venues on the PLANET...andddd I'm actually making moves towards pulling it off. Well, actually, there's no way that I'm not going at this point. Red Rocks. Pretty Lights. Best Friends In The World. Child, please.

#5. Being home is starting to feel...real. It was when my friend, Charlie, said that he might be able to pick me up in Los Angeles when I get off of the plane from Thailand, that it hit me. We were chatting online and as soon as I read his suggestion, my heart jumped in my chest, my throat closed up, and I forgot to breathe. I felt paralyzed with my mind running a mile a minute - thinking, "holy shit, holy shit!" It's unbelievable to actually make plans like that with someone I'm dying to see. It hit me all at once! It is just a little while longer before familiar faces, places, food, IPA, music....blah blah blah...EVERYTHING, will be my reality; I am just so over-the-moon-happy and it feels like everything is falling into place. Yeah, holy shit.

One last thing about 'Merica. I'm trying to imagine what I will do when I get there and honestly, I'm having a hard time picturing it. For ages America has seemed like this distant, shiny ball of nostalgia. People would talk about going back to America or moving from America to Thailand and I'd sit there miffed, uncomprehending the life that they were talking about. Maybe I've just had too much pad thai and sunny beaches to wrap my mind around high mountain summers and the 505. It has been almost a year and a half of Thailand living and I don't really know how to be in America anymore. It sounds weird to say it like that, but living here is 180 degrees different than my life in the southwestern United States. I miss so many random things and can't wait to binge on the most obscure foods - it is going to be bliss. I am scared though. I am really afraid of the changes that I'll be faced with in myself, with my friends, and regarding my family. It has been a long time and there have been a lot of big 'life happenings'. Obviously things will never be the 'same'. Nothing is permanent. However, these changes are the foundation of my excitement, but also my apprehension. A part of me would love to have everything nice and neatly packaged like it is in my memory, but alas, that is life. It keeps on rollin' and we have to roll with it.

#6. Lastly, I know that I have been terrible about photos and documentation of my recent experiences. Instead, I have been flexing my "real zen wit it" attitude, but that is over!...temporarily. Pictures, you ask? Better! Video! My friend, Tim, made an EXCEPTIONAL movie about our experiences in Chiang Mai for Songkran (the epic water festival). So, there was a little bit of anti-zen time captured by his Gopro Hero II and edited by a pro (Tim). It's definitely the best film about Songkran I have ever seen, it is silly and amazing, and I hope you enjoy it if you have time to check it out. Here's the link:

Songkran 2012

So, that's my life. It's a whirlwind of running, teaching, and planning. There's a whole lot going on, but in so many ways...something is happening and I'm feeling good about it.

End of an Era

Topic of the day: Tommy took off for 'Merica late last night. Though I knew this was a long time coming, it was still strange to say goodbye to him. As a group of us chilled at the bowling alley, drinking from beer towers, and talking about the good times we all shared while he was here, it seemed so backwards that he would be leaving on a flight, a couple of hours later - I'm usually the one who leaves! Hmmm...I don't know how I feel about that.

What I do know is that it was amazing having Tommy in Phuket. Though his incredible personality and laid back attitude will be surely missed, it was fantastic that his one month holiday was extended into a multi-month move. On top of that, being able to share this adventure with such a good friend reminded me of how amazing this life is. So, I was sad to say goodbye, however, I am also very excited to be able to see Tommy in the United States once I make the venture back.

Tommy said that he felt like he was kicking off the goodbyes since Bob will be heading to Denver next month, followed by me (on my reunion tour of the states), then Alex, Jason, and Tim. I guess it is just that season for moving and making moves...

As that crazy kid walked out the door, Tim stopped him and requested that he put on one last song. It was this very fitting little musical number - Ramble On by Led Zeppelin, of course.

T'was a blast, Thomas. I shant be sad. I shallst look forward to the future rambling. Peace and love, my friends.

Little Things

I once knew a girl whose head was lost in the clouds. Knowing this girl in a work environment was a challenge, because she was constantly holding up the whole show. We would be trying to go somewhere or organize a group in the office, but Aimee would be off taking photographs or collecting pebbles. We would be worried about meeting a deadline and we would find Aimee talking to a child or watching a storm moving in across the Colorado sky. This girl was an adult, but in my opinion, she was childlike and hopeless. In a job that involved a lot of deadlines, Aimee was the antithesis of organization, punctuality, and deadlines. She was the wrench in the whole operation and sometimes I just wanted to say to her, bitterly - "There is a time and place, Aimee." Though people in the office would sometimes become infuriated by her lack of attention, it was only to a small degree, because the goodness and the gentle nature of her personality made it impossible not to love her. I think deep down, we all wanted to be a little more like Aimee.

I wanted to be like Aimee, because I was inspired by her ability to find beautiful things everywhere she went. Her "the universe is beautiful" attitude usually inspired me to exclaim, "fucking hippies", more in jest than anything else, but it was clear that my side comments stemmed from jealousy and shielded a dream that I might someday see the world like she could. I couldn't understand why I didn't see the things she did. I wanted to be able to notice beauty - in cloud formations, in golden Aspen leaves, vibrant wildflowers, and warm sunlight. I wanted to interact with people who moved me, talk to people who could change my life, listen, share, and create. I thought maybe there was a trick to it all, that she had figured out something that I hadn't, or perhaps, hopelessly, that I just didn't work like that.

When I was homeless in Denver, I lived with Aimee in her yellow bedroom in a simple little house off of Colfax. Despite the seedy reputation of the metropolitan city street, the house was situated close to a beautiful lake that made the rest of the city feel far away. We would spend evenings finger painting, cooking vegetarian meals together, and listening to music. Things were peaceful.

Though I knew this girl for just a brief window of time, she changed my life. She inspired me to live like an 8-year-old. She made me want to live my life like I was seeing the world for the first time. She left me eager to learn and to explore.

Sometimes we need to remember that it is the little things in life that bring us happiness. It is an early morning melody of singing birds or time spent with someone you care about that actually means something. It is the sun coming out after a summer rain storm, a cup of tea, or a compliment from a stranger that makes our day feel special. It is the smell of dish soap - inspiring memories of life in Denver or an e-mail from a friend that makes me feel loved. It's my students, my cat - kick flipping around my house, or being by myself - dancing around to music and feeling magical. I know now that I see every day like this. I know that I'm an 8-year-old/"woooo girl" over sunsets, songs, love, and life, but it took me opening both my eyes and my heart to the world, before I could see.

There's no trick to it, it is simple. There's beauty and magic everywhere, but you have to pay attention. Go forward today and find something beautiful, notice something special, and treasure it as if it is the most important thing in the world. Because, it is.

Orchids I found in Singapore

Devil's Head

South of Denver, Colorado,
you can find a lookout tower called Devil's Head.
If you climb to the top of the granite precipice,
you can see 100 miles in every direction - on a clear day.
The forest service used to station people there to watch for forest fires.
There would be someone, perched in the metal box at the top of the point,
scanning the horizon and spotting fires.
As the wind whipped around me, I was a little unsure of the safety of the metal office.
It unsettled me, that, and the loneliness of working there. By yourself. All summer long.
I wondered how long it would take before you started talking to yourself. 

In the middle of Phuket, Thailand,
perched on top of my mountain, the Tree House stands strong in the rain storm.
If you venture all the way to the bungalow, you can see stars, Big Buddha - illuminated in the night,
and the city twinkling below - but you have to make the trek.
I came to the island to find myself, and though I never knew what that looked like,
I heard that no matter where you go, you can't shed the cloak of the past.
I know now that is true.
As the rain encircles the mountain and my body refuses sleep,
I fight restlessness and uncertainty. By myself. Standing on my own.
I still wonder how long it takes.

What's Scarier Than Banana Spiders? Love, That's What.

A very wise friend of mine once said, "You know, we preach about 'love' all of the time, all of us do, but we are each terrified of romantic love."

I jumped. I mean, I quite literally stumbled back and, I think I shrieked like a little Thai girl over that truth bomb. Not only does talk of romantic love threaten my ice heart, it also scares the shit out of me - more than zombie apocalypse...or Banana Spiders. Yeah...Banana Spiders...romantic love scares me more than Banana Spiders. I'm not even fucking around; Thailand has big ass Banana Spiders that hang out in doorways or over footpaths that look like this guy -

 
Holy shit, right? Well, it almost scared me enough just looking up images of arachnids to steer me off the whole love topic, but I'm going to attempt to run with this idea before the organ in my chest thaws out.

So, yeah. I'm obsessed with love. I love love! I LOVE my family and friends so much it hurts sometimes. I love my sister unconditionally and as if she is the other half of me. I love my parents. I love life and the universe. I love Thailand. I love spicy food. I love nature and...well, you get the idea.

But, romantic love? Well...I'm not sure about that one.

Truthfully, after my friend bombed me with the observation about romantic love, I was feeling a little bewildered. I stopped and asked myself, "Do I know anything at all about love? Am I just some kind of love phoney?" Well, I hope that I'm not totally lost in the whole love category, but I am also baffled by love in many senses. I'll never forget this one time during my senior year of college - I was in class with my favorite professor, Joel Olsen, and we were discussing the uniqueness of parent-child relationships. Joel asked the class something like, "What is different about the love between a parent and a child? What makes their relationship so unique - unlike any other?"

The class was silent. We all shifted around a little bit and no one ventured a guess to the kind of question that seemed pretty incomprehensible for the group of early twenty somethings to wrap their minds around. There was a girl in my class, a beautiful girl who I'd always been a little bit in awe with - she was cute and petite, with an unexpected half sleeve tattoo of a woman. One day, she came into class and I noticed that she was pregnant, very pregnant, and it blew my mind. Hey, I was in college here - rarely was I ever around pregnant people or pregnant people who wanted to be pregnant people. She was just this edgy and cool girl, and then an edgy and cool pregnant girl who I had a lot of respect for. I never really knew how I felt about it; it was interesting to me and well, she had just had her baby at the time when the class sat there with blank faces, waiting for Joel to feed us the answer to his weighty question. This girl replied in an almost whisper - barely audible, but loud enough to cut through the stillness of the classroom, "Unconditional love."

It was beautiful. It gave me shivers and still moves me to this day. Unconditional love.

I remember wondering, "What establishes love like that? Is it hours of labor? Is it 9 months of carrying a baby? How do you get to love like that? Is it the years, the distance, the vulnerability, or just simply a decision that we make, a conclusion we reach deep within ourselves, which solidifies love - unconditionally?"

For a twenty something traveler (and an 8 year old at that) in a country obsessed with unrequited love, the whole concept of romance and love feels more like a handicap or a dramatic film. Add zombies or Banana Spiders to a story about handicaps or emotionally draining cinematic adventures and you've got something pretty terrifying and all around fucked up...

Maybe this is why I keep running.