True to 8 years old

New Mexico has always had a way of making me feel like an 8 year old, or at worst, like a teen again. I thought that this time I came back that I would be above the teenage act - holding true to the new and improved self that I had cultivated during my time away. Then, I have a set back. It makes me wonder...do we really ever free ourselves from our past? Will I always be a bitter and angry teen dealing with family drama, broken hearts, and snippy, negative behavior. I thought I was better than this. It just leaves me embarrassed and wondering - what kind of person am I really? Who am I trying to become?

Thanksgiving: time is on my side.

Last Thanksgiving, instead of lounging around all day with family and cooking, I was participating in a makeshift holiday experience with a bunch of expat teachers in Thailand. We listened to some old school hip-hop, ate food that was considered luxurious in the land of pad thai, and reminisced about family traditions and customs that we were missing as we celebrated the holiday on the other side of the world. It was a very American holiday celebration, though we included Brits, Aussies, and Europeans alike, in our festivities...hey, any reason to bring people together, right? The funny thing is that Thais don't really understand Thanksgiving and though I tried my best to make it sound like a meaningful holiday, I made it sound more like - I don't give a fuck about Thanksgiving. That is a link to a post I wrote last year, where I attempted to tell the story of Thanksgiving like I did for my Thai students. I really tried, but I was teaching a class at the time that was focusing on European colonization of the Americas, so my students didn't quite understand how Europeans had really been all that thankful...my students had a lot of questions.

There seems to be a lot of pressure around holidays, but this year, I cooked my favorite foods with my sister, watched numerous episodes of Walking Dead (enough to prepare me for any zombie apocalypse), did some old lady activities like crocheting, and enjoyed the food coma of a day, as it was exactly the way I wanted it to be.

This year, I'm thankful for time. I'm thankful that I'm in America, though longer than I ever planned to be - since I should probably be in Korea right now, and that I've had the chance to be with family. With this borrowed time, I've even had the chance to add to my family in this place and that makes me thankful every day. I guess what I feel grateful for is the fact that this world does move quickly and since my lifestyle is so  transitory, at the present, I feel like I'm in a cracked out version of the real world. My relationships feel even less permanent than this impermanent world has already made them, my life feels sped up, and unpredictable, so that when I do spend time with those I love, I sometimes feel the pressure of time sitting on my shoulder.

Having holidays, like Thanksgiving, might be bullshit in nature, but the idea of having one day where everyone in the country is on the same page, is something that I can get behind. I like the idea of all of us taking the time to prioritize being with friends and family, because in this crazy and mixed up world, time isn't always on our side. We have to seize the opportunities while they are available to us, go down the rabbit hole in new relationships, and be open to love, because we can't always count on time to stick around. Turkeys and cranberry sauce aside, this year, I remembered that though families can be big or small, and traditions/customs applied and refitted to meet different settings and locations, the stuff that matters is taking a moment to be thankful for the time we have with those who we have the chance to share it with. It was just one year ago that I was missing this place and wanting to be around New Mexico for the holidays, eating green chili mashed potatoes, and thinking about those that I love. Now, I'm here, and well, here's to the holidays.

One Raven, One Life

I've never had a near death experience. I've never been a part of a true, honest to god, that was me starring death in the face kind of situation. I have been in really precarious (etch a sketch) scenarios living in places, like Thailand, where health and safety precautions are "really up to you". Relying on motorbikes as my main mode of transportation there, climbing, and living life at a million miles an hour, I've been faced with a lot of "ooo that probably wasn't the safest..." sort of feelings, but nothing that stopped me dead in my tracks. I can say, fortunately, that despite the madness of this life, this world has graciously taken care of me. However, yesterday was different. Yesterday, I saw death. I saw the end of the road, felt the sliding, and accepted that I was about to go over the edge. It was my first near death experience, but like I said, this world has graciously taken care of me.

The flurry of snowflakes descended on the city. I was hanging out at my friend's house making hot apple cider with pineapple and fresh ginger mixed in when we notices a few flakes fluttering outside of the kitchen window.

"We're going outside!"

We rushed out the door and into the front yard where snow flakes circled around us. I shrieked like a child! "Snow! Holy cow! This is what I was dreaming of! Snow for the first time in 2 years! Snoooow!"

It was awesome - cold and perfect. Finally, "Forever Fall 2012" had decided to give way to winter and I was thrilled. Looking up towards the mountains, we saw clouds settling over the the ski hill and it was decided - change of plans for the day, we have to go there!

After grabbing seasonal coffee specials, we started driving up the mountain where, very quickly, we found ourselves in a winter wonderland. Icy trees - almost dusted or lightly frosted with snow had replaced the golden Aspens that had decorated the mountains just one month before. The Sange de Cristos had undergone a total transformation and it was magical. We continued slowly up the twisty mountain pass, looking out across the deep snow packed ravines that plunge from the road, taking in the beauty of it all. It got colder as we gained in elevation and though the snow seemed to cake the pavement, we were steadily making our way to the top of the ridge. Then, the car slid out. Sideways we slipped down the road, for a good couple of seconds, when the tires caught, whipping the vehicle to its other side to slide for another few feet. It seemed like slow motion, but we finally straightened up to continue down the road. We were quiet. For a minute we just sat there digesting what had just happened. Then, we laughed because we had both gotten a little bit nervous even though, while we were sliding, we had acted composed - like this was an everyday occurrence  Nervous giggling breaking up the awkward silence, we joked back and forth, but since we were almost up the mountain, we continued, though we cruised a little more cautiously. My friend tended to the situation by saying, "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill us or anything."

"I know you're not," I responded and I believed it. I trust him when he's driving and any nervousness that I was holding on to simmered down as I settled into my seat and thought about the snow globe that we seemed to have been caught in.

We started talking about how we act in situations regarding impending physical danger. I maintained that calmness is my deal, because in the most stressful situations I have found myself in, usually climbing, I know that I have to stay balanced and focused instead of panicking - in order to, well, survive. So now, when I am stressed, I don't really feel any nervousness until after something has occurred. Like with the car sliding - I didn't feel stressed about it at all until after the car was under control and we had continued a ways down the road. Then, it retrospect, I thought, "Wow, that was kind of intense."

We were plodding along, one switch back at a time, when we made it to the overlook, about a half a mile from the top. "We'll stop here on the way down," my friend assured me, and we made our way around the final curves in the road, before we reached the pinnacle of our journey and felt as though we had been transported to another world. The ski basin, snowy and wonderful, looked like an untouched winter wonderland. I was elated that we had made it and the scariness of the slip and slide event was pushed to the back of my mind. I was happy to be in the mountains, in the snow, and caught up in such an incredible adventure. In front of the ski lodge, the road bends in a large loop before descending back down the mountain and I was impressed as the car handled the track with grace. My mind went to the overlook, where I was eager to stop, take in the view, and feel the triumph of being on top of the world. With confidence in our ability regained, we headed to the first turn of our decent.

Well, it seemed like we should have been turning. We didn't. We were headed straight for the edge. The tires, without proper traction on the road, weren't gripping asphalt, but were gliding across the top of the packed snow. I looked at my friend. I looked at the edge. The end of the pavement was covered in freshly fallen snow, that wasn't packed down, and I thought, "It's okay, the chunky snow will stop the car from sliding." We were headed straight for it on our side. Closer. Closer. Finally, the tires caught, but instead of stopping, we spun. Doing a 180 degree turn, we headed backwards off the edge of the ravine. My mind was clear. I was thinking, "Here we go," when inches from the edge, the car miraculously came to a halt. "Oh, thank God," I repeated to myself silently. My friend restarted the stalled engine, but after giving it some gas, it was clear that we were stuck.

I didn't hesitate to jump from the car saying, "You drive; I'll push us out." If there's one thing that growing up in the mountains has prepared me for, it's pushing cars out of the snow. So, I went to work, putting all of my weight into the back of the car and though the wheels were spinning and my feet were sliding, within a minute or so, we had made some progress and the car was maneuvered from the edge of the road. I plopped back into the car, happy with the fact that we weren't stuck, could continue on our way, and proud of myself for getting us back on track, without once considering the grave danger we had skirted.

Then, it began to sink in. My friend started to recount the event. We had been inches from the edge of the road. That meant that we were inches from the edge of the ravine. Without a guardrail, that would have meant we would have gone over. Backwards. Backwards off of the road. Backwards off of the road and into the ravine. Holy shit. We worked it out together. Holy cow - that's what we were on the brink of! A ravine!

Shaken from this taste of reality, we pulled over at the overlook and just looked at each other, thankful that, though inches from a different outcome, we were alright. Backwards. Backwards off of the road. Backwards and not stopping. We just 180-ed so quickly...why hadn't the snow caught us faster? Holy shit.

Just then, as if recounting the severity of the situation together hadn't blown our minds enough, we saw something that would be the cherry on top. Mid-sentence, my friend seemed to freeze up. His eyes were locked dead ahead. I followed his stare to the railing of the overlook, where perched before us, in a flurry of snowflakes and streaming sunlight, sat a raven. A raven! I, too, fell silent. I could hear our breathing fall in sync as we remained motionless and starring. It felt like forever, but was more like the span of a minute that we sat in the car watching this bird. Finally, as if just waiting to catch our attention, the raven spread his wings and soared off, gracefully flying over the world.

Considered an omen of death, we shuddered at the symbolism in correlation with our experience. Just sitting there. A raven. Watching it all. Nearby the whole time. Waiting. Suddenly, every moment felt raw and precious, so much so, that we felt overwhelmed by the desire to abandon the warmth of the car, and go to the overlook's edge. We had to experience the view. Snow crunching beneath our steps, we reached the railing and the world seemed to open up before us. It was majestic. Storm clouds blanketed Santa Fe, but the sun illuminated the entire valley and left the snow flakes glistening. We looked out through the flurries dancing with the icy wind, mesmerized by the drama and emotion of the Southwest, silently trying to take it all in.

Later that evening, we were still trying to process the magnitude of the event. The spinning, the raven...that raven, holy cow. It still felt momentous even over dinner, safely miles away from the knife-edge road that snakes up the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. It makes me realize that even though we rarely have reminders, death is always present, always lingering, always waiting. But, for now, it's not my time and the world has graciously taken care of me. Still, it may have been one life used.

Penasco Fiasco

Halloween is one of my favorite events of the year, and therefore I love to make the holiday a whole week affair. Lucky for me, this year Halloween landed in the middle of the week, resulting in everyone being on the same page as I - all for a week of Halloween tomfoolery. Masquerades were being organized, Party City was an overrun nut house, and people all around me began recounting stories that began with statements like, "Well, then Pocahontas and a slutty woodland creature started talking about having a threesome with dude in a Sailor outfit..." or "There was a Mickey Mouse Jedi wielding a light saber and pushing party favors next to the giant grapes and Crayola crayon." (While based on actual events, names and characters have been changed to protect the reputations of the individuals involved. Hah! Oh, Halloween...) Unfortunately, I had been working a lot and hadn't been able to capitalize on G-rated...okay maybe PG-rated Halloween fun, until the Penasco Fiasco.

It just so happened that I was out the Saturday before All Hallows Eve, getting a drink with my friend, Noah. We were posted up at a local bar and grill, enjoying the shenanigans of our friend and bartender, Julian, who was preparing himself for Halloween activities. He was explaining to us the science of the makeshift Halloween costume as he had had a friend deliver him a couple of simple items to throw together a "soccer player" costume for a party that night. I put "soccer player" in quotations here, because, like I said, it was makeshift, but the makeshift-ness made it even more hilarious. With stapled short-shorts, a jersey, and sweatband, the costume would be finished off with a pair of running shoes. Unfortunately, Julian did not have such shoes available. His black, dressy, work shoes weren't quite something a "soccer player" might wear, so Julian became engaged in a conversation with a regular customer at the bar, an elderly man who had kindly offered Julian his shoes for the night. Julian was to follow the gentleman out into the parking lot to the man's car, where the man would give Julian the running shoes. Kind of awkward and a little sketchy, but the shoes were collected. It seemed hilarious that Julian was literally taking the shoes off the man's feet, but that's the spirit of Halloween right...? Charity and...oh wait...wrong holiday.

Noah and I were leaving the bar in search of our own Halloween activities, when I received a text message from a friend: "We're going to Penasco. Brace yourself..."

I was down, though I had no idea what Penasco was, where it was, or why I might need to brace myself, but in the more accurate spirit of Halloween, I was ready for whatever.

When I called my friend to inquire further about the night, he said there was an electro dance party happening at a place called Penasco Theater. Electro dance party?? Yeah, I was really down.

But, Noah...oh, Noah. Noah is my favorite old person and he went home. Haha. Again, I love you Noah, but you are old and electro dance parties are not the for those who don't find their hearts beating to bass. Fair enough.

So, I rolled to my friend's house and found him preparing himself for...well...a rave. I had heard electro dance party and I was ready for adventure, but I did not have my rage-wear...which of course is a fanny pack*, glitter of some sort, a crazy costume for sureeee....Halloween or not. No matter, we readied ourselves, as it was about 11 at night, to go chasing down this party. Then, it came to my attention that we had about an hour drive into middle-of-nowhere New Mexico in order to find this Penasco place.

Well, adventure, here we come. We piled into the car, half a closet of potential articles of clothing included, speeding north of Santa Fe with hand written directions and hearts set on dancing.

Now, growing up we never ventured into the valley. We never went searching for other people's parties, because, for the most part, we were afraid of what kind of people we might find. I'm serious. We were so close minded as high school students - but we were the product of the environment; we were told rumors by parents of dangers off of Los Alamos mesa and amongst our peers we propagated these stories which maintained our xenophobic mindsets based on stereotype masquerades, thus, we kept to ourselves. Since that time, most of northern New Mexico has remained as no man's land in my mind and I sure as shit would never have dreamed of searching for some electro dance party situated ambiguously in between Espanola and Taos. Yeah, no man's land.

(This is the good thing about partners in crime...they encourage you into unfamiliar territory - out of comfort zones and towards...well, you just don't know always, do you?)

We careened around mountain corners and pushed further into the depths of the state. I tried to log all of the road signs in my memory as we passed, so that I could remember where on earth I was. It was beautiful - the moon, almost full, lit up the night and revealed the landscape to me and I felt happy just to be driving. I had no expectations as to what we would find, so the drive itself became adventure enough for me. Then, we got to a fork in the road and it seemed like we were at the end of the directions. Where was the party? Shouldn't we hear music? Where are cars, people, movement of any kind? Let me paint a picture - it seemed like we were in an abandoned town. We were on a single road, one end lead back the direction we had come from, and on the other end of the "town", the pavement ran out and we were on what appeared to be a forest road. We drove back and forth on the road and went through the directions over and over again. Then, just because we were running out of options and common sense, we decided to just see where the forest road ended up...so we began romping on down the road...for fun...

Things began to get treacherous, so our new plan became: head back into the town/village/situation and the next car we see - follow it! Points for plans?

We circled back to the could be ghost town and I eyed the broken windows of abandoned buildings lining the road. Everything seemed a little eery. I was thinking that we were without hope of finding this party, when finally, we saw a car! It turned. We turned. It drove on. We followed. Mimicking its course away from the town we realized that we had been a couple of steps ahead of ourselves. This was the path! Heck yes, heck yes! And with no time to lose, the clock was glowing with the time - 1:30, speed racing commenced and I felt a new found anticipation. Electro party - here we come!

Just before 2 in the morning we pulled into another town development. We were finally in the place we were looking for - Penasco. Scanning the surroundings for a theater, suddenly, right in front of us was an old looking building that had the ingredients for a party: 1. space 2. music 3. people. We parked, we organized ourselves, we grabbed our belongings and launched from the car towards the warmth of the building and a party that we hoped was still in effect. As we approached I was looking for indicators of what awaited us. A woman dressed in what appeared to be an elaborate 17th century dress made out of paper and plastic items crossed the threshold before us. "What are we walking into?" I puzzled. I couldn't help thinking that I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into. No idea at all.

Entering the building, feeling completely out of my element, I experienced sensory overload. It was a fiasco! Holy cow! I was having my mind blown as I grappled with what was happening around me - glowing lights pulsed around us and people in all sorts of interesting costumes grouped together in the entrance. Leotards, wigs, go-go dancers, body jewels - elaborate costumes swirled through, tea was brewing and a fireplace warmed the sitting area, but a dance party raged on merely 30 feet away. Elevated on the stage, DJs were spinning and would be until daylight, so we really had only one option: dive right in.

Dive we did. Positioned at the front of the crowd, dancing became our mission. Finger lights were turned on and we attempted to compensate for our lack of elaborate costumes with just an elaborate presence. Imagine tracks like Booka Shade - Night Falls with some bass-y stuff too, it was our element and we were at the mercy of the night.

The second thing that we did to make ourselves appreciated by the people there was to start making name tags for folks. We thought it was pretty hilarious and we tried to be imaginative. I saw the go-go dancer again and made her a tag that read: Ms. Go-go Got it. She was down. Though I was a weaker link in the name creation game compared to "Ica-rus", shockingly some people weren't stoked. Haha, like the leotard girl would not embrace the name: Mighty Tighty. It was a failing in some ways, but we got some enjoyment out of it, as did the man donning the red headed wig who became "Mrs. Robinson". I don't remember the rest...

It was chaos and we were feeling over the top. As if caught in a time warp, we danced until we were exhausted and, well, it was almost 6 a.m., so it was time to keep on keeping on. We returned to the car to begin the trek back to Santa Fe, trying to remember our way through the back roads that criss-cross the desert. It didn't help that the whole world seemed fuzzy and surreal; even the moon was odd on this side of things, glowing bright yellow and clinging to the sky as the night slipped away. Barely outrunning the glow on the horizon, we seemed to float over the rolling hills, that climb steadily towards the mountains, before dropping into Santa Fe valley. We coasted and I gazed out of the window at the sunrise spreading across the world, curled up under my poofy winter jacket, still feeling the vibrations of the party, bass in my heart, and a wave of contentedness after an epic adventure and an epic night.


*I wrote a blog post about the majesty of the fanny pack.