Resurfacer, Queen of Positivity

I may be a little crazy to say this but there’s something refreshing about hitting rock bottom…or at least getting close to it…or reaching the bottom-est place you ever want to get. It’s at that moment you’re put in a position to make a real life decision. There is no Limbo or safety net or security blanket or even time. Just you and whatever you need.

Complete this sentence with the best possible answer:

When you sink to an all time low, you have to do what you have to do to in order to:

A)   Resurface

B)   Resurface

C)   Resurface

D)   Resurface

Clearly I’m not a sinker.

Despite my outward persona for the last couple months, I’m ready to admit that I wasn’t in the best place mentally or emotionally. Granted I didn’t go off the deep end, but I definitely made poor decisions and will freely admit that I didn’t love myself to the degree that I should have. And, of course, nobody knew this at the time because I was out swimming in The Nile (now saw it faster…The Nile, The Nile, De Nile, Denile, Denial, BINGO!).

But with all that said and out of the way:

I’m awesome and I know it…

NOW.

Cheers to resurfacing. 

The In Betweens

I wanted to be a marine biologist once. Then thought about putting time into world religions and all things philosophical. But then I majored in Political Economy and was stuck on becoming a researcher for the underground sex industry in the Philippines. And then I traveled and, well, that just opened the door to a whole new world of career possibilities—travel writer, international hospitality, English teacher, bartender, etc.

And now I’m a personal trainer.

Yeah, I know, nowhere in the first paragraph does it mention anything about fitness or training or anything gym related, but I’ve come to the conclusion that you can’t rule out the in betweens. In the last three years, I received my degree, worked for a bank, lost friends, made friends, taught English, went through a couple countries, and had fun just doing life. But! In between those classes on Economic Theory, twenty page papers, jobs, boarder hopping, relationships, etc:

I

worked

out.

Working out is my stress reliever, my punching bag, my tissue to cry on, my just because, my sleeping pill, and my go to date on a Saturday night. It’s what I know how to do and it’s what I want to learn more about. I can’t help it. I mean, the human body is fascinating in that it changes right before your eyes with the proper diet & training. To see muscle development, feel physical progress, and just the idea of moving up in weight (50lbs leg extensions to 115lbs months later; yeah, I did that yesterday!) is so freaking mind-blowing! 

my in between: Fitness.

To bring this all full circle...

Although I could have found success as a researcher/activist for women's rights or as a travel writer, deep down I knew those fields weren't for me. The main reason why I thought about continuing my research in the Philippines is because I thought I had to; the successions of life (school, job, career, and family) or so they call it. I went to school and spent four years of my life researching Prostitution in the Philippines, it only made sense to continue on. Take it from me, if you want to be happy in life, this is not the mindset to have. And with traveling, sure, I played with the idea of not coming back, but I did. Not to demean my 8 months abroad (because it was a life changing experience) but motives to stay in Asia came from the fact that I had nothing else going for me in the States...or so I thought. 

Here's my advice: Take a look at the bigger picture. Are you where YOU want to be? Are you doing what YOU want to do? If you're not, it's okay to step back, reevaluate, and go in a completely different direction. Yes, you're circumstances may be different from mine and mine from yours, but we don't always have to go down an already paved road...

sometimes we need to create our own. 

Cheers to discovering your in betweens

& doing what you love to do!

Structured Spontaneity

Yesterday I woke up, went to work, then hung out with a couple of friends. Normal. Last night, I concluded my day with a rice, bean, and cheese burrito and this…

Not so normal.

Based on recent mentality tweaks, goal refocusing, and prioritizations, when presented with the statement, "Let's get tattoos," I said:

 fuck it, let's do it. 

It took that one question and that one answer to go from driving in the 50 class Mario Circuit I to speeding down Special Cup’s Rainbow Road. My night went from sitting on a couch with the intent of going to spin at 7pm to sitting in a chair while some guy named George elephantly injected ink into my skin. Permanently. It was exciting and nerve wracking and it felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest. But I was happy, actually I was more than happy then times that by infinity. I remember the feeling so vividly. While I sat in the waiting area, I felt unstoppable, like nothing in coexistence was on my level. Nothing.

Sometimes a dash of spontaneity is the secret ingredient that makes life a good one.

Don't get me wrong, the elephant seed was planted months ago—and to be exact it was the very night Erin, Lizzy, and I were walking through Ho Chi Minh City after spring rolls and BGIs...but that’s beside the point. If you have been with me since the launch of this blog, you know just what Asia—the people, places, food, experiences, lessons—means to me. But what you may not know is what I had to do to break all the mental barriers and insecurities that made Asia a reality.  The elephant is homage to living my life and making things happen for my happiness, my well-being, and myself. 

My elephant is me.

Ladies and gentlemen, I call this structured spontaneity. Sure, I didn’t wake up with the intent to devirginize my skin on Wednesday and, yeah, I may have made the decision to get the tattoo half an hour prior to chillin’ in the waiting area, but I didn't just get tramped stamped. The elephant is the representation of my biggest, baddest, and life altering chapter thus far. While the physical act was made on a whim, the idea has been marinating for quite some time. Structured spontaneity.

On a side note...

Some of my favorite memories resulted from just saying "fuck it":

-"Dude, $20 off $200 with a group of four. Let's go skydiving."

-Fuck it, let's do it. 

-I'm thinking about teaching in Thailand. Fuck it, I'm doing it.

-"Let's take a bus to Cambodia, then a bus to Vietnam, and then fly back to Bangkok."
-Fuck it, let's do it.

-"Just jump off the waterfall already."
-Fuck it, I'm doing it.

The Towel Room.

I'm a firm believer that 99.9999% of life is mental. We are met with experiences that make us question our abilities and potentially cause us to fear the possibilities of the future—relationships, careers, etc. Fear of the unknown...is how the saying goes. But how does one fear something one doesn’t know? Doesn’t make sense, but it happens.

I’m not ashamed to admit that it happens to me.

Stick me in the middle of Bangkok's JJ's Weekend Market, I'll eventually find my way out. Go off trail and get lost in the Tamana Negara jungle, I'll just retrace my tracks. But take me home, no debt, no major expenses, and with the ability to make moves in every which way...

Can I freak out now?
Yes? Okay.


FREEEEEAKING OUT!

Life got complicated…and scary…when I stopped thinking about progressing. Nine months ago, I gave myself six months to start traveling again. Six months ago, I started working. Five months ago, I picked up a second gig. Two months ago, I realized I was burnt out. One month ago, I turned 25. Two weeks ago, I sat hunched over and cried in a towel bin, as I asked myself:

What the fuck am I doing?

My very own Scrubs moment.

The transition back to everything North American, more specifically, Hollywoodian (?) was the hardest thing I had to go through. The culture, the people, the mentality, this weird attachment to material things and pseudo-connections, everything…I didn’t want to associate with it. So I chose not to think about it. I grabbed the remote, paused my brain, and picked up two jobs. For four months, I worked like a machine between 50-55 hours a week with one day off. Everything that was in focus before somehow dissipated.

Work. Work out. More work. Sleep.

Work out. Work. More work. Sleep.

I turned in my two-week notice the day of my towel room breakdown. At that point, I knew my happiness was worth more than a free gym membership. And, now I can breathe, no more treading water. Brain is back on play and those wheels are turning, and they're turning hard. It's about time I took control of life, instead of letting it manhandle me. Time to refocus.

Cheers to a bright future 

of endless possibilities.

A glass half full

5/19/11 10:28 PM: it's finally over. i fly home tomorrow and i'm more sad to leave than excited to go home. is that bad?

This is how I started a conversation. Getting on the plane back to LA meant leaving all of Asia behind—no more backpacking, no more shake ladies or noodle guys, no more street food, no more of the last seven months. My adventure was done. El fin. Finito. NO MORE…

…or so I thought.

5/19/11 10:30 PM: …try to look at this next step as really, truly, another adventure.

This is how he ended the conversation.

Home, an adventure?

Light bulb.

In the purest sense of the word, adventure elicits excitement and fun—going to Thailand, bus-sickness three times in one hour, solo explorations, etc.—enticing the inner child in even the Scroogiest, Grinchiest of folks. But how does home fit under the same category as living in Thailand, snorkeling with sharks in Malaysia, or caving in the Philippines?

MY answer: Home is the only place where a dichotomy of me comes out of the woodwork.

budget-minimalist-walk-everywhere Kristin

vs.

label-whore-drive-four-blocks Kristin

I’ll explain:

If change is inevitable, especially when traveling, then half the fun in traveling IS coming back to experience that difference. I know I’ve changed and I’m curious to see where I’ll balance myself out. The brighter side of leaving. It was at this point in the conversation that I felt the transition from homeward reluctance to homeward enthusiasm. Going home became so exciting that I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, I was compelled to leave the nomadic-backpacker lifestyle behind to move into the back unit of my parents’ house (I can't believe I just said that).

Long story short: getting on my flight didn’t signify the beginning to the end of my adventure but rather catalyzed its relocation, a realization that did wonders for my attitude.

Random Rant: Life, an anthology of everyday adventures and misadventures.

This conversation, in all is brevity, opened a new door to tackling each day that passes, a new lease on life so to say. My adventure isn’t just in finding personal change but living. Each day we’re confronted with life—fantastic things, little things, okay things, bad things, big things, blown out of proportion things, things. Life is as good as we make it out to be; I choose to revel in the fantastic, better the okay, and take on the rest.

LIFE AS AN ADVENTURE, a glass half full approach to living.

Clichéd but true

I wanted to go to the Philippines, so I went to the Philippines. If I wanted to make friends, I accepted their friend request. If I wanted to spend twelve hours on a bus, I packed socks and a sweater in my purse. The world is my oyster. I know that now. How grand! How grand! How grand! (enthusiasm soberly inspired by the infamous, not-so-sober Dean Moriarity aka Neal Cassady). This is truly a liberating mental breakthrough:

If I wanted to, then I did it.
If I want to, then I'll do it.

In the beginning, traveling scared me because anything is possible. And now I love traveling for exactly that. Merdeka! (by the way, fear is possibly the worst excuse for not doing anything not just traveling).

How do you do it?

I'm not as brave as you are. I can’t travel alone.

I can't be away from my family. 

A year is too long.

So here it is...

I’m not the next star of a travel channel original (....or is that Disney?), BUT I do know what it’s like to want to travel but not want to travel; limbo is weak and you'll kick yourself in the head if you don't pull yourself out. trust meee. There's no secret to it AND you're never “alone”. Scouts honor (I've met amazing people even when I didn't want to). So, coming from a person who just crossed over to travelside, the transition is painless and fairly easy. Take it from me, there's nothing to fear. Once scared to leave home, I'm reluctant to go back. And mind you, this is coming from someone who will more or less resume an incredibly fortunate life--a decently paid job (hopefully soon), great family and friends, and all the other luxuries of a North American way of living.

so if you want to,
JUST DO IT.

Cheers to nothing to lose and everything to gain

Common Sense, it saves lives.

Alright, so I've never said this out loud, let alone admitted to it for all the internet to see, but I was terrified to travel before starting this epic journey (hence putting it off for so long). Intimidation of safe house absenteeism made me question my trip to Southeast Asia; leaving meant vulnerability and uncertainty.

Outside of uni, a lot of what I knew about Asia could be sourced from the media (and, well, we all know how unbiased, accurate, and constructive they can be). Two months before leaving, some ex-cop with enough issues to fill Qualcomm hijacked a bus in the Philippines. The result: seven dead Chinese tourists. And in April 2010 (six months before I came to Thailand) a dozen or so Thai people were killed in a Red Shirt vs. Thai Army clash at Democracy Monument. And when I was leaving people wished me a “Don’t get trafficked” or “Hope you come back with all your organs” type of goodbye.

Awkward laugh

Ha-ha-ha

Wait……what?

I don't want to get trafficked or blown up on bus or caught in the crossfire of

socio-political warfare annnd I certainly like my insides...inside.

.................................

All pretty valid concerns, I'd say.

Here's the thing…

And to put this as simply as possible: shit happens…and it happens EVERYWHERE.

The probability of some mental brotha holding an entire bus hostage in the Philippines is the same as in the United States, where what do you know, human trafficking exists too (oh yes, it does). And, guns. I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’ve met a number of foreign folks who were hesitant to go to the US because everyone has one. That’s news to me. With that said, fears of outrageous media worthy events (which isn’t saying much) should not be the basis of a deterred trip abroad. Just gotta use some common sense to avoid crap situations. 

For example: 

• Don’t walk through dodgy allies late at night (duh)
• Be aware of your surroundings (another no brainer)
• Dressing like a video vixen, isn't even okay in music videos
• It's okay to leave your drink unattended NEVER
• Wear red to a Red Shirt rally, not yellow (guilty) 
• Sit on top of Jeepney on windy, mountainous roads just in case you have to jump off a cliff diving vehicle (Filipinos actually do this)

Oh! And if you find yourself in a hostage situation, well, sucks to be you. But you should know that it's not just Asia (or where ever you go), it can happen in America (or where ever you're from) too. 

Common Sense, it saves lives.