Don’t know where I’m goin’, know where I’ve been

It was probably not a good idea to open up “c:/My pictures/wedding photos” on the plane. The intent was to see if I could scroll through them without emotion. They’re just pictures. It’s just a day. The result was a closed throat and stinging tears; pretending I had something in my eye.

This was one of my favorite photos. A vivid moment, captured. Today, it tells a different story than it did a year ago.

When I saved the photos to my computer, I gave them names.

Trying Not to Cry: The moment my parents gave me over – following that glorious walk down the aisle, finally understanding the hype around being “the bride”

The feeling was pure joy. Overwhelming. Tears that said I can’t ask for anything more, this is it, we’re so lucky to be this in love it isn’t even fair. Trying not to streak my once-in-a-lifetime professional makeup job.

I’d still title it the same today. But it looks different now. Like people taking a gamble. A woman holding her breath. Praying.

so i am coming home with an empty head

The last time i zipped my suitcase closed in beijing it was with giddy relief. i was going home, where the man i loved would be waiting for me at the airport. the last days of the trip were a countdown, an actual ache for the hug that would lift my feet off the ground, dinner at our favorite restaurant and an easy slip into all of our comforts.

Today is different. I'm ready to be on the same time zone as the office, to read a pricetag and know what it means but there is no longing; i could stay here.

Today's 777 is not like the one from sao paulo. it's not a vessel for champagne, movies and sleep, a long rest before the weekend. it will be coffee-fueled, i'll need to find the power supply near my seat so I can keep my computer alive for longer than the battery will give me. I won't recline my seat all the way back for optimal sleep and i won't drift off to mr. and mrs. smith.

it's a transition back; time to pore through my notes and create a shell for all these findings. time to panic about pulling all this into shape and to kick myself for nodding confidently when the client asked if we'd have this final by next week. time to wade through receipts and create an expense report, remind myself what's scheduled for thursday; a day that seemed so far away when i left. time to think about groceries and laundry, conference calls and a quick brain.

time to hole up at my parents' home for the weekend and ask for hugs that might lift my feet off the ground.

Face up and Sing

Arriving in Beijing was a little like stepping in wet mud. Moving through a hot, sticky airport at 1 am; coming off a delayed flight to fight crowds through customs, hoards of people reaching out, passively insistent to carry my things.

Firing up my inbox, preparing to read the trickle of Sunday morning messages sent from home, and there he was. Three times.

It’s taken me a few days to find the energy to log his words. Being so far away makes it easier to resist replaying them, reading them again, trying to gain insight into workings that I no longer know as well as I do my own.

hey,
i dont want to be in silence with each other - that accomplishes nothing... we have too much history and love for one another to make this ugly...right?translation: I’m afraid of your silence. I don’t like feeling like I’m not in control.

Not sure how to interpret talking about a relationship that’s history less than a year after vowing its permanence.

In China, the women look quiet and fragile. They defer to men. They giggle when men say “this cell phone is too heavy for a woman.” But they have steel legs from squatting over holes to go to the bathroom and raised tendons in their arms from carrying large buckets of hot water to wash clothes.

I don’t know what you’ve been telling people but someone asked me about p.. not sure how to make this clearer to you -- she is married with children...she is not leaving her husband.. she and i are not a couple, never have been a couple.. she is a co-worker who i developed a crush on but that is it.. she is not the person that is responsible for this ... like i said, i dont want my life to be a fucking soap opera for people..
i will tell people when i feel like telling people.. and i will tell the people that i feel need to know.. i am not going to make our life a fucking soap opera for people to follow.. its none of their business...translation: I’m getting hostile.

Why aren’t you pretending everything is ok? Why can’t you let me erase you without implicating myself?

He doesn’t realize what he’s saying, how hurtful it is. He isn’t with her because she is married and won’t leave her husband. He’s protecting her. She isn’t responsible for this. And of course he’s not. I am?

He doesn’t want this public. His covert romance will be ruined once people start talking about it. She is married with children. And she is not leaving her husband.

Teens in china are spirited and bouncy. They don’t have siblings but there’s a distinct closeness with friends—they spill out of noodle shops holding hands and leaning into each other. They live at home until they’re married, don’t date until they’re serious. Last night, we asked a 20-something if she has a boyfriend. No. She doesn’t have time. She likes to run around with her friends and sing karaoke.

anyway, it would be good to see you and talk in person when you get back... hope the trip is going well.. i hear its Brazil and Singapore, right? i know that you love brazil.. i hope you saw (can't remember her name, the filmmaker) and had a good time..
please let me know when you get back..

I’m not coming back. I’m building strength. I’m running around singing.

I feel good
It's a fine day
The way the sun hits off the runway
A cloud shifts
The plane lifts
She moves on

Leaving Singapore. This is the place where I sat outside with a drink and shivered as I realized how lucky i was to be there. i had a jolt, a flash, a sharp intake of something like hope. (The cars in the photo are not an attempt for artsy. My photos always come out this bad)

i like seeing these places by myself. i've loved the constant flow of emails and text messages, making it feel like the people i love are here, too**. including the highschool boyfriend, the boy who gave me my first small taste of the kind of heartbreak i'm swallowing now. he's somehow emerged as a friend in all of this, sending texts from the town we grew up in: 'how was the double decker plane?' 'tell me about the spa' and 'what do you eat in singapore?'

i like knowing one day i'll make these trips with someone else, someone i haven't met.

Interesting facts i'm taking home with me, thanks to my taxi driver: The Singapore government FORBIDS people to live alone. At any age. No matter what. "It's to encourage making a family." He laughed when I gasped and said "But what do people do when they get divorced?" But i wasn't kidding and he didn't answer me. he only said that he won't take a young mistress from china, since then he'd have to kill his wife.

There have been 50 murders in Singapore this year. Cause for high alarm. They've all been domestic, mostly wives and husbands killing and dismembering each other, throwing body parts in the river and local dumpsters. Most involved blackmail and love affairs with young women from Hong Kong and Thailand. I KNEW there was an underbelly here.

**Except for the text message from Lucio yesterday. I haven't decided if it's even worth logging...