The Car Window

In the backseat of Aj’s mother’s green truck, we looped our way back around California hills in the pitch dark, studded only with the stray lights of houses in the distance. This was before her mom’s hips and knees started aching too bad, before the injury and the swelling stopped her from getting out entirely. I was a little kid by anyone else’s standards – but Aj and I held on to the word ‘preteen.’

“What if there was a guy on the road?”

“What if there was someone tailing us?”

“What if a hand came out of nowhere and pressed up against the window?”

I grabbed Aj’s shoulder hard and we both turned to look. I could see the paper-white hand reaching out of the darkness. It was worse than the horror movies that I couldn’t bear to watch because my imagination didn’t know when to stop embellishing.

“What if—”

My shoulder collided with the hard front seat. I heard Aj squeal and her mother let out a breath like a pressure cooker. Then the slow crunch of gravel as the truck rolled gently forward again.

“Did you see it?” Aj’s mother asked.

“What?” Aj said, her voice hushed.

"That little raccoon! Damn near sent us over the side.”

She whistled and snorted with laughter and we couldn’t help but join her. I glanced out the back window, but by then the dark was complete.

In the past few months, I’ve been writing a lot of creative non-fiction. It’s been refreshing to return to fiction as a different type of storytelling, but it requires so much more follow-through. Generating material is always the exciting part, but then I have to add in transitions. By the time the rewrites and edits roll around, I’ve already bitten my nails down as far as they’ll go.

With my novel project, I’ve become more and more interested in the effect that place/space has on social practices, and on the way that’s changed over time. Specifically here in Dhaka, things like transport and access to public facilities (restrooms being a big one, but also parks and places to sit for extended periods of time) really change the way that people interact with the city. Though that’s only from my limited observation, I’m excited to start investigating what other folks have to say on the matter. Research can sometimes overshadow my drafting process, but right now it's leading me down corridors that I haven't yet explored -- I'm enjoying the thrill of it.

Exquisite Intentions

Heathy and I have been palling around the mud huts for days now, and it is quite entertaining and also quite infuriating. Mainly because of things that are out of our control. Like money, trains, and clothing sizes.
It's interesting to be here, in the same house [which has been vastly improved, I would say, cleanliness-wise] and with the same things breathing down our necks. I had a strange stitch of wanting for home yesterday night, thinking about how clutter in my house to this magntude would probably send me seizuring but how it seems to be improvement here. I got particularly repulsed by the kitchen - which just disturbs me because of the rotting fruit. But it's not like this place is bad, it's just that I am a sort of clean freak (didn't know that until just recently - I literally wanted to start mucking out the pots and pans).
On the other side of it, the money is still a constant problem in Heathy's house. And her parents are really good at putting stuff off so that there is less money and more hassle later on - similar to our government. But that, I think, is a character flaw. As well, the town is a hard sell for me. People and location are the equivalent of my worst nightmare: clique-ish, suburban, and horridly dry at times.
However, this bitching has just been wallowing in my stomach lately without outlet. It's hard not to be optimistic here because of Heathy's personality of intense idealism. Though she gets sad at times, I admire her strength in feeling ok about living here. For myself, it makes me appreciate my own city and situation - and want to improve upon it by saving cash.
Next year will be another year of figuring out who I am. This year [as I talk to myself in that strange way, as if I were an outsider in my own head-office] we have found out my interests, weaknesses, needs for improvement, strengths, and malfunctions. Next year, it will be time for us to take this information to the next level and really bring me out into the open. I feel much less scared than when I started this blog [which, although it was not that long ago, I can read back and see exactly how hard it was for me to open up].
For now, it's back to the living with love in our hearts and idealism in our heads - a new but startlingly interesting subject for me.

Leaving Once Again

Is it odd that airports seem to be normal now?
I feel like I was literally just there, whether it was coming in, leaving, or showing someone off. I love to travel and airports and all of these things though, so it's not a foreboding feeling - more excitement. I'm just sad that the summer is coming to a close... We are traveling during the year, but it will feel more like liberation from a cage than a lifestyle.
On a completely different note, I embarked on my aid to political candidates for the first time. Hooray! I have now gone canvassing for voters [a.k.a. become an annoying door-to-door voter pamphlet girl... albeit unsuccessful because my partner and I got lost] and done phone calls [telesolicitation galore!] and played badminton behind a campaign office. I feel fulfilled. I actually really enjoyed helping out - after the early jitters of talking to old people that I don't know and the fear that I would start hysterically laughing. As well, it gave me some cool ideas for stories, which is always a plus.
...I completely lost my train of thought.
But, I have found that I am going to do picture stories and have some inspiration created from my own body of work. And watch the Olympics. And try my bestest to finish things that need to be finished eventually.
See you in a while, Seattle! Moorpark/L.A. here I come!