Osams's Dead

Ten years after the attack on the World Trade Center, Osama bin Laden is dead. Sure the US Military and government considers this a huge victory, but is it really? What has the world really gained with his death? The War on Terror has cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. There are many more children left without parents, parents left without their children than when the war started. Afghanistan and Iraq have been thrown into turmoil. The Taliban is poised to retake Afghanistan as soon as America withdraws and Iraq is years away from full recovery. In addition to the human toll, countless billions have been spent on this war, billions that could've been used on schools and on the people in need in our country. How much is one man worth? Al Qaeda may have lost it's leader but it gained a martyr. The war is not over, the body count continues to mount, and Osama's death does not change any of that. He's just another casualty in our decade long war against an idea.

There's nothing worse than writer's block. Going day after day with no inkling of an idea to expand upon, wondering what happened to my creative side. Did I kill it? Did I burn it out? Was the pool really so shallow that it's been dried up after the few horrible posts I've put up? It's either that or I need to go somewhere, meet someone that inspires me again. Where is my muse? Maybe she's on the other side of an ocean, or maybe she's right under my nose. Wherever she is, I hope I find her sometime soon.

Leaving home, flying the coop. It's really about time. Even though my life is about to change drastically, a change I pursued and made possible, I can't help but take notice of what I'm leaving behind. My parents who have sacrificed so much, my brother and sister who look to me for direction. I'll be saying goodbye to you, but hopefully not goodbye forever. I know our paths will cross again. I wish for only the best for you two. To my friends, my closest allies, I'm leaving but I'm not running from you. Life takes us down different paths and I'm just heading down the one that feels right. I hope you all do too.

I couldn't have asked for better friends and family. I dedicate all I'm about to do to you. I just hope I can make you proud.

Amongst Refugees

I've never written about my time with the refugees, I never felt like I could do the experience justice. I'm going to give it a try now, but I'm sure it won't live up to the true experience itself.
-

It had been a long two days of traveling through a part of Thailand rarely seen by foreigners. I left Chiang Mai at 8am the previous morning by train. It was a painfully long journey to the town of Pitsanulok, where I disembarked the train to hop on a bus to the town of Tak. The bus dropped me off at the Tak station at 6pm, too late to catch a bus into Mae Sot, so I stayed at what I believe was the only guest house in town. The next morning, I took a 2 hour bus ride into the heart of Mae Sot, a town the likes of which I had never experienced before. I sat waiting for my contacts to arrive at a bus station that was also a food market. Stray dogs wandered all over the place, trucks circled blaring political slogans for the upcoming elections, motorbikes whined up and down the road. Muslims, Chinese, Thai, and Burmese walked the streets. It felt like I had left Thailand altogether. This was nothing like Chiang Mai or Bangkok or even the Thai-Laos border town of Nong Khai. This was the wild west. The tension in the air so thick it could've been cut with a knife. Police sit at checkpoints looking to catch any Burmese refugees walking in places they didn't belong. Soldiers on call in case fighting flared up between rebels and government forces on the Burmese side of the border. It isn't uncommon for the fighting to cross over on this side of the world.

My contacts drove up in a truck. Their names were Annie and Klose. Obviously, these weren't their given names, the refugees can't use their birth names for fear they may be found out and thrown in jail or back into the refugee camps. Annie was a striking beautiful girl who spoke impeccable english. A truly brilliant girl. Klose was a very friendly guy, but his english knowledge was basic. Conversations were typically difficult to maintain with Klose at first, but once I began to grow accustomed to his english abilities, he became one of my favorite people to talk to.

The first matter of business after a quick meal was to drive me to my schools. Most people only taught at one school, but they didn't have anyone else besides me, so they needed me to work double duty. I was going to be a good soldier so I agreed, I would do whatever they asked of me. That led to me taking over the study group as well. They were going to make use of me. The first stop was the primary school Ray Khaw Htoo. To reach this school, we had to pass through a military checkpoint, which would serve as a constant reminder of the instability of the region every day I went to teach. The school was located amongst large rice paddies, hidden in the back of a farming village. These people lived off the land. The school had it's own rice paddy that the female teachers maintained. Chickens wandered around, their eggs used as protein. Rice and egg was the usual meal for the students at the school. Even though the classrooms were all open air, they were damn hot. They consisted of communal desks facing a small green chalkboard or whiteboard.

After greeting the other teachers at the school, we were off to my middle school called Rocky Mountain 2. This school was about 10 kilometers down a bumpy country road. It was hidden in a patch of trees right off the road and right across from the Thai-Burma border. One could literally cross the border without much effort, but a pale white man (actually after this long in Thailand I had developed some color, mostly red) crossing the border could mean imprisonment by the Burmese government who would've seen it as a great prize to be able to torture an "American Imperialist." If that didn't happen, there was always the risk of just getting shot on sight. Either way, crossing the border illegally was not high on my list of "to-do" activities. This school was very basic as well, open-air classrooms with white boards in front. I was surprised to see that the 7th and 8th graders I would be teaching were actually only a few years from my own age. The youngest were around 16 years old and the oldest were 21. This is just the reality of refugee schools, many students don't get the opportunity to advance grades because they have to return to the refugee camps or cross back into Burma to deal with family emergencies. Some never returned, and others might disappear for a year or two. In all of my classes, I had students leave back home, never to return because of issues back home. This understandably leads to a prolonged 1st-8th grade process. These classes were also much bigger than the primary school ranging from 28-35 students, depending on who was present each day. These students were also much more cynical. They were older and more experienced than their primary school counterparts. They knew that the best they could do in their lives was to avoid being thrown back into the refugee camps, avoid getting killed back in Burma, and maybe the men could escape to Bangkok or Chiang Mai work horribly long hours of back breaking labor for meager wages, or the women could do the same as prostitutes. Hope did not spring eternal for these students.

After walking around and seeing the campus, it was time for Annie, Klose, and I to head to the village of Mae Pa, a place where Burmese refugees could live away from the watchful eye of the Royal Thai Police. This was where I would stay for large portions of my time and where I would teach my study group. The refugees lived in the homes of French and British expats who bought property in the area for vacations. The homes were very simple. They had a small kitchen, two bedrooms, and squat toilets with water troughs to bathe from. To these people, this was luxury living. Much better than the malaria infested camps they would otherwise occupy. It was here where I would eat my homemade Karen dinners during the week with Annie, moments I will never forget.

Annie is one of the most remarkable people I have ever met. She was my boss, my coordinator, but she was much more than that. She had eyes that could pierce your soul, a smile that could melt a glacier, flawless skin, and an amazing physique. She was brilliantly smart, possessed a wisdom that one could only gain by experiencing what she had during her life. On the surface, she was the eternal optimist, hoping that one day she could return to her home to live in peace. Hoping that she could escape the reality she lived in to go become something that her people could be proud of. She dreamed that she would meet the man who could rescue her from the prison she occupied in Western Thailand. I once told a friend that I never experienced love at first sight, that was a lie. I just didn't want to tell this story at the time. Maybe I didn't love Annie at the exact first sight, but I did after one day of being around her and I know she fell in love with me. I will never forget the way she would look at me when I would walk into the room, the way she would gaze into my eyes when we would talk, and the way she would nestle my neck as we would ride down a road on my motorbike. She hoped I could be her hero. She told me that I was unlike any person she had met before, she told me that I was capable of more than most people. She revealed to me things that she never revealed to a teacher before. Unfortunately, it was something that the world was never going to let happen. Governments made it an impossibility. I could never be her hero, I was not who she thought I was. I couldn't rescue her from her life, no matter how badly I wanted to. It's a crushing reality that I won't ever forget. After I left, we talked once via email. She agreed to write a story that I could use to try and help raise awareness of the refugee situation here in America. I haven't heard from her since. I've tried to reach her multiple times, all to no avail. I hope to find out what happened to her one day, but I fear I never will. She could be in Mae Pa still, or she could've been arrested and thrown back in a refugee camp. She could've been in Burma and got caught up in one of the many battles that have taken place since the elections last November. I just wish I could say hi and see how she's been. That's why I wrote this. It's something I've never told anyone, not even my closest of friends, before. It was time to get it off my back somehow.

Come on Dan, you can do better than this. Get your act together and write something you can be proud of. Put some blood, sweat, and tears into it or you'll never be any good. Enough of the fooling around.

Your friend,

Daniel

The River

Inspired by a dream
-

As he stared up at the ceiling, he knew it was time. The land of his childhood had long lost it's luster and was beginning to decay. The evergreen trees and the lush emerald hills had begun to turn to a dull brown. He had overstayed his welcome. He scoured his room, taking all he thought he might need to help him on his journey. Looking outside his window, he saw the sun beginning to set, too late to leave now. It'll have to wait until tomorrow.

He went out to the town to tell his neighbors and friends good-bye. Who knows when he might see them again. The buildings and houses in this town were from a different age, vintage, and they had slowly fallen into disrepair. The paint cracked and peeling. The roofs leaked on the rare occurrence of rain. Windows were shattered in those buildings and homes that had been abandoned and most that were undamaged were more effective at letting the weather in than keeping it out.

He walked into The Hangout, a place him and his friends had been many times growing up in this part of the world. As was typically the case, his friends were there drinking, smoking, and talking. A smile came across his face as they turned and greeted him when he walked in the door. He was typically the last one to show up.

It was just like any other night. They talked about the same topics, told the same jokes, and regaled in the same stories. This is how they liked it. This is what they wanted to do until the day they died. After a few hours of the normal routine, he let his friends know he was leaving tomorrow. His friends were amused, many wondered why he would want to leave such a great, safe place. It was the comfortable life in this town, away from the challenges and fears that lay outside of its bubble. These people were never going to leave. "Think before you leap" is what they told him. "It's very dangerous out there." "You don't know anybody outside of town, how can you survive that alone?" He expected these questions and concerns, but they did not register with him. He had grown too tired of this routine and was ready for something more. "Don't you ever wonder what it's like out there?" he asked them. "We've seen it all in books" they said. "What more do you need?" To them, the town was just like it had always been. They did not see the falling leaves, the dying grass, the fading buildings. This town was and always will be perfect. "I'm leaving tomorrow" he said "tonight is goodbye." They laughed, "You'll be back here tomorrow, you won't leave this place. This is just a phase. You'll get over it." He just smiled. This is what he expected them to say. They could and would never understand him. Maybe it's because he was born elsewhere, he had a different perspective on it all. His desire was one that couldn't be extinguished. After saying his goodbyes, which weren't taken very seriously, he left and went back to his room. He couldn't sleep, tomorrow couldn't come quickly enough.

-

The sun peaked up from behind the hills in the east. Light entered his room and he popped up from his slumber. The time to go was now. He grabbed those belongings he could take with him and stepped outside his door. He turned down the trail out of town, looking behind him to take one last look at his childhood. Distant memories flooded his mind. He knew he would not be returning anytime soon. He could hear the slight commotion of those who had woken up to begin their day. He wished the townspeople well, they had been very important in his life up to this point. He never considered how hard it would be to leave them behind. Quickly he turned away from the town, he couldn't let his emotions keep him around. He had to keep moving down the trail.

Faintly a river is heard in the distance. As he walked further and further down the trail, the sound grew louder and louder. He didn't know there was a river nearby. The trail turned a corner, and to his surprise it led right into the rushing water. "What do I do now?" he said aloud. "You need to wait" said an old man seated with his back against a tree. "What?" "You need to wait for the raft. Unless you want to walk miles and miles out of your way to find another place to cross, which doesn't exist. This river is too big and too swift. You try to cross without a raft and you'll most certainly die" said the Old Man. "When will the raft arrive?" asked the Traveler. "I don't know. It comes when it comes" said the Old Man. "Are you waiting for the raft too?" asked the Traveler. "No, no I'm not. I am where I am and I don't intend to leave. I've already reached my final destination." "Where did you come from?" "I came from upriver quite a ways." "From where exactly?" "A place and time that you'll never be able to see. I imagine it's been engulfed by Time by now. It only exists in those who have experienced it. I am where I've come from and where I've been. What brings you here my son?" "I'm not sure, I'm just looking for something new" said the Traveler. "That is what brings most out to the river. Those who are looking to discover what they could never find where they came from. That's what brought me to this river many years ago." "Did you find what you were looking for?" asked the Traveler. "I would say so, mostly what I found what I did not know I was looking for." "What can I expect out there?" "I don't know, I've never been where you're going. Expect what you never thought to expect. Danger, happiness, fulfillment, and loneliness awaits. You can count on that regardless of where you go." "How dangerous is it out there?" "It can be very dangerous, no one lasts forever, but some have their journeys cut unexpectedly short. I'm lucky to have lasted as long as I have. Don't fear the danger, just be ready when it greets you along the way." "Did you have to leave loved ones behind when you left your home?" "Yes, many. That's life along the river. People come and go. Sometimes you cross paths again and sometimes you don't. At least that's my experience." "You think I'll ever see the people I'm leaving behind?" "Maybe, you can never come back to where you once were. You'll encounter the familiar, but it'll never be how you remembered it. You may stumble across those people, but you may not recognize them and they may not recognize you. The river will change you, no matter how hard you try and fight it. I say just go with it as it normally leads you to where you need to go."

Fear and sadness crept into the mind of the Traveler. it had never truly sunk in that he may not be able to return to the land of his childhood. "How will I know when I've come to where I need to be?" "I can't say, you'll just know." "So I just wait here for the raft? What if it never comes?" "Oh it'll come," said the Old Man, "you just have to be patient. In my experience, that is the hardest part. When you see that raft, waste no time as it won't wait for you for very long. I've seen many hesitate for a moment too long, only to miss it and either continue waiting or turn back and go to where they came from. You need to be as ready as you can be, sometimes you have to hop on even when you're not." The traveler put down his belongings, ready to wait as long as he needed to. "I hope it comes soon." "It'll come when you don't expect it to" said the Old Man.

They sat silently, listening to the flowing water as it combed over rocks and logs. The traveler was here to stay for now. Restlessness began to set in as day after day passed without any sign of a raft. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. The Traveler's patience was wearing thin when in the distance an unmanned raft turned a corner in the river. The traveler shot up, grabbed his belongings, and walked to the river's shore. As the raft neared, excitement grew in the Traveler as he knew his journey was just about to begin. He looked behind him, knowing that he would never see this place or the Old Man again. "Good luck my son, may we meet again at the end of your journey" called the Old Man. "Until we meet again" replied the traveler. The raft arrived and the Traveler hopped on. Quickly it left the land and took off down the river. His journey had begun.

-
The waiting is the hardest part.

Come on Korea, let me have my time with you. You're what I need, I hope you need me also.

This is for those who have decided to label me a floater. You can call me that if you like, but there's something you should understand. First and foremost, just because I may prefer being far from home doesn't mean I don't love my family and friends. It doesn't mean that I'm afraid of settling down. it doesn't mean that I am unwilling to put in the hard work to start a "normal" career. It doesn't mean I'm a child refusing to take the step into adulthood.

We all know the negative connotations that come with being labeled a "floater." A floater can't stay put, can't commit, can't live authentically. You think I don't take life seriously. Well that's okay, just know you're all wrong. Taking life seriously is exactly why I need to "float" around. Life is too short to not listen to what your essence needs to survive. To all you who prefer the stable life, who need to be in your comfort bubble, listen to your soul and live that life. It's just not for me. That life chips away at my being, it breaks my spirit. It's a life I'm not ready to lead. I thrive off of discomfort, I thrive off of the unknown. Uncertainty breeds calm. This is the challenge I need. I don't want to be lying in my death bed wondering what could've been. I must do all I can to live for my dreams.

Dreams. Most people seem to believe that dreams are only made up of money, careers, cars, and other material goods. Sure I studied and talked of wanting to be a film star, but it's not my dream. Not right now. What's my dream? My dream is to always live the life that's truest to myself. I need to ride around a foreign countryside on a motorbike as it's soundtracked by my music. I need to stand at the top of hills and mountains and gaze out over a new world. I need to meet those people I would never encounter back at home. I need to chase exotic love. I dream of waking up in the morning to the sight of an angel starring back at me, whether it be only for that brief moment of paths crossing or something longer. That is what I live for. This is what I know i'll find. I want to see what you all read in stories on the internet or in books. Fantasizing while watching the Travel Channel just doesn't cut it for me. I can't just take someone else's word for it. I have to experience it. It's the only way I'll continue to grow into who I want to be. It's my only way to reach that mysterious self-realization.


Orange County is not for me. In this place, I begin to fall back into what I once was, what I never want to be again. It's a terrifying thought that tortures me day in and day out. Regression. I can't allow it. My adventure will continue. The realization that it's just months away brings tranquility to my days. It overwhelms me with peace. The light at the end of the tunnel has shown itself. I finally have my way out of my parent's home. The only way is through the heart, the part of all of us that we must listen to. Life is too short to ignore it, lest you wish to spend your final days in this world wondering what could've been.

Digging a Hole: A Short

As water leaked into the torn up top of his Mazda Miata while driving to work in the rain, Dave knew that he royally screwed the pooch. At thirty-seven years old and counting, life was not getting any longer for this bloated shell of a man. Looking at himself in the review mirror only dredged up feelings of disgust and loathing. He found his smile to be nothing short of revolting. "What a piece of garbage I am. Who could ever love you? You're going to die sad and alone. Why can't one of these semi-trucks put me put of my misery?" These thoughts were commonplace in his mind, never able to shake them for more than brief moments throughout the day.

As most people would tell you, Dave had quit on himself. A virus had taken control of his mind and it was not going to give up control anytime soon. He fell in love with the depths that he now resided. He took sadistic pleasure in failure and humiliation. He found that his depression had made his life so much more clear. He had himself convinced that it was best for him to die alone. He didn't deserve the love of friends, family, or soulmate. He was all alone in this world and that is how he wanted to keep it.

He arrived to work ten minutes late and he knew he was going to get a reaming for it. He hadn't shown up on time for weeks. He didn't care. He wanted to get fired just so he could languish in yet another failure. He walked to his desk and looked through his emails expecting another message admonishing him for his tardiness. There was nothing there. He peered over his cubicle wall and saw that his boss wasn't in his office. "Of course, he can take any day off that he wants. This place is such bullshit."

Dave had dreamed of living under the spotlight as a younger man. He left home at eighteen to live in the City of Dreams hoping he would one day achieve his fifteen minutes. Instead, he took up residence in Los Sueños Rotos and never left. He needed to make money and living in Los Sueños Rotos was much cheaper, so it made sense for him at the time. In the other city, one always had to walk uphill, where in this place, all the paths seemed to be flat or at a slight downhill. Dave wasn't one for exercise.

Lunchtime. Dave had brought his typical lunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Dave wasn't one for cooking. He reached into his pail hoping to find those ruffled chips he loved so much. Nothing there. "I'll bring them tomorrow." Tomorrow, always tomorrow with Dave. In the year 2006, Dave had struck up quite the friendship with a beautiful woman at work. He felt they really got along well and he was always able to make her laugh. One day, he finally had talked himself into asking this woman out on a date. Hour after hour passed as well as opportunity after opportunity to just ask her the question. He talked himself into waiting to ask her out at the end of the day. Clock out time arrived and Dave looked all over hoping to find her, but she was gone. "Maybe tomorrow" is what Dave told himself. Unfortunately, she had been fired only a short time before and would never be showing up there again. Looking back at that moment, Dave retorts, "I probably should've asked for her number."

Clock out time. Dave got out of his seat and proceeded to walk to the doorway. "What a shitty day. Fuck....oh my, she's an angel." A beautiful girl emerged from the door, took a look at Dave and smiled. "Hello!" "Huh-huh-Hi" Dave stammered. He watched her walk by, amazed that someone so beautiful would smile AND say hello to him. What a moment! This didn't happen often to Dave, mostly because he kept his eyes to the ground when he walked. Dave hopped into his car, smitten about what had just occurred. "Is she new? I hope she'll be there tomorrow. I must get her name tomorrow!" He started the car and pulled out of his spot and headed towards the freeway. "She had such beautiful eyes! That smile? Divine! And what a lovely ass." Driving on the freeway, Dave thought about this mystery woman again, "Man, she's too pretty for me. I could never get that. Please God, do this for me. Answer my prayers for once." Unfortunately for Dave, God has decided earlier in the day to make one of his wishes come true, and at that moment, a semi-truck came into his lane and collided with his Mazda Miata. Dave's head smashed against the windshield and a piece of the car's frame lodged itself into his neck, paralyzing him and slashing open an artery. As the light began to fade, Dave pleaded with God, "Please help me, I'm not ready to die....not like this!" God replied back, "Maybe tomorrow."

It All Comes Down To

I need to get out of here. My life depends on it. Fuck this place, it's not home to me. I love you family, but I need to get out NOW! This boredom will be the end of me. I need my challenge, my intrigue, my passion. That's nowhere to be found around here.

I would rather die for something, than to live for nothing.

Idea for film:

Documentary of Burma genocide.

I will bring the death, starvation, disease, rape to your television screens.

Life's new game: Do anything and everything imaginable to get back to where I belong