Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Pushing Through Life

Things are coming to an end and I realize that 50 days in Vietnam is not enough for me to accomplish what I want. Though I am ready to come home.

Yesterday, I was offended by a subtle remark. And I couldn't get it off my chest and a lot of negative feelings rushed through my body. Because even though we are all trying to be better, trying to be civil, supressing hurt... sometimes, it's just impossible to just forget.

Is this what I'm coming back to?

Feeling insignificant? Unaccomplished? like a failure?


Deep breaths. Vietnam will heal me.

I thought about it at the bus stop, what's wrong with me? how do I let people get under my skin? The first bus passed me because it was too full. Heh, just like SF. That's fine, I'd rather be comfortable anyway. I entered the second bus that was 5 minutes behind the first and stood next to someone with extremely bad BO.

I was stressing. What exactly did this person say to trigger this? They said, "I was expecting a more mature response." In the context of the conversation, it was no big deal. In context to everything else... it meant a lot. I don't like being talked down to, especially by this particular person. And a lot of STALE, OLD, 2006 feelings came back.... seriously, why!?!?



And then the lights in the bus went out. The guy collecting the money continued to collect 3,000d from the new passangers. The girls sitting next to me said, "please don't say it's broken... please don't say it's broken... my mama wants me home."

We were stopped in the middle of the road and the money collecter shouted, "I need 7 big strong guys to come out and push the bus." I smiled, fuck yeah.

I got out of the bus and pressed my hands against the vehicle that hadn't been washed in months. Along with 6 other guys we grounded our feet and pushed. Motorbikes were honking and swerving to pass us, lights flashing because it was night time. "ONE TWO THREE.... PUSH!"

The old bus rolled and then stopped. I couldn't stop smiling. I was pushing a bus down the streets of Vietnam. I felt spectacular. We pushed it down the street, blocking traffic, telling more people to get off because it was too heavy and finally, I heard the engine roar and the bus started to escape the people who got it to start.

We chased after it and jumped into the back door like a bad action movie. Everyone laughing and smiling and releaved that they weren't stranded.


Vietnam heals me.

Because in Vietnam, you're too concerned with life and there's no room to be petty. I was ready to get off at my stop, "You gotta kick the door to get it to open!" And I hopped out.

Like you gotta push the big bus called life to get it to run and then kick broken doors that stand in your way to get off at the stop that you want.

Fuck... I feel like Superman in Vietnam.

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