A Bowl of Stupid

So much to explain, yet I still don’t know exactly where to begin — at least anywhere significantly different, except geographically speaking. I suppose the easiest place to begin is with the most obvious: I’m back in America.

As noted in prior posts, I left Bangkok over two (2) months ago now, right at the beginning of all the nonsense which has since engulfed Thailand in chaos, and now threatens to spiral out of control into a full-fledged civil war. Much like I saw the housing crisis back here in the States and cashed out / moved out before the storm reached it’s full intensity, so have I done with Thailand.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I found it relatively easy when I had to mentally and physically distance myself from my home country when the time came. Likewise, I found it almost disconcertingly easy to disconnect myself from Bangkok, which I loved as much as (if not more than) any other place I’ve lived. Now I am resigned only to hope for the best — just like every other outside observer.

After Thailand, my desire was to make a life for myself in the small, tropical wonderland of American Samoa. Specifically, an opportunity arose whereby I could live and work in Samoa for a short time, on a trial basis, and see if it suited me before committing further to the island. Unfortunately, things didn’t turn out the way I had anticipated, and after that 2 month “trial period” I left the island — most likely for good.

As I’ve mentioned previously, while admittedly small, the island of Tutuila itself is absolutely gorgeous — with tropical waterfalls, ubiquitous crystal-blue waters, soaring emerald-green volcanic mountains, and many lovely people. However, I would never be able to practice law, or conduct any business there, quite frankly, simply because the American Samoan Government is one of the most corrupt, nefarious, petty, and nepotistic organizations with which I have ever come into contact (which, including Mexico, Indonesia and Thailand, is really saying something).

My plan included returning to law in a relaxed, small-town, environment, which would allow me to also continue with my surfing and other pursuits, and also start a side-gig teaching yoga. During my two (2) months on Tutuila, I explored the beauty of the island, I arranged to start teaching yoga at a local gym, I re-immersed myself back into the practice of law, and I was also fortunate enough to meet some really great people. However, all of that positivity was tempered — no, absolutely nullified — by the sheer absurdity of trying to conduct business in the shadow of malfeasance and crookedness which is the American Samoan Government.

Which is a shame, because I could have made a life for myself there. Regardless, I saw the time had come for me to move on from Samoa. And, just as I was able to distance myself from every other place I’ve lived and loved, I left — again with a disturbing lack of fuss.

That was a couple weeks ago.

And where am I now? Now I’m back in Miami Beach, actually. Back in the same building in which I was living before I left. Granted, I’m now house-sitting for an old neighbor who generously lent me his condo for a couple weeks while he’s traveling. However, needless to say, after everyone I’ve met, after everywhere I’ve gone, and everything I’ve seen, and done, and been through since I left — I’m having more than just a slight difficulty re-acclimating. Indeed, I feel like Captain Willard at the start of Apocalypse Now:

When I was there, I wanted to be here; now I’m here, and all I can think of is getting back into the jungle. I’m here for weeks now … getting softer. Every minute I stay in this room, I get weaker. Each time I look around, the walls move in a little tighter.

Regardless … the point of this post was to point out, and put an end to, my journey. My sojourn. My multi-year vision quest.

I intended a bookend. But now, after writing all this out, I’m not sure. That is to say, although I’m back in the country of my birth, I am still very far from feeling “home.” Moreover, as the days move forward, it’s looking less and less likely that I’ll remain here in Florida, as the opportunities I came here for were apparently nothing more than seductive phantoms.

And so it seems I’ll soon be moving on … again. Despite the fact I still don’t know where I’m going. Or where I’ll wind up.

And while I want more than anything to stop having to write this goddamn blog, and to stay in one place for more than a couple fucking months at a time, and end this seemingly endless adventure (at least for long enough to catch my breathe) — apparently I still don’t have that option. Yet.