sweet november

i've always been soft for november.

i can't even front as to why: it's my birth month, so i always feel a jolt of rejuvenation during this month. the fact that it comes so close to the end of the calendar year adds to the feeling of introspection: assessing who i am at the close of another 365 days, where i've been, what's been done, and slowly turning around to face the next set of challenges.

especially in the weeks going into my birthday, i go inside of myself and shut the doors. there is a reverberation of change deep inside of me, one that is currently coursing through the veins of the world. in my conversations with people, there seems to be an almost universal restlessness. an itch for -- shit, i don't even know, i can't put my finger on mine, and i somehow doubt that most other people can concisely point to theirs either. but we're reaching.

coming to vietnam was, in many ways, a desire to return to some sort of embryonic stage. a retreat into a foreign land in the hopes of stepping back into the familiar with new eyes. i think vietnam has, in that sense, exceeded my expectations. the way i view the world, my country (countries?), and my countrymen has changed irrevocably.

i welcome that. it would be a waste, i think, to come into each and every city, town and country, each and every year, unaltered. the years tailor you, taking the basic fabric -- the fundamentals, as our politicians would like to say -- and stretch, fold, pleat, rip apart and stitch back together all that you are and capable of being.

truth be told, i feel as though i've been 22 for five years.

& i'm not quite sure how to end this blog, mainly because i came into it not knowing what i was going to write, but also because this is the sort of thought that will unravel slowly, dutifully, and on it's own accord.

unraveling the cloth of a year. that's what it feels like. quietly, purposefully, that's what it will come down to.