So Many Motions

Getting ahead of myself


Today, while taking my beloved dog-brother Beau for a walk, I finally had what I can honestly say is my first and truest feelings of loss and longing for Cambodia.

It started out as any typical walk with dog-brother Beau. It was dusk, and to me, it felt cool, almost chilly. And I thought to myself "Gee, I wonder if it still feels hot as balls to the other Minnesotans around here because I could sure use a sweater right now." I still have Cambodia in my blood because this "heat" everyone is experiencing is only the tip of the iceberg as far as Cambodian standards for heat go.
But back to my story.

Beau and I walked toward the Minnehaha Falls. I usually let him lead the way. I think he enjoys people making comments about how cute he is (or am I projecting here? Yeah, I love it when people tell him how cute he is.) We wandered toward the park, he did his business, and I dutifully picked up his business like any good older sister would do. On the way, I noticed a cardinal perched atop a tree along the creek. The sun-setting light glowed against the feathers of the cardinal making it shine such a brilliant red, so much so that I convinced myself for a second that maybe someone lost their brightly colored pet parrot. But no, it was only a cardinal but it sang its song sweetly and made me happy.

Then suddenly, with the falls misting in the background, I saw a familiar image across the chest of someone's t-shirt. To any other person, the simple graphic design might have looked like a few vertical squiggles on a shirt. But, I saw the elephants. Immediately, I stammered, and nearly tripped over my feet, to this woman that I am sorry for interrupting her, her friend, and her baby and asked her if she'd been to Cambodia. She said "yes, about a year and a half ago" and I continued to stammer to her that I served in Peace Corps there and got back about a year ago. She thanked me for my service and she said that she didn't think Peace Corps Volunteers received enough (or any...(well deserved)) recognition for their service. I said that I couldn't agree more. We serve our country as warriors of peace. We don't carry guns while walking through foreign lands.

I thanked her and we all carried on our separate and merry ways. Unfortunately, my initial feeling of happiness from the interaction was quickly overcome by sadness. And I couldn't pinpoint exactly why or where it was coming from at first. It took me a little bit of time...and a little bit of quiet crying while walking through happy picnicking groups of friends and families. Me, lowering my head so my hair partially covered my face so no one would accidentally see my tears or hear my soft sobs...

It's not weird for anyone to see a grown woman crying while walking her dog, is it?

Why so sad?


And then I understood what it was. I have subtly, or maybe not so subtly, been doing it for a little while now. It was that brief connection to the place I called home, be it bitterly or affectionately, for two years. For the most part nowadays, I am repressing my Cambodian life. The reason for this repression is because I lack an appropriate avenue to channel my Cambodian Life; the stories, the feelings, the frustrations, the suffering, and the love that all went along with living there. Sure, I can text or message my other Peace Corps friends but it's not always enough. Exactly how it was never enough to Skype or e-mail friends and family back home while I was in Cambodia. There needs to be a direct connection or it sometimes ends up falling kind of flat. Am I making sense?

It doesn't really matter if I am not making sense to anyone else. I get what I'm trying to say and I hope that maybe someone else out there can concur. Because I feel it all and I want other people to feel it all, too. You feelin' what I'm feelin'?

Either way, my not-so-subtle attempts to connect to Cambodia while being in America are weird and maybe even slightly offensive if I were a little bit more obvious about my mini-missions. I know, you're all like "What the hell are you talking about, Laura?"

Weeeeellll, let me tell you. I have, on more than one occasion, hovered around groups of people and families that have characteristics similar to those with Khmer ancestry in order to eavesdrop and find out whether they are truly Khmer......I always hope that someone will blurt out a couple of Khmer words. So then! Me! The awkward white girl standing nearby can awkwardly chime in? I don't really know how this would all pan out if it actually happened. In Cambodia, the novelty of the awkward white girl speaking Khmer kind of lost its allure after a while...when I could no longer understand the questions or possibly answered a question completely wrong and likely and unknowingly offended someone. So who knows how it would conclude if I intruded on a family outing of some unwitting strangers! Knowing me, and I know me pretty well, I will probably still try to attempt these mini-missions of mine. And why? Because I lack what most people would call "tact."

So...yeeeeahhhh, I know. Is that terrible? It's terrible. But I don't really care because a significant part of my life experience is being repressed and I'm finally starting to come to terms with this reality of mine. I have identified several ways that I can nourish this part of myself but as per my usual "style," I am procrastinating. The first step is acceptance. And I have accepted! And the proof is right here in this very blog post that I wrote after my walk with Beau. But not until after I ate straight from the carton of rocky road ice cream which is in my triathlon training plan. It says that "at least once a week, eat straight from the ice cream carton." And so, as I am training very seriously, and am obviously a staunch rule follower, I abide.
But really, I feel a lot better after writing this than I did once I put the ice cream away.

I miss Cambodia.

THERE!! I said it!!! Are you happy now?!

Yes, I am Laura. Thank you.
You're welcome, Laura.

Here! Have a baby! Be happy!
PHEW! That felt good to get off my chest.

a sense of place

My senior year of college I took an art course titled Topics. By the name itself you wouldn't think much of it but it was a coveted course and many enthusiastic art majors yearned to take it in their final year of overpriced highfalutin private liberal arts education. The draw of this course is that it is a precursor to your final senior art project in which your art is displayed in the pristine galleries of St Olaf College's famous Dittmann Art Center – a state of the art art facility with one of the best and fanciest ventilation systems you'll find in the nation. Topics is basically a semester long course to either test-drive an idea you have for your final senior show or to do something completely wacky and maybe piss off some people in the process. Or maybe I was the only one that wanted to piss some people off but I felt like it was my right, okay?


A Canoe in the Gallery, normal normal


An added mystery about Topics is just that; the topic. And the professor holds all the power to decide what the year's Topic will be (every year is a new topic.) John Saurer was one of my favorite professors up until that point because he liked my drawings and prints. (I mean, who could blame him? I'm like the most amazing artist ever in the world, amen.) He had a goofy demeanor and manner of speech. One thing he said all the time which I often repeat...to myself...is “Isn't that nice?” and he'd say it as he was carefully pointing at someone's interesting drawing. His curly mop and intense eyes only added to the effect. He is the quintessential “Art Teacher.” However I could say that about every single one of my art professors. There was the dreamy art professor that every girl (and boy) looked at all googily-eyed while he explained power tool safety in sculpture class, there was the turtleneck-sandals-with-black-socks-wearing professor that loved everything ever in the world especially if it vibrated with bright colors, and there was an art history professor that spoke with a such a slow droning robotic like voice that it put you right back to sleep during your 8AM class (I mean, come on! And the lights were always dimmed for the powerpoint presentation. This was before I knew how to drink coffee...)


The one and only Professor John Saurer



Prof J. Saurer, St. Colin Weaver, and Dreamy Prof Irve Dell


And back to the point. I had high hopes for the topic. We all did. We were all anxious to know the topic and create mind-blowing art that so perfectly expressed the topic through our own eyes that we'd simultaneously start a brand new groundbreaking art movement in the process. Because isn't that what every art major wants?

And then Professor John Saurer stands in front of the chalk board and slowly writes:

A....


Sense...



...of.....




…....Place.

Okay, I'm sorry but, what the feck? I was not impressed. My friend Loocis and I were not impressed (but we were kinda the misfits of the already misfit ridden art major scene.) I guess I never really took a lot of time to think about “a sense of place” or “my sense of place” in the world, in life, in the universe.

I do, however, have an extreme passion and love for the best place ever: the great city of Minneapolis. I have a strong sense of Minneapolis Patriotism. Does that count for “a sense of place”? For a while I made a point of saying I was from Minneapolis “proper” because there are many imposters out there claiming to be from “The Twin Cities.” But the problem here is that when some smear says they are from “The Twin Cities” they usually mean they are from some crumby eyesore of a suburb like Hopkins or even worse, Minnetonka. If you would, please, take a moment to think about what the word “twin” means you'd remember that it is something containing or consisting of two matching or corresponding parts. TWO. Not two plus 20 inferior, sidewalk-less parts. So let's just stick to “The Twin Cities” representing the two cities only, Minneapolis and St Paul.
And I'm done with my rant.
Maybe.


A sense of place can be good...


I was feeling awfully snarky my senior year of college and my response to the topic, A Sense of Place, was that I transcend place. I'm so just fancy, aren't I? I don't have a single place. I don't need a single place. I don't get attached. I just ride on. And I depicted my transcendence with detailed drawings of bicycle parts and my trademark doodles intertwined together. Aaaaand a ridiculous bike sculpture that was thrown away, probably by the groundskeeper when he tired of mowing around the awkward “art” piece in the lawn. John Sauer thought the drawings were “nice” but had a hard time grasping my interpretation of A Sense of Place.

Pah! Typical! Adults never understand. My artist's statement was a direct jab at him and a pretty vulgar one at that.
I mentioned my hyena pseudo-penis, if that says anything...


Ridiculous bike sculpture buried in the snow.

the bicycle drawings.


I've grownup a leeettle bit since that attempt at rebellion.And I've been away from home for almost 2 years now. What being away from home for this long has taught me is that I DO have a place. I have a great sense of place and it's home.
Minneapolis.
My parent's house.
In the perfect South Minneapolis neighborhood right on the Minnehaha Parkway.
Home is beckoning me. Home is haunting me in my dreams. When I have idle moments during the day (let's be honest, the whole day is a big idle moment) I imagine my neighborhood. Very particular parts of my neighborhood that for some reason stick out more than others. The hill along the creek that nestles all the geese and ducks. The parkway in my front yard. The bridge that my friend Annie and I climbed on like a jungle gym all summer long when we were still wearing matching pink overalls. I imagine taking my dog Beau for walks all the time. I imagine swimming at the little beach on Lake Nokomis, trying to re-re-teach myself to swim. Walking by the Mississippi River where the Minnehaha Creek spews out into it, the water disconcertingly foamy. Running down the path toward Lake Hiawatha; no feral dogs to worry about.

the creek and ducks.



Mr. Beau takes a walk!

You guys, I'm really excited to go home. I never realized how important home was to me until I left it completely.


The Minnehaha Falls.




Minnehaha and Hiawatha, I presume.

Laurax's 10 commandments of Life & Lurve*

*Love

Today I'm taking this blog to a whole 'nother level and it may seem weird and maybe not something other people want to read but I felt impelled to write it. I've divulged enough dirt about myself on this bloggy-thing so why not talk about relationships? But please, don't anyone go and have an anxiety attack now. I'm just going to talk about what I've learned about myself and relationships so far.

I have made major mistakes when it comes to relationships in my life (ummm, who hasn't?) Your 20s are meant to be a relationship trial phase, right? (...for some, at least.) You have to make mistakes and hopefully learn from them in order to know what's right for yourself and what you want with a partner. I've found that the plus side of being isolated in a village is I have hours upon hours of time to think about all those mistakes and analyze them down to the last embarrassingly idiotic detail. Things be gettin' beat like a dead horse over here. That poor dead horse.

Anyway, it hit me! Like a dead cat slapped across my face. (That poor dead cat.) While taking my post Insanity-workout-shower (Everyone! Be proud of me for actually showering after working out! Yay Laura!) I thought about yet another embarrassing and upsetting relationship mistake amidst scrubbing down with Old Spice body wash (best stuff ever, btw. I'd like to thank my Aunt Barb for sending it to me.) And I thought to myself “Laura, you can't compromise your own values and ideas (or sanity) in a relationship. And you can't ignore those red flags anymore.” Then I thought I'd write my own 10 commandments to keep in mind before I decide to step into uncharted relationship territory ever again. And for the record, I will be sailing no relationships through the sea of love anytime soon. So back off, suitors!

In reality I'm really just holding out on Rob Lowe. I know he's happily married and all but he really doesn't know what he's missing. Seriously. To me, Rob Lowe, you are perfect.



So! With no further ado...here they are!
Laurax's 10 Commandments of Life & Lurve:

1. Thou shall, first and foremost, recognize your own value, intelligence, and beauty. #flawless

2. Thou shall not enter a relationship just because you desire companionship. It especially does not work if the relationship is long-distance to begin with. #thinkwithyourbrain

3. Thou shall embrace being alone and loneliness as a time to find your true self and perhaps a new hobby. #happyalone

4.Thou shall not compromise your beliefs, values, ideas, dreams, or desires in or for a relationship. #dontbeadummy

5. Thou shall listen to your intuition; you are more perceptive than you think. If you think something is not right, take time to find what it is, where it comes from, and how it can be alleviated. #womenbepyschic

6. Thou shall acknowledge and address red flags in a relationship; thou shall not ignore red flags under any circumstance no matter how small they may seem.* #redflagsnonononononono

7. Thou shall consider the feelings and emotions of your other (if you have an “other” that is) before making rash decisions in a relationship. (This can be applied to all relationships in your life - family, friends, co-workers, etc.) #empathyiscool

8. Thou shall accept that happiness in life also comes with sadness; without pain and suffering you cannot experience great joy. #hurtssogood

9. Thou shall accept that every relationship comes with ups and downs and can never be perfect. #whatgoesupmustcomedown

10. Thou shall find what truly makes you happy and pursue that happiness with intention. #eatcookies


No.



*Okay. A word on red flags. As a former Sexual Assault Resource Network educator, a red flag is usually considered a warning sign that you are potentially in an unhealthy or abusive relationship. (Click on this link for more info on red flags.) In terms of my 10 commandments, I am referring to red flags as something that may compromise or squelch who I am; my beliefs, values, ideas, desires, etc. But according to my 10 commandments a red flag can, without question, also be a warning sign that my relationship is indeed unhealthy or abusive. But I guess if there are red flags that my personal beliefs or whatever are being compromised then that is a sign of an unhealthy relationship too. So yeah....I feel like I am rambling nonsensically. Aaaaaanyway.

Also, I am trying to make sure I am not being contradictory or confusing with #6 and #9. I think this is the hardest thing to pin down in a relationship: whether or not hard times and/or disagreements and fights are a part of the natural ups and downs versus red flags in a relationship. That, in essence, is why it's important to have that relationship trial phase, right? Learn the ropes, your ropes, a partners ropes. We've all got ropes we're just not always sure which ones are secure enough to hold our weight. And according to Jay-Z in his book “Decoded” contradiction is a part of being human. So whatevs. I'm gonna contradict myself all over this blog.

Do you completely disagree with or have anything to add to my 10 commandments? Enlighten me, please. Let's talk about this. I've got loads of free time. In the meantime, I will be eating oreos.
Oh, and obviously, these are my 10 commandments on life & lurve. Maybe you should write your own that fit to your life. I think it's important.

Oh my gawd, you're killing me. Rob Lowe.