Stacking Up Into Stories

The section of my life with the working title“Teaching English in Malaysia” is nearing its bittersweet end. This short story has seeped into a sketch-book that lives with me, and I now invite you to a guided tour of its contents.

I fell off my world, and into another one.

(Falling off the edge of my own tiny world.)

It is rather anxiety-producing and disconcerting to pick up roots

and land clumsily onto other land, but…

(you can't be very grounded if you want to fly).

*collaborative piece by Zoe, Joe, Jackie, Ken, and Jon.

This new world is fully equipped with spectacular characters bursting with potential interaction.

However, I am also very aware of the reverse truth:

(...I'm just a character in everyone else's story).

Existing as a character in other' lives means that I often feel like an unmarked canvas

for people to write their own winding stories on.

(Hi, I'm the new blank being for you to project on to.)

The hardest aspect is the solid distance from those I love,

but when physical truths limit proximity,

it is an opportunity to explore a landscape inside.

(Spaces split faces, but minds seam them together).

I have found many faces places wishes and memories twitching within.

(Being, not giving,

twisted up in my own chest,

thin but infinite).
*It's a haiku, count it

One time, when I was trudging around my inner landscape
I realized that the secret to enjoying life
is to let life be what it is.
Much of my last year has involved accepting the new world.

(As long as you let the dream change, you can always live the dream).

*Zoe did the majority of this

The new world is different. It has new words, and a delightfully user-friendly system of grammar to wrap them up in (no tenses, no genders, no verb conjugation ever).

(Bawang = Onion...my favorite word in Malay)

This place has new ways of treating race and religion.

These labels are obvious neon flashing, facts, unapologetically separated

(No one can marry a Muslim without converting first, there are different uniforms issued for the Chinese and Malay students)

into neat little pictures, like refrigerator magnets.

(Races dismissed as glossy calendars.)

The new land has new rules.

Following the new rules has distinctly clarified the old ones.

Women's bodies are encouraged to be concealed or revealed,

but its always another placing judgment on the vessel and controlling sexuality.

Two sides of the same coin.

(Conceal Reveal)

New rules carry new consequences.

Aspects of me that were previously uncontroversial (displaying shoulders, drinking beer)

instantly lit up as secrets when I stepped into Terengganu,

the second most conservative state in Malaysia.

(Entering Terengganu, my secrets multiply...)

This world is in communication with other worlds, it has pertinent roots in other stories.

(and relevant wars fester in nearby borders.)

Which highlights the thick lessons to be learned, and help me readjust my priorities

(love, hydration, mangos)

(The practice of loving is the healing force that brings sustained peace. -bell hooks)

Sometimes you have to fall off of your own world to

(remember).

Life is a series of moments

stacking up into stories.

(Fill them carefully).