For the past week, I feel like I’ve been living in a dream.  1) Things worked out financially with my trip to Vietnam, and I’m headed back there in May and June to see my kids again, but also to help photograph for a new Friends of Hue Foundation grassroots health project.  On top of that, one of my best friends from the U.S. is coming with me to help with the project’s videography.  It finally feels like my two separate and distinct worlds are going to merge together harmoniously.  It will be wonderful to have him in Vietnam beside me and have the opportunity to tangibly share my past experiences, as well as make so many new ones with him.

and 2) I got accepted into the JET Program and will be moving to Japan come August 1st!  I was very surprised (but no less delighted) by the outcome, knowing that this year the program was extra competitive, and my interview was certainly far from perfect.  I got into the program 2 years ago (but decided to do VIA because of acceptance deadlines) and the first question in my interview this year was, “So…  I see you got into JET 2 years ago but rejected… why?”  After I picked my jaw up from the ground, it seemed like I spent the whole 15 minute interview just defending and building myself up.  ”I’m really serious about it this time!  Honest!”

And I am.  It’s been a dream of mine to live in Japan, learn the language, and experience their vibrant, paradoxical culture first-hand… but it sure is a tough dream to finance.  Since the JET Program is sponsored by the Japanese government though, I’ll be well taken care of, which really takes a load off of my parents’ worrying, rational shoulders (yes. even their shoulders worry.)

So, thanks White Tiger.  If you keep this negligence up, maybe this year will be better than the last (which is very serious competition.)

Love_hy.

Supposedly, this year (the year of my zodiac animal) is supposed to be very very very very bad luck, and on the very first day of the new year, boy, did the tiger strike. (I’m imagining that popular childhood poster of a tiger leaping out of the picture. haha.)

On our way down to NYC today, about 20 minutes into the ride, John and I collectively got our first flat tire.  And you know how it happened?  There was a random metal sign post that made its way in the middle of the highway.  Awesome.

About 15 minutes later, we decided to get off an exit to get some Wendy’s to celebrate the victory over our first misfortune.

Two hours later, as we approached the G.W. Bridge toll plaza, I realized I didn’t know where my wallet was.

Out of curiosity, I texted the google gods for the phone number of that Wendy’s, got on the phone with the manager and asked him,

“Hi… I was wondering… did you happen to find a brown wallet with an embroidered buffalo on it?”

And wouldn’t you know it- it had dropped out of my coat pocket in the restaurant.  Damn.  Tiger strike #2.

So, thanks year of the tiger.  I look forward to seeing what bone I’ll be breaking this week.

From time to time (like right now), I have to re-remind (remix?) myself what the purpose of this year’s blog actually is.  It’s not like last year, when I had a pretty clear-cut objective and motivation for a blog- a place to conveniently share my new stories and experiences from half-way across the world as they were happening, to my loved ones who couldn’t be there to relate.  It made me feel closer to the ones I was so far away from, and it was a beautiful and honest form of therapy for me.

This year, I feel like I’ve become more of an introvert than I ever have in my life.  This one comment, although it sort of came off as conceited when I first read it,  actually has some truth to how I’ve felt this year: “Introverts are less likely to seek stimulation from others because their own thoughts and imagination are stimulating enough.”

Last year was the beginning of this wonderful trend of giving my full attention to my past memories as they sprang up into the present.  After Andy’s death, I felt like I was finally comfortable and at peace with all of my life’s regrets and issues, and my decision to start living 100% honestly activated the opening of my memory’s flood-gates.  Ever since then, I’ve been going on wild rides of long thought processes/associations, that eventually trigger all of these long-forgotten memories without any resistance.  I’m completely infatuated with the unfolding of all these old, well-buried thoughts that my brain is storing, as if I have this exciting, never-ending treasure hunt to work on, everywhere I go.

I’ve been writing in my little red notebook a lot this year, and so I sadly often forget to record my most meaningful (and current) moments as they happen on this blog, forgetting that my notebook doesn’t have an automatic upload-to-internet function like some iPhone app.  I’m also sure it has a lot to do with no longer having a big audience to entertain in the blogosphere.

But, I guess I’m a sucker for acting on “special occasions” and translating arbitrary events/dates as reasons to reflect more intensely and take action.  Maybe I’m just human and I constantly need to be “reminded” in order to be efficient.  But, on this first new day of the lunar new year (no… I wasn’t about to refer to V-day…), I suddenly find new inspiration to articulate my life’s adventures this year.  As a friend once wrote about the purpose of a blog, I would like this blog to be “ultimately an exercise of self-expression, self-exploration, self-history, and self-discovery.”  I guess I just need an alarm clock every now and then.

The infamous Vietnam Airlines stewardess, just anxiously waiting to greet you.

Mary, Jessica and I went to see our first movie in the theaters in 2010, “Up In the Air.”

Thoughts:

I’ve been flying solo in airports since I was 18.  If I could make a guesstimate, I’d say I’ve been on over 75 planes by now.  Maybe more.

I’ve spent so much time alone in airports | sat next to so many strangers | slept overnight in three airports (soon to be 4).

I’ve explored every wing of several different airports | with my headphones on | walked some of my longest walking meditations in airport terminals |thus,  never minded long connecting flights.

I would run through these daydreams of meeting that lone traveling girl of my dreams in the bookstore | then meeting her again in my flight’s boarding line | always romanticizing silly daydreams.

Why am I so infatuated with constantly being in new environments/surroundings?  Why do I feel like other places in the world can give me something that living in the United States can’t right now?  I’ve questioned myself so often to make sure that my intention behind my frequent traveling wasn’t just some form of self-righteous escapism.  I know I’m happy (or at least content) being home in the U.S. near all my friends and family, and it makes sense that I would feel comfortable here, because what’s more comfortable than being in your primary comfort zone / the one community that you’ve spent the most time building in your life?  But, I guess the only time I feel truly at peace with no anxiety whatsoever,  is when I think I’ll be somewhere new soon; when I”m not feeling stagnant, but feeling like I’m “on the move.”  I think it’s partly harmless excitement and anticipation to see how my life unfolds (which seems ordinary), but I recognize that it holds me back from being completely “present.”

The one thing I can sorta make sense of, is that I’ve come to realize how much I want to live with difficult challenges. It may be the Vietnamese work ethic that my parents instilled in me (although, our motivations are clearly different since their’s was a matter of survival), and perhaps it involves an acceptance of the fact that life should inevitably be challenging, but I just don’t think I’d ever want to be comfortable and spoiled.  It’s not that I like being a busy bee- oh, it’s far from that.  I think I like not having it all figured out.  I like living in a state of confusion (makes every day interesting, right?), like I’m living some video game where I have to absolutely try my hardest to make sense of things.  I like having to always problem solve or be somewhere where all of my previously-learned perceptions and knowledge contribute to understanding nothing.  I enjoy being in a new place and starting from a point of “lost,” so that I can work towards the point where I feel like I’ve completed whatever it was I was supposed to learn there.  I like how I have to put so much effort into adapting to new surroundings and am so magnetized to the process of transforming that initial experience of discomfort into one of, well, comfort.  It’s exciting.  It feels important.  It feels rewarding.  It feels like I’m actually doing something of value in my life.

Maybe I’ll never be satisfied again if I choose to live in an environment that I’ve already figured out.  It’s a strange example of being non-committal, because in a way, I’m actually completely committed to understanding that environment at first, until that one point where I get this subconscious green light that says, “Okay.  It’s time to leave this joint.”

Perhaps I’m just younger, healthier, and more energetic than I perceive, and this lifestyle choice won’t last much longer; I guess I should just enjoy the fact that I have the ability to do the things I’m doing.  Other times, I daydream that I’ll never find something to ground/stabilize me, and I was chosen to live this life in an eternal state of transience.  I guess I’ll never know until I’m older if that’s a good or bad thing for me.

Well, since I’ve only been analyzing the negative undertones behind the frequency of my traveling, I should at least shed light on the other end of the spectrum: appreciation that the year 2009 was by far my most traveled year (that’s pretty cool.)  I’m 23 years old, and I’ve covered a pretty large chunk of the world already.  Neato bean burrito.

A 2009 Hy Huynh Timeline (for future, old man Hy with memory loss)