As I'd mentioned some months ago (back in December, to be exact), in light of my leaving Friday, this will mark my last entry using this blog.  Since I don't immediately know whether I'll return to Viet Nam in the future, the fact this blog itself exists to share about myself while I've been in the country also needs to come to an end. 

However, I still plan to continue blogging as long as I feel like it serves some purpose in the expression and movement of thoughts and ideas.  So, I'll include below the name and link to the blog I'll be using.  It will be what it will be as a blog, and will be deliberately much simpler and focused more on life and less like a failed submission to Lonely Planet:  Vietnam. 

With that . . .

The Self-Examined Life

As I write this, to the right of me I have five grocery bags full of clothes that I'll be giving away for charity this afternoon.  Near those bags is an Aquafina box full of books I'll be shipping because I won't need them anytime soon (they're mostly leisure books).  Flanking me on my left is my sturdy blue duffle bag that I'll likely be using to load up with books and other heavy stuff unless I end up needing to use my military-style duffle bag instead.  Beside it is my black suitcase, soon to be filled with something (I'm still sorting out the details). 

It's a curious thing, really.  In many ways, this feels like things are ending in the way they began:  in a room full of a hodge-podge of things, recovering from times that felt off.  You leave something that isn't itself bad, but would be bad to continue with it.  At the same time, what you're moving onto is no more certain except in it also being something you should do.  The only difference for me is that seems to involve more boxes, more bags, more plane tickets, and more time zones. 

These aren't things as usual, but they're still faintly familiar.  There seems to be some quietness haunting moments like these, where what you've known becomes a little less trustworthy while what's new remains no less mysterious.  This is not an adventure or an exercise in faith, really.  I simply consider this life, and how the choices we make often take us very different places.  The only difference might really be the muse (so to speak) of inspiration.  Why do this?

The front window is open, as are the doors and windows in the back of my room.  Outside it has finished raining and little is getting in the way of a breeze from moving through my room.  These sort of things happen if we allow them.  You just have to make the necessary changes to prepare the way. 

With things being on their way to getting wrapped up and finished here, it's been less of the "big things" that I look for than the simple and essential.  If I had to apply that with the average views about life in a different country, though, that is really counter to such expectations.  I tried expressing that idea last night with fellow foreigners here, but I hadn't quite touched on where my mind was at (probably because my mind was becoming increasingly tired).  So, here's a new go at it. 

When I first went overseas, the most common description of the act of going overseas was something in the category of "adventure."  I've still heard that at different times from others during the times when I'd been back in the States, and maybe that's also encouraged by some overseas workers who volunteer to go overseas.  The trouble is, and perhaps I've mentioned it at different times in the past, that these are all very simple choices we make.  The lives we choose, the choices that define them, and what we allow to influence us—all of those things are ultimately quite simple. 

Then I look at where I'm at now and a season of my life ending, and it's still full of very simple things.  There's no view I have of "my adventure" ending since that was never the stake I claimed.  Once I get off the plane in Charlotte and collect my (literal) baggage, it will have been a life I've known that has ended, not an idea of a life.  It's just that the next time overseas will look different.  At least, I hope so. 

The things I will miss when I leave will have more to do with people than ideas and views.  At the same time, the quiet frustration will remain of opportunities that could have been had if business and logistics were less important than one's inspired calling.  I'll miss what could have been while have made the best of something else.  I'll hope to never begrudge the people I've come to care about over the past couple of years, but will quietly hold the wonder about what could have been if the logistics of others didn't choke out my personal vision for the future. 

Life is simple, but becomes complicated when it's followed by human-made ideas of what is right rather than inspiration from what Is. 

There's now only three weeks left until I return to the U.S.  For some reason today was just a challenge to get through and to do things.  I was wrestling with lacking motivation and inspiration, but also how to get things done done.  In my head, leaving and three weeks don't fit together.  The reality of leaving seems so much greater than three weeks, and it is.  Why it bothers me is, even though I feel like I'll be able to leave when the time comes, it's that feeling of uncertainty that still lingers. 

But how.  I don't have the details for what's next.  This isn't something where I want to give some trite response about "having faith" because of the limits of words with this.  The consequences of my actions feel more real now, and I wonder about how I've handled other choices in the past that also had gravity to them. 

Problems from inhabiting your own head for too long. 

At this point, as far as I'm concerned I'm ultimately finished with teaching.  Even though there is still next week's review/"wrap-up" classes for the semester and assignments yet to be marked, my known and established responsibilities as they've existed for teaching are pretty much concluded.  Nothing new to impart, so, now . . . I'm done. 

And that's okay.  I say that because I've been anxious this week, sort of a steady-boil and a lid barely kept over it.  I realize now that much of what I've had difficulty with has been emotionally-heightened from the reality of leaving.  This time of the year is already a wearying period for me, often punctuated by the fact my brain feels a little like an elastic band that has progressively lost its elasticity month by month of continual stretching and use (note I don't add "and eventually snaps," just so you know I ain't on my way to the loony bin!). 

Part of the problem with teaching for me is it's too cerebral of a work.  At the same time I'm continually around people and how that feeds my extroverted side (yes, as those of you who know me can attest, it exists), I very often feel like I occupy my own head more than is healthy.  That might just be the downside of living overseas in circumstances not of my own choosing—the heart and mind reacting against it and the draining that results—but to conclude with teaching permits me a little more wiggle room with other, more emotional realities than just dealing with them half-heartedly as something else to juggle.  Now I can discard a couple of the flaming swords and chainsaws I've been playing with and allow a form of simplicity to settle back into place before I leave on June 5th. 

So, I feel okay about this, but am drained by it all.  I wonder whether some of this isn't made more complex by me, but I guess it couldn't be any different if it wasn't me being affected by them.  Myself and teaching, myself and leaving Viet Nam, myself and returning to the U.S., myself and contentions I have—I'll be glad to see a few of those putter away and dealt with a little more naturally, a little more healthily . . .

Here's hoping. 

If they "lost" all three of the possible ballots I sent in (knowing they'd only count one), that would be really, really sad. 

Report: One-fourth of overseas votes go uncounted

I find it interesting that there might be resistance to this in Congress from the left and right, even though the amount is almost a drop in the bucket when compared to new spending.  I'm not contrary to new spending if it's a long-term investment, but . . . yeah, how to determine or accept what's a necessary expense anymore.  Kind of telling, actually:  when existing spending is asked to be cut, people are loath to do it, but it's okay to create new expenses. 

This isn't a liberal or conservative thing:  I think it's simply people being people.  Interesting how the nuts-and-bolts decisions the average family makes is reflected in a government. 

Obama moves to cut $17 billion from budget

Yet another aspect of the teaching job market.  At least this seems to be something to explain a lot of other things that have happened with applying for a teaching job.  

NC schools will lose millions in state funding | CITIZEN-TIMES.com | Asheville Citizen-Times

It's here.  My last month, at least in the foreseeable future, in Viet Nam.  Even though it's still possible I'll return here in the future, for all I know that point in my future is still clouded to me.  Goodness, even my immediate future is clouded to me as far as the job market is concerned, namely not likely to find an ESL teaching job like I'd anticipated.  So, in a couple of ways, reality is coming a bit more down to earth. 

While today is little different than yesterday, it's a new feeling.  Not even the wearing-thin feeling I had a little while ago.  It's new in the sense that even the familiar has fallen away to what's yet to be revealed.  In ways, it might feel especially comfortable during this time to either retreat or throw all cares to the wind recklessly.  However, I realize what defines this time has to be something different, and it has to carry with me even into this next season because that's what this time will be—a season. 

With variations and changes in the climate nowadays, this is something similar in that I don't know entirely how long this changed time will last.  Something perhaps I'm coming to realize and am seeing as something operating outside of the best-laid of plans is that this sabbatical—what has settled on me more and more to call my time back in the States—is and isn't about me.  It may not even be about what I've gotten used to or any preparations that I could make for the long-term.  It's hands-off but invest, intentional while clouded.  Ultimately, inspired. 

Over the past week, though I haven't been looking for an answer, such has been the insight quietly dawning on me.  As it usually does, but in many ways different than before. 

Yes, another link, but I should post it since I'm a Saturn car owner from the good ol' days when the cars were *gasp*  ECONOMICAL (from 1998, the day before they were changed).  Video below if you haven't seen it already on ABC News.  I think I should buy a Saturn shirt for nostalgia. 

GM Plans More Cuts

A might bit disconcerting for this region of Asia I've grown quite fond of. 

Study: SE Asia will be hit hard by climate change

Those who know me can vouch for the fact I tend to be all-or-nothing when it comes to important commitments in life.  With different things I might be made responsible for, there's an overwhelming part of me that would almost prefer to do nothing than do something half-well.  Well, during this week, I have the stressful experience of having multiple things I can't afford not to do, and all require my full commitment. 

• Normal teaching and lesson planning (the given in a week).  The difference is how this is the point in the semester where stacks begin to accumulate in my room for assignments I am yet to mark.  A given, but . . . ugh. 
• Trying to chip away at graduate school assignments, and making sure they are relevant to what I'm doing now (another given).
• Related to the above two, it's getting to be a slow grind here.  It's typical for this time of the school-year, so it's sort of a given, but it happens almost once a year.  Stress is added because a large part of me just wants to get done!  The desire for a vacation is almost as demanding of a need as anything else. 
• Making sure I dot my "i's" and cross my "t's" with a job application to teach ESL in public schools.  This is obviously new, but it's also a great stretch very literally because I don't have the simple convenience of time and distance.  I'm limited to e-mails and how that has it's own time schedule. 
• My personal well-being.  Normally it's just assumed that I give myself those times to take care of myself and not go a little nutty in the head, but that's been hard to find lately.  With everything else that's also essential and necessary, it's hard to not feel bad for wanting/needing time to decompress. 

So, that's how the rest of April will likely be for me.  Hopefully some of those will be shed once May rolls around.  Here's hoping. 

I think my taste buds are going to stage a revolt against me any morning now.  Most mornings I've settled into the routine of using instant coffee.  It's one of those things where I don't really think a whole lot about it, but I do know I just do it because I don't want to make REAL coffee, namely drip coffee.  "Sure," I tell myself, "it's easier and requires less time for ultimately the same thing." 

Alas, it's not the same thing, but it's definitely lesser (though maybe nothing bad in and of itself).  In a way, I find it sort of reflects how things have been here lately.  This is normally that time in the semester where I'm cresting the final hump of classes since most are at least at the two-thirds mark of being done.  Assignments are fully churning along for teacher and student alike, and it just feels easier, more convenient to give way on lesser things when better things are available.  It's instant coffee. 

Now, sometimes this "instant coffee" can be okay, obviously.  Sometimes you're too tired, sometimes you just plain can't, and sometimes maybe you *shudders* LIKE "instant coffee."  For me, both the real and figurative instant coffee is none of the above:  I know I don't REALLY like it, but I do it anyway.  A little laziness, a little something else. 

I'm not trying to be deep or anything.  I simply had a thought after a sip of instant coffee—"hmm, this is awful" (well, maybe I worded it a little differently, but anyway)—and then I began thinking about my main complaints recently.  "Wait a minute . . ."

Sometimes the small stuff can point to more prevailing habits, good or evil. 

The weather in Ha Noi has been really nice lately.  Walking outside, you get hit with neither heat nor humidity.  It's simply a very consistent 70s only made nicer by the breeze.  Aside from the occasional spurt of overcast and drizzle, it's been really pleasant.  All of that makes the fact it's being in the midst of Passover a bit odd for me. 

Passover has been a part of this time of the year that I regret not doing more to observe.  It's easy to recognize Easter and especially Good Friday, but Passover tends to get, well, passed over.  Not exactly the same observance we could be making, could it? 

This is already a sobering time for me without observing Passover.  Despite the celebratory reality of Easter, I never really shake what needed to first take place in order for Easter to be of any significance.  When I consider Passover even just superficially, I wonder why this holiday isn't also a part of my celebration.  I'm not beholden to any one tradition during this time of the year, so, honestly, why don't I? 

I'm encouraged to see a US President holding a Passover Seder now (I'd like to imagine Bush did the same).  Maybe one day I'll begin holding Passover Seders.  I hope so.  At least, once I grasp this holiday with better reverence. 

I thought some of you might find this interesting.  He apparently also spoke at the Diplomatic Academy of Viet Nam yesterday.  The link to the article is below.  Interesting pictures, too.  Makes me want to read his autobiography. 

John McCain revisits jail where he was held for five years

I have one best friends.  At times when you look at him you will see that she smiles.  A white big toothed smile.  It is the smile that makes you comfortableness.  At times I see it now when I think.  I am sure if you talked to her you'd find him a very careful because of his care for you and his caring.  And all people too.  Sometimes our walk around Hanoi and see the many lake.  Such as Sword Lake, Tay Lake.  And we would see the green water and know someone has been there before.  It is in the water.  Yet sometimes she would make me upset.  We walk around Hanoi a lot, and sometime smell the hoa sua.  Do you know it?  With your nose.  It is the of the smell from it for the feeling is very especial.  Sometimes I know it is true.  So if you come to Hanoi the Vietnam capital, when you meet him there I will know you will enjoy it. 

It appears my 1998 Saturn sedan that drives upwards of 40 MPG on the interstate is soon to be a relic.  The link below tells the story. 

How GM Crushed Saturn | Newsweek Business | Newsweek.com

The week I've had has been fairly mixed, and it's a little odd to say that because the week itself didn't really involve a lot to do.  It wasn't a matter of actions that made up anything that took place.  If anything, it was more from absence that I found the most notable in me. 

A good portion of this week was wasted.  There were things I could have done but I didn't, and things I chose to do that I shouldn't have.  My motivation and backbone have been pretty wobbly, and it's hard to put my finger on any one reason for it.  One thing I do know for certain, though, is that I've begun withdrawing myself. 

I look around me and I'm just not as committed as a was.  The previous semester wasn't too bad with this because it all felt normal.  Ever since I've returned to Viet Nam in February, though, I've been less and less invested than I should.  It's a quality I realize in myself, and others who pay attention to how I am would be able to pick up on it.  This is something I've been afraid would happen, even though it is almost to be predicted given I'll be leaving in two months.  Actually, almost exactly two months from now, as I'll be flying out late on June 5th. 

What do I want to do?  I can't say.  I don't know what would be there to say.  What I do know is I look around me, and, as much as I physically am here, my heart remains distant.  Still half here and half not, but the reality of leaving finally seems to be taking its toll on how I live life here. 

I'm getting to that place in the time that remains here in Viet Nam that a part of me has quietly known would come, but has been hesitant to commit to:  making preparations for leaving with no certainty about whether I'll return. 

In theory, in the comfort of my own head, I'd gotten used to telling myself, "Oh, just take it in stride and roll with it once the time arrives."  I knew that'd leave more of an edge once time came to leave, but I took it as a necessity to carry on "business as usual," not denying students from what would otherwise be normal.  Well, that too must end, and here I am now in the midst of accepting it. 

What has it felt like?  Against my better wishes, I've found myself quietly withdrawing in ways.  My heart has been a little less gung ho.  Not necessarily distracted unto more work, but half of my heart is someplace else that isn't Viet Nam.  At the same time, it isn't in the U.S., either.  It's just kind of drifting, "out there," as it were.  Maybe it's either for a heart to drift than for it to settle somewhere. 

As I'm aware of all this, I'm doing my best not to get distracted by the inevitable, while at the same time knowing there is a little over two months left during my time here.  Sending my first box back early next week will be a start, and securing my one-way plane tickets back around the same time will be another step in the same direction. 

How will I feel once that ball gets rolling?  I'm not altogether sure, but what I am sure of is it'll probably not feel normal. 

Depending on who you are and what country you're from, you might say I'm experiencing some health-fallout as a result of the weather.  Something I've shared with students of mine in a blog I have with them is the puzzle of how people are said to feel sick "because of the weather."  I started feeling sick once the weather started getting a little muggy and rainy, with lingering overcast, and a mixture of either misting or rain. 

Well, if you looked at the weather now in Ha Noi, it looks like the Summer is starting early.  In Fahrenheit, you can say it's been in the 90s here.  The humidity, though not bad, is making its arrival, too.  The dampness that used to be just mugginess from the rain is turning into sticky humidity.  Despite that change in weather, I'm still a bit sick.  Not too bad, but whatever germ I've got has been tenacious enough to let me know it's not going down without a fight. 

Saying all that, I can't help but quietly wonder, how on earth do we get sick?  "Germs, viruses, bacteria."  I know, but how those?  Sure, I jest some when I hear, "Oh, because of changes in the weather," but where do these sicknesses come from?  A story of a longer story, I'm sure, but I hope that thought keeps me a little more humble when I hear things that I otherwise might find a little amusing. 

Anyway.  Back to my sniffling and sneezing.