i had a moment between classes this morning to sit in an outside corridor and read some of my book, underwater to get out of the rain, and despite the occasional cluster of students walking by, chatting in mandarin, it was really difficult for me to tell that i was sitting on the other side of the world. perhaps that’s what traveling is all about: being comfortable wherever one finds oneself. in fact, i’m more comfortable here than i was in Knoxville last week. perhaps it’s my affinity for the asian culture, or my dislike of basement apartments, but i sleep well here, am looking forward to an afternoon run, and feel light-hearted and calm. i know my days are well balanced when i have time and desire to read a little at the end of the day, write a little bit throughout, keep my eyes open for little details.

i vividly remember weeping in chiang mai airport and in airplane bathrooms from Bangkok to san Francisco, out of sheer terror that i would lose whatever i had found in Thailand. and i have, to an extent. whatever one fears losing, is already lost, really. however, the disparity of east/west is not so vast these days. calm and good are the norm.

in an homage to Hornsby, i looked at the ledge outside my hotel window and wondered what it would be like to jump. then, later on the trail, i was thinking of the irony of the concept “popular suicide spots,” and it struck me as the last vestige of the desperately lonely. it makes brilliant sense: to touch, even briefly, a feeling of solidarity, when one’s isolation has pushed the bounds of desperation into suicide. one may live alone, but can one have, for a moment, the dignity of like-mindedness, if even with the ghosts of others?

last night, i was watching an interesting program on discovery about a diver who films white sharks without a shark cage. i flipped back to cnn for some desperately melodramatic 9/11 coverage, then pressed what i though to be the number of the discovery channel. instead, i dialed in the channel of the. um. “popular adult programming.” which was decidedly NOT white shark footage. but equally terrifying.

post scriptum: the suicide paragraph is merely the result of reading a long way down, and in no way reflects how i feel. if you do, however, i urge you to talk to someone.