Not trying, just being

In my existence I've gone through a couple stages of life. As a youngster I was shy and quiet and generally kept to myself. As a teen I was focused on wearing the acceptable thing and being with the acceptable people and all that silly uptight stuff. In my mid twenties I was trying to be a better person and aspiring to things that seem a little silly. Finally, after all these ebbs and flows I'm in my 30's and I'm me. I don't worry so much about what others think, I say my opinion, and I have the mentality that just being who you are is the way to filter the gunk out of social relationships.

I used to play things PC, be consoling of people I disagreed with, and generally put my thoughts second. But, that part of me is gone. I don't really care so much about impressing, or trying to get in with certain people. Honestly, all I care about is relating on a common level. People are very different and don't always see eye to eye. I'm ok with that. I also think its perfectly acceptable for me to be a friend to someone I don't always see eye to eye with. I often fall into this trap, I'm a pretty laid-back, polite, do the right thing kind of guy. Naturally, that means that when I meet new people many happen to be Religious.

I don't have a problem with Religion on a personal level, but I do have a lot of opinions that most likely rub Religious people the wrong way, and I'm not going to just pretend like I don't disagree. But this also means that I don't poke fun at them for their beliefs. I always have a test of sorts. I think that being Religious is great if you realize that dogma is bad. I've been friends with Muslims, Christians, Jews, and Buddhists, and it all boils down to the realization that spirituality is not static and absolute.

In terms of people relations, I just feel freer now. In my workplace I feel free to joke around and make a fool of myself, because that is part of me. I sometimes worry that by being goofy or funny others will take me as unprofessional, but in reality I'm super hard on myself and know that I always do my best. If anything its a form of bonding and morale boosting, and I also do not take myself too seriously. I realize that I'm just a man and am fallible.

Its also really funny being "free." Its now finally dawning on me that I'm divorced, have a whole damn home to myself, no kids, and am relatively young. I have friends tell me to get out and fuck everyone. Yah, that is not gonna happen. No matter how free I may be, that's just not me. I learned a lot from the failure of my past relationship and that is: don't play games, be genuine, and make sure you are in a relationship for the right reasons. In the past, I stayed in a crappy relationship for too long. I thought that through work things could change. Unfortunately, when you are in a relationship with someone who has dramatic mood swings every six months things don't change, they come full circle.

All this just brings me to now. I see all these engaging, lovely women and yet its like I don't care. This is a growth spurt for me. In the past, any lovely woman who I got along with I would think romance. But now there is just more nuance. I think about different things: will you be able to handle my terrible jokes, will you be able to handle my tight-knit family, do you realize that I'm lazy, do you get that when I fall in love I'm undyingly loyal, can you handle the fact that I will question your beliefs, or that you must realize I'm stubborn as hell and nagging doesn't work. And most of all, does she understand that I want a partnership, I don't expect her to be my mom and I am not going to be her daddy. She must realize that I'll always find her beautiful, even with bags under her eyes, wrinkles setting in, and stretch marks in places that have changed over the years. I have a whole lot of acceptance and now the difference is that I don't want to give it away so easily. 

Birthday party - downs then ups

Pre party

Getting ready for a night out that will eventually involve a warehouse dance club. Looking at myself in the mirror I think: "I look like a 34 year old single dad. Zero sex appeal." I take off my hat and look at my thinning hair and try to spice it up. A little gel and finger action should possibly do the trick. Suddenly don’t look like a trucker. The only other problem is that all the clothes i have are just wrong. The wool pullover sweater i'm wearing is Costco sheek. The T-shirt below it is pretty cool; unfortunately, several months of improper food consumption mean that it is a tad too easy for my belly to pop out. I throw on a stylish coat to cover it all up.

One hour til party.

I'm dreading every moment before meeting up with the party group. It is pouring rain and the nearest car2go is a mile away. I use a feature on the app called the radar to monitor an area in hopes that a car will become available. 30 min later a car2go shows u, 5 blocks will be ok.

Arriving at Blitz Ladds

Never been to the place. But low and behold, fucking Jerome Kersey, Terry Porter, and all these local Trail Blazers are recording a goddamn TV program. I sneak by. The bar is the longest, brightest place i've seen. Booths and TVs stretch for the distance. I wander having no idea where my clan is. I find ‘em at about the halfway mark. I greet everyone awkwardly and nervously, as i missed lunch and feel shaky. The pleasantries go well enough, and then i get around to some sitting. My attention is completely disrupting by the 30 plus screens filled with sports and Harry Potter. Eventually, a waitress is flagged down and she takes my order, totchos and a gin and tonic. She makes a comment that happens very often when i hand over my debit card, “how do you say your last name?” I of course reply: “Purkapile.” People are always unphased by how something that looks so exotic has such a lackluster pronunciation. She smiles to herself and walks away.

As I order the call comes in: 30 minutes til clubbing. I get my food scarf it down and put the half filled plate of leftovers in a napkin wrap. I jokingly tell everyone that come midnight they will thank me for the, “tots in my pocket, which have congealed to become burrito-like.”

Waiting in line at a dance club

The line stretches for a ways. We luckily skip like 10 people due to our friends. In the line we joke and converse. It comes up that my other friends also feel old. They look around and see lovely 22 year-olds in fantastic attire. We wait a bit longer. The waiting gives an opportunity to really talk to my friend who has been out of town for years. She lives in New York and recently graduated. She told me of the difficulties of living in the city. The cost of living is absurd. She can't casually grab a burrito, or a beer. The jobs she has found pay too little. She wants to get out but its complicated. Her boyfriend is also wading through the difficulties with low pay and opportunity. She talks about the difficulties of finding good jobs in Portland which would pay enough to cover her loans. What she tells me sucks, and brings a bunch of empathy from me. She she asks if I would be willing to move for opportunities, and i reply too quickly: “No. My family is here and I’d miss them too much. I would rather be making less here than more in another place.”

In da’ Club

We all get hit by the bass. It shatters our 30 year old bones. Just kidding. We all are finding the lights and the music difficult to handle. Eventually we saunter up to the bar, which is a life like version of Lord of the Flies. Its chaos, elbows hitting tits, asses bouncing off hips, drinks spilling down blouses. After the melee, drinks are in hand. We proceed to the back area of the large dimly lit warehouse. We find an awkward little bench suitable for 4 but which will serve a party of 8. We listen to the tunes, which are more like thumps and grunts, and our bodies start twitching. My head, elbows, and ass won’t stop moving. Mind you, I never actually get up. I’m table dancing.

Hours later

The liquor has done its due, and finally im up and shaking. The music took control. The end.

(got too tired to write anymore, sorry…)

What was, and what was before: Part 1

It's been awhile... That is the short version of many stories to come. The last time I updated I was in the Midwest, and had been previously gallivanting round the Ilha Formosa. Now I'm back in my native land, the often gloomy Pacific Northwest. All I can say is that this blog will be taking an expanded role. It is no longer limited, but instead is the platform for Purk's ongoing perceptions.

In the intervening years between my journeys to Asia and meandering to the Midwest, I had many events and ups and downs. For the majority of the existence of this blog I was in a relationship with my soon to be ex-wife. I would consider these early years of our relationship some of the highs, but also previews of what would become the lows.

This is the first part of the story of my recent relationship. This is not meant to be a critique or an overtly positive recounting. This is just how my mind remembers things. Mostly, this is my experience and view, things that are beautiful and things that are not. I'm not going to write about the nitty or the gritty, but more about the mood and the feeling. I also think that some of these things that have happened to me are just life and know that others have similar experiences. I just hope by putting them to paper it creates an opportunity to relate.

And so it begins:

We originally set out to bridge the distance, I lived in Portland, she in Chicago. Ironically, bridging the distance involved both of us moving across the Pacific to a small-ish, diplomatically isolated, "renegade" province of China. Known as the Republic of China - officially, and Taiwan - unofficially; the country is a mountainous isle in a semi-tropical location in Asia. The majority of the population can generally be called Chinese. Yet, this does a disservice to the actual realities of the island. The island and is people and history are complex and important but are not essential to this entry.

My ex and I had met previously, back in college. She arrived for a conference and was the friend of my best friend's now wife. We got along, were attracted, and shared a moment. Fast forward a couple years later, and our friends are now getting married. I'd done the Facebook friend thing, keeping in contact occasionally but dismissing the possibility of anything serious due to the distance. She was someone alluring but not available.

Enter the wedding. I've known my best friend nearly my whole life. We went to grade, middle, and high school, and even a bit of college together. We've been co-workers and also best men. My friend's wedding was to be in the Chicago area, which meant I would see the one that had previously been an impossibility. I traveled with my friends, and for the most part we treated the time like a field trip, exploring the city of Chicago, going to the sites and various bars, walking next to the frozen Lake Michigan.

When I saw her again, I was confused. I was in her territory, a large city about which I knew nothing about in the dead of winter. We broke away from our friends and had time to reconnect. It was during this time that I decided to give the improbable a chance; I dove in and tried to seize love. The trip became a blur, the time flew. The experience of fresh love enlivened everything. We became paired up during the short stay. We went to parties in mixed crowds of my friends and hers. It all seemed so memorable and unique.

After having these fun times, something started to take over. It was a feeling of curiosity. I had always written off any possibility of a relationship due to numerous factors, distance and relative unfamiliarity being the predominant ones. Yet, I was feeling risky. All my brain said was "Take a Chance." I tried to ignore this as much as possible, but it remained.

The wedding came, it was amazing, the night was spent dancing and in sweet joy. We got together once again. At first, awkwardly putting on a front of disinterest. On my part, knowing that the clock was ticking and my time was running out before I would return home on the West coast. She knowing the same. But the energy was too much. We spent the rest of the night together and inseparable.

Later, in the wee hours of the morning, surrounded by the entire wedding and in the dark, we made a promise to one another. We would teach English in Taiwan together, that way we wouldn't have to move to the other's city. In this way we didn't have to compromise, we both got to do something we wanted, and do it together. It seemed to be the perfect solution to the unfamiliarity and the distance problem. I felt like there was something between us and wanted to see it through, even if that meant trying in a distant land.

Later days:

Hell, I even did the counseling thing, but oddly enough it was directed the wrong way. The counselor was asking why I didn't want to proceed with a wedding after my fiancee peaced out and came back a week later begging for me back. I was the issue to be dissected, but what really strikes me is that he never asked a single question why she had broken things off. It was like a tag team and me under a lamp being asked why I didn't want to get married after a very public and embarrassing break up that was 6 months before the wedding. Even worse, the things that had broken us apart: future of kids, location to live, and how you want to live your lives, were all easily swept aside with a simple, "I thought long and hard for one week and now I want to have all of those things with you because you are the best." Needless to say, the counseling was more directed at my doubts that we should be married.

So we got back together, lived in like 7 months of bliss, and then everything went right back to the original things that had pulled us apart. This all made me feel like she had been more interested in the production and saving of face rather than me. She has her thoughts, and they will never be clear to me, but that is that. We are divorced and my life is on a new track.