Yet another reason why Microsoft sucks.

Usually when I go to write a blog post I compose it in the notes section of Entourage (my email client). Last month my friend Jarrod asked me to write an article for his website and I happily agreed. Even though it took at least 20 combined hours to write and it made me hella procrastinate because of it's tediousness, I finally completed it 2 days ago by forcing myself to sit down and plow through it. It was so ready, it could have been cut and pasted that day. To ANYTHING. But I ignored my better judgement and said to myself, double backup is paranoia. So yesterday entourage decided that the database was corrupt and would no longer access ANY of the data. That includes email, notes, contacts, preferences etc. Nobody ever said anything about the 2GB data limit of entourage. If I could strangle any software program till my fingers leave imprints on it's soft tender flesh and bruises on its trachea, this would be the one. Thanks Microsoft. Thanks a lot.

PS. yes i said hella.

Back in the good ol' US of A

So I'm back. In Chicago. I'm not sure whether it's the reverse culture shock of being in the states or just being back here in my hometown after being absent for ages but it's weird. I'm suspecting it must the latter since it's been way more about what I've noticed having changed or lack there of, and the things that still remain that I've completely forgotten about. Perhaps it's a testament to how much I've changed as well. Chicago is nostalgic and completely foreign all at once. I'm disoriented, a stranger in my own city and it's only through the comfort of being with my closest friends and family that I'm able to keep from succumbing to the alienation that threatens to swallow me up at times.

I remember what it was like to live and walk amongst these inhabitants. The feeling of the city was and is still very solid, cemented and real. Chicago is a no nonsense town. People don't change much. In Chicago, you follow routine and do the things you are supposed to do like everyone else. You go to school, you get a job, get married, buy a house, have children, and grow old. You don't wander very far and when you do you almost always inevitably return. In recent months I've been contacted through facebook from email blasts from the past. Old high school classmates, best friends, acquaintances, etcetera. The majority of them still live within a fifty mile radius of Chicago and all of them are married, possibly with kids and a house somewhere.

Weird.
Kids.

Arriving into O'hare was the 1st time I actually thought about my own mortality in a long time. Afterall, in what seems like a blink of an eye, 15 years have passed since high school graduation. I joined the army, finished college, moved to another city, have had multiple long-term relationships, traveled around the world, and just plain lived out my strange and sometimes surreal life. There's not a whole lot different from before. I still rent. I'm still single. I don't have much in material possessions and barely a savings now that I've squandered half of it on traveling. I feel like I'm standing still but time is moving very fast. My life is a collection of experiences with hardly anything tangible to show for it except for some pictures and a blog I try to keep up with once in while. Oh yea, I have two cats but even they are at the midpoint of their lives and will be ghosts before the close of this next decade. My relationship with my parents and sisters are essentially the same. We're still kids to them and even to ourselves. I'm not sure what my parents think about us. Occasionally my mom will show concern about the parade of partners I've steadily streamed through but I think deep down she knows she might never see grandkids from any of us in her lifetime so she never bothers asking.

In less than 2 weeks I'll be back in SF. Not sure how that's gonna be. I'm worried I might fall back into nasty old habits. Traveling has made me re-evaluate and reconsider what is important in life. Is it career and social mobility? Or is the key to happiness simplicity and staying present? I thought traveling would answer a lot of questions for me. Instead it's only created more.

I'm not really sure what i'm trying to say with any of this. Guess I'm only trying to make sense of it all.

The end of this blog?

Today I went to the beach and took my camera with, but because there were going to be so many people on the beach I thought perhaps I should bring it in waterproof bag that I got in Thailand from the songran festival. So i put it in there along with the 30 euros I brought with me into the water, was having a nice chat before I decided to double check the bag and what do I see? a potentail $300 dollars blown. fuck me. keep your fingers crossed that after i let it dry out it'll miraculously work again. Should I pray to jesus hard the next 2 days? Somehow I don't think he's gonna help me. Plus it looks like the on button got pressed while it was in the water. sigh. i'm screwed.

safe and sound in valencia, spain.

Did you know that people here clap when the plane lands safely? I didn't.

Cambodia: Part 2

The morning after my arrival into Phnom Penh. The night before I had arrived after dark and made the mistake of allowing a tout con me into taking me to his guesthouse of choice that I didn’t want to stay at. It was obvious that this was a place that paid half the tuk-tuk drivers in the city to bring backpackers to since it was teeming with them in a neighborhood that obviously was away from the main the drag. Because I had decided I didn’t want to stay there I spent a good half an hour having him drive me around in search of other crappy little guesthouses that didn’t prove much better. I finally settled on a cockroach infested room close to the waterfront area and had to pay him extra for the runaround. I was ready to punch the guy in the end.

In search of food.

Finally found something adequate. Sadly, I can’t say Cambodian food is all that good. Most of their dishes are rip-offs of neighboring country’s dishes.

The Royal palace


The National Museum

Tuol Sleng Genocide museum. This was an old high school converted to a detention center where Pol Pot sent several thousand people to be tortured and killed. Read about the killing fields and the mass atrocities that were committed in cambodia between 1975 and 1979 here.

The Rules

Not sure what this means but I made sure I maintained a solemn composure whenever I was around it.




On the ground floor of Building A there were a series of rooms that were used as the torture rooms. On the walls hung portraits of various victims laid out on the metal beds.


Large screens of mugshots taken of detainees before they were sent to their fate. There were hundreds of these pictures spread out through several rooms.















Building C had classrooms that had been divided up into individual cells. In those cells the victims would be shackled to metal bars in rooms that were barely the width of half a twin mattress.







To be sure, this ain’t no “Welcome Back Kotter”

I think the only example of graffiti I saw in cambodia. I have a deep suspicion it was done by a westerner.

Cheap goods abound in the Russian market. Get your pirated DVDs here.

Central market. it was like a giant beehive.


This was the American couple, Amanda and Leighton, that I traveled with while in Cambodia. I met them at the border and we rode to Siem Reap and met up in Phnom Penh together.



Leighton getting a wee bit drunk.

Ramshackle homes along a riverside as we bused it towards Saigon.

The typical traffic.


While we were waiting for the ferry, dozens of peddlers rushed the vehicles to try to sell their wares.


Seeing them really gave you a perspective on how poor the locals are as you witness them jostle each other for that potential sale.

Oh yea, it might look like it’s cold but we were in the middle of the hottest months in cambodia.

I witnessed a nearly full water bottle casually tossed out of a truck and 1 young boy and his friend quickly picking it up to gulp down the contents before the rest of it spilled onto the pavement.

All of the sudden they noticed me watching and ran up to the bus banging under my window trying to get my attention.



Propaganda party signs were everywhere.

She was interesting as she was a very serious business woman who minutes earlier had pulled out a VERY large wad of cash from her bosom. This was the last pitstop before crossing over into vietnam.

Next stop: VIETNAM