I've decided to start something different today and I'd be pleased to recieve comment and criticism about this piece.![]()
An Adolescent’s Journal
August 20th, Las Vegas. The Sun was at its height over the burning sky.
“So, what are we supposed to do again?”
“Well, firstly, we’re going to the Meadows Mall to get you a backpack and some black jeans you need.”
“Fine. What else?”
“Then we will go to Wal-Mart. The school’s gonna open next week, so you need some stationary stuffs. Then, you can go to the ‘Border’ bookstore as you asked for.”
Satisfied with the answer my mother gave, though not at all satisfied with the prospect of the actual trip itself, I sat down on the nearest chair, stretched my legs, and sighed. You see, my parents were ordinary people. Just like any other ordinary people of today‘s United States, they, along with so many others, took for granted the convenience that massive supermarkets like Wal-Mart offered as a place where you can go and get everything you‘d ever need or wanted. For me, this was increasingly irritating. I did not like this exchange between convenience and choices; I’d rather go to more specialized shops to get what I needed, where there will be more alternatives - REAL alternatives - even if that means I’ll have to go to ten places rather than one in just one day. Naturally though, I didn’t voice my opinion about this. In my own familiar gloomy silence, I kept quiet. It was far better this way.
It surprised me whenever I thought back of how I became such a different person; to everyone else around me, to the majority of people around the world, even to myself in the past. It is a mystery; a divine mystery, perhaps, one that none except the most intelligent of supernatural beings could answer. Well, unfortunately, there were no angels in the neighborhood to talk to, and gods certainly won’t listen to my atheistic prayers. You see, before this, I was just an ordinary boy. I enjoyed, like everyone else, the prospects of going out, meeting friends, lived with my family, and, all-in-all, lived a full, loud, secure, and happily ordinary life. I was a simple young boy for all my life, despite that strange little fascination with history and an above-average skill in school presentations, writing, and the classroom's second, insignificant language was English. These traits were just little things that set me apart; little enough to ensure my normality and yet special enough to set me apart from the crowd and made my life worthwhile. That was enough for me, and for my many friends, whom I enjoyed company.
Until my world was turned upside down.
Before I became who I was, and started living in Vegas (for the two events could not be separated or distinguished from each other), I was born into a complex and ever-changing society that was Krungthep, a.k.a. Bangkok, a sub-society of sorts in the country of Thailand. Before I began to touch other societies, living in other cultures different from what I was born with, I never appreciated the Oriental exoticness of the nation of my birth, and especially the city of my youth. It was normal for me. Everything from the polluted air, stinking canals, broken, traffic-filled roads, dangerous run-down neighborhoods, crowded, dirty street markets, and even the usual petty corruption and crimes that would’ve troubled many foreigners made no difference to me. This was Bangkok; this was what I was born with. Despite the prince-like treatment and care my family gave to me, together with the clean, happy rooms and relatively prosperous situation I grew up with, the many troubles plaguing the city were still just…well, problems. You could always look at the nearest temple or ruined palace and enjoy the peace of mind that came with centuries of Buddhism in Bangkok’s blood, or you could go up that very same street a little more than a mile north and an hour away just to visit the nearest department store and participate in the cosmopolitan activities it offered. That was normality. Everyday struggle put one through the understanding that things were simply the way it was. There was no concern, not even conscious awareness, that I should be troubled, that anyone should be troubled.
So I lived through a happy childhood. A normal childhood.
Until my mother’s voice hit my ears, and my daydreaming was put to a halt, “Bank! Are you ready to go now?”
“Yes, mom!” I responded, and sighed, secretly. Fine enough. If they would drive me to the bookstore then I’ll tolerate Wal-Mart, for now. I hope they had what I wanted.
With that thought, I went downstairs, and out of the door, away from what was my house yet still not my home. I went… back into reality.
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