I promise...

I promise someday... someday soon... to be poetic about all.of.this. I promise to be witty and funny and insightful and interesting again. I promise to tell the stories I'm not telling now because I'm too busy living the story to write it. I promise to explain why I laughed SO MUCH about being saved from a probably very dangerous situation by a Mexican guy grabbing my hand and pulling me close and whispering to me to "go with whatever I do" because some drug dealer wanted to know who the gringa was and why she was in that 'hood... and he explained I was his wife and he had been deported and I was here with HIM so hands off. (I didnt know what was happening until later. I really need to learn Spanish. And learn how to piece out a run on sentence.) And when I did and apologies were handed out by amigos for putting me in that situation, no one seems to understand why I laughed and laughed and laughed and said "No, THIS is life. THIS is why I'm here. To experience it all!" Im sure something was lost in translation or culture or just because I've gone a little crazy(er), but Ill explain it all well some day. I'll tell these stories. I'll put it in words like we know I can and it will all make sense. I'll keep some of it to myself because it's just mine. My feelings. My experiences. My stumbling and getting back up and laughing and crying and dancing and falling on my face again. But I'll share the really good stuff like "that time I had a deported Mexican husband for 20 minutes."  I'll share it poetic and I'll share it unembarrassed and I'll share it hilarious and I'll share it like I share everything.

But, for now, today, I'm going to go clumsily stumble (literally because I'm pretty sick right now) around and live it first. :)

Hemingway to Jones

I think Im an nearing the end of my get-drunk-every-night-and-unhealthily-cope-with-my-problems-by-trying-to-drown-them-in-alcohol-and-salt-water phase and I'm ready I suppose to go back to being somewhere in the middle between former Shano and Mexico Shano. Turns out... it doesn't really work for me to try to kill real life by escaping into margaritas and cervesas. So I will,as always, remain jealous of people who find their way out of reality by keeping it drown or drugged.

Hemingway would be proud of my time this time around in Mexico. He and I would've sat side by side at the end of the familiar bar and toasted to life-forgetting. But, it turns out, I will forever be unable to avoid the fact that I am more of a Bridget Jones. Fumbling around awkwardly and laughing when I make a fool of myself, confessing all my ridiculousness on paper, and then giggling wildly. I am no Hemingway and Hunter S. Thompson and I will never meet in the next life and find that our experiences were shared. But, it was fun for the time and it was worth a try. Now, I think I am nearing the end of this experience and time to move to the next attempt at figuring myself out.

Life is not made rich through a collection of material possessions but through a collection of meaningful and meaningless experiences. And in that regard, I am positively a billionaire! A fumbling, silly, awkward, non-Hemingway billionaire!