Experience is relative.

Wrote most of this last Friday while killing time at a conference (I just had my first cup of coffee for the first time in a long time):

My writing that I really like – my best writing – is when I tap into a part of myself that rarely surfaces in physical conversation. It is a part of my subconscious that rules and compels me to feel. It is the part that is quintessentially who I am. It is a part of me that I tap into when I am all by myself in the house and I can sing and dance as loud as I want with no one judging me. It is a part of myself where I am a superstar and I am at ease. It is the raw part of me. It is the truth. It is the way that I want to see and rule my world. It is the part of me that I tap into when I am not realizing the reality but rather a dream like state that consists of heart tugs and butterflies. It is a part of me that rarely surfaces in physical conversation.

It is a part of me when I get a paintbrush and a canvas or paper and exacto and am asked to create for something. It is the part of me that makes me stick out my tongue in concentration. I haven't stuck out my tongue in a long time because I am not at ease.

People like to ask me what it feels like to be back. I appreciate the question, it is an acknowledgment that I have been "gone" for two years. However, for some people I know that even had I not physically been in another country -  I still would of been "gone" from their lives because pathways would of separated us. Distance would of separated us. Traffic and work would of separated us. And other life concerns and lovers would of separated us regardless of where I was. That is reality. Distance is arbitrary, our will, our connections and what we value is the real reason. Life is also pretty fucking overwhelming and with the world's population hitting 7 billion – we only have time for so much before our eyelids fall heavy.

I give various answers according to who I speak to. I know for some people they don’t like to hear everything, I try to be honest in my answers and true to myself so for many I reveal that it has been a difficult transition but I can’t explain it all. I end it by saying that I really really love being back and this is exactly where I want to be. I say this because it is the truth but also so I can connect them to what I am feeling, to something they are able to recognize, to something you are familiar with. That is my 5 minutes  answer to this rather tremendous transition in my life. This is my 5 minute answer to those that only give me 5 minutes. I also have a 1 minute answer and probably an hour answer. I can tell if you are listening to me. I can almost always tell.

Maybe we'll cross paths. Maybe we'll see each other again. Maybe we'll intersect at a different time. Maybe we'll have another time under the sun. Maybe we'll have a class together, do a project together, do a workshop together, ride bicycles together. It all builds together. All the connections we have, all the people we've met, all the moments we've had, all that we can remember build and mesh together to create the world that you see. I may be the only blog you read. I may be the only person you know who went to Vietnam. I may be the only person that you know that is 4' 11" and over 21 years old. I may be the only person you know that likes street art. I may be the only person you know that takes pictures of my feet. I may be the only person you know that loves Totoro, Charlie Brown and the Peanut Gang, and Sesame Street. I may be the only "artsy/indie" person you know. I may be the only Kim Dam you know. I may be the only Kim Dam for many people, and for that sole reason...

 I need to be true to myself.

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My dad the other day excitedly calls me to watch something on tv. It was an interview with an author that wrote a book called "Boat People." I yawned and didn't really care since I've seen this kind of stuff before especially in the academia world. I know there are books about boat people, I know there are services surrounding boat people, I know that people study it in University. However, my dad has absolutely no idea. I think he was amazed that there was a book written about a history that he connects to. He doesn't know that I write. He tells me that I should write a book titled, "Daughter of Refugee Boat People."  I laugh at the idea that he has no idea that this is a part of my identity that I consistently think about. For something that I think so much about, my dad has no idea! So strange. Yet, as I was talking to him I remained resistant. "There are already many books like that Daddy." "Yeah but you should write one about our story" "Writing is very hard daddy, I didn't study it." I'm not sure why I talk like that to him, why I shot down his idea and dismissed it as silly when in fact I thought was a great idea. I don't know why I do that - maybe because it was his idea. Like father, like daughter.