The Politics, and the Life Behind

As I'm sure you've noticed by the subject of my blogs lately, questions of time, place, and identity have been very predominant in my thoughts. I'm sure there will be more posts about it as I think more, mulling things over, turning over thoughts like stones.

There's a lot of talk these days. A lot of talk and posturing, armored vehicles with men in helmets inside, political games and wracking up tensions and fear. It's kind of the same thing in America, too, only without the armored vehicles, though I'm sure those are around somewhere too.

From the outside, that's all you see. From the outside, the only thing I see of America is blowhards and shouting, outrage and the media. The headlines cover the calamities, the wrongdoings, the mess of this and the mess of that. Similarily, my parents say the only thing they hear about Cambodia, if they hear about anything at all, is the politics and the election and the tensions and etc.

On Sunday, my flatmate took me to a little place called the Alley Cat Café. It is indeed tucked down an alley, a hole-in-the-wall space that opens up right into the alley. When we arrived, all 5 tables were full, though a space for two was found at one, and stuffed against the wall was a guy playing a guitar and singing. The food is Mexican and it's done well, not the sort of fake burritos I've found elsewhere, and the guy with the guitar was singing original songs with clever lyrics, and the patrons were there to listen and enjoy.

It took me back to several places in the US, to underground live music venues in New York, to the excellent Mexican restaurant in Denver I've been to several times with the family, to the neighborhood pub by my parents' apartment. Places where people go to hang out, to drink, to eat, to enjoy the music, to talk and laugh. Places that have nothing to do with the media or the talking heads, when life is about what it is and nothing more than that.

At the Alley Cat Café, I felt perfectly at home and comfortable. I had never been before, but I knew it already, and the memories attached were all good ones. It reminded me once again that the outside perception is very rarely the whole truth. In talking to my parents, they mentioned that the fuss and furor of the politics affects their daily lives very, very little. "Maybe our tax rates change a bit," Mom said.

Likewise here. Maybe things are about to blow up and maybe things will change and maybe they won't. But I can say this much: since the election, my daily life has not changed at all. Yes, of course I'm a foreigner and not inside everything, but as far as I can tell, life goes on much as it did before, no matter what the talking heads shout about.

As far as my own place in all of this, that's another question. I've been particularly thinking about where I see myself and where I want to be to do what I want, something that's not quite as clear as I thought it was.

But that's a conversation for the next post. In the meantime, I'll leave you with the thought that the outside is madness and black and white, but inside, life goes on.