From Sparkles in Amsterdam (TBC)

The man burns soon. 

Tomorrow the temple burns. 

Tonight there is a World Peace Meditation in Amsterdam (Gashouder). 

Tonight I will dance. 

I am on this planet to help people. So are you.

There is a bright future ahead of us, my friend. Go watch the sun set and the sun rise. 

***

Job leads spanning Austin and Amsterdam are surfacing. We will have fundraisers once I am steady on my feet.

Perhaps for Project ATM and/or for #spiritrun.

***


DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU WANT TO FEEL MY (OUR) PAIN / Y(OUR) EMPATHY / MY GRATITUDE FOR YOU / GRATITUDE FOR EXISTENCE

Some people call me "Sparkles". I ran the 2017 Amsterdam Marathon in two hours, fifty-five minutes, and some change. 

02:55:$€

I also took a podium finish at the 2016 Austin Marathon with a broken leg and shook the mayor's hand. It took me a week and the encouragement of a sports therapist to get an X-ray. A heart appeared in my fibula as the bone healed.

I put the ashes of my damaging competitive instinct into the fire. 

In 2018, I ran a half marathon in Barcelona and helped someone who looked a lot like me over the finish line. I don't remember our time. 

That same year a man told me that having children is wasteful. I agreed with him and thought of Summer. A few weeks later I would get an IUD inserted. As I felt my womb spasm and clench the device, I talked about my wedding dress, purple and green orchids, and the sunshine on the beach. All of these beautiful things existed together the day of the night that bioluminescent algae lit up the beaches of Alabama. 

I am also putting Summer's ashes into the flames. She never existed, but I loved her. I also put Mr. Sparkles into the flames. He was a free spirit once, but now they call him J. McCoy. 

Trey's ashes are also going into the burn pile. He died in April 2018 (or was it early May?). My understanding is that Trey's death was related to substance abuse. The day I learned of his death I saw my ex-husband, the one they now call J. McCoy. I knocked on the door of the house in Hyde Park where I had a beautiful life with a cat named Sriracha. 

"Trey died. I don't want to feel like you died."

"You need to go get help."

The door closes. 

J. McCoy made a mistake in our garage in 2014, less than a year into our marriage. He blamed Tiko for seducing him. Things weren't quite right after that. 

Perhaps it was my fault for befriending Gatsby (longer story). 

He's angry at himself, I rationalize. He should be thankful I didn't touch his retirement accounts and that I didn't fight too hard on the small amount of equity I had in our home. 

At Trey's funeral I thank Mr. McCoy for letting me into his heart and then biked to downtown Austin to see a very empathetic person named J. Nantz. He listened and helped with a release. 

I put Trey's ashes into the fire.
I put Mr. McCoy's anger and jealousy into the fire. 

I say a prayer for my sister, who some would say is a recovering opioid addict. She goes to NA meetings. NA stands for Narcotics Anonymous. 

I say a prayer for my mother, who attends AA meetings. AA stands for "Alcoholics Anonymous". My grandfather also went to AA meetings. He killed himself the same year my mother found out my father had multiple mistresses. She survived but poisoned her daughters with cannabis and painkillers. 

If I recall correctly, Mr. McCoy's father also attended AA and NA meetings. NA stands for Narcotics Anonymous. 

Mr. McCoy liked to drink a lot. So did I when I was with him. Sometimes he would get very angry at me for being friendly with people. 

I don't believe in addicts, but I do understand that some people become isolated and seek out substances instead of healthy relationships.  Some are exiled from their communities. I know what this is like after receiving an email from someone who called me mentally ill and told me not to communicate about camping matters (longer story). 

I may have an addiction to pain and suffering. I ready to move on to the bright future ahead. I'm ready to be healthy and to continue helping people. 

The opioid crisis in America is due to isolation, lack of meaningful connectivity. Lack of eye contact. Lack of touch. We can ramble more about this later.  I can also tell you about an ATM that solves this problem, and also about something called "Spirit Running".

I put my sister's, my mother's, and Mr. McCoy's father's, and Mr. McCoy's burdens into the fire. 

I put your burdens into the fire. 


There is air in my lungs and a heart beating in my chest. I am thankful. 

There is a bright future ahead of us, my friend. Go watch the sunrise. 

Found Ramblings

POISON & PLASTIC

Plastic is ubiquitous in Asia! Plastic is derived from petroleum, which is a non-renewable resource. Production of plastic takes chemical processes, which release harmful gases, and it’s decomposition rate is — years. (Ask Tineica)

One of the more alarming things I heard was after checking into a hostel in Patong. The room smelled very smokey and the establishment was suppose to be non-smoking. When I complained, the individual running the guest house said part of the smell is from the locals burning plastic.

As a traveler, I found it very difficult to go a day without receiving plastic. The part that really drove me crazy was when something already in plastic was put in another plastic bag… just one item. Another things i saw that baffled me was a single banana at 7Eleven wrapped in plastic.

I tried to mitigate plastic use by carrying a bamboo fork and spoon with me. I also purchased a bento container in Thailand. Originally from Japan, the bento I’m referring to is shaped like a cylinder with three separate compartments that stack underneath a handle. Unfortunately, the bento lost me during travels in Kuala Lumpur and previously in Surin Beach, Thailand.


Part of me thinks the plastic obsession stems from germophobia. While plastic does has its place in containment necessary for food safety, I am often skeptical of


I have a friend, also an old work colleague, whose mother has spent her life researching plastic. At this point I feel compelled to reach out for a better understanding of how plastic breaks down, what is required for manufacturing, and the detriment taking place to our bodies and planet from material dependency stemming from the sake of convenience and sanitation.

What are the effects of creating plastic?

My understanding is that plastic is made from petroleum, a non-renewable resource. Chemical processing to create plastic can be toxic and resource intensive.

What type of plastic is recycled?

My understanding is that different facilities accept different types of plastic. Many don’t accept plastic bags. Why not?

What are the effects of recycling plastic?

My understanding of basic chemistry is that breakdown of artificial materials can release harmful gases. What gases are released when plastic is burned?


GAS MOTORS

The air in Patong was nearly unbearable. My observation is that motorbikes are very polluting with minimal filters on the exhaust, and these vehicles are also very ubiquitous as a predominant mode of transportation in Thailand.

I met a German traveler who was biking across Asia — Malaysia to Thailand to India, among other places. He made a very impactful assertion… What if we took the plastic in the world and used it for fuel?

The skeptic in me would still be concerned about the impurity of creating and burning the material, yet it would eliminate a wasteful link in the supply chain.

Another development is the electric motor, which can plug into renewable resource generation plants (solar, wind, hydro, geothermal).


SOMETHING IN THE WATER

I remember hearing “never drink the water in Thailand!”

The locals boil water from the tap and/or receive clean water from community tanks. You can also find water fill stations usually in residential areas where you pay 1, 5, 10 bat for incremental amounts of water. I made a habit of scouting out fill stations near each hostel where I stayed. In retrospect, I wish I put these on a map!

I suggested to one of the hostel owners that he collect unwanted change for visitors to use for water fills. He explained that the water in the fill stations is from reverse osmosis and lacks minerals. My thought was that so does the water purchased in the bottles.

Well water is another source. I came across one water fill station that had a pump when I ran between Patong and Kata Beach, so my assumption was that the liquid come from beneath the ground.

To tell the truth, I accidentally drank tap water twice while in Thailand. Perhaps you’ll hear from me in 6 months reporting back growth of a 6 foot tapeworm, or perhaps I’m perfectly healthy thanks to advancements in modern plumbing.

LADYBOY

Traveling alone as a female has been interesting. I feel a bit tactical in having short hair and being small breasted with an athletic build.

I did find another sole female traveler, Laura, while in Patong. She was a German from Essen, and our facial features were strikingly similar.

Cross-dressing for men seemed very acceptable in Thailand, and I met at least one person who was born female on hormone therapy to appear more masculine with the presence of facial hair among other physical changes I did not see.

Regarding the "lady boys”, I would describe them as humans born as male who express their outward appearance by practicing femininity. Long hair, make up, skirts, and heels — I would not wish these burdens on myself very often, but it seems to make the lady boys take pride in who they are.

I won’t forget Laila. We met her in a hidden bar area in Patong. The strip consisted of a few dozen huts blasting music and advertising foreign nationalities. A fair number were Australian. Feats of aerial arts were quickly dissolved by turning on a song with a slower beat.

Laura and I found Laila after following Peter from Rotterdam in The Netherlands, or Holland as he’d tell you. He convinced us into a scooter ride, something terrifying to me, a person very protective of her runner’s legs and feet.

After a brief walk through Balanga Street, where (disgusting) “ping pong” and Russian women in ball gowns are on display, we ended up opting for performing childlike feats of strength on the lifeguard stand. Peter was a fire fighter, so I couldn’t help myself from challenging him to a climb up the pole used for a lifeguard's dissent.

We were later whisked away to the bar where we met Laila, as Peter had two Thai women waiting for him. I later joked with Laura how were were exchanged for two new princesses. Our combined powers were fine without our guard dog.

Laila was ecstatic to host us and took us for a ride on her scooter to the toilet area when the need came. The trip lasted less than five minutes yet it was one of the more magical moments I experienced in Patong with the lights flashing past us and Laila’s artificial hair brushing my face in the wind.



ABOUT RELIGION

One of the standout parts of my travels has been observing different religions.

It is very challenging to gain a full understanding and to even describe of perspective of the various religious influences across Thailand. Thai Buddhism was observed from scenes I saw on live broadcast from the palace in Bangkok. There was a ceremony on television, perhaps for Songkran or another festivity. Many Thai people were dressed in uniform with groups of a few coming up to the throne to bow and pray.

I enjoyed hanging out in all the temples. There was a high concentration of these ornate buildings, each with tall columns and a Buddha statue inside, around Chiang Mai. The Buddhas statue was different in each location, some more feminine than others.

One part that disgusted me was seeing a temple “for men only”. A sign even stated that women were not allowed due to unsanitary conditions caused by menstruation.

A simple online search of “Thai Buddhism” conjured an article stating that a matriarchal culture existed prior to 1200 BE (approximation).

You can find Tiger Cave Temple via a bus from Krabi Town. It is here that you will find female monks and a place of international gathering. First you will climb 1200 steps to the top. The view and the experience are beyond worth the tightness you will feel in your hamstrings the following day.

Recently I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night thinking about what damage has been done by separation of the sexes. Such perversions that come from labeling primal urges as sins can be thought of as the root of frustration and resulting aggression.

Empirical observations of modern Islam show that women’s purity is held in high regard. No sign of skin can be shown aside from the face, hands, and feet. I walk down the streets of Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, a predominately Islamic country, and I feel lustful glances at my exposed knees and elbows. We always want what we can’t have, so they say.

Being an American, the media has tainted my knowledge of Muslim people. Rationality helps me discern the difference between a peacefully and morally conservative religion and the acts of terrorism committed by a negligible subset.

The Islamic people I have met have been very nice, though a bit shy and reserved. This description fits a small sample of individuals, so it would be unfair to describe a total group with the words.

Buddhists are a quiet bunch from what I’ve seen. Many of the proverbs I’ve read talk about patience and the art of silence.

Cultures focused on taking care of others as a collective seem warmer than the individualist mindset I’ve known growing up in America. Christianity has frustrated me in the many ways it has been twisted to discriminate against women. God created Eve from Adam, and she caused him to sin by eating fruit. Eve was really just seeking nutrition and to nurture Adam like a good human should do with a companion.

Power hungry kings wrote their own version of the creationists’ story to create a weaker sex that serves them. Of course a man, God’s only begotten son, would be the messiah. Virgin Mary was pushed aside so her genetics could take all of the credit.

Calming down feminist reverberations, I must acknowledge that we are nothing without both sexes. In an idea world in which peace and prosperity are shared equally, men and women are perfect equals. We read each others’ minds and mind our instincts in harmony with respect for our surroundings, people and places.

I am rather attracted to Hinduism, but I don’t know enough about it to tell you much. Ceremonies practices by those of Indian decent in a town outside of Tanah Rata were so full of life, color, joy. I wanted to soak up the warmth indefinitely.

Tracing the Pain

I couldn't tell you when the damage begin, but I do remember when I felt the most pain. Going back to 2015, we returned from bicycling in the Ionian Islands in Greece. We refers to the collective Sparkles in this case. Sparkles is also a man called Justin. We were married on June 15, 2013.

The deep pain occurred in the back of my head after overdosing on Benadryl. I couldn't sleep for several nights. The doctor told me that Benadryl (diphenhydramine) was fine to take for sleep. However, I didn't follow directions for the medication thinking that more would be better for deeper sleep. Boy-girl, was I wrong.

After taking too much Benadryl, my head burned. My eyes became permanently sensitive to light, leaving blurred lines in my vision even after the overdose.

Go back to March of 2015, I was royally fucked by two men after being a loyal servant for two years. The fucking didn't happen in the physical sense of uninvited sexual intercourse, but it was rape in the sense that my resources were taken. This will happen again in April of 2017 by more men who manipulated others to seek gains on my intellectual property and dutiful work ethic. 

Flash forward to April 8, 2017 AD, post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms came out strong following a bad experience on a flight from Austin, Texas (USA) to Seattle, Washington (USA) and the second rape of my intellectual property and the business relationships I built over a two year span.

During the flight to Seattle, I became dehydrated and antsy. My leg hurt in the same spot where I've had a lump for over a month. My predisposition to blood clots came to mind. Factor V Leiden is what they call the genetic condition that I have, which doctors tell me affects 5% of the caucasian population.

Must move legs....and need water. 

I moved to the back of the plane carrying a 2 liter empty plastic bottle to tell two flight attendants I was dehydrated and needed more water. I also explained how I had a pain in my leg and asked one of the flight attendants to check the lump to make sure I wasn't imagining it.

She looked at the other flight attendant skeptically and put gloves and felt the hard mass on my lower leg. The other flight attendant offered to replace the large bottle of water, but the one who felt my leg stopped her.

"I'm going to go get some of the island water from the front of the plane," she said.

"That water is fine," I said pointing to the 2 liter bottle that was full of water. "The spot on my leg could also be related to stress fractures. I'm a marathon runner, and I've broken my fibula before from overtraining.

"Follow me back to your seat," the one pushing the island water said as she took my arm. "I don't think that spot on your leg feels like a clot. It would be harder, don't you think?"

But my dad and my sister have had blood clots.

Once seated between two other passengers, I was immobilized.

Sitting still was worst thing to do upon suspecting a blood clot in one's leg. 

I saw a third flight attendant guarding the cockpit and knew that my health concern was viewed as suspicious behavior. Panic presented itself, with my body pouring out sweat stuck in my seat. I knew if I moved I'd cause panic like a domino reaction.

Anyone can be a terrorist if isolated and injected with enough hatred. 

I will begin healing in Thailand on April 10, 2560 BE at Elephant Nature Park north of Chiang Mai, Thailand. Remember the good, leave all the bad. 

Reflection in a Glass House

My given name is Emily Roberson. My surname is McCoy, but my collective name is Sparkles. I was born in the year of the rabbit on a Sunday, which makes my color red by birth. My real color is purple.

Being born in America, "I" and "me" are pronouns used more than "we" and "us".

My mother gave birth to two daughters. I am my father's son and a strong woman. I've learned to say no and to hold my ground. When I went to college, I found a sense of family at a Thai restaurant owned by a Thai woman named Alp. Alp's restaurant was named Ruan Thai, and it is located in Tuscaloosa, Alabama still operating at the time of this writing. Ruan Thai has brought and may continue to bring many good people together.

I believe that the future is human with males and females working together in the good ol' people network. Separation of the sexes and monetary design have perverted society. Sexism and capitalism, among other -isms, breeds pain and suffering. No one in this world should suffer. 

You are reading my story now because it is your choice. Remember that you always have a choice. Having this knowledge is important.

If you are wounded, believe that you will heal back twice as strong as you were before your injury. Belief is a powerful state of mind. On February 14, 2016 AD, I broke myself. It wasn't the first time.