Road trip Writing [BOOK BLOGRIMAGE DAY 2/30]

​This challenge is exhausting! I'm on a 15 hour road trip to tulsa for the Seeds Conference hosted by Church on the move. I'm with great friends, but took some time to write. I am finding it mentally and emotionally draining to write. It's hard to know whether my content is good or not, but I am fighting the temptation to edit while writing. 

What I'm learning:​

• The key to to writing, is writing. Don't edit! Just write. 
• Another key to writing is not getting distracted. Don't check tweets or Instagram!

​Here's today's excerpt: 

Everyone says they were awkward growing up. Between my scabbed over chapped lips, curly uni-brow, pink wind blazers and in ability to understand people’s jokes because I learned English from parents who didn’t speak it well, I’m pretty sure I have most people beat in levels of awkward. My parents hardly knew what to do with me—they yelled at me for a lot of things. One day, I rummaged through mummy’s (my mother) dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans. Alternative music started taking off in early 90’s Minnesota and I wanted to look like the coolest grunge rockers with their Doc Martins, Long hair, plaid shirts and jean shorts. In order for this to happen, I needed the jean shorts, or “jorts” as cool guys call them. My mom’s jean were typical 90’s mom jeans, tapered at the bottom, acid washed and pulled up past the belly button. Before anybody could stop me, I pulled out a pair of scissors and started cutting the full scaled jeans into jorts. Denim is hard to cut through with kid’s scissors, though I managed to get it all done. Putting the jorts on brought in feelings of self accomplishment, pride and pure exhilaration. The first thing to do, of course, would be getting on my BMX Haro bike, and riding around my neighborhood in order to show my friends how cool I looked. For sure, I’d be the “cock of the walk,” the envy of every kid, bully and anybody that might think “I should go back to my own country.” These jorts were my right of passage—one of many I used to gain people’s approval, fit in and not feel so awkward. Riding my bike around the block in my jorts brought various feelings, but one stood out in particular. I felt cool.  Not cool in the way of good looks, confidence and likeability, though, I felt cool in the region of my jorts. Looking down, while riding my bike, I saw my jorts were cut so low that my butt cheeks touched directly to my cold plastic seat. And instead of creating jorts to make me look cool, I had created booty shorts that exposed my inner to upper thighs to the coolness of the wind and another laughing crowd. My mom wasn’t happy when she saw her jeans out of the dresser, and my butt hanging out of her jeans. Like I said, my parents often didn’t know what to do with their awkward child.

Please provide me feedback. It helps me so much. ​

For those you unfamiliar with this BLOGRIMAGE journey, click here.​

Book Writing Blogrimage [Day 1/30]

​For my Blogrimage, I am writing a book! 

This is something I have wanted to do for years, and the Blogrimage is the perfect catalyst. For those of you unfamiliar with the Blogrimage, here are some of the details: 

1. Pick a Challenge

2. Do it for 30 days.

3. Blog about it Everyday

Why Writing a Book?​

I feel called to leave a message that lasts beyond my death. I am writing about living in various worlds (being a Sri Lankan American and a Christian Preacher with a Hindu Background). I think my position and circumstances in life are pretty unique, and my wrestling with different ideals and falling in love with God is a story that should be told.  To be completely honest, ​this challenge is hard. It took more more than two hours to write my first five pages. I'd probably put this book off forever if it weren't for the Blogrimage so I am glad for this opportunity. 

What to Expect?​

1. Expect to see a passage from one of my daily writings

2. Expect to read my passage and encourage me! It will help me continue on!

Challenge Details:​

• ​Write 5 Pages a Day (Total of 150 Pages)
• Share Excerpts from the Book
• Receive Feedback on the Book from Comments
• Not Edit the Book

This Day's Writing:

“Where is the toilet paper?”  I screamed after using a squatty potty bathroom in the middle of a Sri Lankan Jungle. There were many things my parents never taught me about the country responsible for my brown skin, but they never mentioned Sri Lankans don’t use toilet paper. While people who use toilet paper think that toilet paperless people are gross, it’s actually considered gross to many people do use toilet paper. In South Asia, it is common for people to wash with soap and water following a session in a bathroom instead of simply “smearing everything around with paper,” as it was later described to me. I hadn’t discovered yet that some people didn’t use toilet paper, so I awkwardly walked out of the bathroom, without fully pulling up my pants, in order to find someone who might help me. I thought yelling, “Help Me! I can’t find any toilet paper! This is an emergency!”  should work to help, but it only managed to gather a crowd and surprised laughter. Nobody took me serious because, A, my pants weren’t all the way up and, B, I looked like I was born and raised in Sri Lanka. They didn’t know I never was taught about the local bathroom culture. They didn’t know that I only spoke English and 3 sentences of German acquired over 4 years of German language class.  They didn’t know that this was my first time in Sri Lanka. All they knew is that they saw a very handsome, brown skinned, 19 year old running around  and yelling, “I need toilet paper! Where is the toilet paper!” with his pants not low enough to touch the ground and get dirty, but high enough to get dirty in another way. Finally a 23 year old pre-med student communicated to me, in broken English, about the societal ramifications of asking for toilet paper. He said in a solemn voice, “It is absurd for you to ask for toilet paper since our country typically does not use it all.” He realized that I wasn’t a normal locally raised brown person and he politely informed me I must wash myself with soap and water with a bowl that I’ll find next to all toilets. My whole life I’ve navigated awkward circumstances like this because I am formed by several different worlds. This isn’t a sci-fi book. I’m not talking about a parallel universe or out of body space experience. I’m talking about being raised by Sri Lankan Hindu Refugees in the middle of Coon Rapids, Minnesota and eating Chicken Curry next to Hamburger Helper. The western world, American, where I was born and raised has shaped half of who I am. The eastern world, Sri Lanka, shaped the second half.​