Showing posts with label journaling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label journaling. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

Rambling thoughts of a recently dumped fiancee

 In June, after four and a half years together (and my record to date), I asked him to marry me. By August I was dumped. I have needed desperately to write about it but have been unable to write. So instead, I turn the recorder on in my phone and just talk it out to the open air. Below are abridged transcriptions:

Fri, Aug 28 3:17AM

Always. After heartbreak or trauma I crave a tattoo.

I think because my emotions are so strong and overwhelming that they aren't just feelings or brain synapses. They are truly tangible to me and I need evidence of that. I need physical pain to match my emotional pain, to leave a mark on my body as part of my healing and processing. 

What's interesting is that I just thought about this today. Today marks two or three weeks since we had that conversation and it's the first time I've thought about getting a tattoo. And I wasn't even thinking about getting a tattoo, I was thinking how I usually would have gotten a tattoo by now. And I haven't even thought about getting one, only just now to think about how I haven't thought about getting one.

So if that's how I process emotions, what does that mean? Does it mean I'm not processing this? Does it mean I'm numb to the emotions? Does it mean I'm not emotional about this? I have no idea what it means. I think because I have no idea how I feel about it.

How I feel about it is changing from moment to moment. So for my own sake I'm going to start documenting the things I feel from moment to moment so that I can process what the fuck is going on with me.

For example: I have become unfamiliar with my body. And this manifests in a lot of ways. I had been wearing glasses every day but I just bought some contacts... but that's a minor thing and I don't understand why I did that enough for it to be a good example of what I'm trying to say. 

I could say that I have lost eight kilos. I only know this because I have to weigh myself every time I go to the psych clinic for medicine and I was 88 kilos and I knew that I had dropped to like 83 but now I'm down to 80. 

True to form I will always find the silver lining, which currently is: the weight is leaving what I have considered my problem areas mostly, like 75-80% is coming from areas that I wouldn't mind to see a little flatter, and only a small portion is leaving my tits and ass. Like, I've still got the significant majority of my tits and ass and that's what matters, so there's that silver lining.

In the meantime, I feel like I'm eating less but I don't feel like I'm eating lose-eight-kilos less. And I should note that I have no idea how many pounds eight kilos is at all. My last shitty breakup was extremely traumatic, and I lost twenty pounds, because I was still living in a country that measured pounds at that time. 

How else can I talk about what's happening in my body? I feel unfamiliar in it. I have forgotten how to sleep. Am I a side sleeper or a back sleeper? I feel like I occasionally used to be a stomach sleeper but I haven't done that in some time. I'm unsure if it has to do with the mattress I'm on, but it's been the same since mid-March. It hasn't changed, so it's got to be me that changed. So what changed and why?

It's like I sleep better on my back than I used to. I sleep better on my right side than on my left side. And that's because when I sleep on my left side, my heart starts getting a little palpitate-y like it's struggling under the weight of my lungs? sitting on top of it? Is that what's going on? What else would make it do that. I used to sleep on my back only rarely but now I might spend most of my night on my back, I don't know.

I have lost interest in taking care of my hair. And I have naturally curly hair so that's saying a lot, other natural curlies will know. I have found it really challenging to keep up basic maintenance on my fingernails and toenails. It's like, oh they don't need attention (repeat) OMG they all need attention at once oh they don't need attention (repeat) wait exactly 47% of my nail ends need attention right now stop everything and fix it now. It's so weird it's -- but then other nails haven't grown at all. Even my breakouts are different. 

I'm trying to make this new pillow work for my needs. I'm not sleeping properly. I'm sleeping entirely too much like I'll get out of work on a Friday, let's say last weekend I got out of a meeting at 4 or 5 and I came home -- 

oh, I don't know how to DRIVE any more! I used to be a very aware, conscious driver, even a little bit aggressive, like compassionately aggressive, because you have to be a little bit aggressive to drive in Taiwan without dying. But now I space out, not even thinking about anything, I just become an empty head and I drive at a perfectly boring speed and I try to keep to the right so all the other aggressive drivers can just go around me. I see something on the drive and I realize, I just missed the last three blocks. For three fukkin blocks I wasn't paying any attention at all, oh okay, I'm here now. 

What else is weird. Eating is weird. I was brought up in a food insecure household, so now as an adult having food gives me a sense of security. When I feel depressed I start spending money on food. However, when I feel depressed, I have less of an appetite so I'm buying food because I feel the need to have food in my house because it will give me comfort to know that there's food in my house but I'm not fukkin eating it, so it goes bad, and I have to throw it away, and then because of how I grew up I have guilt about throwing away uneaten food that I allowed to go bad or spoil and that just makes me more depressed and it's this fucked up cycle.

I really can't even begin to address how it's affecting my work performance because I'm trying to fly under the radar at work right now. If I start to talk about it and catalog all the ways in which I've been a shitty employee lately then I would have to face the fact that I've been a shitty employee lately and I prefer not to do that. I have been flying under the radar. I've only turned up as a blip maybe twice, and it has been resolved, and they know what I'm going through. I'm managing to get enough work done so that when classes start I won't be behind, I'll be able to do my job and god willing there won't be any more blips.

So what's weird: My eating my sleeping my body my driving my work - that's pretty much everything right? 

I feel like I need to catalog these thoughts that I'm having just to keep them straight for my own sake, because I don't really understand what I'm going through. Maybe this can help me make sense of myself. As far as what I've been thinking... I will start with a couple of thoughts that I just had and then leave it, then come back to it and continue to add thoughts as they come to me just to show how completely all over the spectrum my thought process has been. It's exhausting. I'd rather be fucking duct taped inside the world's craziest roller-coaster for 24 hours nonstop. Like that would be easier than my thought process these past weeks.

So the thought I just had was: He knew who I was. We were friends for a year and a half. He saw me picking up a different hookup for every night of the weekend, every weekend. He knew that I was nonmonogamous. He saw me in a relationship with another person and we were both dating other people, happy with it, happy with each other, having a great time. And so when we started becoming a couple and he said what he said on that bench on that beach on that island, when he said I don't know how I feel about it but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it, and I just believe that we can get through anything.... I believed that. It had been such tooth pulling work to get him to say even that much that when he finally did say that much, I just considered it a win and backed off. When instead what I should have done was right at that moment pinned him to the motherfucking ground, put my fukkin knees on his chest, pinned his arms above his head and been like, Say more about that NOW. Tell me how we're going to get through it NOW. What's your plan NOW. What's your thinking about that NOW. Now not five years from now, now. And I tried to bring it up again (repeat) throughout the years, the five years, the half of a decade that we spent together and he just kept being evasive. And I kept letting him be evasive. 

And it speaks again about the ways that the unequal burden of emotional labor falls upon women and the ways in which that fact repeatedly manifested in our relationship, that I kept bringing it up and he kept avoiding it. Even I am now saying I should have forced him to talk about it -- no he should have forced his fukkin self to talk about it, but since his ass wasn't doing that...

I keep waffling on my feelings toward him. In one moment I'm all--you know what fuck him and the thousands of dollars and the sixty fukkin months of my life that I wasted on him while he was pretending to love who he pretended I was.... and in that moment I mean it 100% from the poisonous pits of my blackened heart. And then fukkin 20 minutes later I'm saying to myself, if only I could have found a way for us to get married online on Zoom or whatever then he'd be stuck with me. And he'd be forced to work through it and deal with his feelings about it and work out a compromise that could work for both of us.

How do I feel right now right this second? Right this second I feel like if he wanted me in this moment, he oughta know what he oughta do if he wanted me, and he's clearly not doing anything, which must clearly mean he doesn't want me. And if one conversation about my needs can cause him to pivot that drastically, one conversation, then after 5 years! of me going through so many different kinds of hell just in order to stay by his side he can't be bothered to do what little it would have taken to keep me or even to get me back, then he Does Not Care At All. Clearly. That's where I'm at right now. 

Another moment and I'll think to myself, if he were to come back, I wouldn't want him. Knowing what I know now, I wouldn't take him. And then in another moment my fucking heart cries out, I would take him back right now, he would only have to say one word, and I would take him back with each and every one of his faults that hurt me over the years, I would welcome all of those faults and that man who hated me so, I would welcome it all back in a fucking heartbeat. 

That's not where I'm at right now, but it's where I have been as I flit from moment to moment. I guess that about brings us up to speed.


Fri, Aug 28 7:47PM

Right now I feel like: I'm so relieved. Because I was willing to put up with a lifetime of his self-defeatism, his irrational anger, and his general negativity, but now I don't have to. I don't have to be frustrated by someone who just gives up and then complains about a situation while refusing to do anything to resolve it. 

This bedroom that I'm sleeping in right now, that I have been sleeping in for five or six months, has got the loudest air conditioner of any place I've ever lived in my entire life, and I just... go to sleep! But he wouldn't be able to spend even one night in this room without losing his mind. He would go insane he'd be so angry about it. And guess what? I'm doing just fine.


Sun, Aug 30 2:09 AM

From my perspective, nothing changed! Nothing has changed. From my perspective, nothing changed except we had a conversation. 

From my perspective, I am the exact same person right now that I was before the conversation, so... I guess I just don't understand how having that conversation means he can throw away... ME. and US. and EVERYTHING that we went through together and everything that we meant to each other, and all this is past tense now because it's been over two weeks, maybe three weeks, feels like a year, and I just keep waiting for him to fall all over himself to apologize and reach out to me and be like oh my god I'm so sorry what was I thinking I'm a fucking fool what do I need to do to make it up to you -- because from my perspective nothing changed, all that happened was we had a conversation and so I don't understand.

Because he is so defeatist and so pessimistic, I wonder if he believed before I even left Korea that we were gonna break up. Even though I never wanted to do that at any point, because he's so defeatist and pessimistic, he believed that and made it come true. That's what I wonder. I wonder if, when the conversation happened, he was just like, ope here it is, may as well just sever the cord and get it over with just like I knew nothing good could ever happen! 

If that's the case then that makes it even worse, makes it so selfish of him just to indulge his sick pessimistic fantasies and punish me, make me have wasted thousands and thousands of dollars, half of a decade, and to hurt me the way that I've been hurt just because he's such a pessimist and he just wants the worst thing to come true at all times and just insists on it. Maybe that's not what happened, maybe he never saw it coming and he was really blindsided and it just goes against all of his principles but that's hard for me to believe that because for me nothing changed! I am now exactly who I was five minutes before the conversation, during the conversation, immediately afterwards, and even five years ago, six and a half or seven years ago when we first met! I'm still the exact same person that he always knew me to be. I'm so furious for him doing this to me.


Sun, Aug 30 9:29PM

Right now if he called me up or if he sent me a message and said, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry, what was I thinking, please take me back so we can work this out, I would. No conditions, no questions. Right this second he could have me back. I wouldn't make any -- okay well we have to -- no I would just say thank god.

If I'd found out a way for us to have gotten married online then when we had the conversation he'd be stuck with me. He couldn't just say that's a dealbreaker and be done. He would have to talk it out, work it out, but because I couldn't find a way to do that he was able to just cast me aside.


Tues, Sep 1 1:19AM

I wonder if he has started cataloging all of the little quirks and traits and things about me that he won't miss. All of the little annoyances that used to piss him off but he would let it go because we were in a relationship. I wonder if now he's looking back, kindof the way I am and thinking to himself, well at least I'll never have to hear her say (whatever) again or never have to find her underwear on the couch again for example. We've all got little things that annoy us; Lord knows I'm over here thinking I'll never have to be the only one fighting to save us anymore, only have to save myself. Over here thinking at least my air conditioner isn't causing someone to get irrationally pissed off and just run their mouth bitching about it nonstop every day for hours on end. I wonder if he's over there doing that, thinking to himself, God I'm so glad to be rid of this and that and the other, never to be given a lecture on feminism ever again never to be told I'm using the word "triggered" wrong ever again... Is it shit like that? He's over there singing hallelujah? Is that why he isn't contacting me at all? 

I get -- philosophical is too big of a word for it and pensive is too small. I get caught up in my thoughts  in the rare times like these, which are times that I don't feel one way or the other about him. I don't feel broken hearted desperate that he would reach out to me and say oh my god you're the best woman i'll ever find, nor do I feel that fukkin asshole how dare he create a false pretense for five years and waste all my time and my money. I do not feel I wish we'd already gotten married nor do I feel I wish I'd never met him. Very rarely do I get caught in this I-don't-know-what-I-want middle place. I'm usually oscillating wildly back and forth like a pendulum on crack. 

When I get in this ambivalent indifferent noncommittal place it's almost more depressing. When I feel unaffected by any desires regarding him is when I feel most lost, and maybe that's because he has been an anchor for me for so long that when my purpose is tied to him (whether it is I hate his guts or please god come back to me) at least it's still tied to him. And the times where I don't know what I want, that's when I start casting out the longest fishing lines. 

I sent a letter to a director of education up in the aboriginal mountains and villages to say like heeyyy my contract will be out this time next year, are you going to be looking for anybody sure would like to hang out in the mountains... or I looked at google earth and I found the upper and lower latitudinal coordinates between which reside climates that I enjoy, and I started where I currently am on the globe and started rotating west, and wrote down the name of every even semi-inhabitable country. Like it had to be notoriously war-torn for me not to write it down (which is a surprising number of countries unfortunately). And when I got back to where I started then I scrolled down into the southern hemisphere, found those same opposing coordinates, and scrolled east, writing down the name of every country that fell within the two latitudes of the climate that I like. Now I've got a list of somewhere between four or five dozen countries and I'm writing down what is required to teach English (there some of these countries I haven't found any information on teaching English there, maybe it means they don't want foreign English teachers, maybe it means i haven't looked in the right place, or I would have to do something else or they don't want foreigners at all)...

but the ones I can find, I'm writing down cost of living, salary, whether I could save money, whether the jobs provide housing or I find it, what is the health care like... and then I'll use those things. (and there's a few other categories I can't remember) but i'm finding this on like 60 countries give or take right now in these moments where I don't fucking know what I want. That's the scale of how seriously I have no idea what I want, that I'm literally looking at the entire globe to figure out what I want. I am so ignorant, I am so devoid of any knowledge about my wants or even wants at all that in order to narrow it down and find what it is that I want I first have to start with the entire planet.

I know a few things I don't want, that's a little helpful at least for now. And I know that for now I should just keep living where I am, keep working where I work, keep saving what I can and just... keep taking my medicine, waking up in the morning, going to work, rinse, repeat... because apart from that I really don't have any wants. I have a few needs like I need to sleep, eat, shower...  But even those things become difficult to force myself to do. I'll stay up on Sunday night until fukkin 3AM putting off a shower when I know I have to wake up at 6AM to start the school week but because I don't WANT to take a shower or even work or I don't want anything ... 

I don't even want food so I just keep snacks around in the house. Because I start feeling hungry and it's the time when I would start preparing and getting ready for a meal, but when I start thinking about food my brain is like nah not interested i'm good and so I don't get anything together until the moment when I finally have enough hunger that I can't ignore it anymore. At that point still nothing sounds good so I have to just have snacks like small bread things that I can just put in my face, chew, drink water and they'll expand in my stomach and my stomach will just shut up and leave me alone for a few hours

so yeah basically i'm doing great.

Thursday, June 14, 2018

你為什麼要離開台灣?

Content Warning: discussion of mental health, emotional health, suicide and sexual abuse

1991:
I am in fourth grade. I still believe in prayer. I still believe in magic. I read a magazine that says girls should write a list of the things they wish for in a boyfriend. I make my list. I believe it is magic. I pray.

1992.05: 
I graduate fourth grade. I have been at the school for four years. It is the longest I have stayed in one place all my life. For the rest of my life, I will never stay anywhere longer than three years. Not until I move to Taiwan.

2002.08:
I get married. I'm too young. I get married because he wants to get married. If I say no, are we not allowed to be in love anymore? I know I'm not ready, but I love him. I want to give him what he wants. We've been together two years, and we've always said we would get married someday eventually. This is what people in love do, right?

2004.08: 
I get divorced. 

2009: 
A man I've never met moves to Korea. His name is Matt. He lands in a work culture that almost forces you to become an alcoholic. He becomes an alcoholic. He is still a good man, and smart. After nine months, he leaves. I know nothing about this at this time.

2011.05: 
I finally graduate university with a bachelor's degree. It's been a rocky life, never staying in one place, and I still haven't gotten over that marriage. It feels like I've finally won something. I stayed at that university for three years, and that's the longest I've stayed anywhere. Maybe I'm a grownup now.

2011.07-08:
I go to Taiwan, to a city in the south called Pingtung. I don't have any experience with East Asian cultures. My only knowledge of them is limited to the white boys in school who never fit in, and talked about Japan and China as the perfect place for them to go, be nerdy, and find girlfriends. I hate that kind of talk, so it made me uninterested in East Asia. But my friend told me about a scholarship program to study in Taiwan, and I applied. I got the scholarship. I have no reason not to go. I've traveled ten countries by now, but they've all been in Europe or North/Central America. Why not? I fall accidentally in love with the country. I want to stay. But I'm now in a long term relationship again. It's rocky but I believe it's worth fighting for. We've been together two years, and I believe we could go the distance if we work on it. I go back to the US, and move into his house in Tucson.

2013.05:
Only one of us is working on the relationship, and it isn't my partner. On mother's day, always a difficult day for me, I am heartbroken after another failed attempt to work on things. I am wandering the streets at dark, deciding which car to throw myself in front of. The fact that I have my dog with me stops me. I go home. Home? To his house with my things inside where I no longer feel safe. I put my poetry books and my dog in the car and drive two days from Tucson to my father's house in Arkansas without calling him in advance. I wouldn't want him to worry. I pull up in his driveway at midnight and ask, "Can I stay here for a while?" For two weeks I eat soup or nothing. I lose twenty pounds in those two weeks. I lose a lot, actually. My partner is still trying to get me to kill myself from afar. It's really hard not to give in.

2013.06: 
The man I haven't met, the man called Matt, moves to a town in southern Taiwan. The town is called Pingtung. He starts working. The drinking culture there isn't nearly as bad as Korea, but it's still there. He quickly becomes a darling of the scene. He is still able to hold down his job, and his students and their parents love him. I still know nothing about him.

2013.07:
I go back to Tucson. My partner is not in the house. He is currently on deployment somewhere beautiful, like Portugal or southern Italy. How he must be suffering, I feel, as I sort through the belongings he threw into a giant mess. I try to sell them but he's still harassing me. He wants me out faster than I can possibly manage to pack up my life. I have to abandon most of it. But in the packing, I go through my journals. They go back more than thirteen years. I find a pattern in my relationships. The two four-year relationships as well as other flings of different lengths. Any time I date a man, he is inattentive to my needs, he doesn't value me. I have to hide parts of myself. He thinks my interests are silly. Most notably, not a one of them can hold their liquor. I am grateful for this opportunity to see so clearly, so objectively, cycles in my life. I feel certain that vision this clear is rare. I promise myself not to forget. I swear on my own heart that this will not happen again.

2013.08:
Talk about kicking someone while they're down, or rubbing salt in a wound. While I'm nursing my emotional health, I go on a date with someone I shouldn't have trusted. He rapes me. When I tell my ex-partner, he simply says "I hope you went to the police." It's perfect.

2013.09.06: 
It is my thirty-first birthday. My father drives me to the airport. I have two full suitcases and two big carry-ons. The woman at the ticket counter jokes, "Wow, are you moving?" Yes ma'am, I reply, I'm moving to Taiwan for two years. I'm going back to Pingtung.

2013.11:
It is Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. I have learned that a man on an internet forum I frequent is also an American living in southern Taiwan, in my city of Pingtung. I invite him to Thanksgiving dinner. He declines. I later learn that he didn't want to meet a girl from the internet. She would probably turn out to be weird.

2014:
About a year later, I finally get this man to hang out with me. His name is Matt. He is funny. He is a truly caring friend. He remembers things I forget that I've even told him. He pays attention. I hang out with him more and more. He's positively dreamy, but it's so rare to have a friend here. It's easy to have acquaintances, but rare to find someone with whom you share a first language and cultural experience. Then once you find that, do you even get along? We get along. He's perfectly sweet. I hope he finds a good girlfriend. He deserves one.

2015.08:
I've always had community in the US. No, communities. Many different groups of friends, some overlapping, that I can interact with as often as I like. Most of my friends are cuddlers. We have slumber parties. I miss human contact. I convince Matt to become a cuddling friend. But it turns out, we've both always been interested in trying something more than just friendship with one another. Physical closeness leads to more physical closeness. Before I know it, we're being physically close pretty often. But my heart is still broken. I'm not looking for love. I know he is, and I don't want to get in the way of that for him. I don't want to change him, either, but he spontaneously stops smoking cigarettes. I tell him I love him, but I'm not in love with him. He tells me in all things, I'm the boss. He'll never push me. I believe him. I trust him.

2015.10:
I want to share my favorite magical place with this special friend of mine. I convince him to spend a weekend on a nearby mountain with me. It's an aboriginal area, and the woman who I call doesn't have any vacancies in her room. But she hears my accent on the phone and asks if I'm foreign. When I tell her I am, she offers her ancestral home for me and my "boyfriend" (her word not mine) to stay in. When we go there, it's amazing. Slate house, porch on the roof, all windows open and we sleep next to one on a slab, listening to running water and chirping frogs. The name of the mountain is WuTai, meaning fog platform. We sit on the roof porch and watch the sun set and the fog platform roll in beneath us. We sleep above the clouds. We make love on our slab next to the open window while the frogs and falling water sing to us. Damn, I think. I'm in love with this bastard. I'm done for. There's no going back.

2016.02.25:
Matt and a friend go out drinking. Matt, as he often does, has far too much. He gets blackout drunk. How did he end up on a naval base? Was their perimeter not secure and he just found a back way in? Did he actually go through the front gate and no one cared to stop him? We may never know. But he is arrested for drunk driving on the military base. He is taken to court, where he is counseled to plead guilty. The judge asks if he wants to remain in Taiwan, and he says yes, more than anything, he loves Taiwan. It's true, we both do at this point. We don't want to go back to the USA. The judge accepts his guilty plea and charges him a fine for drunk driving and espionage. The fee is equivalent to about $3,000USD. He pays.

2016:
He never pushes me. He never asks for more than I have to give at any time. He never does anything without my consent. He listens, pays attention, and remembers. I don't have to hide any parts of myself. He loves my ugliness, my brokenness, my scars. He accepts me and celebrates me as I am. I allow myself to be vulnerable with him, and I've never felt more safe.
When I am depressed, he instinctively knows exactly what to do. I've always had to hide my clinical depression from my past partners. They either didn't care or actively said they didn't like it. But this man knows what to do. He knows if I need to be left alone, he knows if I need cuddles, he knows if I need pillows and blankets and children's movies. One night, before we move in together, I send him a message. I feel silly. I've been too depressed to take a shower and I'm starting to smell bad. He comes over. He takes off his clothes but keeps his underwear on. He tells me he doesn't want this to feel sexual. He carries me to the bathroom and puts me on a stool in the shower. He washes my hair for me and scrubs my skin. Another night my anxiety is so bad I'm trapped on the couch. I cannot get to bed to go to sleep. It's getting late. Again I send him a message. Again he comes over and saves the day.
At some point, I have a talk with Matt about his drinking. I've never been so cared for, so respected in any relationship. Truly everything is perfect except this. I tell him about the journals and what I promised myself. He promises, too. He promises to cut back. He drinks only at home. No more driving anymore. He buys a certain amount, and doesn't drink more than that. But the amounts he brings home get bigger. But he keeps his word.

2017.02.12:
We go out with some friends. We ride together on his ride to get there, so he can't get too drunk to get us home. The first drink he orders is a bathtub of a margarita with two beers turned upside down in it. He says this way, he only needs to buy one drink for the night. Then he buys a second drink. I ask him to stop. He starts drinking water. But when we go to the next bar, I can see his eyes getting glassy. He orders a rum and coke. Then a second. He talks with the bartender about how much rum goes in, and it's fully three quarters of the glass. I can see the Matt I know has gone away from behind those glassy eyes. It is another man who picks up that drink and puts it to his lips. As I see him do it, I know that I am less important than a glass of rum and coke. I know he is already blackout drunk. I call a cab and take him home. On the drive he becomes less and less lucid. By the time we arrive I'm barely able to get him into our home. I get him undressed and in the shower with the water running. I bring him water. He starts to throw up. I'm dying from the heart out. I'm trying to tend to him without shattering into a million pieces. I go to the kitchen to get more water and when I come back, he's climbed out of the bathroom and into the hallway where he's thrown up a lake. I start hysterically sobbing and wailing. I lock myself in the bedroom. I sleep until it's time to go to work.

2017.02.13:
When I leave the bedroom to go to work, I find a puddle of vomit-infused water in the floor. I have to put plastic bags over my feet so I can walk through it to get to the door. I realize my relationship is over. I made a promise to myself that I intend to keep. We spend the week separated. We live in the same apartment but sleep in different rooms. I'm trying to fight for us to stay friends. He has quit drinking for good. He has started exercising. But he says it will hurt him too much to stay friends. The worst is happening and I can't stop it.

2017.02.18:
Matt brings home a cigar - one of our favorite pastimes is to sit on our 5th-floor balcony together with no electronics and share a cigar and conversation in the breeze. Over the course of this conversation, we realize we both want to continue fighting for this relationship, the best either of us have ever had. We've always been good at communication and working together. He asks me if I remember him giving up cigarettes shortly after we started dating. I do, he quit cold turkey. He tells me, the most difficult part of change for him is to commit to the decision. Once he's done that, he says, it's finished. I believe him, but I'm scared to trust him. We decide to work together to save it. He lets me set the pace. He never tries to rush things. We slowly move forward, then back into the same bedroom. We continue to have weekend adventures all over Taiwan. We spoil one another on each other's birthdays. He writes me poetry and loves everything I cook. When we talk about the future, our plans always include one another. There is no future without him. My home is where his heart is.

2017.04.27:
A Taiwanese author named Lin YiHan kills herself. She had recently published a story about a girl who is raped and abused by her teacher. People speculated that it was auto-biographical although she denied it.

2017.05.12:
A new law is passed in Taiwan requiring background checks for teachers. People hope it will keep children safe from predators, and so do Matt and I. When our bosses ask for our information to do background checks, we happily provide it. No one should have to fear abuse from their superiors, and no children should go through what the protagonist in Lin's novel did.

2018.05.12:
Matt and I board a plane together. We've taken many short trips but this will be our first long journey. We're going first to visit his family so I can meet everyone, then to mine so they can meet him. I will be able to stay longer in the USA than Matt can, and I look forward to spending time with my father.

2018.05.27:
Matt flies home. His journey is just awful. One flight is fourteen hours and the woman behind him is digging her feet into his chair, hitting an area where he has a surgical wound we've been tending for ages. Upon his exhausted arrival, he learns from his boss that his work permit has been revoked. His background check turned up the DUI. It doesn't matter that he paid his fine. It doesn't matter that he's been sober for a year and a half. The permit has been revoked. I am in denial. He believes he will have to leave Taiwan, but I beg him to fight it. He never hurt any children. His students and their parents love him. His bosses make every call possible.

2018.06.04:
I am on a road-trip around my part of the USA. It is about 9PM and I still have about 5 hours drive left before I get to my destination. I get a message from Matt that he is being deported. There is never a moment where I consider staying in Taiwan. My home is where his heart is. They aren't deporting one man, they're deporting us both, because I cannot stay without him. I pull into a roadside strip motel because I don't trust myself to keep driving. When I explain my situation at the front desk, they give me rum. I drink it and go to my room to shower and cry.

2018.06.06:
Matt checks the mail and finds a letter from the government. The letter says he must leave Taiwan. The deportation date is June 5th. Yes, you read that right. The official letter arrived on the 6th and said he had to leave the country on the 5th. He calls the office. He tells them his girlfriend will return to Taiwan on the 18th. Could he please stay until the 20th? Could he please see her for one day before he has to leave? They make him promise that he will leave the country on the 20th. When he hangs up, he sees on the bottom where he can call to appeal the decision. But everyone has been called, and at this point, we're through. We're exhausted. They win. We'll leave.

The Future:
I will go back to work in Taiwan. I will probably work until late August, early September. Early September is when I first moved to Taiwan in 2013. That means I've lived there for five years, after my original plan was for just two years. I fell in love with the land, the mountains, the beaches, the plains. I fell in love with the people, the families, the friends, the shopkeepers. I fell in love with the food, the god parades, the night markets. It's the longest I've ever stayed in one place my entire life. I wanted to keep staying.

I don't know where we go next. But we will go there together. This is the man I wrote about in my notebook in fourth grade, the last time I ever stayed somewhere more than three years. He is my spell, he is my prayer, he is where my heart is. I will follow him to any country. I will follow him to the moon.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Why I Can't Jam to CeeLo Anymore OR: Your Game of Thrones fanship is wrecking my PTSD.

Facebook asked me to comment on the return of Game of Thrones.  Shortly after posting this status update, I received the following question in my inbox.



  • The short answer is: Yes.

    Now I'll define support.

    Do I mean these people themselves go to the bar with rohypnol in their pockets? Probably the majority do not.

    Do I mean these people themselves, when they hear of an MRA rally, get out their posterboard and their markers and go join with misogynistic signs held high? Probably the majority do not.

    But let's look at the study conducted at the University of North Dakota, by two PhDs and one MA, published in 2014 in the journal Violence and Gender and first reported by Newsweek. ONE IN THREE of the men surveyed said they would "use force to obtain intercourse" from a woman if there were no consequences. Now, when the actual word "rape" was used in the question, those numbers dropped to much lower. But is that not the definition of rape?

    And that's where things get tricky. My rapist fucked me without my consent. I woke up, and he was inside me, and I did not want him to be. But he does not believe that what he did was rape. So few rapists do. In fact, marital rape in the USA only began to be outlawed in the 1970s, and was only finally illegal in all 50 states by as recently as 1993/  The definition is still tricky in at least 13 states. Marital rape is still legal in around fifty countries. My rapist, like so many others, believed he had a right to take what he wanted, and saw nothing wrong with that.

    I bring all this up to say, it's highly likely that a good percentage of viewers either do not regard the three horrible scenes that are most often discussed as rape at all - and if they do, it's easy enough for them to brush them away. Drogo's rape of Danerys? Well they were married, it was their wedding night, what did she expect? Ramsey's rape of Sansa? Again, she was his wife. Jamie's rape of Cersei? Well, while not legally married, they'd been in a decades-long committed relationship, right? Even the actor who plays Jamie has defended that scene vocally. I'll never watch another project he's in.

    But Drogo never gets Dany's consent.  He flips her over, goes to town, and the camera zooms in on her teary eyes.
    The actual dialogue between Cersei and Jamie in the “controversial scene” is as follows:
    Jaime: "You're a hateful woman. Why have the gods made me love a hateful woman?"
    Cersei "Jaime, not here, please. Please."
    Cersei: "Stop it. Stop it. Stop. No. Stop it. Stop. Stop. Stop. It's not right. It's not right. It's not right."
    Jaime: "I don't care."
    Cersei: "Don't. Jaime, don't.”
    Jaime: "I don't care. I don't care." 
    Cersei tells Jamie not here, please, don't, stop, no, it's not right, and he says "I don't care" and helps himself to her. I stopped watching when I heard about that episode, so I can't comment on the later scene of Ramsey and Sansa, but I hear it focused entirely on THEON'S REACTION TO THE RAPE and not the rape at all. And in none of these cases do we deal with the aftermath of rape. It happens as a plot device and the story moves on, leaving these victims and their healing unaddressed.

    Importantly to me though, NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THESE RAPES OCCURS IN THE ORIGINAL TEXT. In fact, the scene between Drogo and Dany becomes a celebration of gaining her trust and her consent. Cersei literally begs Jamie to fuck her, and Sansa isn't even in Winterfell, she's far away to the East.

    Perhaps most importantly, this is being intentionally done and therefore condoned by the writers, directors, actors, and countless others involved in this show, in the face of public outcry against it. After the first violation in the Dany/Drogo story, there was outcry. They heard it. They answered it with more non-canon rape in the Jamie/Cersei story. The outcry was even louder. They heard it. They answered it with more non-canon rape in the altogether invented Ramsey/Sansa story. This time the outcry has been to the extent that some publications, including The Mary Sue, have said they will no longer cover Game of Thrones with any stories on their website. There was further outcry from Salon, Wired, Vanity Fair, Vulture, Hypable, Bustle, Vox, the NY Daily News, and a US Senator.  This is being intentionally and repeatedly done. These people are choosing to continue to depict this abhorrent act.

    So when I say I believe these people are supporting rape, what I mean to say is that they weekly celebrate a show which needlessly and grotesquely depicts the sexual abuse of women by men, disrespecting and retraumatizing me personally along with an untold and uncountable number of other victims of rape. I'm not making a mountain out of a molehill here.  My PTSD symptoms have been through the roof simply because I see people celebrating the show's return.  I've forgotten my phone at home, shown up late for work, and yelled at students who didn't deserve it.  I find myself absent-mindedly planning self-harm, and have to fight myself not to commit it.

    I believe that these depictions lead us to become desensitized to sexual violence and that it is this sort of attitude toward rape and depiction of it that leads to instances of, for example, this woman livestreaming her 17-year-old friend's rape but doing nothing to stop it. I'll be the first to argue that music and video games do not a school shooter make, but frankly I feel we're dealing with apples and oranges when it comes to that.

    I do not deny that the books depict rape, but I feel personally that the books do a better job of dealing with the aftermath - repeatedly discussing how rapers are sent to the wall, Eddard Stark's declaration of Clegane as an outlaw and demanding he be brought to justice (mentioned only in passing in the show), and plenty of other instances.  While the books include rape, they do not graphically depict the details that the show visually places in front of us.

    People who watch this show are supporting the show. This show is indefensible with regards to how it repeatedly and unnecessarily depicts rape. Even before I myself became a rape victim (I do not yet identify with the label "survivor," though I hope I can one day) I would boycott problematic art and artists. I do not get to watch Woody Allen or Roman Polanski films. I don't listen to Cee Lo, or any artist who collaborates with Chris Brown. Cosby, Lennon, Sean Penn... the list goes on.

    Explain it away and enjoy the show if you want to. You have that right. I am incapable of doing so.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Trip Home 03

The place does not feel foreign. The place feels like home.  The place feels like I never left.

Actions seem foreign.

Why are people wearing shoes inside the house?

What are these big clunky things in my drink?

Why do we just throw trash away?  Shouldn't we be rinsing and separating it all out?

Where's the potty-side trash can? Wait, I just put the paper in the potty and flush?

So far every meal has been a treat.  Tonight I ate four different kinds of cheese on French bread.  What decadence!  One afternoon I ate cold guacamole with a fork.  Marvelous.

Tomorrow I head to Hot Springs, what I consider my home town. I'll see Lake Ouachita and if it isn't too cold I'll climb down in it.  I'll go to my high school 15 year reunion.  I'll get a haircut. I'll hug old friends and sleep in a van.  Then to Little Rock for more friends and chosen family.

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Trip Home 02

I was on my way home, on schedule, ticking off my to-do list, making great time, everything was fine, until I found.....


So that set me back several hours, going to the vet and getting supplies and giving her medicine and a bath and... etcetera.  I made the trip up to Taoyuan to my friend's house, where we had some nibbles and some sips, and then it was two hours until I needed to wake up, so we bedded down and I dozed while her cats went crazy all around us.


In the Taipei airport I bought a few treats at the duty-free to share with people when I got home.  On the first flight I kinda dozed for about an hour on and off.


Free wi-fi was too awesome to sleep through, so no sleep in Tokyo.


Then on the loooong flight across the Atlantic I kinda lost it.  I was trying to figure out how the time changes worked and could only figure it had to be because we were traveling with the day, staying in the sunlight of the day the whole time and I watched a movie about time travel and looked out the window and it was dark and I was going crazy about how time wasn't even real and maybe I could manipulate it and...


I just wanted to nap.


When I landed, my sister met me at baggage by pinching my butt.  I'm not sure why but my butt had been some kind of magnet the whole trip where people were bumping into it and hitting it and I was like WHAT but when I spun around it was her.  When I hugged my daddy for the first time in so long we both cried.  Headed down to Beale Street Blues City Cafe for a bunch of tamales and chili and marinated salad and porterhouse steaks and steak fries and beans and slaw and and and and hugs and my aunt and uncle and my cousins' kids and it was great.


I am prescribed Xanax for my anxiety and I'm to take a half a pill each morning and evening.  That evening I looked at the pill and thought, what if I didn't break this one in half?  I was still in my haze the next morning when my father came to knock on my door and said, your friend Christopher is here.  What?  Christopher.  I'm trying to swim through the medicine to being aware.  Come outside, he says.  As I'm coming around the corner it hits me and I say, "With a K?"  And there he was, my beloved long time friend from Virginia, who'd just finished a conference in Atlanta and had driven west for hugs.


The torta was so amazing.  



We thought we'd take a little food coma nap after our late lunch and we ended up sleeping until 1:30AM, at which point we decided it would be better to sleep on until morning and be on the right schedule than wake up and have fun etc.

I sure missed my baby doggie <3 p="">




Saturday, May 16, 2015

Trip Home 01

Tomorrow morning I'm flying home

from home

and after three weeks at home

I'll go back home

.

I've been living in Taiwan for a year, eight months, and nine days.  This is home now.  This is my normal.  This is my every day.  Signs with Chinese characters in front of every store.  Overhearing Mandarin and Taiwanese everywhere I go. Speaking it with people.  Everyone is Asian around me.  Chinese, Hakka, Aboriginal, some Korean and Japanese, and of course – TAIWANESE.  I can't blend in.  I'm too tall.  People take my photos not-so-candidly.  People force their children to speak broken English to me.

I buy lunch on the street and dinner too.  I pay for things mostly in coins, some paper, never plastic.  I don't drink the tap water.  I don't put my trash in a dumpster, I wait for the truck playing cute music to come by and take it down (or more often than not my roommate does because I'm at work).

I alter my mother tongue.  I slow it down, enunciate more. I don't use my native accent, nor any of my many “isms” or affectations.  I speak Mandarin poorly, but better every day.

I drive a scooter everywhere and am surrounded by scooters.  I pay my bills at the 7-11 which is just down the road from the Family Mart and across from the OK Mart.  I buy drinks at any of the five tea shops per block and hang the bag they come in from my scooter and drive on.

Rice lunch boxes.  Steamed buns.  Cold noodles.  Ramen.  Beef noodles.  Coffee shops on every corner selling too-sweet too-white coffee in tall cups, no walls at the shop, lots of shops with no walls actually and just tables around.

Last month I went to eat at a western restaurant.  UK style, British fare with a Welsh chef. They gave me a knife and fork.  They felt heavy and awkward in my hands.  I dropped them loudly on the floor.  I asked for chopsticks.

What happens when I go “home” now?

I'll be experiencing my native land but it will feel foreign.  It is not my normal anymore.  It is not my every day.

There will be white people everywhere.  There will be black and brown people, too.  They will be much larger than the people I see here.  I will understand every word said around me all the time.  No one will stare at me nor try to force a photo with their kids.  I will not be special or different.  I will get inside a car and be surrounded by other cars and we will all park them in … parking LOTS?  There will be signs that say “parking for xxxxx customers only” and they may even be enforced.

When I read a price, that is not what I will pay.  I will pay a nontrivial percentage of tax.  I will pay an even less trivial percentage of tip.

I won't happen upon a random circle of locals sitting roadside sipping tea and eating fresh local seasonal fruit, chewing betel nut and spitting the thick red juice in streams on the asphalt.  In fact, people won't be outside too much at all.  All inside in their central heat and air fortresses.  Rushing to jobs to pay bills multiple times more expensive than my own.

What else will be different?  What will surprise me, astound me, frighten me, offend me?  What if it's so foreign in fact that it's at the level where I'm going to catch a wee cold or something when I first get there from foreign bacteria?

I'm nervous to go home.  I'm afraid to learn I miss it too much and must return quickly; I'm afraid to learn I miss it none and never want to move back.

The first thing that happens is I go to my father's home.  After a few days of down time there, I'll go to my high school 15 year reunion in a town I consider my hometown.  I'll swim in the second cleanest lake in North America, which also happens to be one of my favorite places on the globe I've been to in my life.  I may go up to the NY/NJ area.  I may also just spend the whole time hugging my dog and talking with my beloved father.

I'm not sure what this trip will bring or even feel like. I know this and feel it in a way I never have before any other trip.

What happens when home becomes foreign?

Let's see.

Wednesday, April 15, 2015

16/30: Catching up, and a silly ode

Today I woke up and my friend was still dead.

I took off work yesterday.  Keith and I hadn't been close since I left the Hot Springs area, but he was always someone who had significantly impacted me when I was younger, and you don't just lose that.  I was some sixteen, seventeen year old punk kid who tried writing and was scared, and he was one of the people who encouraged me.  He and a short list of others made me believe I had value, my voice was worthy of being heard, I should continue trying this crazy thing called art.  We'd catch up whenever I went back to visit, but he always seemed a little distant.

I guess now I know why.

Depression is a motherfucker.  And that ain't the half of the reality.  It KILLS people.  Don't think of suicide as selfish.  Think of it as tragic.  It is not something people do with the intention of hurting others.  It's something that happens when people cannot possibly hurt any more.  I wish I were back home right now, I wish I could gather with everyone who wants to honor Keith's memory.  I wish I could shake his daughter's hand and tell her how honored I am to meet her, after hearing so much for so many years about her, about how much Keith loved her.

My friend isn't coming back.  When I go visit home next month, I won't see him.

So I have to hug the ones I see even harder.  Love them even louder.

I love you.

Hi!

So you're reading my blog!  Wow!  Every year I get more readers, more views, more comments.  I remember once, talking to an ex-lover about something I wrote and said, I mean you probably haven't seen it---

He interrupted, "I read everything you ever write."

What kind of mad praise is that?  My whole heart sat with that and still sits with it.

I saw one day last week I got nearly two hundred views. In one day!  I mentioned it on Facebook, and a few different people said they'd been poking around, catching up, reading old posts... Think about how much it means to be SEEN in this world.  To know that people are looking at you.  On purpose.  Because they want to see you.

SO many of us don't know this feeling.  I think Keith didn't know.  If he'd known how many of us read his book, how many of us looked forward to seeing him again, would he still be here?  Would that have been medicine enough?

You are my medicine.

Say something.  Leave a comment here, or on a past post you enjoyed.  Or one you didn't enjoy!  One you hated!  Tell me what's working for you in the piece, tell me what isn't working for you and could be tightened up.  Tell me what you miss.  Tell me who you love.  Let's communicate and celebrate - we're still here on this side of the ground.

Yesterday's poem was part for Keith and part for all of us with depression and life-threatening mental illnesses.  Today's poem is part for Keith and part for celebrating life and part for poutine.

Yesterday was hump day.  The 15th of the month, out of 30 days.  So now we're coasting downhill toward home.  Why not write a silly poem?  I've been serious all month.  Today let's celebrate something that made me happy.  Today, that thing was a poutine burger from A-Chi, the best burger joint in Pingtung and maybe even all of southern Taiwan.


I neglected to take a photo before I dug in. I was too excited to have it in my mouth.  Halfway through I thought, I should write a silly fun poem today, for Keith, and took a photo.  No "after" photo because you've all seen a blank plate before.


Ode to the Poutine Burger at A-Chi:


Behold the meat patty,
so full of potential,
so undirected: raw
in the cold air, behind
a tightly sealed door.  Behold lettuce,
ripe tomato, white onion thinly sliced.
Pickles bathing, relaxed,
in their vinegar.  Behold cheese
and bun.  Take all of this and you would have

a burger.  But today
is not just any day. Today we add
mashed potatoes, brown gravy plus cream
and mushrooms.  Today, I glut.
I debauch.  I celebrate another day
on this side of the ground with
GRAVY.  There be no tidiness
here. No means to dainty my way
through these pillows of exploding mash,
these gravyfalls of deliciocity!  This
is bliss, and it's all over my face:
someone once
told me
a terrible joke.
I will now suffer it upon you.

What's the difference
between pussy
and mashed potatoes.

Pussy makes its own gravy.

BUT NO PUSSY EVER COVERED MY FACE
LIKE THIS.  Oh, poutine burger, inappropriately
named, in this country without curds I don't care
what I look like, seated outside at the table
in front of the restaurant, I wear you without shame,
I wear you with prize, nose to neck, sweet sweet
poutine burger, I left my last wife,
the chili cheese burger with real pickled jalapeños
FOR YOU, in this country with no chili
and no pickled jalapeños, for YOU, oh my love,
there can be no other above you, no day of work
is too terrible that you cannot wash
it away with your sauce, gravied potatoes, gravied
bun, gravied lettuce and gravied onions, gravied red
ripe tomatoes, oh my god, gravied PICKLES.
The occasional saucy mushroom tries to escape

but my fries are at the ready.  POUTINE BURGER,
never leave me.  POUTINE BURGER, never die.
POUTINE BURGER, only you
can stay
my wandering eye.

Friday, August 1, 2014

August challenge to myself: 31 days of editing and submitting.







Thursday, May 15, 2014

2014 NaPoWriMo 30/30 Challenge Recap


  • The first April I've written a poem a day every day without missing a day in a few years.
  • Made this blog's 250th post.
  • Welcomed this blog's 14,000th view.
  • Deepened friendships with other poets sharing during the month.
  • Got some new material I didn't like, got some new material I did.
Looking forward:
  • Intending to start editing more and drafting less.
  • Intending to submit to some journals.
  • Have a goal to acquire 100 rejection letters - so far I have 3, so only 97 more to go!
Thank you everyone who read.  Thank you even more those who commented.  Communication and support mean so much to me.  Thanks most to those who also wrote that I got to read.  I'm so full from this past month.  So much love.  Thank you all.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

30/30: this time it's personal and it's naked and it's ugly.

And it's prose.  Whoops.

I'm feeling extremely restless.  Something about spending an entire day expecting to learn at any minute that any number of people I hold very dear had died.  Something about this ovulation being extra cat-in-heat-like.  Something about too much introspection and existential thought.  Something about I love a man on the other side of a globe and what am I even stringing him along for if I will probably just let him down by going to bed with someone and never live near him anyway.  An open relationship in theory and in practice are different animals.  A past lover asked if I wanted to get down.  I wanted to get down.  I went to see him.  It was fun and it was fine but how will the man I love be after I tell him?  And I left still feeling cat-in-heat-like.  I wanted to go to any bar and go to bed with the first person who made eye contact.  I wanted a stranger to slap me full across the face and tell me horrible things about myself.  I went home and wrote a tender poem about my love then spent my whole dream fucking strangers who said yes.  So instead I drive too fast after school down rural highways and the wind is too cold because I don't have a jacket and it hurts my skin and I like it.  And a car in front of me is kicking up dust and it's stinging my skin and I like it.  I follow the car down roads I wouldn't otherwise have taken because I want the stinging to keep stinging.  And the cold and the sting is making me tear up and I like it because I have an excuse to shed tears and a reason for them I can name.  I'm driving too fast and I'm fantasizing about leaping off and flying for a few seconds.  I hold the accelerator down until it will go no faster and dream about brick walls.  And what am I even doing staying up too late every night and I just want to sleep all day and why am I going to work what does this work mean for me for my future what is a future do I even want one?  What is living for and can't I just sleep under an overpass and start drunk fights with strangers and get my teeth knocked out?  Why do I feel like shit and why do I want someone something to make me feel like shit?  Because then I'd have an actual reason for feeling this way that I cannot otherwise name?

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

So Far This April:

I have killed my rapist twice (in one poem I killed another seven or so people), written two more poems about my assault (in one my abuser is merely forgotten into oblivion) and another about the boss who confessed to me he raped someone (he's in the body count of the previously mentioned seven or so).  I wrote a poem about drowning five children.  I have written 6 poems about my new crush and surprisingly only two about my most recently failed relationship (despite it having lasted four years).  I wrote one poem that was much too long and one which was a copout haiku.  I wrote a poem about going fast on my scooter and another about a woman trying to catch a rooster.  What will follow?  Stay tuned to see!

Sunday, April 20, 2014

NaPoWriMo 2014

What an April!

We're two thirds through it now, poets.

For me this one has been delicious for a number of reasons.

So far I've racked up a record SEVEN COMMENTS on my posts.  Yeah, I don't kid myself, I know I'm small potatoes but in past years I've posted a call for people to comment to let me know they're reading, and still not gotten that many, so this feels warm and fuzzy.  I'm talking more with fellow poets about what we're each posting (y'all know who you are and I'm grateful for you) and we're sharing prompts and resources (check a few posts back where I share a whole host of bookmarks).

I've gotten way more views of my blog in this month, too (not least of all because of how popular and viral the whole Veet issue was for a minute there and my decision to write something about it right in that moment).

Also, I haven't missed a day yet, knock on wood.  This is largely because I've been more forgiving with myself this year.  In past years I got behind and started feeling guilty about it.  I started this year deciding to be more lax on myself, even saying I'd allow myself to post in US-time instead of Taiwan-time, so often I post after midnight here but consider it fine since it's still early afternoon back in the states.

How is your April going?  Do you like what you're writing?  Do you like what you're reading?  What do you plan to do with your work afterward?

We're in the home stretch, folks.  Just a week and a half left.  See you at the finish line.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

19/30: write about the weather, but not really

There are rains here in Taiwan like I'd never seen.
Go to bed, rain.  Wake up, rain.  In between?
Rain.  And I love it.  Love it all over
everything, all inside everything, everywhere I go
it goes with me, everywhere I look it's all I see,
it gets in my food, in my drink, in my eyes, down
my ears and into my brain.  I wear it.  I breathe it.
I sleep with it and arise into it.  It bathes me
and my world; it soothes, it nourishes, sings, it


There are winds that blow on the southernmost tip
like I've never felt.  Just try camping.  The winds
will shudder the tent you'll feel shaking, sleep stirring,
rise moving, and in between, dancing.  Just listen
how the ocean sings with it, too, take naps on the beach
and ignore the stinging sand, take a jar of sand home
like setting it on the shelf could keep the wind with you,
like you feel your hair blowing when you look upon it,
and you feel how it felt on your skin, you can feel


And now here I am
in the town where I live
and his wind and his rain
have gone across the sea.
Left me with all this
fucking
sunshine.
Left me

Wednesday, May 1, 2013

RESUME PLAY

The challenge was to write one poem every day for the month of April.  Thirty poems in thirty days.

Before I paused, I did miss a couple days, and on the following days I would write two.

I wrote on a total of twenty-one days out of thirty.  I missed nine days.
I wrote a total of twenty-six poems out of thirty.  I missed four poems.

Does this mean I have nine days in which to write four poems?  Does it mean I have four days in which to write nine?

I'm going to write poetry for nine more days and hope that four decent pieces come out of the mix.  Cuz why not?

Today, 1 May, day one of nine, is from prompt #1 here:

I believe in oak,
spiral leaves with lobbed margins,
serrated leaves with smooth margins,
flowers called catkins that give birth to acorns,
bitter fruit in tiny cups.
I believe in holding on to dead leaves
until spring gives you new ones.
I believe in strength and resistance
and making liquids more precious
just by holding them a while.  I believe

in pine, in fire and resin, in needles
and cones, in growing fast
and dense; I believe in hickory,
in being native to the whole world
and being prized world-wide, in giving
foundations to stand upon and flavor
to your food.  I believe in pecan.

I believe ash can betray you.
I believe teak should never be broken.
I believe mahogany should be treasured
and respected, not just for its strength, not just
for the beauty of its song.  I believe cedar
is a word you can smell when you hear it,
I believe maple is a word you can taste
when you hear it, I believe sawdust
is sacred.  I believe the sound
of a bandsaw is a fine violin, a nailgun
is a snare drum, and sandpaper
sounds finer than the ocean at night.
I believe in carpentry.  I believe

it is possible to build a whole house
from nothing, to build a whole home
from a house, to build a whole family
from a home, I believe dovetailing makes
the strongest connections, and there
are also joints named knee joints,
lap joints, and my father had knees
and a lap and my father knew how
to build a house and the value of each
type of wood and my father was sacred
as sawdust and strong as hickory
or oak; I believe father is a word
you can feel when you hear it.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

I see you two.

Somewhere out there I have two very dedicated readers.

I have been eyeballing my blog stats.  They're interesting.  For example, I'm huge in Russia.  Who knew?  They're reading me in Germany and Latvia and South Africa.  How does this even happen?  By accident, I'm sure, but apparently I was featured on some Russian site once because I get a lot of redirects from there.

Yes, the stats also show me where the people click over to my blog from, which is mostly facebook, and I assume that's from me posting individual entries over there from time to time.  I can also see which posts were read in the past day or week, and it's interesting to see what I imagine is people coming to read one post and then poking about and finding interesting titles and going back to read about my time in Taiwan or Mexico or some political ramblings.

But one thing I noticed is that whether or not I promote an individual entry, within a matter of hours of posting, I've always got two views.  Even on the ones I think no one will see.  Who are you kind, magical people who are willing to listen when I feel I have something to share?  You make me feel valued and worthy.  You make me feel like I'm enough.

Thank you.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Sneaky Feet

My partner plays footsie... while completely fast asleep. It's the most darling phenomenon. Or will roll over and heave this big sigh and throw an arm across me - completely unconscious - or I go to the bathroom and when I come back my pillow has been swept up and is now being cuddled in my place, like a surrogate-me, to facilitate survival until my return.

Having a partner who's not so big on words can leave a poet feeling lovestarved sometimes. Me, I gush them like a fountain. All the time. Sometimes I worry it's too much. And all I want is to hear some sweet words, about anything, about me, or my dimple, or that I cook all the time, or even just those traditional three, and I've always had trouble falling asleep, and I lay awake wondering if I'm not good enough...

...and then those sneaky feet sliiiiide across the sheets to hug mine, and the whole wide world just melts away.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Funny chat I had

I'm currently apart from my partner. We've been long distance for something like two years, and finally got to move in together a few months ago. I suppose he got spoiled, and I suppose it's my fault for being a spoiler. But that's how I love - showeringly. I will cook for you, I will cater to you, I will rub your back and your feet and that's just how it is.

Currently, however, I'm staying with my father to work through grad school apps, GRE prep, statement of purpose, writing sample, etc etc etc... away from distractions. I caught my partner online last night, and he gave me this funny story:



i'm probably gonna burn the whole house down by accident

cooking snacks

i encountered the first no ginna problem today

i don't know where all the veggies are or what they look like at the grocery store

"i want plum tomatoes"

go to store

i see

tomatoes.

14 different kinds

cue meticulous reading of all labels and looking at all things

label found

top or bottom rack?

THAT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE A PLUM

buy anyway

time for cilantro finding

green leafy clusters of things

read all labels.

"this looks just like parsley and all the others"

buy anyway

Friday, August 26, 2011

Linguistics.

I never have a plan, but I do have loose ideas about the future now and then. Right now my loose plan is to head back to the states, spend a year with my partner moving around and preparing for graduate school, then getting my major's degree in linguistics.

I stumbled into linguistics accidentally. While studying in Mexico, we were offered classes outside of the normal grammar and conversation if we wanted, and I did, and one was a double class of Linguistics and Phonetics. I was fascinated by the stuff. I've always enjoyed languages, but learning how speech patterns follow and give clues to a culture's thought patterns as well...

For example. One thing I don't like about Spanish and Mandarin is the response to "Thank you." In English, we acknowledge gratitude. We say "You're welcome." In Spanish and Mandarin, the response is equivalent to "It's nothing."

Gratitude is one of the themes in my life. I have many, but gratitude is a big one, and when I feel it it's genuine and intense. Being told not to worry about it, no need for thanks, hurts a little. No, friend. I mean this. I need you to know that I'm grateful. Acknowledge that, please, so we can share in my joy. Shrugging it off, saying, "it's nothing," that's not good for me.

But let's talk about goodbyes. I don't like them. Dogs don't say goodbye. They say very emphatic hellos, even getting all up in each other's buttholes, but there is no goodbye. They just run off, happy, and will say an emphatic hello again later.

But we are humans, and every language I've studied so far (which is a rather lot, even if I'm not even conversational in most) has a "Goodbye." But here is where English fails me, and Mandarin wins.

French does this too. They have a "Goodbye," but they prefer to use their "See you later." Mandarin, too, says "See you later." I simply do not like goodbye. I've said so many in my life. I have this habit of moving every, at most, three years and often much more frequently.

I have genuinely fallen in love with Taiwan. I've been too busy to post as properly as I should, between classes and trying to have amazing adventures in our little free times, and if the two predicted typhoons don't stop me I will fly home in three days.

I have seen more beautiful sights than I could have imagined. I spent three out of three days last weekend neck deep in some of the clearest water on some of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen. People have been incredibly friendly and helpful everywhere I've gone. This program has been such an awesome opportunity, and I'm more thankful for the experience than I can begin to convey.

And I will say to Taiwan THANK YOU in English, because I need this gratitude acknowledged. But I will say 再見 in Mandarin, because I am simply not done with this magical place.