Redemption. It's not just a word to me, but something I truly believe in. I believe in walking through fire and coming through bandaged up, healing from the scars. I also believe in optimism. I suppose my belief in redemption is cloaked by the undying light of hope that optimism brings.
When I started this blog I was in my late twenties. I had just gone through the worst experience of my life. Many people wondered how I could claim such a label on that experience when there was (we assume) many more life experiences to come. I say it was the worst because there was so much shame tied into the tragedy of things. Tragedy is devastating, but at least it earns sympathy. Shame repels sympathy (and certainly empathy). I spent a lot of time in those early days wondering what could be worse. Losing people I love would be horrible but not worse since I'd have the support of others. I think having a child and then somehow being responsible for that child's death would be the only thing that would seem worse to me. But I don't have kids, so I can't really say.
In less than a month I will be turning 35. Thirty-five was always my age that I thought I'd stop having children because it wasn't good to be old and have kids. That was what my twenty-something self had believed. That former version of myself also thought that I would be married before I hit thirty and blissfully happy. The great thing about that horrible life experience I went through in 2004 was that it taught me that life can change in a split second. I am so grateful for that lesson, though I wish I could have learned it in a different way. I was always a big planner, wanting to prepare for every possible outcome and know as much in advance as possible. I still love my calendar and color coordinate my highlights of important meetings and events, but I can now write with a pencil because I know nothing is concrete.
My life hasn't turned out according to the way I planned. I thought I'd be married by 35. I almost was. I came quite close to getting married last year. I was dating someone ten years my junior who stated early on that he wanted to get married. Our cultural difference led me to believe he was more mature than an American guy, and in many ways he was. We picked out a ring that he bought (we ordered it online), but he was taking forever to give it to me. I started planning the wedding, discussing little details with him but secretly sharing most of the ideas with my girlfriends. Mom excitedly starting buying little things for the wedding, which led me to buy invitations and some decorations. In the end I learned he'd been cheating on me, my first experience with cheating. I've had my heart broken before, so I knew what that pain felt like, but I'd never been betrayed like this in the past.
I'm a tough cookie. I've overcome a lot in my life, certainly in the last six years. Sometimes, though, I'd like things to just work out the way I want them to. But if they aren't, then I must not be learning the life lessons that the dude upstairs is trying to teach me.
I used to be a very contemplative person. I felt so much and would turn to words in written form to understand what I was feeling. It helped me put the world in perspective. I've let go of contemplation the last couple years or so. At least, that's what I recently realized. I've let go of figuring out who I am and what I want from life. Without that direction, I've been letting the wind carry me whichever way it chose to blow. But that is going to change. I want to redeem myself in my own eyes. I want to make plans for my future instead of feeling like I've already achieved most of my dreams. That light of hope was never extinguished, and now I'm going to fan its flames so bring my life into warp speed ahead.
It was easy for me to see this after spending a week on my back. I'd thrown it and my neck out during my recent travels, and have become BFFs with a heating pad. The first day was painful but relaxing. But by the end of the week, I was longing for the world beyond my living room walls. There is nothing like being unable to experience the world to make you want to get up and jump right in it.
So, in honor of my upcoming birthday, I want to make a list of life experiences I still want to have and things I want to accomplish. Just because life doesn't turn out the way you always wanted doesn't mean that life isn't the way it is supposed to be. I'm so grateful for the life I have and hopeful for whatever else may come.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Monday, February 01, 2010
Rest in Peace
I believe in second chances. I believe in third, fourth, and fifth chances sometimes, too. Sometimes people just need us to have faith that keeps hanging on.
I'd grown indifferent over time. My anxiety over that day was left behind with my younger self. I was now old enough to understand that it was not him that day but a confused mind in his body. I'd been afraid of men for a while after that, but somehow found someone special to help ease my fears. Years of removal from that day taught me that he didn't understand what he was doing, and I forgave him.
His confusion grew over time, formed in unkind words and threats. It was as if his body was attacking his mind, and the weaker lost the battle. He threatened actions that forced us away.
I was a generation removed, so the pain didn't sting but for a prick of a pin. The pain that lacked in me weighed heavily on my mother. She never saw the man he once was or could have been. He'd come home from the war with half his head missing, half his personality a casualty of that war. He was cruel and vindictive, so my mom, her sister, and their mother depended on one another for survival. Time may not have healed the wound of his head, but it eased his temper. With each new child that later came, his heart lightened. My mother saw glimpses of the boy he once was.
Once the children were grown and gone, the man with the missing head returned. Then my grandmother, the saint, passed away at a very young age, and his hold on this earth slowly slipped away. Eventually he turned everyone away. The hurt it caused my mother will always reside in my heart. I grew up not understanding him, having been forced away.
With the fading of his memories, his anger began to subside. Then in the end, without recollection of his own anger, he let us in. I spoon fed him and wiped his chin as mom held his hand and listened to his endless words. The blood that we all shared slowly warmed again.
As painful as it was to see him revert to infancy, it was somehow a gift. In his gentle state, we gained affection for a man who had been difficult to love. I gained a connection to my past. Mom was granted moments of endearment in the eyes of the man she'd spent her life trying to please. The night before he passed, she and I stood there next to his bed for a couple hours, caressing his arm, stroking his hair, and holding the one hand he still moved. Touch was his only relation to the world around him, and we tried to communicate our love through our hands.
I'm grateful for the gift of last night, and for our last enduring touch.
Rest in peace, grandpa.
I'd grown indifferent over time. My anxiety over that day was left behind with my younger self. I was now old enough to understand that it was not him that day but a confused mind in his body. I'd been afraid of men for a while after that, but somehow found someone special to help ease my fears. Years of removal from that day taught me that he didn't understand what he was doing, and I forgave him.
His confusion grew over time, formed in unkind words and threats. It was as if his body was attacking his mind, and the weaker lost the battle. He threatened actions that forced us away.
I was a generation removed, so the pain didn't sting but for a prick of a pin. The pain that lacked in me weighed heavily on my mother. She never saw the man he once was or could have been. He'd come home from the war with half his head missing, half his personality a casualty of that war. He was cruel and vindictive, so my mom, her sister, and their mother depended on one another for survival. Time may not have healed the wound of his head, but it eased his temper. With each new child that later came, his heart lightened. My mother saw glimpses of the boy he once was.
Once the children were grown and gone, the man with the missing head returned. Then my grandmother, the saint, passed away at a very young age, and his hold on this earth slowly slipped away. Eventually he turned everyone away. The hurt it caused my mother will always reside in my heart. I grew up not understanding him, having been forced away.
With the fading of his memories, his anger began to subside. Then in the end, without recollection of his own anger, he let us in. I spoon fed him and wiped his chin as mom held his hand and listened to his endless words. The blood that we all shared slowly warmed again.
As painful as it was to see him revert to infancy, it was somehow a gift. In his gentle state, we gained affection for a man who had been difficult to love. I gained a connection to my past. Mom was granted moments of endearment in the eyes of the man she'd spent her life trying to please. The night before he passed, she and I stood there next to his bed for a couple hours, caressing his arm, stroking his hair, and holding the one hand he still moved. Touch was his only relation to the world around him, and we tried to communicate our love through our hands.
I'm grateful for the gift of last night, and for our last enduring touch.
Rest in peace, grandpa.
Friday, January 01, 2010
A New Day, New Year, and New Blog
I've always been a big fan of New Years. There is such hopefulness embedded in it. It's a chance to start fresh and live the life we long for, though many of us don't make it past January in our quest. This year wasn't my worst year, not at all, but it was certainly a difficult one in the end. But with each difficulty I experience, I somehow come out a bit stronger. I'm choosing to use that new-found strength to close the door on 2009 and walk through the open one of 2010. I feel like I have so much yet to learn, and I hope to be fortunate enough to continue on my path of knowledge. One way I'm doing this is through a new blog chronicling a plan that's formulated in my head. I invite you to open up my head and see what's on my mind by coming on this new journey with me on my new blog. I'm not sure what the path for this old blog will be. It's been a tremendous crutch for me through difficulties in the past, and I don't know if I'll need it in the future. Just in case, I'm holding on to it, letting it support me for a while simply by knowing it is here.
Wherever the path takes me, I'm thankful for you being with me along the way. Wishing you a new year filled with wonder and learning.
Wherever the path takes me, I'm thankful for you being with me along the way. Wishing you a new year filled with wonder and learning.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The Thieves
"They're stealing from me."
The sincerity in his eyes was the only communication that made sense to me.
"Why do you think they're stealing from you?"
A woman walked by in mid-conversation with another. "Look at her. She walks by, pointing and laughing because she knows." She continued out the door, oblivious to his words.
"Grandpa, I think she's just a visitor now going home." He looked intently at me, as if he wondered if I was in on the scheme as well.
"They're stealing from me. I used to have things, but I no longer do. And now I don't remember."
I nodded because I understood. It was the first time he made sense to me in years. His paranoia has only escalated over time. At 94, his body wants to continue, but his mind gave up long ago. Not so long ago he would walk around, talking to anyone who feigned to listen, his body able to take care of itself. But his mind, oh his mind. It wandered the streets, seeking warmth in the darkness, alone in the bleakness of the night. It disappeared like a magician, leaving those in its midst full of bewilderment. Where had it gone? But it always returned, having found daylight for a time.
"I know you," he said, focusing my attention on him again. I smiled, amazed at his lucidity.
"Yes, yes you do."
"Teddy. Where have you been?"
"What?"
"Where have you been, Teddy?"
I slipped it back on, the mask waiting to be replaced. It was of a face plastered with an understanding smile. I didn't want him to see the real face I hid below.
I turned to her, asking who Teddy is. She said it was her cousin and also his brother. There were two: father and son. For the briefest of moments I looked down at myself, wondering what about me looked masculine. Just as the embarrassment began to fill me, I looked up at him again. There was a light in his eyes that had previously been faded. I hadn't seen such happiness in quite some time.
The thieves had not taken all his memories, but one day would return for what they left behind.
"I'm here. It's good to see you," I said, simply because it was kind. I wanted the light in his eyes to shine brightly and light my pathway through his mind. His meanness had vanished along with the dark. I wanted always to reflect that light and absorb it into my flesh.
The thieves come for us all at some point. What they steal depends on what they need for their collection. Sometimes they steal organs, sometimes minds, recycling body parts to put together new flesh so they can continue to live on and steal from the rest of us. I'm not sure when they'll invade me or what they'll steal, but I know there is nothing I can do to stop them.
Until then, I will focus on the light in his eyes, and let the light in mine guide the way.
The sincerity in his eyes was the only communication that made sense to me.
"Why do you think they're stealing from you?"
A woman walked by in mid-conversation with another. "Look at her. She walks by, pointing and laughing because she knows." She continued out the door, oblivious to his words.
"Grandpa, I think she's just a visitor now going home." He looked intently at me, as if he wondered if I was in on the scheme as well.
"They're stealing from me. I used to have things, but I no longer do. And now I don't remember."
I nodded because I understood. It was the first time he made sense to me in years. His paranoia has only escalated over time. At 94, his body wants to continue, but his mind gave up long ago. Not so long ago he would walk around, talking to anyone who feigned to listen, his body able to take care of itself. But his mind, oh his mind. It wandered the streets, seeking warmth in the darkness, alone in the bleakness of the night. It disappeared like a magician, leaving those in its midst full of bewilderment. Where had it gone? But it always returned, having found daylight for a time.
"I know you," he said, focusing my attention on him again. I smiled, amazed at his lucidity.
"Yes, yes you do."
"Teddy. Where have you been?"
"What?"
"Where have you been, Teddy?"
I slipped it back on, the mask waiting to be replaced. It was of a face plastered with an understanding smile. I didn't want him to see the real face I hid below.
I turned to her, asking who Teddy is. She said it was her cousin and also his brother. There were two: father and son. For the briefest of moments I looked down at myself, wondering what about me looked masculine. Just as the embarrassment began to fill me, I looked up at him again. There was a light in his eyes that had previously been faded. I hadn't seen such happiness in quite some time.
The thieves had not taken all his memories, but one day would return for what they left behind.
"I'm here. It's good to see you," I said, simply because it was kind. I wanted the light in his eyes to shine brightly and light my pathway through his mind. His meanness had vanished along with the dark. I wanted always to reflect that light and absorb it into my flesh.
The thieves come for us all at some point. What they steal depends on what they need for their collection. Sometimes they steal organs, sometimes minds, recycling body parts to put together new flesh so they can continue to live on and steal from the rest of us. I'm not sure when they'll invade me or what they'll steal, but I know there is nothing I can do to stop them.
Until then, I will focus on the light in his eyes, and let the light in mine guide the way.
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
Wait, I have a blog?
Oh yea, this blog is still around, isn't it? Well, a new year has come. Many people have taken the opportunity to talk about deep thoughts, weighing in on the upcoming changes in the American government, how they want to improve the world this year, and other such topics. Me? I was talking about celebrity gossip with my students. I mean, come on, the world is a crazy place, so we need to make room for celebrity gossip.
How have you been, blog? A little dusty? Well, I'm not exactly adding nutrients to your diet and cleaning off your wardrobe with this post. I should just shut down shop here. I'm a completely different person now than I was when I started this thing. I've almost forgotten that girl. So, we'll see. At this point, I'm just too lazy to shut this thing down. But maybe I'll get off my bum and do it one of these days.
How have you been, blog? A little dusty? Well, I'm not exactly adding nutrients to your diet and cleaning off your wardrobe with this post. I should just shut down shop here. I'm a completely different person now than I was when I started this thing. I've almost forgotten that girl. So, we'll see. At this point, I'm just too lazy to shut this thing down. But maybe I'll get off my bum and do it one of these days.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Gratitude and Thanks
A note written by a student in a thank you card given to me last week (mistakes included):
My lovely teacher!
From the bottom of my heart, I want to say that you're the greatest teacher I ever have in my life. Since I have been in this country, nowhere makes me feel comfortable like your class, and nobody makes me feel warm like you. Thank you for all the good things you did.
Thanks,
(student name)
We had a big potluck party the last day of class for the trimester (last Thursday) to celebrate that we have a week off for Thanksgiving. My students asked me to say a few words before we all ate (and ate and ate). I expressed how grateful I am to have the job I do, one where I get to go to work every day and see their lovely faces and have FUN. Who knew work could be entertaining? I'm grateful not only to have a job in this poor economy, but to also have one that I enjoy as much as I do. I'm truly a lucky girl.
But my luck goes well beyond my job. I'm so thankful for everything going on in my life. I'm happier now than I have been...well, maybe ever. I have a great family who supports me in (almost) everything I do. I have the world's most amazing boyfriend who would do anything to make me happy. I have loving support of friends who enjoy seeing me so happy after the craziness of a few years ago. I'm just generally grateful for this whole, big gift--the good and the bad--of my days on this earth. I hope I still have many more, but the ones I've had so far have been worth everything.
I am one thankful girl.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends, and to all the non-Americans who might stumble upon this blog, I wish you the gift of appreciation and gratitude. We're all so lucky.
My lovely teacher!
From the bottom of my heart, I want to say that you're the greatest teacher I ever have in my life. Since I have been in this country, nowhere makes me feel comfortable like your class, and nobody makes me feel warm like you. Thank you for all the good things you did.
Thanks,
(student name)
We had a big potluck party the last day of class for the trimester (last Thursday) to celebrate that we have a week off for Thanksgiving. My students asked me to say a few words before we all ate (and ate and ate). I expressed how grateful I am to have the job I do, one where I get to go to work every day and see their lovely faces and have FUN. Who knew work could be entertaining? I'm grateful not only to have a job in this poor economy, but to also have one that I enjoy as much as I do. I'm truly a lucky girl.
But my luck goes well beyond my job. I'm so thankful for everything going on in my life. I'm happier now than I have been...well, maybe ever. I have a great family who supports me in (almost) everything I do. I have the world's most amazing boyfriend who would do anything to make me happy. I have loving support of friends who enjoy seeing me so happy after the craziness of a few years ago. I'm just generally grateful for this whole, big gift--the good and the bad--of my days on this earth. I hope I still have many more, but the ones I've had so far have been worth everything.
I am one thankful girl.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends, and to all the non-Americans who might stumble upon this blog, I wish you the gift of appreciation and gratitude. We're all so lucky.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Vote!
Today is an exciting day. If you are an American citizen, please exercise your right to vote. I love election day when we're dealing with a presidential election. Such incredible energy. Can't wait to see how it all turns out!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Prop 8
On Tuesday, the State of California will not only vote for the next President of the United States, but also on the issue of gay marriage. Proposition 8, if passed, will over-ride the recent California Supreme Court decision making gay marriage legal. I believe strongly in the freedom to think and feel whatever you want; however, I strongly disagree with infringing those ideas and beliefs on others. By passing Prop 8, Californians will be doing exactly that: imposing their own beliefs on others. If you want to believe that gay marriage is wrong, I have no problem with that. However, I do have a HUGE problem with forcing those ideas on others who have no problem with gay marriage...people like me. I wholeheartedly believe in equality for all people. Of course discrimination exists, but we can work to overcome it as best as possible. Once upon a time it was illegal for interracial couples to marry. Imagine the lack of beautiful biracial children on this planet. (It is my personal belief that biracial kids are generally the cutest. Thankfully my future children will fall into that category.)
Over the last few days while driving to work in the morning, there have been crowds of people standing on busy street corners standing with signs reading "Yes on Prop 8." Again, these people are entitled to believe whatever they want. However, I don't have to be forced to see their opinion shoved in my face with a sea of signs that try to flood the intersection. You want to put a sign in your yard or a sticker on your car? Be my guest. But parading these signs in mass on a public street corner? Tacky.
There have been many television ads proclaiming that with the acceptance of gay marriage, teachers will be forced to teach that same sex couples can marry. The problem with these ads is that they are totally and completely false. The Department of Education does NOT have any type of policy dictating that teachers must teach about marriage, straight or gay. No new education code would be created if the CA Supreme Court ruling still stands. I'm sickened that people would stoop low enough to bring children's education into the mix.
We have an unfortunate history in the United States of separation. Every ethnic group in this country has been isolated from the main population. We separated one another based on gender, and we did the same thing based on religion. And now we're carrying on that tradition by separating gay people from the mainstream. When are we going to realize that we're all the same, we just do things a little differently?
The theme for the "yes" side is "protect marriage." I ask, "Protect it from what?" They're not protecting marriage, they're protecting bigotry. Besides, if people are so afraid that marriage needs protection, then maybe the unity of marriage isn't as strong as previously thought? Maybe it's not the concept of marriage that needs protection by your own marriage because it is failing?
I guess the main thing I don't understand about homophobia is why people think it affects them. How does another couple's love affect your life? A straight couple's marriage has no bearing on my life, so why should a gay couple's? You don't want to see the public displays of affection between gay couples? Well, I don't want to see it done by straight couples either. Let's just all keep our hands off each other until we're in private. Deal?
Over the last few days while driving to work in the morning, there have been crowds of people standing on busy street corners standing with signs reading "Yes on Prop 8." Again, these people are entitled to believe whatever they want. However, I don't have to be forced to see their opinion shoved in my face with a sea of signs that try to flood the intersection. You want to put a sign in your yard or a sticker on your car? Be my guest. But parading these signs in mass on a public street corner? Tacky.
There have been many television ads proclaiming that with the acceptance of gay marriage, teachers will be forced to teach that same sex couples can marry. The problem with these ads is that they are totally and completely false. The Department of Education does NOT have any type of policy dictating that teachers must teach about marriage, straight or gay. No new education code would be created if the CA Supreme Court ruling still stands. I'm sickened that people would stoop low enough to bring children's education into the mix.
We have an unfortunate history in the United States of separation. Every ethnic group in this country has been isolated from the main population. We separated one another based on gender, and we did the same thing based on religion. And now we're carrying on that tradition by separating gay people from the mainstream. When are we going to realize that we're all the same, we just do things a little differently?
The theme for the "yes" side is "protect marriage." I ask, "Protect it from what?" They're not protecting marriage, they're protecting bigotry. Besides, if people are so afraid that marriage needs protection, then maybe the unity of marriage isn't as strong as previously thought? Maybe it's not the concept of marriage that needs protection by your own marriage because it is failing?
I guess the main thing I don't understand about homophobia is why people think it affects them. How does another couple's love affect your life? A straight couple's marriage has no bearing on my life, so why should a gay couple's? You don't want to see the public displays of affection between gay couples? Well, I don't want to see it done by straight couples either. Let's just all keep our hands off each other until we're in private. Deal?
Monday, October 13, 2008
A quiet practice just for us
"Where would we stand?"
"Let me show you." I took his hand and walked to the metal arch on rows of pavers at the back of the lawn. I showed him his place, and he wanted to see mine. I quickly moved away so that I could walk towards him, taking my place next to him underneath the stars of pink roses. We stood there, facing each other, silently looking into one another's eyes.
"How will you kiss me?" I asked, the corners of my mouth growing ever northbound.
"First I would remove this," he said as he mimed raising my invisible veil. I informed him that I probably wouldn't wear one. He leaned in for a gentle kiss, a simple peck on my lips.
I looked at him in disbelief. "At least act like you love me." He instantly leaned in, deeply planting his lips on mine, wrapping his arms around me, bending me backwards slightly. Before I could pull away to express my satisfaction, he quickly lowered his hands and squeezed my behind. I laughed in his mouth.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the rocking bench on the patio. We sat together, rocking back and forth, cuddling in the cold wind, bundled in our sweatshirts, warming one another as best as possible. We discussed different times of year to hold the event, discussing pros and cons of each choice. We described the images in our heads of how we want this place to look, he mostly expressing that he would say yes to anything I want. We talked about who we want present. He told family stories to help me understand his experiences better, and I looked into his eyes, understanding that he is an even kinder soul than I previously thought. He spoke with such excitement. Our happiness wrapped around us like a blanket, keeping us from feeling the wind's chill. I told him that the day didn't matter too much to me because it was so much more than just that day. What matters to me are all the days that follow because they will be spent with him.
We walked back into my parents' house, standing silently with our arms wrapped around each other. The realization that this day will come brought us such calm and contentment. We stood there in the quietness of the house, listening to the absence of anyone else.
We came back home so he could bundle me up in his thick blanket, caring for me in my ill state. He caressed my face, whispering, "Poor thing" as he kissed my cheek. I felt such a deep, peaceful love.
Later he called his family, once again letting them know I was with him. This time I spoke on the phone, helping his dad practice the little English that he once learned. His dad giggled nervously, trying his best. My heart filled with such tenderness for this man I've never met. When time was almost up on the calling card, his mother took over the phone to try to fit in one last message. She wanted to thank me for bringing such joy to her once melancholic son's life. She is grateful that I am the reason she once again hears contentment in his voice, saying that she can hear the smile on his face. She wished she could express this directly to me, but this was the best she could do with our lack of a common language. She hoped that he brought as much joy to my life as I do to his. I wished she could see the smile her words brought to my face.
The phone call ended, and I looked him in the eye and said, "I have never been more sure about anything in my life."
"Let me show you." I took his hand and walked to the metal arch on rows of pavers at the back of the lawn. I showed him his place, and he wanted to see mine. I quickly moved away so that I could walk towards him, taking my place next to him underneath the stars of pink roses. We stood there, facing each other, silently looking into one another's eyes.
"How will you kiss me?" I asked, the corners of my mouth growing ever northbound.
"First I would remove this," he said as he mimed raising my invisible veil. I informed him that I probably wouldn't wear one. He leaned in for a gentle kiss, a simple peck on my lips.
I looked at him in disbelief. "At least act like you love me." He instantly leaned in, deeply planting his lips on mine, wrapping his arms around me, bending me backwards slightly. Before I could pull away to express my satisfaction, he quickly lowered his hands and squeezed my behind. I laughed in his mouth.
He grabbed my hand and led me to the rocking bench on the patio. We sat together, rocking back and forth, cuddling in the cold wind, bundled in our sweatshirts, warming one another as best as possible. We discussed different times of year to hold the event, discussing pros and cons of each choice. We described the images in our heads of how we want this place to look, he mostly expressing that he would say yes to anything I want. We talked about who we want present. He told family stories to help me understand his experiences better, and I looked into his eyes, understanding that he is an even kinder soul than I previously thought. He spoke with such excitement. Our happiness wrapped around us like a blanket, keeping us from feeling the wind's chill. I told him that the day didn't matter too much to me because it was so much more than just that day. What matters to me are all the days that follow because they will be spent with him.
We walked back into my parents' house, standing silently with our arms wrapped around each other. The realization that this day will come brought us such calm and contentment. We stood there in the quietness of the house, listening to the absence of anyone else.
We came back home so he could bundle me up in his thick blanket, caring for me in my ill state. He caressed my face, whispering, "Poor thing" as he kissed my cheek. I felt such a deep, peaceful love.
Later he called his family, once again letting them know I was with him. This time I spoke on the phone, helping his dad practice the little English that he once learned. His dad giggled nervously, trying his best. My heart filled with such tenderness for this man I've never met. When time was almost up on the calling card, his mother took over the phone to try to fit in one last message. She wanted to thank me for bringing such joy to her once melancholic son's life. She is grateful that I am the reason she once again hears contentment in his voice, saying that she can hear the smile on his face. She wished she could express this directly to me, but this was the best she could do with our lack of a common language. She hoped that he brought as much joy to my life as I do to his. I wished she could see the smile her words brought to my face.
The phone call ended, and I looked him in the eye and said, "I have never been more sure about anything in my life."
Friday, September 26, 2008
I'm pissed off and not going to take it anymore
This whole financial meltdown here in the United States has me stressed out. Sure, I'm already stressed out from grad school and work, but this just adds to it. The strange thing is that I know I have no personal reason to stress over this country's financial crisis. I'm not one of the masses who bought a house I couldn't afford; unlike those people, I actually put a huge down-payment on my house and can afford my mortgage with no problem. My job is stable, and I'm nearly tenured (and considering how much my boss loves me, I'm guessing I'm pretty safe until the tenure goes through). My money is FDIC insured in the bank, so it's mine even if the bank goes under. And most importantly I'm only 33, so I have no plans of retiring anytime soon; therefore, my pension can drop for now because I have time to ride this out.
Since I'm financially sound, I'm pissed off at everyone else for making me still stress out over this situation. I'm pissed at this administration for allowing things to get this bad. I'm pissed at all the banks and mortgage/broker companies who were driven by greed. I'm pissed at the stupid Americans who couldn't face reality and live within their means so they borrowed more money than they could afford to pay back. I'm pissed that this whole situation is going to affect so many things in our culture that we probably don't even realize yet. I'm pissed that people keep bitching about the education budget in California being cut when the governor decided to cut 10 percent from ALL government aided agencies. I'm pissed that because of this financial mess, property taxes aren't being paid by some (even though mine are extremely high and I have to pay them) so the lack of money will trickle down into everything we depend on, from our schools to the police and fire departments, to the local public library. I'm just generally pissed off at people's stupidity and greed.
I'm trying to do the best I can. I don't spend money if I can't afford something. I didn't even take out a loan to pay my graduate school fees even though I'm attending a private school (since I had no options but an online program). I haven't been paid since last June and I've forked out a bunch of money this summer for summer school, but did I make that anyone else's problem? No. I simply tapped into my emergency fund a bit until I get paid next month with my first check of the school year. Are things tight for me now? Sure. Am I making that anyone else's problem? Absolutely not.
So, fuck you greedy Americans. The greed flows from the top down. Fuck you for making me worry about the state of our country...and the world...when I've been trying to do everything right. I have enough stress in my life. I've even been taking it out on the people I love most. I just want to deal with my own problems and try to help those who need an extra hand, not because they fucked up, but because life just handed them shit for luck. So fuck you to everyone who got our country involved in the mess. Fuck you for stressing me out.
Since I'm financially sound, I'm pissed off at everyone else for making me still stress out over this situation. I'm pissed at this administration for allowing things to get this bad. I'm pissed at all the banks and mortgage/broker companies who were driven by greed. I'm pissed at the stupid Americans who couldn't face reality and live within their means so they borrowed more money than they could afford to pay back. I'm pissed that this whole situation is going to affect so many things in our culture that we probably don't even realize yet. I'm pissed that people keep bitching about the education budget in California being cut when the governor decided to cut 10 percent from ALL government aided agencies. I'm pissed that because of this financial mess, property taxes aren't being paid by some (even though mine are extremely high and I have to pay them) so the lack of money will trickle down into everything we depend on, from our schools to the police and fire departments, to the local public library. I'm just generally pissed off at people's stupidity and greed.
I'm trying to do the best I can. I don't spend money if I can't afford something. I didn't even take out a loan to pay my graduate school fees even though I'm attending a private school (since I had no options but an online program). I haven't been paid since last June and I've forked out a bunch of money this summer for summer school, but did I make that anyone else's problem? No. I simply tapped into my emergency fund a bit until I get paid next month with my first check of the school year. Are things tight for me now? Sure. Am I making that anyone else's problem? Absolutely not.
So, fuck you greedy Americans. The greed flows from the top down. Fuck you for making me worry about the state of our country...and the world...when I've been trying to do everything right. I have enough stress in my life. I've even been taking it out on the people I love most. I just want to deal with my own problems and try to help those who need an extra hand, not because they fucked up, but because life just handed them shit for luck. So fuck you to everyone who got our country involved in the mess. Fuck you for stressing me out.
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