It doesn't matter

This is a story of Tracey and Mr. Intentional.
But let me introduce them to you first.
Tracey had inadequacy issues from her childhood that kept arising here and there in life. Although she never really thought of herself as important, she kept feeling like there was more to be had in loving others. To Tracey, there was always someone who needed love. She decided that she would do her best to support others in their love psychology.

She had seen Mr. Intentional around the way a few times. He always smiled at her and called her to his path. His path was always so shiny. So full of promise but she had heard of others who followed him. She heard of others who answered his beckoning and saw so many of them burn. For his road was paved with honesty, desire and purity. All of the things Tracey knew about but was too afraid to maintain them too often. She had heard about the heat and passion that lived in him and she did her best to avoid him.

But lately he seemed to be following her everywhere. To church. To family meetings. He was always at the hospital and always at work and always in a fly brown suit looking dapper as ever. Sometimes he had flowers. Sometimes he had a boombox playing her favorite tunes. Sometimes he had a lunch full of calories and sometimes he just sat there next to her reading the newspaper or a book of poetry or something. But he kept following her.

Finally one night when he had followed her home with the intention of cooking pasta, she succumbed to the feeling like there wasn't much she could do about his presence and she gave him her phone number. And they started seeing each other and talking to each other often.

Mr. Intentional was one of those guys who just needed a little bit more time. He was full of ideas. He knew all the coolest places to go and the greatest clubs to party at. He always knew what was exciting. He saw everyone for their potential. He was one of those men that had it. And he wanted to share it with everyone. He also knew that his name made people worried because if they stayed for too long followed without using their heads, they always ended up in his house taking off all their clothes and stripping themselves of reason on account of the heat and poor outcome. He knew his house was hell. But he wasn't going to stop anyone from going there. He knew so many good-intentioned people who ended up at his house. Because they wanted to be him. But when things went a wry, they didn't know who to blame. They didn't accept the mirrored walls, doors and staircase. They told everyone and everyone ran away.

Anyway, Mr. Intentional and Tracey had good chemistry. And sometimes Tracey thought he would be a great boyfriend, if she could just find out where he lived.

A short one.

I will never make sense of a person like me in this world.

The Worth of Change

I have morphed into an unknown. A being of completely circumstantial emotion and reaction. I am nothing like you. But you insist on being with me.
I continue to bite dust. I continue to burn holes in this life because of some substantial need to fill your life with purpose.
If you knew me like I know me. You might hate me. And as I continued to learn of myself, I saw the looseness in my knowing what I thought I knew was myself. So much of who you know is a product of pain, abandonment, insincerity, need.
So much of who you know is a product of circumstance. Yet they told me that somehow, I asked to be brought here.
I have to disagree with this, since so much of this life has had me questioning if I should continue. Should I continue this walk without the things that I live for? Should I continue this walk without the peace of mind I need. What would it have meant for me to be prepared enough not to give, or to shine, or to inspire or to…love.

I scaled the emotional walls. I tried to pass those tests, I gave and I gave, I forgave and forgave, I lied and I told the truth, I approached with honesty and dignity. I put God on my side, the left and the right, unashamedly I loved.

The sorcery behind my fate is to catch on that I should never have given, or tried or loved. One as selfish as me should have been more selfish and less concerned with the proclivity of others to hide, or to lie or to be false or to live behind walls.

I sit here. Broken, disguised, alone and bitter. Used up to my core. Sick to my stomach that… this, this… right now, is what I have to show for all of those moments of passion, conviction and purity. Its mine. I own it. Its tasty. Bitter.

Bitter like an aloe as I try to define the past and this current presence of mind.
Writing here and there to maintain my sanity so that I could try loving again this time stronger with less plea
To affirm that I am whole again, not borrowed or broken or blue
To affirm that I have made conscious choices and take responsibility for loving you.
And being wrong about it.

Now me with my heart behind a wall, am no better than the ones before,
But I will do my best not to take for granted the ones that want to know,
What is was like to love like God and still live to tell a tale.
A love journal here and a tear there with wrinkles and scars and pounds to prove that at least I tried it.

Music from hope, from heart, from heaven.

(Listening to Miles Davis "All Blues")

Music saves me.
It soothes me.
It helps me process this life.
Words and melodies arranged in a way that reflect my emotions. Or speak to my situations or agree with my decisions.
I want to say I "love" music but that is too base an understanding of what exist between me and this life entity.
Music doesn't need me to exist or even to appreciate it.
It just is. It just does. It just gives and allows me a position.
A creator, innovator, appreciator, or just a consumer. All irrelevantly relevant at the same time.

Representing this relationship in my movements.
Collectively shaking, spinning, gyrating, whining, head-nodding, foot-tapping or simply being elevated.
Independently elevated by sound.

Bouncing off of walls.
Spending all of my money.
Keeping up with the technology so I can unequivocally loose myself in its embraces.
Octaves and majors and minors and rests and renditions.
Highs and lows and semitones and crescendos of sound.
Allegros of want.

And I listen to this tickling of my heart and know that I live for it.
Would die for it.
Couldn't do without it.
Like air.
Like water.
Like sex.
Like love.

When this world ends...should it end...
Or since It promised us a "world without end"
In its transitions,
I'll listen for the beat, the snare, the drum roll.
I'll listen for the wind from his lungs and the pounding of her ivories and the strumming of those strings confirming that this is life.
I'll listen for the waves and foots steps and claps and shakes and booms.
I'll watch and feel all as if each sound was connected to a red blood cell and the arrangement were a sign.
That each breath, each rhythm, each clot was life.

Because it lives in me. On me. For me. Of me. Enveloping me. Making me awkward...
So that my soul could respond to this world, almost daily,
Like a lover.

Holy Mother and the like....

I was walking my dog a few weeks ago and happened upon about 6 Korean women under a big striped canopy on the corner.
They looked like they were selling something.
Two of them approached me and asked me if I wanted some coffee. I politely decline but asked them what they were selling...and then it happened? Imagine in slow motion, lips moving, smile formatted to show exactly eight and a half front teeth. Eyes skewed with her head to the side, she asked me, "Do you know Holy Mother?"

She was one of those chosen people, that heard something that sounded true and she dedicated her life to it.

A few different points of identification are at work here. I live in Korea so...
1. The adoption of the English language means the adaptation of culture and the perpetuation of its disingenuous habits, including the proselytization of religious beliefs.
2. The long overdue women's rights revolution in Korea is taking a more scenic route through a spiritual gender revolution.

As much I like to think of myself as progressive, I can't really get with this whole religious fanaticism that goes on in Korea. I don't understand how there are elements of their cultural habits (like grounded toilets and phlegm regurgitation) that seem to stick and others (like age old Confucian tradition) that is getting thrown out with the bath water with the Americanization of Korea. Values are crazy...and maybe I think too much, but I truly believe that dogmatic beliefs and occults that people gravitate to in the circumstances that are created in dry-ass Korea are reactionary. They are reactionary to the need and the fear that life is not what we think it is and in moments of randomness and spiritual irrelevance, we need to feel important. We need to feel valuable.

Nuts.

I say stand still.

Writtenhouse

I like these guys alot. Like ALOT!

Insecurity

I have second guessed myself a lot.
I have second guessed myself out of brilliant ideas.
I have second guessed myself out of love.
And recently, I second guessed myself into some drama.

The psychological fall back of second guessing is going against your intuition. Its saying yes when you really want to say no and saying no when you really want to say yes. Its rarely following through on what you say you want to do or will do. Its asking people to accept that you haven't figured yourself out enough to be about something so you are about nothing but they should still like you, support you and want you around.

Insecurity is a powerful mindful dynamic that happens between your conscious self and your alter-ego or your conscious self and your damaged ego... either way, the part of us that doesn't feel good enough or feels too good enough to be who we are at our fullest, is also the part of us that talks us out of our best or into our worst states of self.

Recently, I battled my own ego over someone else's ego.
Her ego got the better of her and my ego got the better of me and now the damage is irreparable. Should love have prevailed, it would have looked like care and not disregard and disrespect. Time cannot erase these kinds of wounds because the desire to be right has now outweighed my desire to be friends. And its all for a good cause.

However, when she was cursing me out, she brought up how much reassurance I needed in order to work with her and how hard it was to convince me that I was capable of doing something great. Nothing else she said was true, but this was the only part that was true. But it wasn't because I didn't think I was capable. I wasn't second guessing my ability to perform this task or complete this project. I was second guessing my involvement with her. It just never sat right nor did I feel comfortable enough to work with her because I didn't trust her. But I went against my feelings anyway because I just couldn't find the justification not to trust her. The universe opened my eyes to my own instinctual reservations, I neglected to follow and the end result...drama.

Now people like me don't always have bottom lines. Even when I try to reach one, I know that circumstances could change my mind. But I know for a fact that underneath all of my insecurity is a bright shiny loving self. A sharing, giving, "want the best for everybody else" self. A "walk in the light with your head held high" self. A good self. A strong self. A confident self and a discerning self. I am just hoping I can get there more often.

In fact, maybe we can get there together. But before we do, be very aware that when we walk too high or walk too low, consequence and karma are waiting for us. So best be sorting out those motives and thoughts.

Kisses

Resentment

Resentment does more harm to you than it does the people you are resenting.
It prevents you from starting fresh because you are holding on to the past.

One of the things I want to define in this blog is what is means "to hold on to the past." Because, I never knew how much deep seeded resentment was a part of me not letting go of things.

"Holding onto the past" is you remembering what happened in full detail even down to the feelings of inadequacy/disappointment with the realization that we just should have known better.
"Holding onto the past", is you remembering every time you see the offender the pain or the frustration.

A friend of mine said to me one day, "You have to forgive people and not hold their wrongs against them." And even though it was a truth I already knew, it was resounding that day because being able to forgive and "forget" is the whole foundation of a spiritual life. It is the absence of judgment with the capacity for minimal error, right? Yes, but that shyt is hard.

Its hard because when people, circumstances, life grips us with pain, insecurity, disenchantment and/or wrong, we want to see justice in our interactions or in our ability to get past it. We want to know that others will pay for their offenses. But the truth is, its not even up to us to make sure someone else learns their lesson.

It is,however, up to us to find hope in our movement forward.

Considering Friendship

I broke up with a friend.
It was nasty.
One of the nastiest of nasty ways that one could carry on with. It was despicable how comfortable I felt in abusing this person and she would say she didn't deserve it.

So I am putting this out there. Because its definitely one of the few things I will regret until I die. When you deliberately hurt someone it takes a toll on your psyche. On your psyche of good and the good you tend to believe you are capable of. I don't think most of us contemplate the scale of good that you may be willing to attest to but we always seem to know what we are capable right before the intense emotional pull of something good or bad actually happens.

We blame lots of things for our pain and then the subsequent pain we inflict on others...
-Parents
-The ideas surrounding Love
-Lack of Love
-Other peoples' actions
-Anger
-Chemical influence (alcohol, drugs, prescribed and un-prescribed medication)
-PMS
-Fear
-Fear of losing/failing
-Shame
The list is extensive but these are the ones I seem to be battling in my war zone of a mind.

Change, improvement, and prerogative make strange bedfellows when you have things to do that affect more than one person. Changing your lot/cards/direction takes courage and we chicken out most of the time. Which is why it pains us to see these extremes in others.

Sometimes the people who we believe in don't believe in themselves, the love that we have means nothing, the struggle for betterment and enlightenment stops being spiritual.

So by dabbling in my own evil, I discovered, that I, too am angry and bittter but getting better.
I, too, am disheartened but I keep hope alive by recognizing the beauty in myself and others.
I, too, tend to be disenfranchised by the things that really separate us like race, money, class, education.

Its very honest to think sometimes that you have a right to give yourself some credit for accomplishing the person that you are or the progress that you have made. That you have the right to be "better than" people who do not think like you, or love like you, or cry like you. Or who never tried as much as you tried and made something better of themselves.

You are not better than anyone, really. But your ego is real element of who you are and when you look around you and see that the mirror of "friends" that exists are sometimes people, you don't love or don't understand or don't appreciate or don't like...You end up with rage, anger and bad nerves. You end up with the will to unleash some of that negativity on people that you have little to no respect for.

So what the hell am I trying to say?

There are no excuses for being abusive.
There are none.
There are no go backs when you hurt someone even if you don't mean to.
And life... is give and take.
You have to find the balance...not to give too much or take too much. But love unconditionally when you feel capable. If you don't, you lose.

This discovery showed me (and now I am showing you) that most of the time, you are not who you think you are. We just tend to just scratch the surface of our highest good and our darkest evil and then follow what feels right. And even though there isn't anyone really who can judge us, we still have to figure out when the right feeling is safe, useful, necessary and then move forward.

There comes a time when you may very well have to move on but it doesn't require anything but your willing heart and change of mind. To consider friendship is to consider vulnerability, trust, sacrifice, understanding and love (like most relationships). If you are missing these things, then well, its over. Just don't go up in flames. Destroying your last memory. Because everything happens for a reason. Everything.

Up

Its time to go up.
Up and away.
Its time to let go,
Hopefully.
That tomorrow will bring a new day.
Full of promise and opportunity
And life will release me from its burdensome negativity.

Its time to go up.
To alleviate the anxiety building up.
The chance to give thanks for all this love.
The reason why I still use my hands and rub
These bodies down and insinuate something like love.

Its time to go up.
To close my eyes and share with you a piece
Of a heart and mind that sometimes feels like me
And other times is possessed by experience
or fear or another time.
Either way its all mine
And I couldn't blame you for it.

Cuz we are going up.

There is that chance that we could hurt each other.
I could take a moment and ask another
But it doesn't mean I'll avoid pain, my lover.
Instead we could sit with memories.
Propel you and I into our realm
Soaking up the sun in each other's atmosphere.
Taking time to fly.

UP, UP and AWAY.
I want to go Up!

That thing (I can't name)

In hunger we search for that thing,
To satiate our understandings.
Most times our understandings are wrong,
So we keep wanting.

In passion we long for that thing,
To climb mountains
And arrive at mountain tops.
We could never really stay there even though we toil so hard for those feelings. Accomplishment.

In motive we want for that thing,
The honesty we avoid sometimes so we can justifiably walk a certain way.
The loving of the insignificance so we no longer have to face certain kinds deception,
Instead we wait until it all sounds true.

But what trumps all desire,
What makes you and me and the sunrise such a reality,
Is the moment we stop wanting, stop begging, stop reaching...and be still.
Like a tower, like a tree, like a mountain, like a building, like a jewel. Like concrete!

It plain old hurts to lose so why not give the universe a chance to give you, you.
In all your glory.
Shiny and comfortable and meant to be.

Yeah.

Identity

Labels. Labels. Labels.

Everybody has them. Everybody fits at least 4 of them without trying. By merely existing.
Labels. You can't really seem to get away from them and even when you try not to label other people, experience gets in the way. You become...knowing and all knowing about the characteristics of that person who you really don't want to label because...you hate labels.

Identity is a label.
We are all something. A daughter, a son, a brother, a sister, a child, an adult, a writer, an artist, an alcoholic, a flake...whatever. We all have something that makes us real, memorable or unique, and that "thing" is a label.

When I think about identity, I try to think about the up side and the down side of it.
Like...trying to live spiritually and reliant on feelings, is perceived as something.
Being Black is perceived as something.
Being a woman, is perceived as something.
Being honest or straight-forward is perceived as something.
Over-compensating and imposing is perceived as a lack of something. So identifying with myself is a matter of perception. Who I share that self-perceived perspective with, would be someone, who according to their own understanding of my word, would "know" me.

Identity follows us everywhere.
Be it, trans-continental or local, we don't really have the option of disappearing.

Identity... can be a brilliant thing. Claiming ideas/ideals about who we really are to feed our egos. I reckon the good kind. It allows us the chance to be something we believe to be true in word and form, trying to evolve in the framework of cultural/class/racial/social identity is a distinct human experience. Because from adolescence, we start to really shape our bodies with a personality and panache. And effectively start adding on the baggage based solely on whether or not it is acceptable to others.

These days I would rather strip myself of another label in order to get another layer of humanity past the pestilence called baggage, but I tend to think that loving myself helps a lot. Breaking down one concern after another, claiming an identity does not cover me or protect me, from shame, embarrassment, or misunderstandings. It most certainly allows other people the freedom to adopt pre-suppositions about me and my circumstances. And one would say, I shouldn't care...This is life.

But is it really?

Cheating...or the bigger picture?

So...
There is all this talk about cheating going on and I have some perspective to add to it.

Attraction is, by definition, the gravitational pull of one object to another.
Attraction is, by definition, the electromagnetic force that pulls one mental disposition to a corresponding circumstance or event.

All in accordance with what we are...Human. So just like the proliferation of mankind...
Attraction will never stop.
Attraction will never end.

So now that we have established this, we should try to look at infidelities in this light.
The act of cheating means different things to the people in the relationship as opposed to the person outside of it.

I think cheating happens. Not to everyone, but it happens.

And as someone who, seems to always crush other peoples' partners, I always think about how easy/appealing it is sometimes to destroy the moral fabrics of love relationships.

On one hand, I get self conscious about the entire thing. Like what is it really saying about me, if knowingly get with someone else's partner? Do I have low self-esteem? Am I being scandalous? Am I just being indulgent and self-gratifying? How am I going to look if I don't care about this woman's feelings? And should she even want this dude if he would risk the relationship?

And then on the other hand, is attraction. Bump all that other stuff.
All the things you like and want and feel and desire is looking you in the face asking to be acknowledged, and the only thing standing in your way is this other person and a connection that exists with someone else, that has absolutely nothing to do with you. And you just want it. So to stop yourself is conceding. Its admitting defeat. Its being completely disrespectful to the fate of the cosmic operation. And love, actually, is one's motivation.

Is there not enough merit in one's motivation for love?
If there in lies a spiritual connection in the revelation of a union between people, would that not merit one's motivation for love?
Or would you rather just throw these notions under the bus?

Moreover is the truth of deeds, actions and their interpretations.
Its hard for me to look at every person I am attracted to and think that my heightened level of awareness for this person's energy is automatically meant to be interpreted as romantic. I mean, then I would be having romantic rendezvous's with damn near half of the world's population.

Lastly is a question of ownership and boundaries.
Does anyone really belong to anyone else?
Does commitment always have to constitute emotional/physical co-dependency on one other person?
Do relationships really suffer or thrive with the knowledge and freedom to be who you are with whoever you choose in respectful capacities to your love arrangements?

And then other times (which is most times), people are just horny or unhappy or uncommunicative.

For all the intents and purposes of writing this particular rant, I would have to say that cheating is not just about one or two things. Its about a myriad of possibilities with varying mental/emotional states of being. Its about change, love, indifference and frustrations. Its about getting down to the core values and convictions about love. And one should not venture there if you are not willing to do the spiritual work necessary to thrive knowing where you should be, with who you should be, not based on a ring or necklace or rent or your ego or an institutional piece of paper telling you that your feelings towards you partner will somehow automatically make you an adulterer for loving someone else outside of that...because you can and you will if your love is not motivated by something more pure and riskier than the spews and songs about love in our societies.

The journey is long and sometimes lonely. But then, where would we be if everything, everybody, everywhere, always stayed the same? But when you find it and know its there and its yours even though it has the freedom to be absent or nullified at any point...But its still there anyway...Like God...Like love, then this conversation is forgotten and we get back to making the world a better place for our children.

But somethings are just not meant to be.

But maybe I'm being too idealistic about our "selves" and our hormones. Maybe I should just go buy some shoes.

Kisses

Man Tears.

I like men who cry.

I like men who know how to express their feelings so that they get what they want.

I like men who tell me how they feel and show me how they feel.

I like men who know what masculinity is and still embrace their femininity.

I like men who know that self love and self discipline are a part of growing up.

I like men who are gentle.

I like men who are strong enough to be vulnerable sometimes.

I like men who cry.

Because our humanity is full of so many emotions and negating all of them so people will respect you or engage you or appreciate you is someone one dimensional.

We are not one dimensional. We are multi-dimensional with memories, consciousness, sub-consciousness, deliberations, intentions, agendas...We are full of motivations and necessities and obligations.

So, should we stop for one moment and definitively experience everything...to its most imminent sensation, would we not feel such gratitude for life?

I remember one night, I went out with some friends and I was craving a Wolfhound Burger and ranch sauce for weeks. When I got there and ordered my food, my lips probably started to water. But what I remember to this day was what happened when it came. I tasted it. I tasted it as an abundance of flavor existing with me in that moment. I needed it and it needed me so that we could recognize each other. I sat there in silence, surrounded by loving friends but not hearing a word they said, not seeing a damn thing around me, just lost in the moment and flavors and meditation of that immensely satisfying hamburger. It was amazing and the experience has never been the same.

As I sit here and writing about that high state of consciousness where every fiber in my being was focused on tasting that burger, I can't help but think how passionate my life has become on account of wanting to feel everything to its capacity...including love. But strong enough and balance enough to know when its over or maximized so that I don't, in return, ruin the memory of having it and feeling high off of it even when its on life support.

So...yeah. As mirroring bodies that want to incarnate for the purpose of growth...
I hope my lover cries. I hope he/she cries a good cry from time to time. So our souls can convene and reconvene in purity and honesty.

Kisses

Low Self-Esteem...Real Talks

I have low self-esteem.

Not every minute of everyday, but I see how it is affecting my morals and my so-called "honesty and sincerity" when dealing with other peoples feelings.

Sometimes I see how I lack the confidence to do exactly what I want and say exactly what I want. Good, bad or inconsequential.

At the root of my problem is the thought that I am unlovable. I have been constantly aggravated by the thought of being alone. And it means a lot more to me than other people because, I have always been alone.

Loneliness is not just about feeling a deep need to connect with others in solitary moments, its also about gaining something insightful and indicative in and of your affections of others.

So, I find myself over-compensating too often, the need to be complete. I find myself over-compensating so karma doesn't come back and bite me in the ass. I find myself over-compensating because I dance with Mr. Intentional too often and just when he brings me to the gates of hell, I retreat with remorse and conscience.

And then there is when the pendulum swings the other way, and I am so confident, so full of grace, so happy and content with who I am that all I do is look for the mirrors of goodness around me. That is truthfully where most of you all are.

Living in a love state of mind has a price...and its the unconditional road that we stand on when we don't know better, to do better. And so, since I know that I can dish my fair share of abuse when I am ready, I endear enough of my own...because there is some value in it.

And at other times, there is no value...you just have low self-esteem.

Everybody plays a fool...just not every day. You know what I mean?

"We keep on returning, because the lessons need learning."

kisses

Single Black Female a.k.a Mother Earth

Kanye says "...addicted to retail."
But I'm not addicted to retail,
I am just trying not to get stale,
seeing my friends pale
Not having the same issues.

But its abuse.

I don't want to complain that I'm not addicted to retail,
I just watch my sisters trying to keep our son's out of jail.
Seeing fire in their spirit
and want the burning to change.
and these mothers with bullet holed son's
and all she can do is wail and rage.

Have you ever heard that wailing?
Heard your ears and souls conforming?
Heard the people away sleeping and sailing.

While the youth are running from the gun shots flailing?

This is a disgrace.
"When a man loves a woman," said Percy
And opting to be better than my parents but not judging,
Because the Lord had mercy.
But its repetition is a disgrace and frustrating.

And my disenchantment feels abnormal.
When all the reaping of the sowing feels like I sowed hell.
All the reaping of the sowing says I planted evil.
And I don't really understand when my blessed heart has been so open
To give and give and love and love and lose so much that I figured the cosmos is joking.
It can't really be like this
Let me tell E.T to phone home
I feel ready for my place in sky if all I have here is the most trouble for stroking.

And should ego really play a part in losing so much
Well then its the kind of ego that makes me consistently be a fool.
And my beauty is completely distorted
Because I feel ugly inside
There must be a sess-pool
From where my heart used to be.

If I love you, humanity...and you treat me this way.

Rejection and Technology

"I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work. So I called him at home and then he emailed me to my BlackBerry and so I texted to his cell and now you just have to go around checking all these portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. Its exhausting." - Some clip from the movie "He's Just Not That Into You".

I was recently un-friended on Facebook.
My feelings started to be affected by the sentimentality of this particular action. Since being someone's online friend or fan doesn't necessarily warrant you to be a true friend, I started wondering about the values attached to these online friends. As in what the varying degrees of online familiarity are really meant to represent.

Defining online friendships:

I have friends online that I have never met. I like them. They like me. We connect because we may have similar interests, like music, art, Dj's, school, a video game...whatever.

I am friends with people who do not know me in any capacity at all but they want me to support them, like promoters, musicians, sales-people and other writers.

I am also friends with people who I met once in my life or are school mates from years ago, and we connect online to either relive those memories or keep in touch, but either way they are clearly not relevant in my current life.

Then there are the homies. People we love and can't live without, they are in the mix too. But we don't really depend on the online relativity and correspondence to maintain these relationships unless we are separated from these people by distance.

Lastly, there are the romantic interests...And we are going to talk about this.

Online romance or romances that spill over on to the internet, are precarious and volatile.
They are doomed because of the inadvertent way we perceive actions and/or non-action in the cyber world. Having a lover as a Facebook friend, means I end up being privy to things I would not otherwise know or think about had it not been for these terribly interpretive phenomenons. And hiding everything is suspicious. And breaking up is ridiculous on account of having to watch, deliberately or otherwise your thwarted/pined upon lover live out their existence online. (possibly with other people). It is exhausting. And its torture. Unless you delete each other. But how does that happen? Do you have a conversation about it? Do you talk about it, so both of you know what it means? Do you negotiate what is relevant to the dynamics of your newly expounded upon relationships or freedoms? See all of this...these questions and notions of how to deal, are contingent on sophisticated views of communication between lovers. Its highly unlikely.

But when rejection hits a nerve...when all of these things become relevant to our feelings and we become concerned, there is no way things end well. They can't, they won't, they don't. And some of us end up looking crazy! From online msg, sms, email, voicemail, written letter form and the grapevine.

There are now just too many ways to tell someone its over than the most honest and respectful one...face to face.

I'm just saying.

What do you think?

To my "white" friends (and other ethnic friends who need to get with the program).

I want to speak about a certain silence that exists when I know that I am the only person of color you know.

I want to speak about a certain apprehension or fear in knowing someone like me. A black person. A person of color.

What you expect from me is a lot different than what I expect from you.
And it calls into play the question of privilege that so many of you forget, or choose not to recognize its existence in the politics that make up our friendships.

So... What does that mean for you? What exactly am I trying to say?

Well friend, I am trying to say that I see a double standard in the way we do things... How we absorb things...When its cool to be about things...
You are afraid of me.
You are afraid of blackness.
You are afraid of African identities.
You seem to be self-conscious when surrounded by people of color.
You seem less willing to participate in my life when you know that you may be the only white person there, but I never see you take that as an opportunity to grow, I only see you take that as an opportunity to run or draw a line.
Becoming cultured and not acculturated should be personal obligation, but even if you did end up being acculturated (like so many of us were against our will), would that really be so bad in 2010 when you can choose what you like and love it and rock it?

Being black means so many things to me, but my being your black friend probably means a lot more politically to you than it does me.

Having black friends doesn't make you any less of a racist and loving Bob Marley doesn't make you any less of a racist and reading or watching Malcolm X or Martin Luther King Jr. or Dave Chapelle, doesn't make you any less racist.

What makes you, you and neutral, and supportive, is the willingness to accept that historically, white people have done some messed-up shit and as a result you feel afraid sometimes to be surrounded by "too many black people". Feel that anxiety and confront it. I'm sure you will grow.

Its admitting to yourself that you are ignorant about the struggles of African people beyond its third-world context. Know that the realities you witness on the 6 o'clock news or in a PSA about Somalia or Ethiopia or Congo are only a fraction of the truth, (if that!) and you owe it to yourself to do more research. Especially if it plucks on your heart strings.

Its accepting that you have a lot to learn about the human condition and resilience in the 21st century from the long standing contributions of dedicated people to humanitarian progress (of all ethnic backgrounds) and taking a hard look at race and its terribly inaccurate discourse. Its accepting your identity, by accepting people for who and what they are.
Having an anti-oppression stance on race (gender, class, economics, neo-colonialism, etc) makes you a tolerant and progressive person.

This, my friend, is work. Its intellectual work. Its mental work. Its spiritual work in the attempts to better yourself so you can see the brilliance and goodness in the creators off-spring. The divine intention for all of us being together and loving one another.
This work has some harsh realities but at least you may be able to move on.

Technically speaking, I would have far more just cause to be afraid of you in social settings and context. I have far more just cause to be non-supportive and absent from your attempts at progress and understanding. I was told a bunch of one-sided lies in school about the history of mankind and its nations all in favor of your human experience over mine. Systematically.

And until I see my white friends, taking a chance to educate themselves on the misgivings and fallacies of our current society...
Until I see my white friends showing up with the capacity to grow in love and not in the colonizing of space and ideas or the appropriation of culture or class...
Until I see my white friends take a stand against white privilege and the perils its causes in our relationships, communities and the greater society at large...
Until I see my white friends getting with the program...

We are going to have awkward silences...
We are going to have insincere moments...
We are going to have a disconnect because its time for change.

Burst your bubble of privilege and learn something.

Kisses

Korea, Me and these Idiosyncracies...

So.

I try to be positive and look at the humanity in all of these experiences but I figured it couldn't hurt to share some of these things with you. I hope you laugh.

1. Being of African decent.
At school, its cool. It looks like the kids have had enough exposure and for the most part, it doesn't feel like I am that different. My being Black, is about as measurable as my being Canadian or my being foreign to the Korean cultural context. From time to time, I get a stare that last longer than any other average acknowledgment. Old people weather me intriguing, they don't mind staring at me in my face and taking in my hair, shoe size, leg length. Its intrusive but completely understandable. I try to smile and let them know I am aware of their gaze. Sometimes they respond nicely and nod back. Sometimes they pretend it didn't happen and continue looking at something else until I have looked away so they can get back to taking me in.

2. Being tall.
It seems like I am taller and bigger than most Korean women. Even if I am not, you would never know this because most of the clothing stores I walk into greet me and the sales associates proceed to clearly state in English "no big size". Granted, I have longer legs and arms than most people. Even in Toronto do I often see the high water side of wearing pants and long sleeves. So I get it. But for some reason, its a lot more endearing here where it seems that both shoes and clothing are illusive in a North American size 4/6.

3. Space issues.
Why? Why do I get bumped around and pushed out of the way? Everything else would seem bearable except for being pushed and jammed at least 2 to 3 times a day. Now issues of space are real in Korea. The country is about the size of Portugal with 50 Million living, breathing, beings all here abiding in ,for the most part, harmony. But its seems like the whole 3 ft of personal space rule is thrown out. Concepts of space are so different here. When it comes to physical and architectural divisions of space and function, they seem less thought through than anywhere else in the world. Take for instance, sitting/standing on the train. I don't understand why people breath on each other and cough on each other. And don't get in there after 9pm because it just smells like alcohol. I call it the Soju train. I also don't understand why people don't move out of the way when you are getting on or getting off the train. Yesterday two grown ass men bulldozed me back into the train when I was trying to get off. I promptly pushed my way through but was thoroughly annoyed and expressed my frustration in English which meant nothing to them. But it was very rude. Another story was my first Seoul apartment that had no ventilation in the bathroom except for one tiny window that was about the size of my hand. And a fire escape door in my bathroom that was adjacent to my front door. I didn't get it.

4. Food.
This one is really easy. I like it. I don't love it, because exotic spices are not as explored here. But Koreans have their own spices and they rank pretty good. I make my own breakfasts and have lunch at school and we have a great dietitian who seems to keep things tasty and healthy. The only downfall with Korean food, is all this pork. These people eat so much pork. Its in almost everything. So, its been a solitary road sometimes avoiding the pork. I murder the fish though. Between the sashimi, the grilled and the fried fish, I am normally just fine. This culture also loves chicken. They mostly fry it, or soup it. There is this particular soup called 삼계탕 (samgyeatang). Its a small chicken in a nice chicken broth with onions and garlic. The chicken is broiled while stuffed with sweet prunes in the middle. You just take apart that chicken until you get to the prune stuffing. Its really good.

5. Being cordial and pleasantries.
I try. Most Koreans try. I keep making friends when I get lost in a train station or on a side street.

6. Fashionistas and Fashionistos
These people dress to impress everyday, all day. In the gym, at the movies, at the doctors office, at the grocery store, at school. Men are highly metro-sexual and women are high maintenance. There are so many hair and nail salons all around. It makes me feel like I have to have my A-game on all the time, but I like to be a bum and look scruffy from time to time. Its reality. Woman's fashion is kinda weird. They all have model body frames but I am not clear on whether or not I can't appreciate it because everything is so done. And done again and again. Like its done to the max. Men too. But men's fashion is slightly more classic so there is less to appreciate thus less to find annoying or over bearing. I will say, though, that they have taken tight jeans to a new level. Korean men look sexy in tight pants. I dig it.

7.Education
Everyone studies far more than they do in the Americas. These kids go to school for about 10 hrs a day. With extra lessons in Math, Science and English. Some kids are in Art school and sports activities too. Their lives are so busy. Teaching is fun and the kids enjoy it for the most part. The curriculum is visually outdated but I heard a rumor that they will be changing that next year. The kids are well mannered and very good-natured. My co-teachers are awesome. They are very helpful and really kind individuals. They get nervous and some serious anxiety kicks in when they have to speak to me for more than 3 mins at a time. Its funny but they are really great and I try not to stress them out too much with my English speaking conversations. My Korean language studies are non existent. I need a teacher because my vocabulary is very small and it poses as problematic when I am alone in the Korean world and want to say things that are important. Like "Don't push" and "No pork please" but these are easy phrases.

8. The army folks.
Just like in all other walks of life, there is a spectrum of personalities that pervade each community. The U.S. Military has won me over if not only for its conveniences. I don't believe in war. I don't believe in pervading/perpetual military threats or presence in seemingly peaceful societies. I don't believe in robbing mothers of their sons to serve invisible wars. And I certainly do not prescribe to know the backdating of a pretend infallible society of law-makers who trump up the frustrations of men and women who a faced with the fact that they cannot afford school or the chance to provide for their families. This is the reality that we live in and it sucks. So I tolerate and not entirely berate the experience. Especially for young black people who want to make something of themselves in this life. But let me not say anymore before Babylon reports me and I can never go back on the peoples' army base.

9. Me time.
I'm singing, writing, playing guitar, twisting my dreads, reading, raising a "Thug-Lyfe" puppy and practicing magic. All of which feel amazing and are cleansing for my tormented soul. This life is hard on a sensitive girl like me. My outer shell cracked last year and I am scrambling to repair it. Therapy? Maybe.

Everything is everything and everything is good.
Keep letting the God in you shine forth on to humanity so we can be who we are supposed to be. Sometimes that's the best you can do.

Kisses

Heart sore.

I am not as confused as before.
Still angry.
Much has changed but I longed for it.
I have been tempted to call and ask what has come of the year.
Since our anniversary is coming up. The season of tears is definitely not in repetition, but I still think about you.
I still think about you.

I still shed a tear or two over you.
Thinking about your mother and your books and your father and his looks.
I still cry over you wishing things could be different.
Wanting to call and ask what has come of the year. But too afraid to know.
That...
You might be doing better than me.
You may not be thinking of me at all.
Or maybe you are expecting a child.
Or maybe you moved.
Or maybe you don't miss me at all.

(sigh)

One of these days...I am going to feel better about this.
One of these days.