Behind in my writings....

So life goes on.

I had a new boyfriend. Still no job. Going to school, however, to stave off boredom. Applied to several universities in the area as well as on the East Coast. And sung in the local choir for two semesters and loved it.

Relationships seem to bring an onslaught of problems and the likes I wish I never had to deal with. It never helps when the age gap creates a multitude of issues, but what I can't stand is the fact that his ex seems to have a meddling finger in this mess.

I don't blame just her. He is equally to blame for all the bs since he's not man enough to cut her off and she's an asshole for not backing off. What is it with older women.....desperation seems to be a ruling force. I finally gave him an ultimatum, that he finish whatever bs seems to be holding them together or I'm out.

I'm sick and tired of bs and weak spined men.........why can't I ever find someone decent.

As a friend once told me, I'm naming all the losers moving forward, "Sheldon."

Free form liberation

Where the ground continues to toil and the very liquid that presses against the seams continue the wretched tow of the condescending current it whips and whirls as the ignorant move forward in a listless manner notwithstanding and the thoughts climb upwards in a twisting and curling manner.

It seethes a rich swathe of iridescent blue and I can feel the tendrils of cause wrap the delicateness around my wrists and ankles a lush after thought filled with dreams reminiscent of dark shadows grasping rains and the supposed manifested in the form of hidden twilight struggling against a ragged fence strewn with misfits and continues to gnaw waves of regret I don’t respond, I don’t react, and the others then equally justify the wrongs that plague and the thoughts continue to rage against the very threshold founded upon cries I cannot respond I am silent I am still and the waves continue to wrap their arms around the very invisible source of me.

musica

I'm down with all sorts of music.

Well, let me rephrase that.

Some rap, sure. Ludacris cracks me up. Country? Not so much. Perhaps I've been a little too restrictive when it came to musical inclinations. There has always been something about the twang that did not do justice to my sensible classically trained ears. Jazz jubilee? I suppose I was more into the Blues.

Roll forward to the past several months and I've taken a new step towards the unknown.



These past several months have found me in the company and audience of bands I would have never ever chose to attend by my own choice. First, Split Lip Rayfield. I don't know much about judging the technical skills of musicians that play stringed instruments but wow, the bassist and mandolin player were amazing.



I've heard of The Reverend Horton Heat but had no idea what sort of category they fell into. I loved it! Songs made you want to dance and wish for peephole heels and a skirt to do so in. Definitely an entertaining performance and the lead singer and bassist have a great stage presence. Psychobilly Freakout sample.



Jimbo Wallace

I am slowly opening up my ears to welcome different sorts of music.

The best part? Having someone well versed in the music who is more than happy to take my hand and lead me into the audible fray.

**sugar

I have this strange affinity for sugar.

However, no much of a sweet tooth. I will rarely go out of my way to purchase a slice of cake (unless I am in near proximity to Cafe Ettore......I adore the white chocolate strawberry mousse cake) or the baked goods at Old Soul. The banana and Nutella crepe at Ti Couz? I will run barefoot in the rain for that confection and a glass of Riesling. Most of these purchases are because I've either passed by and was immediately seduced by the smells and sights of warm, soft, baked goods.

Fruit? There is nothing as sweet as a fresh banana that has slowly begin to show spots surfacing. The flesh is insanely sweet and the softness? A sin that cloaks my palate. After consuming one, my senses have been deceived and I can taste nothing but the fruit. I can smell nothing but the fruit, having been consumed by it.

I'm typing this while I sit at the counter facing the windows, sipping my iced caramel latte, with a scone made of cream cheese and chocolate chips, crumbling slowly under my fingertips.

Another day found me in the exquisite company of a creamy creme brulee. I sat, across my then date, slowly tapping away at the smooth golden surface, until the silver spoon cracked through. The minute crunches mixed in with the custard was a heavenly mix of textures. My date found the entire process amusing. Apparently, my joy was evident during the process.

Cost Co cakes? I've been known to wait around for the corner pieces at many a birthday party in the office. The more the rosettes, the better. I take delight in the crunchy icing found on many mass produced sheets of cake. My friends took extra rosettes off surrounding slices and slid them onto my plate. Blues. Reds. Pinks. Green. Small bites here and there, letting the icing crunch between my teeth.

Sugar has a strange hold over me.

It is not bearing, yet I feel it calling me. Sometimes, in the middle of unforeseen moments of time.

At an Absinthe anniversary, I left the signature liquor and took the time in taking the sugar cube between my two fingers and slowly letting it dissolve in my mouth.

So sweet. So different.

I revel in that.

vindictive

*sigh*

It takes a lot to upset me. Tears. Fears. The whole shebang.

On another hand, it takes very little to make me angry.

Today was such a day and I can't recall how many mini texts and messages were sent to me by several good friends of mine, attempting to reel in my burgeoning anger.

One thing I have learned, by the close of today, is that my usual staunch supporters are not usually my family, but that of my friends. I've never faced so much criticism or judgment than today and honestly, I was moved to a degree of anger I've never felt before.

It left me helpless. At a loss for words. A rage.

It was managed later when a friend drove 20 minutes from another part of town to keep me company at a local coffee shop. After two caramel lattes, attendance by my favorite barista, and the best environment that anyplace could offer, I was at peace once again.

I appreciated the support.

You know who you are.

* b l i s s

*B L I S S*

Found in many forms here and now my new spot of comfort. I usually take up temporary residence by the ceiling to floor windows and let the blur of traffic stream in front of me, anonymously, up and down Broadway.

Today I had my customary caramel latte: the creamiest caffeinated concoction one could ever dream of. If this were a drug, I'd have the IV drip surgically implanted.

On top of their wondrous coffee is their pork and melted brie sandwich. This came layered with slices of moist pork, grilled onions, slices of apple, and melted brie that formed a soft creamy pillow between each bite. If the melding of various textures and beautiful flavors had an artist commissioned, thy name would be Old Soul.

Counter spaces that remind me of my lovely visit to New York and morning spent with my usual latte facing the denizens flush to the window, Madison Avenue has been transformed for this hidden community. I am further amused by the fact that the cute barista here reminds me of a good friend in Boston.

I sit, unnoticed, with my little cup of liquid Elysium

A letter to myself, many years ago...

We had an assignment in my Psychology class today.

We were instructed to think over our own adolescence. "To recall the worries, concerns, fears we had back then. Focus in on the worries, the fears you would have had and how you would have viewed as different with your existing experience. Now, consider what advice you would give yourself, in the form of a letter."

I sat back and tried to reflect back on any of the negative memories that left an indelible mark on my self-esteem and found it came down to two experiences: encountering racism and being called ugly due to my ethnic features.

For a child, I could not fathom the reasons as to why other children would be hurling the "Jap" card at me or make the generic small eyes move with their fingers, pulling the skin taut and upwards. Calling me Bruce Lee or Chuck Norris. What exactly was it about me that prompted these slurs. I felt ugly because kids were continuously pointing out that my eyes were small, nose too flat, and boys never seemed to return any sort of interest. My random crush in Jr. High went no where. Rejection that becomes redundant also becomes acceptance. So soon thereafter, I blamed my looks.

I blamed my looks again in High School.

Sure, I had admirers in my later years, but I always assumed they were there for my piano performances. Not for me, as a girl. Boyfriends? Never. In fact, I felt I was destined to be single and resigned to the fact that I was a tomboy, not feminine enough.

Had to blame my ugliness again in College. Never mind that my gay friends told me I would have been the quintessential gay man.

It wasn't until the last ten years where I've grown slowly to appreciate my classic Japanese features.

I'm still a work in progress, that is for sure, and I'll continue learning as much as I can until I'm dead.


To myself:

I hope that when you read this that you are not enmeshed in a pile of emotional rubbish that seems to acquire itself over time.

I understand, however, if you are staring at those very remnants around your feet, weighing you down.

It is rather complicated given your overall good nature and giving heart. Those types of mental burdens seem to seek you out. Remember the old adage of good things come to those who wait? Well, it is true, but with some consequences that you will be forced to experience. I mean, that is the reason as to why these situations even exist, right? We learn from the good. We learn from the bad.

One? Racism.

Growing up in a racist community did not do anything other than make you stronger. Sure, the consistent slurs thrown your way were not grand, but neither were the lips from hence they were strewn. The absence of diversity and lack of education is just a reflection on the parents of such children. They really did not know what was happening. I am here to tell you that your self-esteem has been left intact despite it accumulating over time. I have already accepted the fact that the parents were to blame for allowing their children to treat others with blatant and cruel disrespect. Your methods in dealing with the numerous incidents have done you well, as I’ve had no problems adjusting to life in the large city where diversity rules, not based on the racist attitudes of a few. So chin up. Life is too short. You will encounter discrimination and not understand where it stems from but you will just have to accept them as a part of societal ignorance. What you do not have to do, is let the sour experiences stall your walk in life. If anything, the experiences with racism will make you stronger to forge ahead on your path of personal growth.

You are not ugly.

I know.

I know the feeling of not being accepted because your eyes were too small or lacking in the general attributes of being Caucasian. That the heavy lidded look did not do well competing with the perky eyed girls on Teen magazine. These were indicators of ethnicity, not about you as a person. I know the pains you are going to experience through the eyes of others. You are going to shape that to your advantage by playing up your personality: being positive, curious, and optimistic. Ignore the boys who make fun of you in English class. They know not what they do. The crush you form on a certain boy who consistently ignores you? It is not because you are ugly. It is because everyone has a preference and it has nothing to do with you. Don’t worry. A year later, you two will forge a friendship in Biology class as lab partners. You may not believe it, but you will be voted two years in a row for being the class clown in High School. You will also be voted as having the best personality. Your humor is what will shine through. Your positivity. So what if no one in High School noticed it. So what if no one recognized you in college. I am here to tell you that whatever you do will be fine. What has been shunted as the ugly kid in the class evolves for you in the future into something brighter. No boys? Fast forward into fantastic dating experiences in your thirties.

Fantastic.

I can assure you that you will not have any problems having a guy fall for you. When you enter the room, they will recognize your smile. Your laugh? A mark in their memory, or so I've been told. Your eyes that you’ve felt all these years were too small are what is deemed attractive by many. I can tell you that. Even during visits to Japan, people have admired the classical form of your eyes.

You are strong. You are beautiful. You are your own person.

This will be many years forthcoming and despite the bad experiences, you will have done well, because I am well now.

I am you.