anxious, curling toes.

I have a tendency to ramble, so let's make this more blunt: I have had an interest and passion for languages since an early age. Upon closer inspection and experience I've realized that I chose not to pursue it as a career because of a lack of support. No one ever really gave me much recognition. Those four years I tackled Japanese and received excellence awards...I was proud of myself, but not many people engaged me in conversation over it. I gleamed whenever someone showed interest or praised me, but otherwise I usually had to deal with types who dismissed me as nothing more than a geek.

And yet.

It may seem arrogant, but really it's normal to desire recognition...it makes an individual feel more accomplished and confident. Therefore, it is because of the encouragement I've received lately that I've decided to pick up the reins again and head onto a new path.

Always impulse. Why not?

My plan? Not too many specifics yet. I talked to an advisor and switched majors. I plan to most likely minor in Japanese and my major thus far is undecided although it could be English. After obtaining a Bachelor's at least, I will become involved in the JET program with my friend. Don't know what it is? Look it up.

I still feel like I'm rambling.

Oh well, in a nutshell that's life for now.

Cheers.

a lack of memory.

I've always referred to my biological father bitterly, but despite my resentment he is still the man that helped bring me into this world. The reason I only ever have negative things to say about him is actually because... I can't remember much else. Last night my sister Amanda told me our aunt Teari added her on facebook, but I tilted my head and admitted that I couldn't remember her, much less did I remember simple things like Dad being the middle child and having two brothers. So I have two uncles whose faces and even names are a blur of nonexistence in my memory. Astonished, Amanda pressed more and when she realized how little I could recall she concluded that I must've subconsciously blocked him out. She worries, she thinks that something very traumatic may have happened...and the idea is possible so I'm bewildered.

More importantly, I'm frustrated. Regardless of whether or not I "like" my dad, I still feel robbed of childhood memories. The divorce between my parents happened when I was eleven, and that is the beginning of my few clear memories of him. I remember how he used to pick Amanda and I up from school for a quick snack or how he'd take us to Putt-Putt Golf. After that we visited him in Hawaii twice, but during those visits I remember little things like watching movies or how he got drunk one night while we played a board game and he suddenly tried giving me advice on life and yelled at my stepmom for interjecting. I remember walking out of their little apartment and walking to the end of the hall because we weren't on the first floor. I pressed my back against the wall and sighed, and of course Amanda came running after me. Everything before this I can't recall.

I can see Mom. I can see cuddling with mom, I can see talking to Mom or bugging her after work, I can see her cooking and I can see shopping with her as a child. But I can't see Dad. I can't remember what he was like as a father. I have one fuzzy memory from Hawaii when I was just learning to ride a bike... I remember riding around the neighborhood (it was a sort of culldasack military-housing set-up) and he was watching with his buddies, unsurprisingly also sipping a beer. He laughed when I said I couldn't figure out the brakes, and I remember tears rolling down my face as he and the group laughed... then green. Lots of green, I crashed into a field. I came back whimpering and asking for a bandaid but he told me to toughen up and I never got that bandaid. Since then I've associated this memory to my complex with showing weakness or crying in front of people.

I resent him so much, but I didn't ask to forget him almost entirely. If it weren't for the fact that those trips to Hawaii were somewhat recently, I would have a hard time being able to remember him at all. It already feels like I have to squint and focus when I'm trying to think of what he looks like.

Why the bitterness? Here's what I recall: Jeffrey Thomas Sampson. A man my mother met in the Navy as a diver and who she eloped with in Hawaii. He drank a lot, was controlling and criticized my mother, didn't like seeing my mother's side, yelled a lot, had crude humor, and he looked like a mix of Cuban and Indian because of his darkly tan skin. Mustache, increasing baldness, tall, skinny despite a beer belly now and then, and when he propped his feet up I noticed they look just like mine. He walked out on my mom a lot, I faintly remember a few yelling-fights, and most of all I remember my mother's breakdown after she realized he had cheated on her. Even fainter is the memory I have of him packing his truck and driving off. After that, I was in my room a lot. Mom was always sad and distant, but I didn't understand what a broken heart meant. I found out what it looked like when I walked in on my sister helping our drunk mother into bed... she was making a lot of noise crying so I walked into her room ("....Mommy?") and saw her writhing...asking over and over why my father did this to her. My eyes went wide, and Amanda finally saw me and walked me back to my room and told me to stay.

I suppose that is why I truly despise him. I grew up as mommy's-girl, so to see that "daddy" was the reason that mommy was so sad is a simple conclusion. I'm still frustrated - I mean, most people get upset if their technology or money is stolen... but me?

I'm upset by a lack of memory.

Bye Daddy.

intimacy or intimidation?

Philosophy praises the agnostic, or the ignorant non-believer that stands by the mindset of "I don't know". The idea of relying on faith alone is both something I've always admired and doubted within religion. The passion, the emotion, the hope... the idea that a person can believe with all of their heart or entire being that someone or something is real. In THAT sense religion can be endearing to me. Better still, it not only can bring people together but also make a person feel more at ease or fufilled within themselves. I yearn for that absolute faith that everything will be okay, the day even the little doubts will melt away.

Although private, my introduction to one significant person many months ago threw my beliefs off balance. Not to say I've ever successfully managed balance, but they had a very impressive story to share. I could not help but give my full attention, and realize as they spoke that this was not only very serious, but also very true. Ever since that day of enlightenment, I have on and off contemplated my religious standpoint... and finally picked up where I left off on my internal debate. I found comfort in that standstill I was at, content in the idea that not knowing was safe although not as fufilling. Atheism proved too lonely, honestly. I finally started to grasp awkwardly onto prayer, still unsure of "who" I was talking to but feeling somewhat happy in the idea that someone could be listening. Anywhere from the inside of my car to on a toilet, I talked to this invisible person. In my head, out loud, laughing, rambling, crying... I took on no modesty as I confided. In fact, based on my favorite quote from the book The Color Purple, I have for a long time now appreciated the little things in life more. An example would be that while driving a bird may fly by in my view and I can't help but sigh and smile because the grace of it is calming. I told my sister this (who by the way is very settled within her faith), and she smiled and told me that God not only created that bird for me to see, but I should be grateful for the happy feeling it gives me. I found truth in this, but still apologized for holding on to "I don't know" when it comes to God. She shook her head, not wanting to rush me because as she said it is a personal journey.

And yet.

She worries. You cannot believe in God without believing in the devil, same is true for believing in both a heaven and hell. Based upon the story of that signifant person, I have specific worries. The story made me believe in something I never thought I would, but the imbalance of little faith is where the trouble is. I refuse to rush my journey, I believe my enlightenment will come in time through my own efforts but I am thankful for meeting this significant person. I am thankful for becoming less ignorant, for there are way too many people who comfortly remain that way and never reach genuine fufillment. I still have my questions and doubt, but I feel more at ease knowing that I am heading in a positive direction. Possibly my biggest fear is rejection by God because I am gay, but like my sister and many others I don't believe homosexuality is a sin. Moreover, to love is not a sin. Another favorite quote of mine is from L Word (laugh if you must), when the conservative father of Bette asks what she will do on the day of judgment. She responds simply, "I will say I am your creation, and I am proud."

Time will only tell from here.

fun with shadows.

I consider it a sign of luck when suddenly the shadow of a flying bird soars above my own, sketched out perfectly on a canvas of pavement. I pause as suddenly the bird comes into view above my head and smile as it floats on with little effort but much grace. Sometimes my mind will wander as I press on, imagining the shadow of that bird flying down to pick my shadow up by its shoulders and zoom onward. On to more pebbled streets and sidewalks, but also into the comfort of soft grass and perhaps an intermission under the shadow of a humble willow. Barely a breath is uttered and the only "words" that are uttered come from the sighing leaves of the willow in the wind, but the bird's shadow is feeling adventurous again. My shadow experiences stretching across long suburban fences and flies into the city, climbing buildings in a matter of seconds. I remain walking, bathed in warm sunshine but look down to no companion at my feet until the bird's shadow returns. It chucks mine free and in an instant I feel the collision, laughing like a kid as I jump up and down and my shadow mimics. I don't frown when the sun recedes because I don't think of my shadow as gone, but maybe hiding...or flying.

Smile.

growth.

I feel so refreshed.

Perfection will remain out of grasp (and for good reason), but the smile dancing on my lips is genuine. My financial insecurities have held me back at a stand-still for quite some time, but at last I am moving forward again and taking hold of those reins. I have an interview this weekend with Best Buy and my chances are very high. I have my new friend Justen to thank for that, and his friendship has also helped "free" me from my irksome routines. He is a technical geek with his own Nikon D90, and his room is filled with technology. Just the other day we packed his car with equipment and had a random photoshoot with Shelby. Quite frankly, he is helping boost my confidence. He is teaching me about cameras and their settings, about photoshop and lightroom, and helping me gain experience and continue further with photography. I believe in coincidences, so the fact that I randomly called him that day asking if Best Buy was hiring was meant to be. Thus, a very spontaneous friendship I can learn and grow from is born.

I'm so grateful.

opposite wars.

My clenched jaw is sore, my teeth barricade the words I want so desperately to convey. Dealing with a specific conflict is one thing, but when the problem in question is the person's very skin, I hesitate. Not her skin really, but her entire persona all together that wraps her into a cocoon that is anything but endearing at times. I have made a habit of fancying opposites in a sister, a lover, and even a best friend. "Opposites attract" holds true thus far in romance, but over the last two years the one friendship I held most dear has crumbled again and again.
In truth, I acknowledged the differences Taylor and I had even in the beginning. The difference between then and now, however, is that back then I held my tongue. I stood by that loyalty that meant friends loved each other unconditionally, and accepted her faults and all. When her faults began to get too irksome, I created distance. I didn't hang out with her for a period of time and thus the frustration melted away and I began to miss her again. Now and especially lately, though, I can't seem to brush my feelings aside when Taylor's true colors come out. I rebel even, expressing opposition to most of her viewpoints. We don't get into normal arguments. Instead, one feels that the other is backing them into a patronizing corner and our most common reaction is to be defensive and lash out. Taylor's favorite habit is to inflate conflicts by pointing fingers. She'll suddenly turn on me, pinpointing my flaws because she will literally argue her standpoint til she is blue in the face. I have learned that it is OKAY to be wrong sometimes and I can say with full confidence that unlike her I know when to quit. She, however, will only degrade herself further by feeding the fire. She holds herself high above others and can be so unbelievably ignorant despite her feelings of superiority. I'm tired of this war. Most of all, I'm tired of being the only one who fights for her. Who actually fucking tries. Instead of hiding behind the internet or her phone, she never confronts conflict directly. I called her the other night because we were texting obnoxiously and it wasn't getting anywhere. But apparently watching a movie with her "boyfriend" was too important to pause even when I left a message saying that I was also calling for the sake of our friendship. Taylor's internet relationships is one thing that has always bugged me, but I learned to accept it. There have even been times where people have started to analyze her and make fun of her but I stood up for her and told them they had no idea who she was or what she's gone through, so I shut them up. But the fact that an internet relationship was favored above a real friendship annoys me more than anyone can possibly imagine.

I didn't write this to stir up another war. Quite honestly, if Tay chooses to comment this I will delete every single one as she once did for one of my comments on hers. I wrote this to get my feelings out before I say one last goodbye. I was foolish to choose an opposite for a best friend, so a normal acquaintanceship or small friendship will be all I will tolerate between her and I.

Enough.

mirror test:

A puff of hot breath or the aftermath of a steamy shower creates a barrier between my reflection and I. With my hand I swipe through the fog until a pair of eyes oppose mine, identical. I ignore the smear and tilt my head. Unlike most, I don't see translucent strings rising into the hands of a conformist puppeteer. I do see lips with rebellious, defying opinions hanging on the rim, however. It has its share of scars and peeling due to many years of anxious biting, but I take pride in having a big mouth as opposed to one that is small or meek. I raise my hand to my neck, gently tapping a string of freckles... I smile, remembering how someone special once pointed out that it looked like a necklace of brown dots. My hand falls limp to my side, outling my inherited wide hips. I click my tongue in a Tinkerbell-inspired pout, but in truth I no longer feel disdain for the similarities I share with my mother. I take pride in what I have, but that doesn't mean I can't pursue weight loss. The reason? Certainly not peer pressure, much less am I hopping on the bandwagon to embrace the ideal image of a woman's body. No, keep your calculated diets and empty bellies. I'll live up to an ambition at my own pace.

The "test" is simple. Look at yourself in a mirror and make a description of what you see ranging anywhere from personality flaws to raw limbs. It's healthy to like yourself as you are, but no one's perfect. Here I am, admitting that I'm content with myself but striving for a little more.