it seemed like a pretty uneventful day, until lynn called (it was probably about 1 or 2 in the afternoon) and told me that she had a flat tire. she was on kilhau (later, she corrected to kilihau) street. i looked it up; it was somewhere near nimitz, somewhere near the airport.
so i took aiden with me, and a cross bar, and a jack, and drove off to find my wife. all along the way, i started cursing. i'm not sure why. maybe i was irritated with this event, even though it was nobody's fault, really. maybe i was stressed that my gas was so low, and getting lower. there seemed an inordinate amount of traffic for this time of day, and maybe that was irritating me too. at one point, i almost wound up at hickam afb. let me tell you, i HATE going to military bases. i had this one incident where i headed into a base by mistake. i tried to tell the guard there that i had made a mistake, and that i just wanted to make a u turn to exit the base. but he asked for my safety and registration anyway (my registration was expired). he actually held me, and was going to call the cops on me because my registration was expired, even though i didn't even want to enter the base.
so anyway, i absolutely didn't want to go into hickam (i happen to have an expired driver's license, which i would have taken care of, had covid-19 not come along and force the closure of all the dmvs, and cancel my appointments). i could just picture the freaking guard announcing that my license was expired, and to pull over to the side so that he could issue a citation or call the cops on me...
fortunately, i noticed that there was a turn off to the right. at first, i thought that it was just a visitor center for civilians. but then i realized that it was an actual road. and as i turned down it, i found, to my great relief, that it was a familiar road. it was the same road that went to pearl harbor kai elementary, where we had practiced taiko. it occupied this kind of liminal space between the gated and fenced military base, and the surrounding community...
so, anyway, i wound up avoiding going into hickam... still swearing up a storm. past the destination, and had to circle around, going onto king. there was so much construction, that it made progress difficult. at a lot of places, i wasn't able to make the left turns i needed to. and as so many lanes were closed, well, it just dragged my progression through the area...
suffice to say, i eventually made it. kilihau is a run down street in an industrial area near the airport. the good thing was that it was a quiet street, with little traffic, so it was pretty safe (at least in terms of cars) to change the tire. i did so with great dispatch (i'm not sure if that's the right way to say it)... one strange aside-thing i noticed, was that in the puddles beside the road, there were tiny fish swimming. i'm not sure where those fish must have come from, or how they survived when the hot summer sun evaporated all of that water... but they were there nonetheless, casting little shadows.
*****
other than that, nothing much to report...
well... as i said, i was angry when i was driving to help my wife. i'm not sure why. i suppose, as i may have mentioned before, that i have a great deal of rage concealed within me. i'm extremely impatient with reality... i often feel, when things are taking too long, that- and this is weird, kind of a quirk of my psychology- that i'm somehow being left behind, and that i'm wasting my time, and that someone somewhere is laughing at me...
for some reason, i recall having this thought: what if my wife's flat tire had been a blow out, and what if she and my daughter had spun out and gotten killed in an accident? i don't know why or where the thought came from... but do you know what i thought about, irritated as i was? i thought about how angry i would be with god for allowing it to happen. and i thought about how angry i would be with my brother and his family, for shutting my family out... and how he would be trying to console me, and all i would do is shout at him, and shout out all his dirty secrets for his children and the world to know, because it was too late, too late. i would be spouting off all about how lynn had tried to reconcile, out of the kindness of her heart, but that my brother and his wife would repeatedly just give us the cold shoulder... and now (in my head) that she and my daughter were gone, it was just too late for my brother to come in and pretend as though he cared for my loss...
that's the kind of crazy, vengeful thinking that filled my head.
i realize that i wasn't being very buddha-like. in fact, i'm not really sure where all that rage came from. it certainly wasn't justified. but i guess it's there. and i let it just burn me up.
i know my son probably felt pretty- i don't know- embarassed? disappointed? at my lack of peace and composure...
but as i thought about that, i imagined my brother, and all the rest of the world, laughing at me, because of my attachment to my rage. and it just made me even more angry...
what is wrong with me!?
*****
well, i know i've got to meditate more. of all the things i do in my routine, i think i skip meditation the most. it's just not feasible most of the time... but as today sort of pointed out, i sorely need it.
Saturday, June 13, 2020
Thursday, June 11, 2020
6/11/2020
today is 6/11. it's a day after my sister's birthday. yesterday, my son and i attended an online virtual meeting about agcurious. it's an "interest" session for gofarm hawaii's agricultural program. i must say, i am definitely interested, although it will be a commitment if i happen to be accepted. i think my son is much more half-hearted about it. but as i explained, you can't say you don't really want to try something if you don't know what you're missing. and at this point, my son is pretty much reluctant to try anything.
*****
i think today, i've been feeling kind of blah. the weather has been gray and windy, but still, at times, ridiculously humid.
i've kind of matched the weather, i suppose: meandering, and inconclusive.
maybe there's a point where the routines that you push on yourself don't really have much of a point.
*****
i guess i've been feeling pretty drowsy. i close my eyes, and all of these images and thoughts float up to the surface, swimming on the underside of my eyelids... i wish that i made more sense. that whatever's in me could be directed to some purpose... that i could essentially flow. but i am a random assemblage of spare parts, that don't really add up to anything.
*****
i don't know if i'm really designed for prose, or poetry. i like to think of bassho, wandering the countryside, and, at moments, composing haiku. could i ever be like that, to feel so free and liberated, and trust in the art within me? i wish.
*****
sorry, i really don't have much to contribute today. i already gave at the office.
*****
i think today, i've been feeling kind of blah. the weather has been gray and windy, but still, at times, ridiculously humid.
i've kind of matched the weather, i suppose: meandering, and inconclusive.
maybe there's a point where the routines that you push on yourself don't really have much of a point.
*****
i guess i've been feeling pretty drowsy. i close my eyes, and all of these images and thoughts float up to the surface, swimming on the underside of my eyelids... i wish that i made more sense. that whatever's in me could be directed to some purpose... that i could essentially flow. but i am a random assemblage of spare parts, that don't really add up to anything.
*****
i don't know if i'm really designed for prose, or poetry. i like to think of bassho, wandering the countryside, and, at moments, composing haiku. could i ever be like that, to feel so free and liberated, and trust in the art within me? i wish.
*****
sorry, i really don't have much to contribute today. i already gave at the office.
Tuesday, June 9, 2020
6/9/2020
it's another day... i got some more fish yesterday for my aquaponics setups. i don't know if i mentioned it, but i transported them all inside because i was panicking about the way that moth larvae were eating up and destroying my cucumber and zucchini plants. i have always been paranoid about pest pressures. but real authentic sunlight is a big thing too. i had been trying to prevent pests from attacking my plants by spraying neem oil on them... but honestly, that's not a good solution. it's not good because, no matter what, you're putting a chemical onto the plant, and that may have untoward consequences for the other organisms in the system (the fish, the bacteria). also, you end up quickly consuming it all. i was spraying only a few plants when i could, and in no time, i ran out of a couple of bottles... so ultimately, i felt the best solution was to bring them into the garage. for the remaining plants outside (the ones in the planter boxes), i am considering using some kind of netting to prevent them from being attacked. we'll see how that works...
so... yes, yesterday, i got more fish. i also bought tulle from walmart to use as the netting around my plants. we had intended on going to masa and ___?, a local food place in kaneohe that sells poke, and hawaiian food, and okinawan food... but they were closed. so instead we went to burger king. i swear, that was the best whopper i've eaten in a long time. maybe it's because i never go to burger king...
other than that, not much to report. the fish seem to be doing alright, but we'll see what happens. i always suspect that some fish are bullies, and they stress out other fish so much that they eventually die. the paradoxical solution is to put MORE fish into the tank with the bullies... when there are too many other fish, the bully fish usually return to just swimming harmlessly along...
***
i was feeling cold and tired, so i just turned off the fan. there's a breeze kind of sloughing (don't know if that's the appropriate use of the word), and some light rain is falling. it's a kind of watercolorish gray day. i sort of like it. it's better than those blaring blue sky days where the shadows are hard, and you feel like you are always dirty and sweaty...
to be honest, i'm not sure what all this blogging and writing is supposed to do for me. i have always been so goal-directed... like, i wanted to finish writing this book and that poem, etc. but like most of the truest things in life, at least to me, it's not about what i want. it's not a clear progression from here to there. or at least, that's how it seems. art is kind of a form of trickery. like you have to trick yourself into accomplishing something, but because it has to seem like a discovery, you can't know where you are heading beforehand... it's like you put a blindfold on yourself, and walk on the same street, handicapped... i guess that's what it's like.
it's also like just vomiting a stream of your innards out... in the hopes that you will somehow find some diamonds amongst the half-digested chunks of food... gross, but i think it is true.
...well, maybe that's not quite so apt. maybe it's more like you exhaust your cognitive processes so much through writing that, in the afterglow, in that moment of forced relaxation, something- a truth, a voice, something- comes in. that's what marione howe was talking about, i think...
***
okay, now when i close my eyes, all of these images come unbidden... i think my mind is like this plenitude... i just wish. i just wish it would quiet sometime, and some sort of true voice would remain. and it would just be a matter of listening to that voice, that single, solitary voice... that's how i'd hope it would work out for me (but it never really does).
okay, nuff said for today.
so... yes, yesterday, i got more fish. i also bought tulle from walmart to use as the netting around my plants. we had intended on going to masa and ___?, a local food place in kaneohe that sells poke, and hawaiian food, and okinawan food... but they were closed. so instead we went to burger king. i swear, that was the best whopper i've eaten in a long time. maybe it's because i never go to burger king...
other than that, not much to report. the fish seem to be doing alright, but we'll see what happens. i always suspect that some fish are bullies, and they stress out other fish so much that they eventually die. the paradoxical solution is to put MORE fish into the tank with the bullies... when there are too many other fish, the bully fish usually return to just swimming harmlessly along...
***
i was feeling cold and tired, so i just turned off the fan. there's a breeze kind of sloughing (don't know if that's the appropriate use of the word), and some light rain is falling. it's a kind of watercolorish gray day. i sort of like it. it's better than those blaring blue sky days where the shadows are hard, and you feel like you are always dirty and sweaty...
to be honest, i'm not sure what all this blogging and writing is supposed to do for me. i have always been so goal-directed... like, i wanted to finish writing this book and that poem, etc. but like most of the truest things in life, at least to me, it's not about what i want. it's not a clear progression from here to there. or at least, that's how it seems. art is kind of a form of trickery. like you have to trick yourself into accomplishing something, but because it has to seem like a discovery, you can't know where you are heading beforehand... it's like you put a blindfold on yourself, and walk on the same street, handicapped... i guess that's what it's like.
it's also like just vomiting a stream of your innards out... in the hopes that you will somehow find some diamonds amongst the half-digested chunks of food... gross, but i think it is true.
...well, maybe that's not quite so apt. maybe it's more like you exhaust your cognitive processes so much through writing that, in the afterglow, in that moment of forced relaxation, something- a truth, a voice, something- comes in. that's what marione howe was talking about, i think...
***
okay, now when i close my eyes, all of these images come unbidden... i think my mind is like this plenitude... i just wish. i just wish it would quiet sometime, and some sort of true voice would remain. and it would just be a matter of listening to that voice, that single, solitary voice... that's how i'd hope it would work out for me (but it never really does).
okay, nuff said for today.
Monday, June 8, 2020
6/7/2020
these are the unsettled questions: who is right, and who is wrong? where should i stand? whom should i support, and whom should i condemn? basically, who was in the right? who was telling the truth?
that is one of the outer layers of the onion.
beneath that, is another question. where is my soul? who am i? why does it seem as though there is nothing within me? why does it seem that i don't care very strongly for much of anything? why can i not remember seemingly significant events? why doesn't anything in particular stick? and how can i tell the story of me if i don't have a me, and i don't remember a me?
this is a middling layer.
all of these questions, while seemingly important, miss the point. at the heart of everything, beneath all the tears, is the central question. i may have asked it before, but inauthentically. this is the question: who am i? and it demands an authentic answer. it demands an answer NOW.
***
i spoke to my mother yesterday. i had this idle thought that i would try to understand her, try to understand why she was a republican and trump supporter. i simply couldn't reconcile my upbringing and ancestry with the position she was taking, that is, supporting THE worst president in the history of the world, a racist, sexist, selfish, ... well, you know, the list goes on and on.
in truth, i actually wanted to pick at the scab of my relationship with my brother and my sister, and the inarticulate question that hovered at the center of my being (or near center, anyway). i wanted to decide, or be convinced, of who was right and who was wrong.
it began innocuously enough. i learned about some of the details of my mom's past. of particular note (and these were things i commented on): how my grandpa mitakara practically built the tenrikyo aloha kyokai church in waipahu (his own house was adjacent to the church), but when the kawasakis (the minister's family) took over the church, they essentially reneged on the promise to allow my grandparents to continue to live in THEIR house, and basically kicked them off the property. well, they paid $4000 to be exact, but even back then, that was an insult. keep in mind that my grandpa, a carpenter, practically built that church. and this was the thanks they got. so my grandpa built a house in ewa beach, farther away. that was the house that i knew, the house that i would go to whenever i visited my grandparents. the house that they originally owned, the one next to the tenrikyo church, was one i NEVER saw the inside of, even though it had belonged to my grandparents... although my grandparents never seemed to have any resentment towards the church for that (my grandmother remained one of the most devoted and active members of the church), my mother probably never forgot that theft/betrayal...
another thing of note: my dad and my mom met right after my mom finished high school. she had basically been coerced by my grandma to go to japan to study the tenrikyo religion (she attended the besseki lectures, as i had). she stayed over at her aunty's house, where she met my father. "wait," i said, "you guys were RELATED!?" my mom said sort of, but not really... something about how her aunty had remarried someone in the family. my dad's father was mia in world war ii, they think somewhere in papua new guinea. so my mom and dad were not related through blood... (i also learned that my dad's grandfather, a big shot in south korea, and owner of several steel mills, was likely assassinated... a rickshaw driver basically pulled the cart onto train tracks and left him there... things were pretty dangerous for japanese in korea, especially those who were the heads of industry).
anyway, my mom and dad hit it off... and they continued to correspond with each other while my mom returned to hawaii to attend college (and my dad finished college in japan). "for four years!?" yes, my mom said. they maintained their long-distance relationship. and apparently, there was a promise that once college was up, they would see each other again... so i guess when my mom went to japan the second time, well, they conceived my older brother. and i guess the rest is history...
*****
so when it came to talking about my sister... my mom is still very raw about my sister. and with good reason. my sister had a difficult growing up period. i think ever since intermediate school, things hadn't been swell for her... i kind of feel bad about that. during elementary school, i had always taken care of her. i rode my bike with her down to elementary school, and then on to japanese school, and then home. i was basically her guardian back then. but we're 4 years apart, so by the time she got to 3rd grade, well, she was on her own. and because i'd had my own problems, i basically forgot about her.
my sister got involved in stealing things from a pretty early age. my mom actually mentioned that i may have been an influence in that regard. you see, when i was about five years old, i stole (or attempted to steal) a big box of crayons. it was the 64 crayon box, the large rectangular box with the hole that you could use to sharpen the crayens. i'm not sure why, but i loved new boxes of crayons. i loved how all of the crayons were sharp and pointy and identical. so i stuck the box under my shirt, just covering my belly button... of course, at the check out, my mom (and likely the cashier) noticed that square shape under my shirt. she had me show it...
my mom was really angry about it, and at home, she lit matches and extinguished them on the skin of my arm so that i would always remember how bad it was. it worked, because i never ever stole anything after that...
anyway, my mom implied that my sister had seen what i had done, and decided to imitate me... which, of course, made me feel not a little guilty and responsible for how my sister turned out...
my mom said there was an intervention meeting, and that i was actually there. i honestly don't remember it. well, after she talked about it, i started to recall it... but it's all pretty foggy for me. i guess it was at that meeting that the issue between my brother and sister was raised... but my mom seemed to imply that it was the social worker's fault, because she had asked certain questions about abuse, and thus prompted my sister to come up with that as some sort of excuse to hang onto... (typical republican response, by the way, this sort of victim blaming). my mom did confront my brother about it, and he reluctantly admitted to it... but again, my mom sort of defended him by saying that my dad had left all these pornographic magazines lying around, and they "influenced" my brother to do what he did. i had to laugh at that... i mean, maybe my mom is kind of prudish, but in my experience, a lot of boys at that age are interested in that sort of thing, and are exposed to it, whether it's in the house or out of it. that doesn't explain or excuse what my brother did. i mean, i was exposed to a lot of that stuff, but i didn't act out on it, or do things to my sister...
in any case, it seemed as though my mom was not allowing herself to see how significant this could have been to my sister. she seemed to see it as some sort of "excuse." the thievery and other misbehavior was "primary" to her. she even brought up some story (which i vaguely recall) of a rumor of abuse which occurred in my sister's preschool. my sister had mentioned to my mom about something that happened (she was four at the time). my mom pulled my sister out of that preschool immediately... anyway, she recounted that as evidence that my sister wasn't particularly affected by her encounter with my brother... because, as my mom said, if my sister had been immediately open about the possible abuse that had occurred when she was four, why did it take so long for her to "fess up" about the abuse that occurred with my brother? why did it take twenty or so years? my mom took that as evidence that it really wasn't at the heart of the matter, that she was just using it as some sort of excuse.
i'm not sure why, but for some reason, a lot of my anger towards my brother sort of drained away. i still think that what he did had serious ramifications. but as i listened to my mother speak, i could hear all of the hurt and resentment that she felt... and i kind of sympathized. there is hurt going all around, no one is exempt. so for me to desire someone to blame... well, in the end, everyone is to blame, and no one is to blame... well, maybe i shouldn't put it that way, because it seems to erase something. but somehow, after talking to my mom, i didn't feel quite so angry any more. maybe a part of it had to do with the fact that my brother called in the middle of my conversation, and i learned that he's struggling as a result of this covid-19 thing (a lot of doctor's offices are struggling because patients aren't coming in).
i honestly don't want anyone to get hurt (although saying all of this on this blog kind of tempts fate). but (as i said previously) i just wish everyone would be straight up with each other, and just understand one another. i just wish everyone would stop hurting each other...
well... that's all i guess i should say for today.
that is one of the outer layers of the onion.
beneath that, is another question. where is my soul? who am i? why does it seem as though there is nothing within me? why does it seem that i don't care very strongly for much of anything? why can i not remember seemingly significant events? why doesn't anything in particular stick? and how can i tell the story of me if i don't have a me, and i don't remember a me?
this is a middling layer.
all of these questions, while seemingly important, miss the point. at the heart of everything, beneath all the tears, is the central question. i may have asked it before, but inauthentically. this is the question: who am i? and it demands an authentic answer. it demands an answer NOW.
***
i spoke to my mother yesterday. i had this idle thought that i would try to understand her, try to understand why she was a republican and trump supporter. i simply couldn't reconcile my upbringing and ancestry with the position she was taking, that is, supporting THE worst president in the history of the world, a racist, sexist, selfish, ... well, you know, the list goes on and on.
in truth, i actually wanted to pick at the scab of my relationship with my brother and my sister, and the inarticulate question that hovered at the center of my being (or near center, anyway). i wanted to decide, or be convinced, of who was right and who was wrong.
it began innocuously enough. i learned about some of the details of my mom's past. of particular note (and these were things i commented on): how my grandpa mitakara practically built the tenrikyo aloha kyokai church in waipahu (his own house was adjacent to the church), but when the kawasakis (the minister's family) took over the church, they essentially reneged on the promise to allow my grandparents to continue to live in THEIR house, and basically kicked them off the property. well, they paid $4000 to be exact, but even back then, that was an insult. keep in mind that my grandpa, a carpenter, practically built that church. and this was the thanks they got. so my grandpa built a house in ewa beach, farther away. that was the house that i knew, the house that i would go to whenever i visited my grandparents. the house that they originally owned, the one next to the tenrikyo church, was one i NEVER saw the inside of, even though it had belonged to my grandparents... although my grandparents never seemed to have any resentment towards the church for that (my grandmother remained one of the most devoted and active members of the church), my mother probably never forgot that theft/betrayal...
another thing of note: my dad and my mom met right after my mom finished high school. she had basically been coerced by my grandma to go to japan to study the tenrikyo religion (she attended the besseki lectures, as i had). she stayed over at her aunty's house, where she met my father. "wait," i said, "you guys were RELATED!?" my mom said sort of, but not really... something about how her aunty had remarried someone in the family. my dad's father was mia in world war ii, they think somewhere in papua new guinea. so my mom and dad were not related through blood... (i also learned that my dad's grandfather, a big shot in south korea, and owner of several steel mills, was likely assassinated... a rickshaw driver basically pulled the cart onto train tracks and left him there... things were pretty dangerous for japanese in korea, especially those who were the heads of industry).
anyway, my mom and dad hit it off... and they continued to correspond with each other while my mom returned to hawaii to attend college (and my dad finished college in japan). "for four years!?" yes, my mom said. they maintained their long-distance relationship. and apparently, there was a promise that once college was up, they would see each other again... so i guess when my mom went to japan the second time, well, they conceived my older brother. and i guess the rest is history...
*****
so when it came to talking about my sister... my mom is still very raw about my sister. and with good reason. my sister had a difficult growing up period. i think ever since intermediate school, things hadn't been swell for her... i kind of feel bad about that. during elementary school, i had always taken care of her. i rode my bike with her down to elementary school, and then on to japanese school, and then home. i was basically her guardian back then. but we're 4 years apart, so by the time she got to 3rd grade, well, she was on her own. and because i'd had my own problems, i basically forgot about her.
my sister got involved in stealing things from a pretty early age. my mom actually mentioned that i may have been an influence in that regard. you see, when i was about five years old, i stole (or attempted to steal) a big box of crayons. it was the 64 crayon box, the large rectangular box with the hole that you could use to sharpen the crayens. i'm not sure why, but i loved new boxes of crayons. i loved how all of the crayons were sharp and pointy and identical. so i stuck the box under my shirt, just covering my belly button... of course, at the check out, my mom (and likely the cashier) noticed that square shape under my shirt. she had me show it...
my mom was really angry about it, and at home, she lit matches and extinguished them on the skin of my arm so that i would always remember how bad it was. it worked, because i never ever stole anything after that...
anyway, my mom implied that my sister had seen what i had done, and decided to imitate me... which, of course, made me feel not a little guilty and responsible for how my sister turned out...
my mom said there was an intervention meeting, and that i was actually there. i honestly don't remember it. well, after she talked about it, i started to recall it... but it's all pretty foggy for me. i guess it was at that meeting that the issue between my brother and sister was raised... but my mom seemed to imply that it was the social worker's fault, because she had asked certain questions about abuse, and thus prompted my sister to come up with that as some sort of excuse to hang onto... (typical republican response, by the way, this sort of victim blaming). my mom did confront my brother about it, and he reluctantly admitted to it... but again, my mom sort of defended him by saying that my dad had left all these pornographic magazines lying around, and they "influenced" my brother to do what he did. i had to laugh at that... i mean, maybe my mom is kind of prudish, but in my experience, a lot of boys at that age are interested in that sort of thing, and are exposed to it, whether it's in the house or out of it. that doesn't explain or excuse what my brother did. i mean, i was exposed to a lot of that stuff, but i didn't act out on it, or do things to my sister...
in any case, it seemed as though my mom was not allowing herself to see how significant this could have been to my sister. she seemed to see it as some sort of "excuse." the thievery and other misbehavior was "primary" to her. she even brought up some story (which i vaguely recall) of a rumor of abuse which occurred in my sister's preschool. my sister had mentioned to my mom about something that happened (she was four at the time). my mom pulled my sister out of that preschool immediately... anyway, she recounted that as evidence that my sister wasn't particularly affected by her encounter with my brother... because, as my mom said, if my sister had been immediately open about the possible abuse that had occurred when she was four, why did it take so long for her to "fess up" about the abuse that occurred with my brother? why did it take twenty or so years? my mom took that as evidence that it really wasn't at the heart of the matter, that she was just using it as some sort of excuse.
i'm not sure why, but for some reason, a lot of my anger towards my brother sort of drained away. i still think that what he did had serious ramifications. but as i listened to my mother speak, i could hear all of the hurt and resentment that she felt... and i kind of sympathized. there is hurt going all around, no one is exempt. so for me to desire someone to blame... well, in the end, everyone is to blame, and no one is to blame... well, maybe i shouldn't put it that way, because it seems to erase something. but somehow, after talking to my mom, i didn't feel quite so angry any more. maybe a part of it had to do with the fact that my brother called in the middle of my conversation, and i learned that he's struggling as a result of this covid-19 thing (a lot of doctor's offices are struggling because patients aren't coming in).
i honestly don't want anyone to get hurt (although saying all of this on this blog kind of tempts fate). but (as i said previously) i just wish everyone would be straight up with each other, and just understand one another. i just wish everyone would stop hurting each other...
well... that's all i guess i should say for today.
Friday, June 5, 2020
6/5/2020
today, all of my students canceled on me. maybe they feel the same restlessness, the need to get out. the need to be free. thus liberated, i bound myself to my usual routines... alas. sometimes freedom is wasted...
well, actually, no. the feeling of liberation, i have come to realize for me, is a myth. it's strange, but the prospect of unlimited time doesn't necessarily excite me. it is the way that i fill my time that is important. and, for whatever reason, i create prisons and walls in my time. "prisons" is a harsh word, but it is apt. as i've mentioned before, life is like water. if there are no walls to imprison the flow, then it simply leaks out, powerless. you need to channel things, and, yes, imprison the flow, in order for it to have any power, to effect change... i guess i'm always thinking of things in those terms...
maybe that's MY prison. in fact, i'm pretty sure it is. i know there were times when i could have opened myself up to people, but i felt it was more important to maintain a certain routine. to study. or whatever. maybe that's my particular box. even right now, i'm lying here typing, when i could be interacting with my son. doing something with him. but what? he is frankly more interested in interacting with his friends, with playing video games. and i am more interested in my own schemes and plans...
i feel sometimes guilty about this. i used to do stuff with my son. i did judo for a couple of years. it was a real trauma to me. i mean, i really wasn't in shape; i would get winded just in the warm-ups. but i had to put on a show for my son, to inspire him to perform well... to be honest, i was never really looking forward to the judo practices. i would always feel so tired after work, and the prospect of getting my lungs slammed out of me, and sweating till my gi was soaked, well, it kind of always put me in a mood... i think afterwards, when practice was over, and we were driving home, and we would stop off at the nii market to pick up a few drinks to rehydrate- well, that was always a good feeling. to have accomplished something with my son... but i guess those positives weren't enough.
i decided to stop going to judo in the year when my job got really tough, when i had a couple of high end cases that just wore me out. i just didn't have enough juice left to get motivated enough to motivate my son to go to judo. so i just dropped out. it was all my fault...
after that, well, my son grew older, and he basically now has his own trajectory. i can't really shape it any more. i love my son, and i think that he has a lot of great qualities. he has a kind heart, for example. me, i actually have a rotten heart. i mess around with my dog a lot. probably in the same manner that my abusive brother messed with me... i often find it strange when i do stuff with the dog, like kiss him, or ruffle his fur, all this stuff that i know probably annoys him (he growls a lot at me); it's ironic, or contradictory, or whatever. i mean, i lament the way i was treated by my brother. but maybe he thought it was just messing around, maybe he thought it was nothing serious... maybe he even thought it was his way of showing affection or something... anyway, back to my son... my son isn't mean like that. he's very kind. and the dog knows it. after my wife, who's frankly a suck-up to the dog, my son is in second place. (i'm last place, after my daughter.)
my son also has interesting conversations with his friends online. i find he's actually quite a connousier (sp?) of video game stuff. he actually thinks a lot about the rules of games, and how to maximize damage or protection or whatever. and it's sometimes entertaining to hear him interact with people all around the world. he's often a good listener. but at the same time, he isn't ashamed to give his opinion, or express himself... totally not like me. (a good thing.)
thing is, he isn't motivated by school, and he doesn't have a direction yet. later this week, i am going to attend this ag meeting, and he's coming with me. i hope to learn about agriculture in hawaii, maybe even get a plot of land or something, and i'm hoping he develops a passion for it. or, failing that, a passion for something. i think, as long as he starts to care about something, then he'll be alright.
*****
my daughter- i have other concerns about her. she used to be so driven. but now, i think she's starting to dissipate. and it's at a moment when she really needs direction. thing is, she has developed a kind of independence and rebelliousness. it's no longer possible to tell her to do something... at least, it's more difficult now. i'm no longer an authority or an expert that she respects. which is fine, in its own right. she needs to develop her own perspective and everything, after all... but i just think that, in certain things, she is either not ready or not experienced enough to understand what's coming...
BUT... as with my son... i'm not doing particularly much about it. i'm more in a pretty selfish mode right now...
*****
why do i do what i do? it's not necessarily for anyone else. it's not to prepare for anything. at least i don't think so. maybe before it was fine to fantasize that someone would look upon the work that i'd done, and compliment me on it. but really, no one is there. no one will be there. and you can't make your life depend upon anyone's attention. because you simply can't count on anyone. and it shouldn't be that way anyway.
you do things because you do them. because that's what you are. because that's the channel or ditch you've decided to dig, and the waters of your life will flow and deepen and widen that ditch. because you decided. because you chose to put it there.
and there are always critiques. why did you do that? why did you put it there? but if you always critique yourself, you never live your life. sometimes you just need to say "fuck it" and do it.
*****
okay, i've not much else to report for the time being. goodbye.
well, actually, no. the feeling of liberation, i have come to realize for me, is a myth. it's strange, but the prospect of unlimited time doesn't necessarily excite me. it is the way that i fill my time that is important. and, for whatever reason, i create prisons and walls in my time. "prisons" is a harsh word, but it is apt. as i've mentioned before, life is like water. if there are no walls to imprison the flow, then it simply leaks out, powerless. you need to channel things, and, yes, imprison the flow, in order for it to have any power, to effect change... i guess i'm always thinking of things in those terms...
maybe that's MY prison. in fact, i'm pretty sure it is. i know there were times when i could have opened myself up to people, but i felt it was more important to maintain a certain routine. to study. or whatever. maybe that's my particular box. even right now, i'm lying here typing, when i could be interacting with my son. doing something with him. but what? he is frankly more interested in interacting with his friends, with playing video games. and i am more interested in my own schemes and plans...
i feel sometimes guilty about this. i used to do stuff with my son. i did judo for a couple of years. it was a real trauma to me. i mean, i really wasn't in shape; i would get winded just in the warm-ups. but i had to put on a show for my son, to inspire him to perform well... to be honest, i was never really looking forward to the judo practices. i would always feel so tired after work, and the prospect of getting my lungs slammed out of me, and sweating till my gi was soaked, well, it kind of always put me in a mood... i think afterwards, when practice was over, and we were driving home, and we would stop off at the nii market to pick up a few drinks to rehydrate- well, that was always a good feeling. to have accomplished something with my son... but i guess those positives weren't enough.
i decided to stop going to judo in the year when my job got really tough, when i had a couple of high end cases that just wore me out. i just didn't have enough juice left to get motivated enough to motivate my son to go to judo. so i just dropped out. it was all my fault...
after that, well, my son grew older, and he basically now has his own trajectory. i can't really shape it any more. i love my son, and i think that he has a lot of great qualities. he has a kind heart, for example. me, i actually have a rotten heart. i mess around with my dog a lot. probably in the same manner that my abusive brother messed with me... i often find it strange when i do stuff with the dog, like kiss him, or ruffle his fur, all this stuff that i know probably annoys him (he growls a lot at me); it's ironic, or contradictory, or whatever. i mean, i lament the way i was treated by my brother. but maybe he thought it was just messing around, maybe he thought it was nothing serious... maybe he even thought it was his way of showing affection or something... anyway, back to my son... my son isn't mean like that. he's very kind. and the dog knows it. after my wife, who's frankly a suck-up to the dog, my son is in second place. (i'm last place, after my daughter.)
my son also has interesting conversations with his friends online. i find he's actually quite a connousier (sp?) of video game stuff. he actually thinks a lot about the rules of games, and how to maximize damage or protection or whatever. and it's sometimes entertaining to hear him interact with people all around the world. he's often a good listener. but at the same time, he isn't ashamed to give his opinion, or express himself... totally not like me. (a good thing.)
thing is, he isn't motivated by school, and he doesn't have a direction yet. later this week, i am going to attend this ag meeting, and he's coming with me. i hope to learn about agriculture in hawaii, maybe even get a plot of land or something, and i'm hoping he develops a passion for it. or, failing that, a passion for something. i think, as long as he starts to care about something, then he'll be alright.
*****
my daughter- i have other concerns about her. she used to be so driven. but now, i think she's starting to dissipate. and it's at a moment when she really needs direction. thing is, she has developed a kind of independence and rebelliousness. it's no longer possible to tell her to do something... at least, it's more difficult now. i'm no longer an authority or an expert that she respects. which is fine, in its own right. she needs to develop her own perspective and everything, after all... but i just think that, in certain things, she is either not ready or not experienced enough to understand what's coming...
BUT... as with my son... i'm not doing particularly much about it. i'm more in a pretty selfish mode right now...
*****
why do i do what i do? it's not necessarily for anyone else. it's not to prepare for anything. at least i don't think so. maybe before it was fine to fantasize that someone would look upon the work that i'd done, and compliment me on it. but really, no one is there. no one will be there. and you can't make your life depend upon anyone's attention. because you simply can't count on anyone. and it shouldn't be that way anyway.
you do things because you do them. because that's what you are. because that's the channel or ditch you've decided to dig, and the waters of your life will flow and deepen and widen that ditch. because you decided. because you chose to put it there.
and there are always critiques. why did you do that? why did you put it there? but if you always critique yourself, you never live your life. sometimes you just need to say "fuck it" and do it.
*****
okay, i've not much else to report for the time being. goodbye.
Thursday, June 4, 2020
6/4/2020
it was heavy stuff, the last posting, but i, more and more, feel as though it was necessary. there, i said it. it's out there. and now i can move on. now the world can move on.
for so long, i held that secret, like this heavy, sonorous burden within me, dragging me through life (or me dragging it). it was like a hot metal ball stuck in my throat, that i could neither spit out nor swallow. this ball of hurt, that would not melt or dissipate. it made me angry and spiteful for so long.
so anyway, i'm moving on... to what?
*****
i've been viewing videos posted from "the other side," aka the conservative viewpoint. and it's quite laughable, actually. false arguments, whataboutisms. hah, is that the best that you can do? it's clearly a bunch of distraction ploys, all flash and bang, to sleight-of-hand you out of seeing (and feeling) the true moral dilemma. same with their support of trump. clearly wrong, but they will obfuscate it by pointing fingers everywhere except into their own navels.
*****
i've been contending with pests and parasites. my plants have, over all, been doing well... well, that's not entirely true, i still have had problems with certain plants... but at least they haven't been dying in large scales... but now, now that the moths have come and laid their eggs on my plants... well, it all goes downhill, and rapidly, from here. the little bastards have eaten holes in the stalks and chewed out the piths, leaving some green mush where the heart of my plants were... and now, the plants have no choice but to die. for you cannot live with a hollow in your heart.
*****
i was thinking at one point of memories... there was a moment when i was standing outside of the bathroom at kailua beach park, just sort of leaning against these bicycle rails... the sound or the light hit me... well, not quite hit me... but i almost felt the film of reality blur... and other times, other moments, started to creep in. i couldn't discern precisely what those times and memories were... but it was a palpable feeling.
actually, lately, i've foregone purposeful writing and instead have written largely about memories. it's astonishing how little i recall about my life. and it's interesting, in its own way, when i start to reexamine those dead parts in my head, and start lighting them up, lighting them on fire. i get interested in the topography of places. like, heck, i lived in certain places for years... and still, it's like most of my life is shrouded in fogs. and there are tiny islands in the fog, but the ways in which they are connected... sometimes all that i do in a writing session is just summon up memories, like ghosts, out of the fog. the color of my bedsheets when i was in college... the shape of the holes in the metal grates of the heaters... a lot of tiny little details. and people, too. people, i have always had a hard time with... i never really looked closely at people, or took the time to really understand them, or their motivations and feelings. like most things in life, i kind of looked at people through a lens. i always tried to be good to people, to serve them, to make them happy... but that's hardly really getting to know people. it's in fact, quite the opposite most of the time. there were times when i chose not to feel the sadness and loneliness of people, for instance. i know i sometimes mention times when i could have been seduced... and that's always a draw, past trysts that never were... but it's more than that. i suppose i could have been a real friend, and spoke honestly and frankly about feelings with people. but i didn't. i didn't want to. i wasn't really able to look into myself, and so i wasn't willing, was too impatient to, sit with someone and be a real friend. a heart to heart.
and that is sad.
there were so many people that, i suppose, could have been great friends. but i was afraid.
i DO have friends, people i still keep in touch with. but i never really saved their lives. i was just someone who- i always have this image- someone who lived on a mesa, and who saw other people who lived on similar mesas- we left each other alone, but it was nice to have them around. maybe that's all friendship really meant to me. i mean, i would, and i have, risked everything for them. but i think there's a comfort in not getting too close, not getting in each other's business, and i think, for me, that that was a big part of what made people friends for me.
i could be wrong, of course.
*****
shame begets shame. if you can't share of yourself, then you get ashamed of that very turning away. it is like a plant reinserting itself into the ground, burrowing deeper away from the light, and back into the darkness. an awkward, unsightly thing... and if life is a repetition of this, a looping back into darkness... how shameful a life! i wish, i wish, i could stand in the light. i wish i could just be simple and accepted. but it's hard. it has always been hard. i'm learning now, and maybe all this writing is just to that end... to let it out, to put it out in the sun, and to learn to tolerate that.
that's my hope, anyway.
for so long, i held that secret, like this heavy, sonorous burden within me, dragging me through life (or me dragging it). it was like a hot metal ball stuck in my throat, that i could neither spit out nor swallow. this ball of hurt, that would not melt or dissipate. it made me angry and spiteful for so long.
so anyway, i'm moving on... to what?
*****
i've been viewing videos posted from "the other side," aka the conservative viewpoint. and it's quite laughable, actually. false arguments, whataboutisms. hah, is that the best that you can do? it's clearly a bunch of distraction ploys, all flash and bang, to sleight-of-hand you out of seeing (and feeling) the true moral dilemma. same with their support of trump. clearly wrong, but they will obfuscate it by pointing fingers everywhere except into their own navels.
*****
i've been contending with pests and parasites. my plants have, over all, been doing well... well, that's not entirely true, i still have had problems with certain plants... but at least they haven't been dying in large scales... but now, now that the moths have come and laid their eggs on my plants... well, it all goes downhill, and rapidly, from here. the little bastards have eaten holes in the stalks and chewed out the piths, leaving some green mush where the heart of my plants were... and now, the plants have no choice but to die. for you cannot live with a hollow in your heart.
*****
i was thinking at one point of memories... there was a moment when i was standing outside of the bathroom at kailua beach park, just sort of leaning against these bicycle rails... the sound or the light hit me... well, not quite hit me... but i almost felt the film of reality blur... and other times, other moments, started to creep in. i couldn't discern precisely what those times and memories were... but it was a palpable feeling.
actually, lately, i've foregone purposeful writing and instead have written largely about memories. it's astonishing how little i recall about my life. and it's interesting, in its own way, when i start to reexamine those dead parts in my head, and start lighting them up, lighting them on fire. i get interested in the topography of places. like, heck, i lived in certain places for years... and still, it's like most of my life is shrouded in fogs. and there are tiny islands in the fog, but the ways in which they are connected... sometimes all that i do in a writing session is just summon up memories, like ghosts, out of the fog. the color of my bedsheets when i was in college... the shape of the holes in the metal grates of the heaters... a lot of tiny little details. and people, too. people, i have always had a hard time with... i never really looked closely at people, or took the time to really understand them, or their motivations and feelings. like most things in life, i kind of looked at people through a lens. i always tried to be good to people, to serve them, to make them happy... but that's hardly really getting to know people. it's in fact, quite the opposite most of the time. there were times when i chose not to feel the sadness and loneliness of people, for instance. i know i sometimes mention times when i could have been seduced... and that's always a draw, past trysts that never were... but it's more than that. i suppose i could have been a real friend, and spoke honestly and frankly about feelings with people. but i didn't. i didn't want to. i wasn't really able to look into myself, and so i wasn't willing, was too impatient to, sit with someone and be a real friend. a heart to heart.
and that is sad.
there were so many people that, i suppose, could have been great friends. but i was afraid.
i DO have friends, people i still keep in touch with. but i never really saved their lives. i was just someone who- i always have this image- someone who lived on a mesa, and who saw other people who lived on similar mesas- we left each other alone, but it was nice to have them around. maybe that's all friendship really meant to me. i mean, i would, and i have, risked everything for them. but i think there's a comfort in not getting too close, not getting in each other's business, and i think, for me, that that was a big part of what made people friends for me.
i could be wrong, of course.
*****
shame begets shame. if you can't share of yourself, then you get ashamed of that very turning away. it is like a plant reinserting itself into the ground, burrowing deeper away from the light, and back into the darkness. an awkward, unsightly thing... and if life is a repetition of this, a looping back into darkness... how shameful a life! i wish, i wish, i could stand in the light. i wish i could just be simple and accepted. but it's hard. it has always been hard. i'm learning now, and maybe all this writing is just to that end... to let it out, to put it out in the sun, and to learn to tolerate that.
that's my hope, anyway.
Tuesday, June 2, 2020
6/1/2020
my apologies for my previous postings. i think i was consumed by my anger and by my uncomfortableness in certain situations. i would edit those posts, and perhaps delete them, but i feel i must commit myself to a certain honesty and frankness, or i run the risk of hemming myself in by "proper walls."
there are different levels and situations of anger at present. i am angry at the president, and republicans (both in government and those who support them), and the state of the country at large. i am angry because they are all clearly in the wrong, and yet there is this complicit support for him that i fail to understand. as the world goes further and further to shit, and that bastard in the white house (and his cronies) cheat the system more and more, this anger within me grows. as i have mentioned, i am surrounded by these people; people whom i want to care about and understand, but whose continued support makes this impossible... so there's that background level of anger.
then, there is the anger at work. it is partially influenced by the above political anger, because i'm surrounded at work by many who (either outright or not) support a president who is a racist, and a sexual predator, and a bully (the list goes on), and they are alright with that. all the while, they talk to children about proper behavior, and about inclusion, and all of these high ideals... the discrepancy, the hypocrisy... it is mind-boggling. but, as i've mentioned, there are sort of personal issues of anger as well. this matter of my grade level, and the matter of inclusion and exclusion. i suppose i am particularly sensitive to those sorts of things, having been, for much of my life, an excluded figure. i have always felt susceptible to this sort of thing, to the isolation and persecution of it. i almost feel a certain fatalism with regards to it. it is definitely not something i feel i can conquer via confrontation. i feel completely powerless. and i suppose i have this (inadequate) idea that i can somehow cope by playing the flip side of the switch- that is, withdrawing, and hoping that the others will somehow come to regret their cruel machinations. (they never do, btw. self-reflection is a rare thing, and people hardly think of you as much as you think they do.)
then, there is the familial anger. this, i suppose, is the deepest. at least, it's the one i refer to as my biggest excuse. it is an anger that is primarily directed at my brother, although by rights it should be directed at my parents, and particularly my mother, for creating the conditions of this problem. i don't know if i've ever mentioned this explicitly (although i must have...), but it basically boils down to the issue that my brother molested my sister when she was about seven years old. i didn't know about it until much later, when my sister was in high school, with her life messed up. she confessed it, and my brother didn't deny it (although now he does). anyway, it kind of ruined the trajectory of my sister's life, or at least, she attributes that issue to her downfall. she began to lie, to steal... and she- horror of horrors for my parents- got involved in lesbian relationships... eventually, she got into drugs, and went to jail, and got out, and went back in... if you ever had someone in your family who dipped into drugs too much, you understand the pattern.
i have been disappointed many times by my sister. i support her, in the sense that i was the only one who would periodically visit her in jail (my parents, who support her financially, and who watch her kids, no longer take the time to do that). but i don't necessarily trust her, or her decisions, or the people that she calls friends. and if she were to end up back in jail, i suppose i wouldn't be entirely surprised...
my brother, on the other hand... a republican (typical). a successful family practitioner. some of my own co-workers, my own principal even, go to see him. i've even recommended people to him, for some strange reason. anyway, i used to get along well with him, even knowing the thing that he did to my sister. i suppose it seemed easier back then, because my sister had screwed up her life so many times, that it was hard to attribute blame to anyone else but her... and, fuck it, my brother can be so charismatic. a natural leader. everyone fucking loved him. i did too.
so, as i may have said, the issue with me and my brother came to a head about ten years ago, when we were both coaching a basketball team for our kids. there was some sort of miscommunication from my daughter to my father, something about how my brother's son had gotten in trouble at summer school, and that's why he wasn't being picked up... i guess the truth was that he had left summer school early to visit his preschool teacher... anyway, something stupid and innocuous as that. but my brother got enraged at this. called my daughter a liar. and- here's the rub- he said that my daughter was just like my sister...
this was what enraged me, what i couldn't wrap my head around. let's see, his son at the time was seven years old. seven, the same age that- it's claimed- he molested my sister... and he was so protective of his son's fragile ego. (where was that sense when he damaged my sister?) furthermore, he was lecturing us about lying. so, who was lying? who was telling the truth? was my brother lying when he admitted to molesting my sister? or was that the truth? kind of a catch 22...
i was told to keep this a secret. professional damage, and all that. reputation... but you know what? it kills me. it eats away at my insides. the fact that the world sees my sister as a fuck-up, and my brother as this glorious wonderful doctor... and the truth is that he ruined her life. and that he has the nerve to compound it with this hypocritical condemnation of my daughter and of me. (if you're not aware from previous postings, he has cut ties with our family completely).
that fundamental hypocrisy is what destroys me. and to never say a word about it... to hear people compliment me on my brother... to have to explain the situation regarding my sister... and to never explain the reality of it all... it simply eats me up inside. i suppose that this fundamental "error" of my soul, it just gets compounded by everything else that is hypocritical: white evangelical christianity, republicans, hypocritical bitchy cliquey teachers... it all just makes me view the world through one lens of rage and disbelief...
...so, yeah. that's my heart. layers of anger. something which i'm not supposed to talk about, but which comes out anyway, because over the years, i can't help it... (no one who knows me really reads this blog anyway, right?)
what i want out of it... i don't know. i don't think there's any way out of this pain. i can't fix anything. i can't fix my sister. i definitely can't fix my brother. i actually don't want to ruin things for my brother, not really. but i just wish that he would own up to what he did, i just wish that he would be humble for once in his life and apologize. it is impossible- IMPOSSIBLE- to make things up. but at least to acknowledge that, maybe it would make things somewhat better.
i also wish my sister could get back on her feet, own up to her life. but she has issues with my parents, the same parents who support her so thoroughly and raise her kids... she got married in jail (i don't know how "official" it is), but she has intentions of moving to georgia or something with her wife once she gets out... forget about her own kids... i don't know. i wish somehow that she could find the strength and desire and will to claim her own children- to show humility and apologize and help my aging parents... to apologize for stealing all of their years from them, the years that they should have spent in ease and retirement... i wish for all of these things.
for my parents. for my mother, in particular... well, i used to be a momma's boy, she gave me a lot of structure and principle. that's why it is so difficult to believe that she is a trump supporter. i feel so incredibly distant from her nowadays because of that... well, i want to understand her, understand how someone can become so duped by the gop. and i want her to also humble herself, to understand the mistake she has made in assisting my brother in burying the deed, as it were. because i know that that denial only compounded the hurt that my sister experienced... making it seem as though it never even happened. that burial, by the way, hurt me too. made me always feel... i don't know... complicit. i wish my mother would have the strength to do that. because that's the only way that our family would ever get back together.
these are the things i hope for. but i know it is impossible. they- all three of them- are so incredibly strong-willed and stubborn. they would never willingly surrender their positions... so all i can really do is watch. i support them, i listen to them, but i can't stop them from falling apart. i can't stop the world from falling apart.
*****
this is why i return to teaching children. to growing things. to routines. and it is why i simply disbelieve most people who are my peers. it is so much easier to work with things that make sense. even when they prove difficult, it is far easier to work with these things than to deal with my own feelings and my own family. i can't- i can't solve it... and i can't forgive it. i haven't found a way to. i haven't found the strength to.
i love my sister. if it were up to me, i wish that i could've stopped it all, somehow. i want my sister's life to be what it should have been, before my brother sullied it. i want my sister to find happiness- an authentic happiness- not one that is fleeting, and associated with running away from responsibilities.
... i don't know.
anyway, i've probably said too much. i'll try to bury all of this in other postings, and the nobodies who read this will forget anything was ever said here...
there are different levels and situations of anger at present. i am angry at the president, and republicans (both in government and those who support them), and the state of the country at large. i am angry because they are all clearly in the wrong, and yet there is this complicit support for him that i fail to understand. as the world goes further and further to shit, and that bastard in the white house (and his cronies) cheat the system more and more, this anger within me grows. as i have mentioned, i am surrounded by these people; people whom i want to care about and understand, but whose continued support makes this impossible... so there's that background level of anger.
then, there is the anger at work. it is partially influenced by the above political anger, because i'm surrounded at work by many who (either outright or not) support a president who is a racist, and a sexual predator, and a bully (the list goes on), and they are alright with that. all the while, they talk to children about proper behavior, and about inclusion, and all of these high ideals... the discrepancy, the hypocrisy... it is mind-boggling. but, as i've mentioned, there are sort of personal issues of anger as well. this matter of my grade level, and the matter of inclusion and exclusion. i suppose i am particularly sensitive to those sorts of things, having been, for much of my life, an excluded figure. i have always felt susceptible to this sort of thing, to the isolation and persecution of it. i almost feel a certain fatalism with regards to it. it is definitely not something i feel i can conquer via confrontation. i feel completely powerless. and i suppose i have this (inadequate) idea that i can somehow cope by playing the flip side of the switch- that is, withdrawing, and hoping that the others will somehow come to regret their cruel machinations. (they never do, btw. self-reflection is a rare thing, and people hardly think of you as much as you think they do.)
then, there is the familial anger. this, i suppose, is the deepest. at least, it's the one i refer to as my biggest excuse. it is an anger that is primarily directed at my brother, although by rights it should be directed at my parents, and particularly my mother, for creating the conditions of this problem. i don't know if i've ever mentioned this explicitly (although i must have...), but it basically boils down to the issue that my brother molested my sister when she was about seven years old. i didn't know about it until much later, when my sister was in high school, with her life messed up. she confessed it, and my brother didn't deny it (although now he does). anyway, it kind of ruined the trajectory of my sister's life, or at least, she attributes that issue to her downfall. she began to lie, to steal... and she- horror of horrors for my parents- got involved in lesbian relationships... eventually, she got into drugs, and went to jail, and got out, and went back in... if you ever had someone in your family who dipped into drugs too much, you understand the pattern.
i have been disappointed many times by my sister. i support her, in the sense that i was the only one who would periodically visit her in jail (my parents, who support her financially, and who watch her kids, no longer take the time to do that). but i don't necessarily trust her, or her decisions, or the people that she calls friends. and if she were to end up back in jail, i suppose i wouldn't be entirely surprised...
my brother, on the other hand... a republican (typical). a successful family practitioner. some of my own co-workers, my own principal even, go to see him. i've even recommended people to him, for some strange reason. anyway, i used to get along well with him, even knowing the thing that he did to my sister. i suppose it seemed easier back then, because my sister had screwed up her life so many times, that it was hard to attribute blame to anyone else but her... and, fuck it, my brother can be so charismatic. a natural leader. everyone fucking loved him. i did too.
so, as i may have said, the issue with me and my brother came to a head about ten years ago, when we were both coaching a basketball team for our kids. there was some sort of miscommunication from my daughter to my father, something about how my brother's son had gotten in trouble at summer school, and that's why he wasn't being picked up... i guess the truth was that he had left summer school early to visit his preschool teacher... anyway, something stupid and innocuous as that. but my brother got enraged at this. called my daughter a liar. and- here's the rub- he said that my daughter was just like my sister...
this was what enraged me, what i couldn't wrap my head around. let's see, his son at the time was seven years old. seven, the same age that- it's claimed- he molested my sister... and he was so protective of his son's fragile ego. (where was that sense when he damaged my sister?) furthermore, he was lecturing us about lying. so, who was lying? who was telling the truth? was my brother lying when he admitted to molesting my sister? or was that the truth? kind of a catch 22...
i was told to keep this a secret. professional damage, and all that. reputation... but you know what? it kills me. it eats away at my insides. the fact that the world sees my sister as a fuck-up, and my brother as this glorious wonderful doctor... and the truth is that he ruined her life. and that he has the nerve to compound it with this hypocritical condemnation of my daughter and of me. (if you're not aware from previous postings, he has cut ties with our family completely).
that fundamental hypocrisy is what destroys me. and to never say a word about it... to hear people compliment me on my brother... to have to explain the situation regarding my sister... and to never explain the reality of it all... it simply eats me up inside. i suppose that this fundamental "error" of my soul, it just gets compounded by everything else that is hypocritical: white evangelical christianity, republicans, hypocritical bitchy cliquey teachers... it all just makes me view the world through one lens of rage and disbelief...
...so, yeah. that's my heart. layers of anger. something which i'm not supposed to talk about, but which comes out anyway, because over the years, i can't help it... (no one who knows me really reads this blog anyway, right?)
what i want out of it... i don't know. i don't think there's any way out of this pain. i can't fix anything. i can't fix my sister. i definitely can't fix my brother. i actually don't want to ruin things for my brother, not really. but i just wish that he would own up to what he did, i just wish that he would be humble for once in his life and apologize. it is impossible- IMPOSSIBLE- to make things up. but at least to acknowledge that, maybe it would make things somewhat better.
i also wish my sister could get back on her feet, own up to her life. but she has issues with my parents, the same parents who support her so thoroughly and raise her kids... she got married in jail (i don't know how "official" it is), but she has intentions of moving to georgia or something with her wife once she gets out... forget about her own kids... i don't know. i wish somehow that she could find the strength and desire and will to claim her own children- to show humility and apologize and help my aging parents... to apologize for stealing all of their years from them, the years that they should have spent in ease and retirement... i wish for all of these things.
for my parents. for my mother, in particular... well, i used to be a momma's boy, she gave me a lot of structure and principle. that's why it is so difficult to believe that she is a trump supporter. i feel so incredibly distant from her nowadays because of that... well, i want to understand her, understand how someone can become so duped by the gop. and i want her to also humble herself, to understand the mistake she has made in assisting my brother in burying the deed, as it were. because i know that that denial only compounded the hurt that my sister experienced... making it seem as though it never even happened. that burial, by the way, hurt me too. made me always feel... i don't know... complicit. i wish my mother would have the strength to do that. because that's the only way that our family would ever get back together.
these are the things i hope for. but i know it is impossible. they- all three of them- are so incredibly strong-willed and stubborn. they would never willingly surrender their positions... so all i can really do is watch. i support them, i listen to them, but i can't stop them from falling apart. i can't stop the world from falling apart.
*****
this is why i return to teaching children. to growing things. to routines. and it is why i simply disbelieve most people who are my peers. it is so much easier to work with things that make sense. even when they prove difficult, it is far easier to work with these things than to deal with my own feelings and my own family. i can't- i can't solve it... and i can't forgive it. i haven't found a way to. i haven't found the strength to.
i love my sister. if it were up to me, i wish that i could've stopped it all, somehow. i want my sister's life to be what it should have been, before my brother sullied it. i want my sister to find happiness- an authentic happiness- not one that is fleeting, and associated with running away from responsibilities.
... i don't know.
anyway, i've probably said too much. i'll try to bury all of this in other postings, and the nobodies who read this will forget anything was ever said here...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)