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.
Monday, June 8, 2020
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...
Sunday, May 31, 2020
5/31/2020
i'm back, even though it is only a little while since i last posted.
i should also mention that the world is going to hell around me. i know that the background of our historical, hysterical situation is also feeding into a lot of the anger that i feel. at 2020, a few months before the election, this is the "great" america that trump has been working for. over 100,000 dead after a pandemic that trump repeatedly disowns ("not my fault"); and now, a race war, encouraged by our racist president. i think what's laughable is how things are so inconclusive and ambiguous on the ground with all the riots, and this asshole (and his ass puppet a.g. barr) have the gall to characterize the violence as being incited by antifa and the far left, when there is ample evidence that it is his own "very fine people" in the neo-nazi white supremacy movements... so, yeah, there is a lot of anger at thtat. but it also seethes at the people around me, who happen to be trump supporters too. i work with a lot of them, believe it or not. for whatever reason, they support him. as someone once said, the charitable thing is to call them "stupid" or "duped"; because if they aren't, then they are racist, sexist, self-interested, greedy, ... the list goes on. btw, i should mention that my brother and my own mother belong to this group of supporters. it even goes to my family.
i think the white evangelical movement has been one of trump's biggest supporters. and i fear that that's where a lot of support for trump comes from locally. whether it's a good thing or not, a lot of local churches aren't really local; they are just local branches, or franchises, of national white evangelical movements, that espouse a lot of the gop talking points, you know, the complete bs you see on fox news. and a lot of these people, who are otherwise kind people, well, they just eat it up. some of the support comes from their anti-abortion bias... i'm sorry, but no matter what your feelings are about abortion, if you don't see how the gop has duped people into thinking they are about "family values..." as a fact, with planned parenthood and other organizations, abortion has actually been occurring at the lowest rate in history, due to women having other options to prevent pregnancy. banning abortions does not stop them from happening. it only makes it impossible or deadly for women of poverty to obtain it (because wealthy gop senators can always pay to have their mistresses go, say, out of state, to take care of their indiscretions)...
in any case, those are my views on things. worst president ever. and we knew what he was like when he was running. and now that we have a confirmation of our worst suspicions, there are people who still... STILL... eagerly follow his wishes. which makes me- i don't know, disappointed is too light a word- disheartened in people. people all around me.
so i guess i should also mention that aspect of things.
*****
i woke up feeling like- i don't know- like my heart was breaking.
i guess i should mention some regrets. my school had been having problems securing an ea or educational assistant for my class. my former ea retired last year. i guess i am low on the priority list. they say that it's partially because i'm more experienced, but whatever the reason, they could not secure someone permanent for my class. i had a couple of people serve in that role this year, including a young girl who i felt was doing a great job. i guess the unfortunate thing was that the grade level i had mentioned previously- well, she felt like she was a strong part of their team. which she was. and i don't fault her for it at all...
in any case, she was let go. it all happened abruptly, without anyone communicating anything to me. it happened over the covid-19 "break." i had communicated with her briefly over texts, and tried to secure a job for her (because i was concerned about her employment status). but i suppose i failed her in a couple of respects. number one, while there was this day at my school where they did send offs for everyone leaving, well, i guess because she had only been a temporary hire, she was not included on the official list. i suppose i could have argued for her to have a send-off, but i didn't. i suppose i also could have advocated for her more vociferously- but i thought i already did; i repeatedly wrote to my principal urging him to keep her, telling him how great she was. but my experience has been that much of what i say isn't taken into serious consideration anyway...
so i feel bad about that. again, i feel concern for her, and if other opportunities come up, i'll pass them her way... but i guess, as with all things, she probably felt most comfortable with the other women on that grade level, and considered them to be most like her "team."
*****
i suppose i have a long experience with being- i don't know- the second. i recall moments. like when i had to interview the wrestling (formerly football) coach for some newswriting story. and how he kept saying how great my brother was, and why wasn't i more like him? or at my japan grandma's funeral, how my grandma's friend didn't really want to hear from me, and repeatedly gushed about how my japan grandma had always talked (exclusively) about my older brother...
there's this feeling you get that the world loves someone or something much better than you. and you can't compete with that. you just kind of sink away with this- i don't know- disappointment in your heart. and that sets you off in this game, where you walk away and feel dejected... and then try to prove yourself in various ways, prove that you are just as good...
i hate that feeling, but it repeatedly comes up. students who love other teachers, even though you worked with them more closely... co-workers, same thing... it hurts because it feels like you don't have a place in anyone's heart. and that's when you learn to distance yourself from the world. that's when you learn that you don't have a place in its heart. you're like a second-class citizen, a refugee. and you serve, but you don't belong.
i guess that's what i am, essentially. a servant. a serve the children, i serve to better the world. but i don't belong in it. i'm not loved by it. the world only loves the glamorous and the strong.
the irony is that the world loves my brother. but my brother committed heinous crimes against my family, crimes that even today he does not admit. it's a similar thing with my grade level. i have struggled to understand what i did wrong with them, even though i served them, and i did a lot for them or on their behalf... i did those things, but i'm not a part of their "team."
now, when they ask me to take photos with them, etc., i just flat out say, "no." because why should we take a photo presenting something that is not real?
*****
lowly. i serve. i serve the children. i serve the garden. i serve. i do jobs. i do tasks.
if i disappear, you won't miss ME. you'll maybe notice for a time that jobs aren't being done. but maybe you'll find someone better, more like a real human being, to replace me. in fact, you likely will. and the deficit will be erased.
*****
i think i need to speak to my hawaii grandma (she is sort of like my guardian angel, the only person i felt comfortable to speak to, the only one who SAW me). and i need to meditate. it's all very raw, all very painful. but i need to return to the sense that i am okay, that i am a caring and gentle person, that i am a human being.
i cannot change the coarses of rivers and oceans.
but i can choose to sink or swim.
and i have to find a reason to swim.
*****
in that sense, my wife saved me. i am so thankful for her. because i have walked through life with such a deep sadness and dejection buried within. i have been hollow for so much of my life. and my wife saw me, and still embraced me. and that made me feel like a human being again.
i should also mention that the world is going to hell around me. i know that the background of our historical, hysterical situation is also feeding into a lot of the anger that i feel. at 2020, a few months before the election, this is the "great" america that trump has been working for. over 100,000 dead after a pandemic that trump repeatedly disowns ("not my fault"); and now, a race war, encouraged by our racist president. i think what's laughable is how things are so inconclusive and ambiguous on the ground with all the riots, and this asshole (and his ass puppet a.g. barr) have the gall to characterize the violence as being incited by antifa and the far left, when there is ample evidence that it is his own "very fine people" in the neo-nazi white supremacy movements... so, yeah, there is a lot of anger at thtat. but it also seethes at the people around me, who happen to be trump supporters too. i work with a lot of them, believe it or not. for whatever reason, they support him. as someone once said, the charitable thing is to call them "stupid" or "duped"; because if they aren't, then they are racist, sexist, self-interested, greedy, ... the list goes on. btw, i should mention that my brother and my own mother belong to this group of supporters. it even goes to my family.
i think the white evangelical movement has been one of trump's biggest supporters. and i fear that that's where a lot of support for trump comes from locally. whether it's a good thing or not, a lot of local churches aren't really local; they are just local branches, or franchises, of national white evangelical movements, that espouse a lot of the gop talking points, you know, the complete bs you see on fox news. and a lot of these people, who are otherwise kind people, well, they just eat it up. some of the support comes from their anti-abortion bias... i'm sorry, but no matter what your feelings are about abortion, if you don't see how the gop has duped people into thinking they are about "family values..." as a fact, with planned parenthood and other organizations, abortion has actually been occurring at the lowest rate in history, due to women having other options to prevent pregnancy. banning abortions does not stop them from happening. it only makes it impossible or deadly for women of poverty to obtain it (because wealthy gop senators can always pay to have their mistresses go, say, out of state, to take care of their indiscretions)...
in any case, those are my views on things. worst president ever. and we knew what he was like when he was running. and now that we have a confirmation of our worst suspicions, there are people who still... STILL... eagerly follow his wishes. which makes me- i don't know, disappointed is too light a word- disheartened in people. people all around me.
so i guess i should also mention that aspect of things.
*****
i woke up feeling like- i don't know- like my heart was breaking.
i guess i should mention some regrets. my school had been having problems securing an ea or educational assistant for my class. my former ea retired last year. i guess i am low on the priority list. they say that it's partially because i'm more experienced, but whatever the reason, they could not secure someone permanent for my class. i had a couple of people serve in that role this year, including a young girl who i felt was doing a great job. i guess the unfortunate thing was that the grade level i had mentioned previously- well, she felt like she was a strong part of their team. which she was. and i don't fault her for it at all...
in any case, she was let go. it all happened abruptly, without anyone communicating anything to me. it happened over the covid-19 "break." i had communicated with her briefly over texts, and tried to secure a job for her (because i was concerned about her employment status). but i suppose i failed her in a couple of respects. number one, while there was this day at my school where they did send offs for everyone leaving, well, i guess because she had only been a temporary hire, she was not included on the official list. i suppose i could have argued for her to have a send-off, but i didn't. i suppose i also could have advocated for her more vociferously- but i thought i already did; i repeatedly wrote to my principal urging him to keep her, telling him how great she was. but my experience has been that much of what i say isn't taken into serious consideration anyway...
so i feel bad about that. again, i feel concern for her, and if other opportunities come up, i'll pass them her way... but i guess, as with all things, she probably felt most comfortable with the other women on that grade level, and considered them to be most like her "team."
*****
i suppose i have a long experience with being- i don't know- the second. i recall moments. like when i had to interview the wrestling (formerly football) coach for some newswriting story. and how he kept saying how great my brother was, and why wasn't i more like him? or at my japan grandma's funeral, how my grandma's friend didn't really want to hear from me, and repeatedly gushed about how my japan grandma had always talked (exclusively) about my older brother...
there's this feeling you get that the world loves someone or something much better than you. and you can't compete with that. you just kind of sink away with this- i don't know- disappointment in your heart. and that sets you off in this game, where you walk away and feel dejected... and then try to prove yourself in various ways, prove that you are just as good...
i hate that feeling, but it repeatedly comes up. students who love other teachers, even though you worked with them more closely... co-workers, same thing... it hurts because it feels like you don't have a place in anyone's heart. and that's when you learn to distance yourself from the world. that's when you learn that you don't have a place in its heart. you're like a second-class citizen, a refugee. and you serve, but you don't belong.
i guess that's what i am, essentially. a servant. a serve the children, i serve to better the world. but i don't belong in it. i'm not loved by it. the world only loves the glamorous and the strong.
the irony is that the world loves my brother. but my brother committed heinous crimes against my family, crimes that even today he does not admit. it's a similar thing with my grade level. i have struggled to understand what i did wrong with them, even though i served them, and i did a lot for them or on their behalf... i did those things, but i'm not a part of their "team."
now, when they ask me to take photos with them, etc., i just flat out say, "no." because why should we take a photo presenting something that is not real?
*****
lowly. i serve. i serve the children. i serve the garden. i serve. i do jobs. i do tasks.
if i disappear, you won't miss ME. you'll maybe notice for a time that jobs aren't being done. but maybe you'll find someone better, more like a real human being, to replace me. in fact, you likely will. and the deficit will be erased.
*****
i think i need to speak to my hawaii grandma (she is sort of like my guardian angel, the only person i felt comfortable to speak to, the only one who SAW me). and i need to meditate. it's all very raw, all very painful. but i need to return to the sense that i am okay, that i am a caring and gentle person, that i am a human being.
i cannot change the coarses of rivers and oceans.
but i can choose to sink or swim.
and i have to find a reason to swim.
*****
in that sense, my wife saved me. i am so thankful for her. because i have walked through life with such a deep sadness and dejection buried within. i have been hollow for so much of my life. and my wife saw me, and still embraced me. and that made me feel like a human being again.
5/30/2020
i'm out of routine, but just thought i would check in. this week has been rough in the sense that i had these projects to do, and things to take care of at work. i put aside all of my routines to finish those things...
the end of the year always brings some strange feelings. actually, most of the time, i am completely incapable of feeling much of anything. i am numb and dead inside. there's very little sadness. if anything, there is anger. and i move or act, not out of real feeling or sympathy or compassion or whatever, but because my brain says it is the appropriate or opportune thing to do. it sounds cold, it is cold, but i'm being real.
the fact that people are leaving my school, for some of them, yes, i do feel sad. i did enjoy seeing them and working with them. but for some, my feelings were either absent or ambiguous...
i suppose i should explain a bit. i'm not exactly sure how it happened, but a cloud, a pall, fell over my relationship with my own grade level. i sometimes associate it with the introduction of one particular teacher, whom i tend to have a difficult time with, but it's probably more than that. about three years ago now, i had a particular student who had been placed in inclusion, probably inappropriately. let's just say that it wasn't working out for that student to be in the gen ed class. although i was a co-teacher, i felt i had to devote more and more time to that student in other settings, even though i continued to try to have the student transition into the gen ed setting. in any case, and this is my suspicion, i think my withdrawal from the gen-ed setting was a matter of complaint for the gen ed teacher. that's my guess, anyway. the fact that she was pregnant later in the year didn't help matters...
in any case, things got really awful towards the end of the year. i felt that the entire grade level (all women) were allied against me. and i didn't feel like i had the recourse to ask what was going on, or why they were angry and not communicating with me. i tried to be helpful when i could, especially for my pregnant co-teacher, but i kind of got the cold shoulder (i.e., no response). i think i kind of withdrew by the end of the year. i did voice my situation to my vice principal, but she didn't seem particularly sympathetic, and in any case, didn't do anything to resolve my concerns.
i honestly thought about transferring schools at that point. i mean, i love my kids, i love working with the kids... it's sometimes the teachers that i have a hard time with. but ultimately i stayed, maybe out of complacency, maybe out of a sense that i had SOME ties at the school worth keeping.
anyway, things didn't get much better the next year, or this year, for that matter. let me tell you, that about four or five years ago, i was definitely a part of the team for the fifth graders. i and my ea. but now, i felt that they made a point to exclude me. they didn't communicate important stuff to me. sometimes when i required information to complete paperwork, they wouldn't respond.
in fact, that was the big problem towards the end of last year. when i requested some important info for one of my students, info that i needed to enter on essentially legal documents, then i didn't get a reply. let me tell you, for myself, if i had neglected to reply to some messages in a timely manner, i would catch some heavy flak. but i didn't get a reply after two days. and i needed that info to complete the document. so i complained. i complained to that teacher, and i complained to my principal and vice principal... and i got that one teacher really mad. but i felt justified in complaining, because i wasn't getting a response to my request...
in any case, the end result of that was that i got into trouble. at the end of the year, the principal, vice principal, that teacher, and the head of my department all teamed up on me, and essentially told me it was my fault, and that i shouldn't have been so impolite in the way i had responded. they said that i should have given sufficient time for the gen ed teacher to respond. i made some arguments that i would've been fine if the gen ed teacher had told me she needed more time or something, but she didn't respond period. and keep in mind that this was occurring over a background of silence on other things anyway.
that meeting also infuriated me, but as is the case with me, i just kind of said okay, and stomached it. in any case, it was too late to do a transfer at that point, and i was condemned to stay for another year.
to be honest, things weren't all that bad this year... i at least interacted with the teachers, did some of their science lessons for them, and stuff like that. and one of the grade level teachers helped me out a bit with my robotics team, which, frankly, no one in my school really gives a crap about (at least no one is willing to really help me out... after a few years of requests... let me tell you that i am the ONLY school that has a SINGLE coach leading a group of kids. most schools have TEAMS of people to work with their students. i guess i shouldn't be complaining, but yes, i am complaining, because i have asked for help many times. it always makes me think there is something wrong with me, that no one wants to assist me... my school always talks about teamwork and shit, but it's only teamwork with certain people or certain interests... but again, what i do, which included not only robotics, but science fair, and history day, well, i guess those aren't particularly important enough. usually they don't even want to mention what i do. or they don't give me time, like fucking five minutes, to announce something or request something... so there's my little rant about that. yes, to be honest, i guess i am bitter.)
anyway, to go back to this year. something kind of snapped in me this week. i just realized that there were so many negative feelings towards my grade level that i just didn't want to attend the farewell thing at all. i am not one to pretend any feelings. in fact, i have a hard time emoting period (maybe because it's buried under a lot of unresolved anger). so i just decided not to go. i mean, i do what's requested of me, i made posters for some of the departing people. but to physically be there, and say stuff that i don't really mean in my heart- well, it was just too much for me.
the thing is that i've felt less and less connected to the community of the school as time has passed. after all, i'm not a squeaky wheel. i run in silence. and i always return to the kids, the kids, the kids. the noisy people somehow convince the others. so i know that most of the school is kind of allied against me. they think all the less of me. so when i relate to others at work, i keep it on a certain level, where i will help them all i can, but i won't share my feelings with them. i'm just a nothing to most people there anyway. and my admin could care less. i dimly suspect that they would want me to leave, if they could, to get someone more effusive. and compliant.
whew. so i guess i do have a lot of bitterness and anger in me. i actually do wish people well. i wish the best for my former co-teacher. but i feel like- i don't know, it's the same with my brother- i feel like i've been unfairly rejected, but there's no way to change things. i have no voice to express my anger, my rage. i remember trying to express my feelings and how my brother would just turn to fox news or the sports. "huh, you say anything?" same with my grade level. and maybe i wouldn't want to say anything anyway, because- again, like my brother- they would pooh-pooh my feelings, and make like it was all such a little thing. and now, voila, it's all better. they would make it better, and not even apologize for anything. that's kind of how that meeting with my principal and that teacher went- where we kind of rushed through, and then my principal said, "well, i'm glad that's resolved."
i guess i kind of feel helpless, because i have no one at school to confide in. whereas they have their whole fucking team, their network of gossip and shit. i have to say, i am so used to that world. i grew up in that world, through middle school, high school, even college. i have always been an outsider. whether it's my awkwardness or my ignorance or whatever, i have never fit in. and i have always been the victim of that kind of exclusion. so what they are doing is nothing new. what i find hilarious is how they lecture kids for this sort of thing, when they do it on the daily themselves. that's why i say FUCK any sort of institutionalized groupings. anything like that. because it is all about bands of cowards hanging together.
i suppose the only thing i really worry about is that i have so internalized the anger and hurt and rage that i cease to feel. i used to believe that i was a naturally empathic and compassionate person. but now i'm realizing that i have so much anger in me that i can't feel for others, or feel much of anything for that matter. that's why i need to return to something. i need to meditate, return to gardening, anything, to release this anger, and to care about people, about my children, again. that's where the teaching is. not in any of this bullshit with other teachers.
i'm sorry, but at this point in the game, that's where my heart is.
*****
it's ironic, but earlier today, i was feeling- i don't know, anxious, sad. and it has been kind of rare for me to feel much of anything. when i get this feeling, it is something visceral, tangible. i actually feel it physically. as though i am this hollow drum with the skin held tight, vibrating at the slightest disturbance... and i felt that this was what i needed to write, or to do art, or to emote in any real sense of the word... and that much of what i had been doing up until now has been simply mechanical, because i had lost the capacity to feel. most of what i feel is this ineffable sadness. like i could almost break down and cry if i let myself. i know, it's weird. but that, i think, is my heart. i have a deep sadness in myself. not sadness necessary for myself, but simply a generalized sadness at the ephemeral nature of life, that everything that we love must change and die. it is generally a gentle thing. but like the sweet note of a violin, it can carry a world of emotion...
i was thinking that if i could return to that feeling, to always keep it raw and naked, that i would be able to write, or whatever. that i would have something to say.
that's what i intended to talk about when i decided to write this blog post... but then, in talking about this past week, i guess i started to feel sorry for myself, and wanted to complain about my situation. oh well. i guess it has been on my mind. in fact, maybe it was part of what broke through my shell... this realization of that inner turmoil, that anger within me...
but whatever. i will try to keep that flame, that feeling of something within me, going.
the end of the year always brings some strange feelings. actually, most of the time, i am completely incapable of feeling much of anything. i am numb and dead inside. there's very little sadness. if anything, there is anger. and i move or act, not out of real feeling or sympathy or compassion or whatever, but because my brain says it is the appropriate or opportune thing to do. it sounds cold, it is cold, but i'm being real.
the fact that people are leaving my school, for some of them, yes, i do feel sad. i did enjoy seeing them and working with them. but for some, my feelings were either absent or ambiguous...
i suppose i should explain a bit. i'm not exactly sure how it happened, but a cloud, a pall, fell over my relationship with my own grade level. i sometimes associate it with the introduction of one particular teacher, whom i tend to have a difficult time with, but it's probably more than that. about three years ago now, i had a particular student who had been placed in inclusion, probably inappropriately. let's just say that it wasn't working out for that student to be in the gen ed class. although i was a co-teacher, i felt i had to devote more and more time to that student in other settings, even though i continued to try to have the student transition into the gen ed setting. in any case, and this is my suspicion, i think my withdrawal from the gen-ed setting was a matter of complaint for the gen ed teacher. that's my guess, anyway. the fact that she was pregnant later in the year didn't help matters...
in any case, things got really awful towards the end of the year. i felt that the entire grade level (all women) were allied against me. and i didn't feel like i had the recourse to ask what was going on, or why they were angry and not communicating with me. i tried to be helpful when i could, especially for my pregnant co-teacher, but i kind of got the cold shoulder (i.e., no response). i think i kind of withdrew by the end of the year. i did voice my situation to my vice principal, but she didn't seem particularly sympathetic, and in any case, didn't do anything to resolve my concerns.
i honestly thought about transferring schools at that point. i mean, i love my kids, i love working with the kids... it's sometimes the teachers that i have a hard time with. but ultimately i stayed, maybe out of complacency, maybe out of a sense that i had SOME ties at the school worth keeping.
anyway, things didn't get much better the next year, or this year, for that matter. let me tell you, that about four or five years ago, i was definitely a part of the team for the fifth graders. i and my ea. but now, i felt that they made a point to exclude me. they didn't communicate important stuff to me. sometimes when i required information to complete paperwork, they wouldn't respond.
in fact, that was the big problem towards the end of last year. when i requested some important info for one of my students, info that i needed to enter on essentially legal documents, then i didn't get a reply. let me tell you, for myself, if i had neglected to reply to some messages in a timely manner, i would catch some heavy flak. but i didn't get a reply after two days. and i needed that info to complete the document. so i complained. i complained to that teacher, and i complained to my principal and vice principal... and i got that one teacher really mad. but i felt justified in complaining, because i wasn't getting a response to my request...
in any case, the end result of that was that i got into trouble. at the end of the year, the principal, vice principal, that teacher, and the head of my department all teamed up on me, and essentially told me it was my fault, and that i shouldn't have been so impolite in the way i had responded. they said that i should have given sufficient time for the gen ed teacher to respond. i made some arguments that i would've been fine if the gen ed teacher had told me she needed more time or something, but she didn't respond period. and keep in mind that this was occurring over a background of silence on other things anyway.
that meeting also infuriated me, but as is the case with me, i just kind of said okay, and stomached it. in any case, it was too late to do a transfer at that point, and i was condemned to stay for another year.
to be honest, things weren't all that bad this year... i at least interacted with the teachers, did some of their science lessons for them, and stuff like that. and one of the grade level teachers helped me out a bit with my robotics team, which, frankly, no one in my school really gives a crap about (at least no one is willing to really help me out... after a few years of requests... let me tell you that i am the ONLY school that has a SINGLE coach leading a group of kids. most schools have TEAMS of people to work with their students. i guess i shouldn't be complaining, but yes, i am complaining, because i have asked for help many times. it always makes me think there is something wrong with me, that no one wants to assist me... my school always talks about teamwork and shit, but it's only teamwork with certain people or certain interests... but again, what i do, which included not only robotics, but science fair, and history day, well, i guess those aren't particularly important enough. usually they don't even want to mention what i do. or they don't give me time, like fucking five minutes, to announce something or request something... so there's my little rant about that. yes, to be honest, i guess i am bitter.)
anyway, to go back to this year. something kind of snapped in me this week. i just realized that there were so many negative feelings towards my grade level that i just didn't want to attend the farewell thing at all. i am not one to pretend any feelings. in fact, i have a hard time emoting period (maybe because it's buried under a lot of unresolved anger). so i just decided not to go. i mean, i do what's requested of me, i made posters for some of the departing people. but to physically be there, and say stuff that i don't really mean in my heart- well, it was just too much for me.
the thing is that i've felt less and less connected to the community of the school as time has passed. after all, i'm not a squeaky wheel. i run in silence. and i always return to the kids, the kids, the kids. the noisy people somehow convince the others. so i know that most of the school is kind of allied against me. they think all the less of me. so when i relate to others at work, i keep it on a certain level, where i will help them all i can, but i won't share my feelings with them. i'm just a nothing to most people there anyway. and my admin could care less. i dimly suspect that they would want me to leave, if they could, to get someone more effusive. and compliant.
whew. so i guess i do have a lot of bitterness and anger in me. i actually do wish people well. i wish the best for my former co-teacher. but i feel like- i don't know, it's the same with my brother- i feel like i've been unfairly rejected, but there's no way to change things. i have no voice to express my anger, my rage. i remember trying to express my feelings and how my brother would just turn to fox news or the sports. "huh, you say anything?" same with my grade level. and maybe i wouldn't want to say anything anyway, because- again, like my brother- they would pooh-pooh my feelings, and make like it was all such a little thing. and now, voila, it's all better. they would make it better, and not even apologize for anything. that's kind of how that meeting with my principal and that teacher went- where we kind of rushed through, and then my principal said, "well, i'm glad that's resolved."
i guess i kind of feel helpless, because i have no one at school to confide in. whereas they have their whole fucking team, their network of gossip and shit. i have to say, i am so used to that world. i grew up in that world, through middle school, high school, even college. i have always been an outsider. whether it's my awkwardness or my ignorance or whatever, i have never fit in. and i have always been the victim of that kind of exclusion. so what they are doing is nothing new. what i find hilarious is how they lecture kids for this sort of thing, when they do it on the daily themselves. that's why i say FUCK any sort of institutionalized groupings. anything like that. because it is all about bands of cowards hanging together.
i suppose the only thing i really worry about is that i have so internalized the anger and hurt and rage that i cease to feel. i used to believe that i was a naturally empathic and compassionate person. but now i'm realizing that i have so much anger in me that i can't feel for others, or feel much of anything for that matter. that's why i need to return to something. i need to meditate, return to gardening, anything, to release this anger, and to care about people, about my children, again. that's where the teaching is. not in any of this bullshit with other teachers.
i'm sorry, but at this point in the game, that's where my heart is.
*****
it's ironic, but earlier today, i was feeling- i don't know, anxious, sad. and it has been kind of rare for me to feel much of anything. when i get this feeling, it is something visceral, tangible. i actually feel it physically. as though i am this hollow drum with the skin held tight, vibrating at the slightest disturbance... and i felt that this was what i needed to write, or to do art, or to emote in any real sense of the word... and that much of what i had been doing up until now has been simply mechanical, because i had lost the capacity to feel. most of what i feel is this ineffable sadness. like i could almost break down and cry if i let myself. i know, it's weird. but that, i think, is my heart. i have a deep sadness in myself. not sadness necessary for myself, but simply a generalized sadness at the ephemeral nature of life, that everything that we love must change and die. it is generally a gentle thing. but like the sweet note of a violin, it can carry a world of emotion...
i was thinking that if i could return to that feeling, to always keep it raw and naked, that i would be able to write, or whatever. that i would have something to say.
that's what i intended to talk about when i decided to write this blog post... but then, in talking about this past week, i guess i started to feel sorry for myself, and wanted to complain about my situation. oh well. i guess it has been on my mind. in fact, maybe it was part of what broke through my shell... this realization of that inner turmoil, that anger within me...
but whatever. i will try to keep that flame, that feeling of something within me, going.
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
5/27/2020 (dream)
and, in a flash, it is now five days later.
i had a dream. i can't remember the beginning of it. but at one point, in a tour bus or something, we (i and the passengers) were watching other cars and buses navigate a particularly treacherous part of the road below. apparently, there was a bus parked on the side of the road (or maybe it had broken down?), and in impatience, some of the other vehicles were trying to find an alternate route... only, there was no way around it. just beyond the bend where the bus was stalled, there was a sheer drop over a river. and we watched as bus after bus would attempt the jump and would fail spectacularly...
after a time, i spoke to some of the passengers about similarly risky pathways. and then i was speaking to someone (this younger white dude) about risky pathways that he had taken. he mentioned (and pointed out in the landscape... or did the landscape itself change?) a road sloping up into the mountains. i mentioned something similar, but far steeper- and said something about how i would never attempt such a path, particularly if someone were with me- implying something about my own children...
in any case, we eventually ended up in some sort of inn, which was located, it seems in a cave of some sort. and i was in a room with one of the bass guitarists of radiohead, the one with the bowl haircut (that thome comments on in one video) and the apish arms, whom i never quite learned the name of, and (in this dream) imagined did not speak english as his first language... he seemed conscious of the fact that attention was upon him, and immediately dropped to the floor, imitating a scene from- i called it- cape fear. i don't know if there actually was a scene like this, but he was on the floor, as though handcuffed, and someone kicked him or something, and he dislocated his shoulder on purpose, yelling (in denero-ese) "fock you!" i laughed a bit, told him that was good. he said thanks in some halting spanish accent, and then said that because it was just he and his little brother, he would often have to come up with things to entertain him and pass the time...
i remember having this insight, that this was inside of a dream. and someone (me?) said, "ah, this is a true one!" and then someone else, in this british mad-scientist-y voice, creaked, "but how can you tell!?" and i imagined these old dessicated souls peering and mulling over forms in the flotsam and jetsam of consciousness, trying to find remnants of the old world- the living world- and most of the time failing. the "how can you tell" part was something about how the conscious mind, that devilish thing, could always recreate forms in its own image, according to its own memory, and thus pretend at reality- and the despairing "how can you tell" statement was because it was no longer possible to discern the "real" world of antiquity from something that was "recreated" and placed there...
i feel that this last was a commentary on original inspiration. it was probably a bridge thought, on the way out of the dream...
***
i went to use the bathroom in the dark, and i was gazing into the bowl, i thought of how the kappa's head is like a toilet bowl... draining away into the darkness...
***
when i close my eyes to sleep, i don't know why, but i imagine (or try to imagine) a different life... but something keeps me from a clear vision that i can feel... maybe it's just because my imagination has always been broken. i always thought it was, because it never seemed to work the way that they make it on sesame street, where you can close your eyes, and this clear alternate reality appears... no, there are always questions, distractions... you can always see the puppeteer's hands invading the show... but anyway, i felt as though i had dug myself in a rut, dug the bottom of the river with my own clawed fingers, and scooped out enough of the shit and sediment to create a trap of a sort, where the water would cycle and have a difficult time escaping... and i could see the waters of the river, and other shores, but i could never escape the rut i had made...
life is like that. we can see much farther than we can be.
i suppose i can't even conceive (in my imagination) of another relationship. it is- as vizzhini says- "inconceivable!" it's sad, i suppose. even in an escapist sort of sense, and even within my own head, i am not allowed of imagining alternatives in any way that i could feel... like, perhaps if i had opened a door into another life at this particular juncture... or, perhaps if i had gone to the summer country, free from obligations, and met someone there... it's impossible for me to "see" it or experience it. the devil is in the details, they say, and it's in the details that the vision is lost... what does she look like? why would she interact with you? what would she say? inevitably, the whole stage collapses upon itself.
...again: "ah, this is a true one!"
"but how can you tell!?"
life, the mind- it is a game of obfuscation- of make-believe... ever think of the words? make-believe. how we make something and then try to believe it. that's life, i suppose. but at a certain point, it's difficult. we know we made it... so how can we believe it? that's the rub.
i get scared sometimes, of old age. as my faculties diminish, and the only thing i have left to run away with is my mind, have i already imprisoned myself with my ravenous analytical consciousness? the one that dissolves all forms and dreams in its stomach and then refashions it all into usable proteins and sugars and fats??? all to build up my own towering edifice. (btw, not unlike my own minecraft adventure, this never-ending construction of a tower of rationality???)
i had a dream. i can't remember the beginning of it. but at one point, in a tour bus or something, we (i and the passengers) were watching other cars and buses navigate a particularly treacherous part of the road below. apparently, there was a bus parked on the side of the road (or maybe it had broken down?), and in impatience, some of the other vehicles were trying to find an alternate route... only, there was no way around it. just beyond the bend where the bus was stalled, there was a sheer drop over a river. and we watched as bus after bus would attempt the jump and would fail spectacularly...
after a time, i spoke to some of the passengers about similarly risky pathways. and then i was speaking to someone (this younger white dude) about risky pathways that he had taken. he mentioned (and pointed out in the landscape... or did the landscape itself change?) a road sloping up into the mountains. i mentioned something similar, but far steeper- and said something about how i would never attempt such a path, particularly if someone were with me- implying something about my own children...
in any case, we eventually ended up in some sort of inn, which was located, it seems in a cave of some sort. and i was in a room with one of the bass guitarists of radiohead, the one with the bowl haircut (that thome comments on in one video) and the apish arms, whom i never quite learned the name of, and (in this dream) imagined did not speak english as his first language... he seemed conscious of the fact that attention was upon him, and immediately dropped to the floor, imitating a scene from- i called it- cape fear. i don't know if there actually was a scene like this, but he was on the floor, as though handcuffed, and someone kicked him or something, and he dislocated his shoulder on purpose, yelling (in denero-ese) "fock you!" i laughed a bit, told him that was good. he said thanks in some halting spanish accent, and then said that because it was just he and his little brother, he would often have to come up with things to entertain him and pass the time...
i remember having this insight, that this was inside of a dream. and someone (me?) said, "ah, this is a true one!" and then someone else, in this british mad-scientist-y voice, creaked, "but how can you tell!?" and i imagined these old dessicated souls peering and mulling over forms in the flotsam and jetsam of consciousness, trying to find remnants of the old world- the living world- and most of the time failing. the "how can you tell" part was something about how the conscious mind, that devilish thing, could always recreate forms in its own image, according to its own memory, and thus pretend at reality- and the despairing "how can you tell" statement was because it was no longer possible to discern the "real" world of antiquity from something that was "recreated" and placed there...
i feel that this last was a commentary on original inspiration. it was probably a bridge thought, on the way out of the dream...
***
i went to use the bathroom in the dark, and i was gazing into the bowl, i thought of how the kappa's head is like a toilet bowl... draining away into the darkness...
***
when i close my eyes to sleep, i don't know why, but i imagine (or try to imagine) a different life... but something keeps me from a clear vision that i can feel... maybe it's just because my imagination has always been broken. i always thought it was, because it never seemed to work the way that they make it on sesame street, where you can close your eyes, and this clear alternate reality appears... no, there are always questions, distractions... you can always see the puppeteer's hands invading the show... but anyway, i felt as though i had dug myself in a rut, dug the bottom of the river with my own clawed fingers, and scooped out enough of the shit and sediment to create a trap of a sort, where the water would cycle and have a difficult time escaping... and i could see the waters of the river, and other shores, but i could never escape the rut i had made...
life is like that. we can see much farther than we can be.
i suppose i can't even conceive (in my imagination) of another relationship. it is- as vizzhini says- "inconceivable!" it's sad, i suppose. even in an escapist sort of sense, and even within my own head, i am not allowed of imagining alternatives in any way that i could feel... like, perhaps if i had opened a door into another life at this particular juncture... or, perhaps if i had gone to the summer country, free from obligations, and met someone there... it's impossible for me to "see" it or experience it. the devil is in the details, they say, and it's in the details that the vision is lost... what does she look like? why would she interact with you? what would she say? inevitably, the whole stage collapses upon itself.
...again: "ah, this is a true one!"
"but how can you tell!?"
life, the mind- it is a game of obfuscation- of make-believe... ever think of the words? make-believe. how we make something and then try to believe it. that's life, i suppose. but at a certain point, it's difficult. we know we made it... so how can we believe it? that's the rub.
i get scared sometimes, of old age. as my faculties diminish, and the only thing i have left to run away with is my mind, have i already imprisoned myself with my ravenous analytical consciousness? the one that dissolves all forms and dreams in its stomach and then refashions it all into usable proteins and sugars and fats??? all to build up my own towering edifice. (btw, not unlike my own minecraft adventure, this never-ending construction of a tower of rationality???)
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