remembering who i am via the internet

it's raining... well... pouring really, in the East Bay. i have some work to finish, so i hunch over my laptop with a pot of sencha, ready for internet action.

i am listening to pandora's interpretation of m.ward, the smoky (predominately male) soft voices remind me of rainy days in other places. i'm entering data on a state reporting website, stats that attempt to reflect the urban city diversity of my students' lives, who have a far deeper complexity and understanding of mixed race than i do, but my mind is transported back to other soggy day tasks. mending and canning on days when the mud was thick, the chickens were sleeping, and a farm had no interest in being meddled with.

it's days like this that i miss the naivete that came with living with 7 white ppl on a farm. i forget the sordid politics and cultural mix of white guilt, anarchy, and heterosexism, and instead remember the simple tasks: strumming a guitar to the rhythm of the rain, stirring local honey into a cup, or sorting screws in the barn.

i start to search, through the memories, looking for glimpses of that me. checking the old farm website, reading about each pandora artist, and checking photos on facebook where those happy faces of the farm seem to pop up every once and awhile.

as i sit now in oakland, ca, i know a little piece of my hapa soul will always be there. little piece, mind you, but nonetheless, somehow, that part of my soul stole away from me, whether i was ready for it or not. so i google, to reconnect with that old self.

getitng lost

In Nara now, writing from my hostel. Japan has been incredible and trying thus far. More than anything, I want this trip to be something special, to show me something I don't know, or to heal me, but really what I am learning is how trapped and caught up my ego is with that experience.

Yvette and I had a rough day. We got lost 2x on the warmest day since we've been here, right in the middle of cherry blossom viewing. But at the end of it all, we found the temple we were looking for, with a giant (maybe 5 story?) Buddha and beautiful grounds to stroll in. Not surprisingly, it made me feel very small, and, at the same time, connected to all the people around me: the tourists, the gawking westerners, the crying children, as well as the ancestors, the monks who walked the halls, the warriors in the 13th century. It was all very humbling.

I miss home. I have been having more vivid dreams here, or perhaps I just have the time to wake up in the morning and remember them. It makes me feel more connected to a place and people that are very far away.

rambling "I"s

3/19/09

you know my wandering days are over
does that mean that I’m getting boring
well you tell me
I’m tired of talking to myself

a few weeks ago, on my bachan’s 90th birthday, an aunt and uncle from texas exclaimed that they had seen and bought the perfect bumper sticker for me ‘not all who wander are lost.’ it seemed a bit of a misnomer to me. i traveled a few life changing road trips across the country when i was in my early 20’s and stopped to stay with them along the way. full of enthusiams and self discoveries, i’m sure i had plenty to ramble about.

i used to write when i traveled, and last night, as i spoke to my friend K, i remembered that’s partly how we became friends. i was on the road traveling, and would post my updates on friendster. i have no idea what i used to write now, or what made it interesting to people. As i’ve hit my Saturn returns, i spend more time obsessing on being Virgo than about making grand revelations.

i’m feeling old, and naïve at the same time. like no one could possibly listen to any narcissistic discovery i might make. so here goes…