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.