Every Kalihi Morning

I'm not really into haiku's but someone requested one I think. So, why not now?

The heat settles in

I hear the chickens cluck-ing

A new day is here

DRAMAFEST

(Hello Bloggers! Apologies for such a long hiatus!)

It was when I was driving to the event this morning that I was about to attend my last dramafest as a student of the Ilokano program.  Like my fellow program enthusiasts, I was excited for our work to be featured on today's program and I looked forward to showcasing to the community how valuable this program is to me and my fellow classmates. This semester's theme, "Lucky you live Hawaii" inspired many plays that conjured up ALOT of thoughts and emotions in me.  At a time in my life when i'm most emotional and conflicted (between staying here or going to the mainland to pursue a master's degree------opportunities that I am forever grateful to parents/family/teachers/community), I think I read into things too much today to look for signs---to help me make such a tough decision and to help me make sense of my life. The "Iliw" music video made me cry and hurt in advance for the iliw that I will have to endure for 2+yrs if I leave behind my loved ones and the community base that I have built in the university and community over the years.  The Farrington youth and seeing Jeremy Sabugo perform his Ilokano rendition of Freddie Aguilar reminded me of the hope and the potential that the local youth have that remain unrecognized and unappreciated if it wasn't for programs like ours and people like us to bring confidence and guidance to them. This realization makes me ache with guilt to think that I might have to be abandoning them by leaving. The social ills that IP331 highlighted reminded me of the obligation I have to the community that gave to me while IP368B reminded me of my ancestor's sacrifices, and encouraged me to take every opportunity I can that was afforded by the expense of labor and hardships of those who came before me. Despite the dilemma, the act that brought me to tears was our very own video produced by Ilokano 402. Agyamanak ta nakapagtimpuyog-ak kadagitoy nga tao a nangisuro kaniak ken kadagitoy kaeskuelaak nga nangited iti ado a ragsak. I am proud of myself and my classmates for taking advantage of the opportunity that we had to join the only Ilokano program in America and I speak for them also when I say that we will be forever grateful for the sacrifices that our instructors have made and continue to make in efforts to keep us tied to the motherland and to remind us of our rich and proud heritage without which we would forever lack our confidence, and part of our souls, had we not been acquainted with the knowledge----names, individuals, songs and literature--- that helped us explain and define who we are and where we are going as individuals and as a people. I hope that the viewers and the underclassmen understood the message we portrayed in our video. We're lucky that we live in Hawaii because we are blessed with instructors and a program that you will not find anywhere else.  Agyamanak. Dios ti agngina.

I wanna SCREEEAAM!

I know that life is so much more harder for many more people across the world.  I know that there are people who are starving, have fleed their homes, have been separated from their parents, or who are seriously ill.  Being in my current situation, I should be thankful for what I have and for the life I have been blessed with.  However, in times like this I just can't help but SSSCCCCREEEEAMMM! 

Woes meeeeee....... 

for my debt and never ending financial troubles....

for my broken printer that refuses to print those essays I worked SO HARD to compose....

for that unreliable polluting car that has paralyzed my mobility with a gas leak that has been threatening my life...

for that irresponsible student who has yet to return an overdue DVD to Sinclair that I really need to view SOON for work.....

So sorry...there are more serious problems that other people face...but I just need an outlet to SCREEEAAAM. Sometimes that's all we can do...before we eventually return to reality and just do what we have to do and get on with life.

I Take It In

"I take it in..."

I read that off of her blog.

If you only knew what she was talking about,

What wrecks both her life and mines, 

Would you be able to take it in?

For seven years I thought about her and her mother,

I enslaved my shell and my soul, 

I gave what what wasn't deserved,

and for seven years, 

I took it all in.

I see her today and I see her, her sister and her mother,

Reflections of love,

Reflections of strength,

Reflections of a tragedy,

Reflections of myself...

A woman

Taken advantage of

Hurt

Torn

Impured

Lost

Relieved

Scared

Anxious

Scarred

I eventually grew with the years

My decisions didn't reflect growth

But the distance between us did

It wasn't enough.

Desire drove him to his destiny

Repression breeds resistance

Liberty and justice for all

"How do you plead?"

"Not Guilty"

She finally went to see him

Said it was hard to see someone in all orange,

Bald with no hair,

Whom she hasn't seen for over a year.

An innocent four year old,

Growing up without knowing

Why her father doesn't tuck her in at night.

A young girl,

Blossoming into womanhood

Proms, first dates

No father figure around.

Memories that will be looked back upon,

Are half empty and incomplete.

I look in the mirror 

And my whole world crumbles in disgust and guilt

As much as one can pray,

Things cannot be undone.

Seven years,

I died so they could live,

I gave up my voice,

So they could talk.

I gave up my heart for them,

So theirs would not break.

But now there are only broken hearts,

Seeking to heal themselves and rid themselves 

From wanting ...whatever kind of love, affection, accomodation

That cohesive families desire from each other.

And blogs take the place of an estranged loved one.

While I sit here and read

Newspapers, captions, Associated Press, blogs...

Each painful year flashes in my head, 

Perfect years at my cost,

Down the drain,

At the cost of the girls and their mother.

She finally went to see him,

In jail, where family reunions will be held from now on.

It was "loving... happy" she said.

"But I take it in".

We all take it in.

A Haiku

Kissing her shoulders

Rising, Falling, with each move

Long hair being brushed

I wrote this during class while I sat behind this girl that wouldn't stop brushing her hair. Sorry if it lacks pizzaz.

You Are What You Eat

I can't help it, but it has been the theme of my week. 

Consumption, over consumption.

All week in my environmental politics class we talked about the massive propaganda campaign that corporations and industries are feeding our minds--the PR that the journalists and our 10 year old brothers buy into--the money that they are feeding to scientists and think-tanks in order to sway our opinions of the global environmental crisis and to cloud our minds and the issues to make it all seem like theories. The attacks against deregulation and the backings by government officials who are supposed to be representing us and our interests.

And in American politics the talk was on the wasteful racist suburbs, paving over nature and reinforcing gendered notions and gender divisions of labor with their ideal "American dream homes" trapping women in the confines of the domestic sphere---locking out the colored and the poor, the single mothers and the homosexual only to tolerate single families and eliminating any opportunity for communal living---their two car garages and 2.5 automobiles that brought about the need for interstate roadways increasing the dependence on fuel and taking hours from our lives and the time we spend with our families, all because of long ridiculous commutes worsened by traffic.

On my three minute walk to class I pass by at least 3 people with ipods or 3 people on their cell phones and an occassional 2-3 with a Starbucks in their hands. I walk into the bright lit white room of Webster Hall and the overflowing trash can in the corner automatically catches my eye, spilling with empty cups of Jamba Juice, Starbucks, Subway drinks, Pizza Hut boxes and India Cafe styrofoam plates.  I take my seat and join the rest of my class in whipping out our Macbooks and plugging in our headsets into our ears, tuning ourselves out from the world and into the world of YouTube.  

I recall when I lived a full semester with just half of these luxuries.  London, still a first world nation with its prizes kept me from the daily doses of Indian curry and Starbucks, the all-american automobile, the extra value meals and...(dun dun dun!!!)... the CELLPHONE!!!.  I actually lost weight, had more energy and was less lethargic :)  However, I also recall the culture shock I experienced when I return to Maui. It was at the Safeway in bakery infact and for some reason, the super-sized and mass produced butter croissants FREAKED ME OUT, and the same experience was repeated the days following as we made our weekly trips to the grocery stores, the fast food chains, Walmart and Costco. 

As I sat and waited for class to start, ears plugged by all the information age had to offer, I can't seem to get my mind off the trash can.  On my way from the classroom to home, I scrutinize the contents of each overflowing trash bin and study what each of my fellow university students held in their hand---and to my surprise only a few of them actually held books or bags large enough to hold books.  On my commute home ...cars domestic and foreign choked the freeway while its drivers and passengers enjoyed the luxury of air conditioning and sipped on their latest craze.  I sit at home and read the blogs of my peers, stating concern for their lack of time or their need for Apple's latest toy. Then I reflect on my own concerns and "needs", and remember the me that was happy with the simpler life in London, in Maui, in her vacations to the Philippines. I sit here and brainstorm, spacing out at my surroundings, looking through my dvds, counting the bottles of lotions that line my dresser, and reading the hallmark cards tacked to the wall...and I realize...even my own poems and notions of love are all indeed supposedly capitalist.

Valentines 2008: "Hello?"

"Hello?"

I call you.

On the shuttle

In between classes

On my way to school

At night, in bed

In the morning, in bed

I call you.

"Hello?"

I can remember.

The sunset cruise

Spring break in Europe

Last minute visits to Kobe

Our unsuccessful fish tank attempt

Falling asleep on the phone

I can remember.

"Hello?"

The feelings come.

Sweaty palms

Racing heart

Weakening knees

Piercing pain

Watery eyes

The feelings come.

"Hello?"

A cloud of thoughts.

I love you. 

I miss you. 

I wish I was there.

Do you miss me?

Do you still love me?

A cloud, a thick could of thoughts.

"Hello?"

A relationship down to the wire

Five years approaching

"Hello?"

Everytime I call

No matter when, no matter where

When you answer the phone and say hello

This is what I remember

This is what I feel

This is what I think and what I long to say

What I long to do, you can only imagine

We are left to only imagine

When you answer the phone

no matter when

no matter where

The years replay

The words return

The feelings bring me to life

and I fall in love with you all over again.

"Hawaiian Airlines service to Kona, now boarding"

There was an ocean of them. 

Black, brown, white--- all of them silent.

Burger King, Stinger Rays, Chowmein Express, Starbucks.

Different in taste, different in color, different age, different in gender.

There was just one outstanding factor that made them physically identical.

The camouflage backpacks, the beige boots and the matching uniforms to go with it all.

"U.S. Marines" it read across the left side of their chest.

"Where's everyone heading to?"

"To the Big Island ma'am, for training."

They packed the lines and blocked all walkways with their worries:

bottled water and the rumor that there wouldn't be any available at their destination

overpriced starbucks

the lost group member

and the chance that it might be cold there in the Big Island

"Then you will be deployed?" asked I, the curious feminist

fixed on these figures of youth standing around the barista

"No ma'am, we're going to assist the guys over there who are going to be deployed" another answered with a smile on her face

As I sat and drank my coffee among these men and women,

I wondered if they wondered what I often wondered in those short ten minutes

I wondered if they thought about Pohakuloa Training Center and Makua Valley

the way that the Kanaka Maoili thought about these places

I wondered if they saw in every Asian woman

what those servicemen saw in Nicole and the 9yr old girl in Okinawa

I wondered if they saw the University of Hawaii, Manoa

the same way that the students did, who gave up their saturday to sit in Bachmann Hall

I wondered if they knew of what their fellow servicemen and servicewomen would be ordered to do someday in a foreign country

with their aerial skills like I saw yesterday morning, 

flying vertically, straight up into the sky,

while their commercial counterparts fashionably ascended in a diagonal style.

Many of them raced down the hall 

while the few around me

remained calm and collected

tying shoes, retying their hair into buns, gulping down their coffee.

As they got up one by one and pushed in their seats

I flashed my warmest smile

and I called out to them

as they all hurried away

a different character from the ones I sat and had coffee with just seconds ago.

They were more firm now, stiff rather

determination in their stride 

and taller, perhaps because of their all-of-a sudden instilled pride

the young men and young women I sat and had coffee with 

walked away as soldiers

marines

"Best of luck and god bless you all" I yelled

My voice drowned by the hospitable voice on the intercom:

"Hawaiian Airlines service to Kona, now boarding."

Welcome to blogspot

Wow.. so I guess this is how it goes.

I've always been curious. Well, its hard not to be. One of my professors---- probably THE most influential professor i've ever had is a self-proclaimed "avid blogger".  Since I declared my residency in the corner of the department chair's office a few semesters ago, our conversations have not gone without a mention of his infamous blog.  Indeed, the words of the left handed are sometimes right. Sometimes. This blogging seems to be soothing, especially after a day of classes and many interactions with classmates, intellectuals and others. Where else can you go to breathe and throw up everything that you have taken in? I was never one to blog, however I've come to find that thinking out loud and talking to myself is not the best thing to do anymore and like always, the influences of this dear professor has won me over, again---the first being my joining the Ilokano revolution. Since he's such an advocate of the blogging, i'm hoping he supports my joining the blogging community, even though it will take lifetimes for my blog entries and writing to compare to the masterpieces he spits out daily.