When Will We

When will we not text "good night"
Will this really be the end?
I know I had stopped saying good night
Months ago

And I regret it now
It was childish
And stupid
And I wish I hadn't done that

To us
To you
To me

To start the day
To end the day

That's what I'm missing
Without you

I'm getting used to the silence
But the waves of sadness
Still come here and there

That there's an empty space
In the bed
And the things I used
To think were annoying

I miss
I admit it
I miss

Replacing Photos

The walls are bare
Random holes
Show injury
In the walls

Where his photos were
Not yours

The blank walls are
Empty canvases
For you to paint what you will
What you want

Your life
Not his

Looking through old frames
You have choices
To pick from
Black and white, metal, and color

So many choices
Good to have choices

The memories of togetherness
Cut and taped beneath a matte
Placed behind glass
And hung on walls of the past

Now you dust them off
Undue the tape

Going through your photo album
You carefully choose which ones
To print, to cut, to hang
These are the new images

For your space
Your life

The Crips and Queers Will Save Us All

I've spent a lot of my life in the queer community. Of course, personally. But also, professionally. A professional queer- we'd joke. How funny it is to be paid to be queer. But, that I was. Then, I was paid to be Asian American. That was a a good, but short gig - an interim position.

Now, I've been in the disability studies world for the past two years. I've gotten through a number of classes and attended as many disability cultural events I could. This past Friday, I co-organized a student disability studies conference. The new layer for me as a programmer was the accessibility. I knew it would be different, but I didn't know how different until the day came.

In the end, the conference was fine. The challenges we had weren't due to any accessible issues, but general technology crap. As I thought more about the day, I came to even better believe and understand, that the crips and queers will save us all. Without the academic theory- this is just a personal essay. Maybe in the future, this piece and my thoughts will be something more.

What Queerness Does

• Explodes gender, gender identity, and gender expression
• Redefines the idea of sexuality; that, sex is also not just for reproduction, but for pleasure; and, that pleasure is more than a vagina and penis
• Reminds the community that we are "illegal" beings, until the law changes; that we are not full citizens, until we have a federal, non-discrimination act for housing, healthcare, and employment. Things are changing for sure. But, don't take for granted what marriage equality is; while others are still unemployed and homeless.

What Crip Does

• Brings accessibility in all different ways - physically and cognitively. When doing the conference, we were mindful not only of the large print access copies, ASL interpreters, audio description, but also how others not familiar to the disability studies world could enter in a safe way.
• It's about being inclusive. Otherwise, it sends the message that You, person X, aren't welcome. That you must change yourself to enter our world. It's on you, not us. This is not the way I want to operate.

There's so much more to say. If the "mainstream" society would behave the ways the crip and queer folks do... I know we'd have a much better world. It's my current world. If you want to be in it, I'll let you in.

Rage

I felt myself bubbling
like the percolator
I use to brew
My dark, black coffee

But I didn't have to
Plug the electric cord in
Something had already
Set me off; something that he did

I knew I had to get out of there
Or I was going to explode
With shards of nail bits
In his skin, eyes, and clothing

All he had to do
Was the laundry today
That's it
He rarely is ever asked much more

And he doesn't even have a job anymore
Again
Same story
Whatever

I'm so mad at him
At myself
That the day before
The divorce this is the stress on my

I left him a note saying,
Do whatever with the laundry
I'm not waiting for it to dry
For me to change it

I feel the anger
In my shoulders
Between and in
The muscles that meet my neck

I'm probably still mad
At him when he almost
Killed himself
How could he let me know?

He knew that I'd
Try and stop him
Wait up for him
Call the police on him

He said it was - selfish
Fuck yeah it was selfish
That he wouldn't even wait
Until we were divorced

That I'd have his debt
I wasn't going to be a widower
Divorce me first, I asked
Just wait a few more days

Then, find the train
Drink yourself down the hole
I fucking don't care
And won't be responsible

These are harsh words
I rarely say
But you've made me get
To this point

So, fuck you
I can't wait until you're gone.

The Mis-gendering in Indiana

There's two things I can count on in life. No - not death and taxes. The mis-gendering that happens to me in Indiana and Indian restaurants (read: "Thank you, sir!).

Yes, I have a shaved head.
Yes, I often wear pants and dark colors.
Yes, I have a small chest.
Yes, I carry a men's wallet.

But, to me on the inside, I still feel like I look like a woman. So, it just makes me laugh - at least now it does. Maybe a few years ago it didn't. And maybe if I didn't have a good support system, I'd be devastated.

I'm an Asian American woman who has a shaved head and mostly wears pants.

I just don't see such a big deal?

We know that with one's gender expression, then many people take the leap into sexual orientation. That if you're a gender non-conforming, female (cis or trans), you're assumed to be lesbian.

Keep this shit separate, people. One does not equal the other.

When WE becomes ME

The WE is falling down the hill
as it falls the E turns circles as the W
rolls to try and catch up
sometimes it's EW and sometimes it's WE

What happens when a WE dissolves
and the W turns to an M
which then makes ME
from the plural to singular

It's been a WE situation for nearly 11 years
a rocky one but a good one too
I went from an I to a ME to a WE
But sometimes lost myself too

He would sometimes ask me
What order I put - me, him, and us
I would put us first, then, him, and me
ME last

I know better now
I know better that it has to be ME
Then, us
Then, him

He knew this already
And at times I was angry about
Him putting himself first
How dare he

I didn't want ME first
for him
but at least
put us first

I'm sad not to be a WE
I know there's a lot of social capital
that comes with a
WE

But I'm also just sad
not to have the spouse
and partner I thought I was going to have
for the rest of my life

As the letters continue to fall and roll
the WE, ME, EM, EW, WWWW, MMMM
EEEEEE
I hope they'll land softly and unbroken

There's always more

I didn't think we could be
more further apart
but we are

the small things
not saying "good night"
to each other

I used to pull
the light cord
and, you'd come and hear it

now, the metal chain
is yanked down
I turn on my side to sleep

I've always slept
on my right side
I didn't mean to sleep
away from you

I've slept on the left side
of the bed
and I've still faced outward

sometimes I've been afraid
that you're going to
accidentally hit me in the night
you don't sleep as calmly as

I do

I can't sleep
on my stomach like
you do

you still invite me to eat
your cooking
but I'm not
eating meat so much

so that isn't shared
anymore

we can still be
in the same bed
but be worlds apart

people can be worlds apart
and still feel like
they're facing each other

that's love

the sum of all parts

my breasts do not make
me a women
how can they
men have breasts

often times
their breasts are
much larger than
mine

my breasts
have always been
small
wearing training bras

then graduating to
a size 32AA
sounds like a battery
or something you'd get at a hardware store

there was a time
when I wore bras
colored ones
cotton ones

but my skin did not
care for these
I'd try and count how many
pimples I'd have on my back

so I gave them up
and wore bandaids across
my nipples
and later tape

my nipples always seemed
odd to me
much darker than my skin
like a raspberry with small bumps

I'd poke at them
play with them
ask them why
they are how they are

wonder if I could live
without them
so I wouldn't have to do
tape or bandaids

my nipples gave me away
of being born a female
no matter how short my hair
or what clothes I wore

these parts I have
are not the sum of me
they were what I was born with
but do not define me

I do not hate them
but I don't want to be bound by them either
my breasts
my vagina

I do not hate them
but I don't want to be
bound by them
either

Oh, Those Childhood Christmas Memories

As a kid, I have a number of Christmas memories. Definitely one of middle-class privilege.

On Christmas Eve, we'd get dressed up (which I came to despise) and go to church down the street. I never understood why we had to wear our "fancy" clothes, which meant frilly dresses and hair bows. Even though the church was close by, we would whine about how cold it was still in the van. Ma or Mom would remind us that the temperature needed to raise up.

Church would be filled with a brief sermon, but mostly holiday carols by the choir. We also would have small individual candles. One year, one of our hair caught on fire from the candle and due to our long, black hair. I'd never smelled burning hair before that. We'd see our school friends also all dressed up and looking forward to presents.

Either before or after church, we would drive around different neighborhoods and look at the lights. We would do our neighborhood, and then if there was time - go the "right" neighborhood of Geist. Surely, they would have even better lights. And they did.

Then, we'd come back home and change into our pajamas, which were usually matching and we had gotten to open the night before. Ma would make hot cocoa for us. Then, we'd come down to the living room to open the presents we had wrapped for each other. We each took turns so we could see what each other got and Mom could take photos. At the end, we'd gather up all the Christmas wrapping trash. Maybe we'd open the things and put in the batteries of things that needed batteries. Then, up we go to bed so Santa (i.e., Ma and Mom) could do their work.

For most of our childhood we had a real tree. Ma and Mom would go to a tree farm and get one fresh. We would use the metal tree stand/bucket that my Grandfather made. Kim and I would have to take turns water the tree so it wouldn't get dry and thus the lights start a fire. (These were the cautionary tales I heard as a kid.)

We've been told we were pretty good kids. We wouldn't sneak out of bed or anything like that. Often, Ma and Mom would have to yell to get us up, because we were still in bed and sleepy. But eventually, we'd make our way downstairs. We'd have to wait on the landing of the stairs until Mom was ready with her camera. Then, when she was ready, we could go down the hallway and into the living room to see the Santa presents and also get our stockings, which often turned out to be a big present in and of itself.

The stocking - in our house - not only had candy, but a variety of pragmatic toiletries. A new toothbrush, cotton balls, toothpaste, and anything else small and slender that could fit. Peanuts with the shell were used as filler along with the holiday candy.

By noon, we had moved to the dining room and put all of our candy in a large, metal bowl. I'm sure Ma made something for Christmas Day lunch. I love you Ma and Mom. Thanks for all the Christmas-es you gave us.

We had a great Christmas as kids. We got many presents and Ma and Mom really did want us to have what they didn't have when they were little. I think they really loved shopping and giving. And as much as I'm sure I loved the toys and material things, now as an adult, I find it hard to think of really anything  I would want. Sure, there'd be some small little things or books, but even those things, I know I could do without. As an adult and as someone who is trying to pair down and simplify, I would much rather enjoy time with friends and families with a movie, theater, or art exhibit. Making breakfast or brunch - and just hanging out.

Breakfast light, well, kind of

I love the morning light that comes in the dining room in the apartment.

Well, I should rephrase, it's more like the early afternoon light

About 1 or 2 p.m.

It's light enough but still with enough contrast to have shadows.

Today, I had my camera out and decided to take a few pictures of the things around me.

The photo above was my finished breakfast plate - cinnamon waffles, crumbs, fork, and knife.

It's from my vantage point of where I usually sit at the table.

Near the heater.

By the window.

The kitchen light behind me.

The standing light to the back right.

This is the place where I studied most of the time.

When I didn't want to be standing at my desk.

This photo of the ivy is what I see to my left. I played with the f-stop to get what I wanted. Still to see outside, and not have the background be blown out white from the strong light. The ivy now looks such like a rich and dark green.

I usually don't do a lot of still life photography. To me, I miss the people in the photo. The human part. However, I'm coming to understand that the still life images do still have the people and human aspect. There are still traces of the people who live here - myself and my current spouse.

it's not a heart attack

it's not a heat attack

maybe a heart ache

a heart sadness

but I'm doubtful it's

anything to do with veins and arteries

possibly a pulled muscle

or stress

but no shortness of breath

or pain in the arm

like you see in the movies

i've felt it before

i try and keep track

when i feel it

is it when i'm sad

stressed

lonely

angry

i wouldn't blame my heart

to ache once and awhile

it deserves to feel that way

the heart does not look

like the commercialized

red and symmetrical

heart we know 

from the cards and candies

to me, the heart looks

icky and odd

something you can hold in your hand

but globular and dark purple

pumping blood

in and out

to the rest of your body

the place where i used to

place my hand on

during the pledge of allegiance 

or the raising of the flag

haven't done that for awhile

not since i was a kid at least

is it sad because of our

upcoming parting ways?

is it angry because

of the untenable situation

with mom?

is it aching because 

there seems so often to be

no relief in sight?

how did it feel when i ran

my first 5K

the last mile 

the last 1/2 mile

the last 1/4 mile 

was the hardest

i pushed my body 

more than i ever had

and i thought if i die now

at least it would be for a 

good cause

will finding a new love

help my heart

they say people have actually died

from a broken heart

i can believe it

but mine is not quite broken

more hurt and in need for

recovery and healing

Aldis, Ma, and Canned Goods

I first remember hearing about Aldis (yes- the real name is Aldi, but somehow people add the "s," and I'm not the only one) from Ma when I was little. Aldis was the place where Ma went to get cheap canned goods. We had to bring a quarter for the carts and also we had to go during the daylight, because they were in the "not so good" neighborhoods of Indianapolis. Looking back, this was code for poor and probably black neighborhoods.

Ma would stock up on things like canned corn, canned green beans, and maybe some other things that come in a jar. As a kid, I didn't understand how we'd put in a quarter for the cart, and then be able to get it back at the end. This was not the culture at the "other" grocery stores - like Kroger or Marsh. I don't remember bringing our own bags, so we probably used one of their cardboard boxes or maybe sucked it up and bought the 10 cent bag.

Now in my adult life, Aldis is a regular trip for me (between also Trader Joe's and a Morse Market). I smile when I see the German phrases on the frozen food cabinet, "Ziehen, sich an" or "Druecken." I wonder if the other customers know of the German heritage of Aldis? You just don't see a lot of German now in Chicago. (I was a German major in college and had studied German since 6th grade - so I have a fondness toward the culture and language.)

Today, I went to Aldis because we were drastically low on toilet paper, and I also wanted to get some chocolate and candy for Christmas. It was a busy Sunday afternoon. Nearly all the carts were gone, but I got lucky and had one. I spent more than I had expected - 100% maple syrup, three packages of TP, mini-chocolate bars, almond milk, and Christmas candy. It adds up fast.

I think of Ma and wonder if she's smiling down from me. Knowing that she had introduced me to Aldis way back when. And now what might have been the audience for lower socio-economic class, one finds college kids and the middle class shopping along next to each other. One sees familiar faces and new faces (you can tell, because they didn't bring their own bags nor a quarter).

I love you, Ma for so many reasons. And just one of them was that you took me to Aldis.

Caring for/Caring about

How drastically different a phrase can be from just one word.
One word.

For me right now, I think of - "caring for" and "caring about." This was recently brought up. I hadn't thought about it too much, but as I'm transition of separating from my current spouse, the phrase does mean something more to me now.

Will we care about each other after we are divorced?
Yes, I hope so. I hope I will share with him any major life happenings. The death of a family member. The birth of a baby. Someone moving. A trip. These things that are just FYI.

But, we won't be caring for each other anymore.
We won't have the additional step when you're partnered to "do something" with the knowledge of the other person.

I was asked, "Do you think you'll still talk to each other after the divorce?"
I think so, but it will be less frequent and obviously different.
I already feel like I'm trying to do the balance of keeping separate, but also together, since we're still living together, but separate.

Some nights I miss him so much, even when he's only eight feet away in the next room. I didn't think we could be even more emotionally separate than we had been in the past year, but I was wrong. And then there's the physical intimacy, too - and not just sex. What I miss the most is the cuddling in bed or on the couch. This makes me really sad to have lost this. I loved his warm chest. His arm around me until I was falling asleep and I would turn over. Or, also "twitch" as he would say. I'd be warm with him.

My Ring Tan Line is Gone

It took almost 11 years
To get a ring tan
And only two months
For it to fade away

To my darker skin
I got after being
On the beach so much
This summer

It wasn't on purpose
I didn't really think
About it
All that much

I didn't get to say
Goodbye to it
Take a picture of it
Kiss it one last time

Vegan Sandwich Recipe

I recently at at Royal Cafe and tried their vegetarian sandwich. Yummy!!! I thought I could try it myself so here's what I got...

- Bag of lentils
- Bag of chick peas
- Spinach
- Carrots
- Onion
- Potatoes
- Tomato paste

I'll do a veggie broth using the boullion cubes and thicken it up with corn starch. I'll add the potatoes first I think, then the rest. Do the spinach last. I think it should just cook about 30 minutes. Then, served on a bun.

I'm making it for my Ed class, so hopefully it will be yummy! I'll definitely taste as I go- like all decent chefs.

Wish me luck!

But I Still Miss

His kiss good night
When he hears me pull
My lamp string

His kiss good bye
Which has been my morning
Wake up alarm

Snuggling on the couch
My head in his lap
His arm on my shoulder

Finding just the right position
Where we're both comfortable

Making sure I drink water
Eat fruit

I mourn these small
Losses
That sometimes don't feel small
But gigantic

Recipe for Spicy Moca Smoothie

I recently had this at an overpriced cafe, and thought - hey, I could do this myself. So thought I would share. You can use a blender, or a cool thing is to use a standard size mason jar. This size jar should fit your blender's base and metal whirly gig thing. Just do the recipe, blend, and drink!

Ingredients:

Spicy, hot cocoa mix - $6
Bananas - $1.00
Some kind of milk product - soy, almond, rice, coconut are all choices - $2.75-3.50
Peanut butter (or any kind - almond or soy butter) - $3

1. Fill about 3/4 full with your milk product in blender or standard mason jar.
2. Add a heaping spoonful of spicy, hot cocoa mix
3. One mini banana (or half a full one)
4. Peanut butter - a spoonful

You can always add more cocoa mix to your desired taste and sweetness.

For the cost of a small $7 smoothie, doing it yourself will be a much better value!

I No Longer Care

if he drinks beer
has a job
or doesn't have a job
what he says to others

if i stay out at an event
without him
eat dinner
without him
use my toys
without him

we're no longer
together
i'm not responsible
or representing
him
and he of me

i feel lighter
and freer
there are now
new possibilities

Back to the Office

The office walls
University halls
With no windows and light
A flee or fight

A confinement of days
Monitoring your ways
Tick tock tick tock
The timing of the clock

Industrial carpet beneath your feet
Fake wood your hands meet
Office lighting above your head
The daily, small talk you dread

You mourn your time from summer now
Where did it go, then and now
Time moves on and can't look back
Summer is dead, fall is black

Ode to the End of Summer

No more bright sunny days
Instead, the four, windowless walls
Standing at a computer
Instead of standing with rocks and sand
Between my toes

Summer, I'm sorry I did not
Earlier appreciate you
I took you for granted
I thought you were just
Hotter days of fall

I fell in love
With the water
And the sound of the tides
When I would put my ear to the beach

I turned three shades darker
Not knowing how much
Browner a
Brown girl could get

I queered the beach
When people called my
Boy, son, or Mister
I let it roll of of me, like the tides

I tried reading some
But mostly failed when I fell asleep
The harsh sun was not friendly
To the pages

Thank you summer
For teaching me more
Than I have ever learned
See you next year, but earlier