This is my personal journal of random prose and first person allegories. A visual diary of words I wish I said; words I speak for others. I must write because the soul wants to feel understood. I want to lead, help and connect with others through my experiences. Don’t be afraid to interact if you desire to be understood too.
A third generation Filipina Guamanian navigating motherhood, marriage and life as I know it.
My silver lining was longing for the horizon laced with sunset, instead it forced it’s fluorescence onto my sterling silver bed. Covered with layers of used cotton sheets and a polyester blanket that left my skin raw. Sleuthing for answers within a rose-colored looking glass, I wept for the truth. Looking up to spiral imagery surrounded by stars on the ceiling. A sun and half drawn moon etched into the white brick wall at the foot of my bed. Wondering what my next steps were while slipping into this new identity, a new life, jail broken or a jail bird while reflections from any piece of metal squinted my eyes to whatever harsh reality; silver linings everywhere. Whoever laid here in this metal coffin before me couldn’t face what had become of them, covered the light with wet tissues. Sleeping next to naivety, ignorance and shame.. my cell mates. What had brought me here, whats left of my purpose and how can I avoid a repeat of this despair? Angel dust sprinkled into my memories we share together but I’m no angel and neither was he. A mother when at my best, the overall picture etched as a near death experience that saved me. Coming out with a fresh persona of who I want to be, taken away piece by piece by those three nights. A lover girl with none to love so I save what I’ve left for my three children, enough for all three as they get lost in translation among the chaos we reaped.
I never wish to be one who hurts others now I just hurt myself. Be here for them but what has been done cannot be undone. What did I make of this, was I alone in the making? Medicated with varying prescriptions, this is my Bethlehem, whatever was left of my American Dream.
An impromptu marriage ceremony sent me and my trans-brother into a last minute frenzy.
Monday, I call to catch up with my Dad who lives in Las Vegas that opened him up to share his two year courtship with his lovely mystery lady. News that sent me into joy and form of duty. I respect his secrecy to keep what’s sacred to him hidden for any cause of dramatics.
Tuesday sent me scrambling for same day round-trip flight tickets while the incoming calls of advice’s come through from my ambitious Aunt and driven Dad eventually leading to swift solutions. Our dad’s family proves quick to help and make things happen for us proven by their heavy lifting comparative to moving mountains. I convince Darian to go with me like steel silver-linings I use to pull these kinds of strings. I know my role of insight urges the importance of perspective, understanding and closure apropos to this exact moment that may help seal a year’s divide within our dad’s family dynamic. DariYan tells me he will come as a form of support and I’m happy to share the news with our Dad’s family. Together with Sam, a devised plan comes together to end the night.
Wednesday morning — a whirlwind of schedules. Sam and Dari welcome the first day of their weekend come 8:00am, carpooling straight to our place thanks to their corresponding shifts and workplace; as I prepare for the start of my work week tomorrow day. As well, Auntie’s family offer their dues with her little’s in tow from their 5 hour layover from CA, Disney. Sure of our dad and his fiancee’s preparations towards ceremony, I assume a shortened sleep for us all. Dead set on mission impossible we all fulfill our roles to complete it.
Sam drives us to the airport with a 5 minute traffic delay with an anxious baby in the backseat. We arrive with 10 minutes to spare before boarding closes and print our tickets downstairs, proof of manifest regardless of how late our check-in was. Next steps, physically check-in at our Gate to receive our golden tickets. We rush to TSA with ID and printed proof of manifest in hand. I make it in with Yan just behind me, taking off my shoes and rushing through their security screening protocols. I look back and Dari has vanished into thin air leading to my 5 minutes of frantically searching, calling and watching the seconds pass. There’s no service.. the odds beginning to stack against this event. I approach a security agent for the whereabouts of my sibling, giving the descriptions of his profile and current situation. An agent who walks humbly towards the older agent in charge of identification, adds more minutes against us. In short strides, he comes to inform me that their agent sent Yan back to ticketing. That was where we just came from, a counterproductive call and a mistake of instruction on their part. I tell him I’ve no cell service to which he tells me that upstairs has better coverage. I run. Following the signage leading to our Gate because from there I’ll buy us some time back. I’m bolting as folks stare and laugh but to my advantage I arrive in the nick of time as Spirit agents are getting ready to close the doors. Two minutes before boarding commences, I give them my ticket while giving my whole spiel. It turns out that Yan could have gone through TSA regardless to no fault on our end yet departure is fifteen till, the next flight out being that evening and not an option. Through my tears I say we need to go to our Dad’s ceremony and I sit down dejected with my hands covering this look. When I call Yan and tell them about the news, he is rushing with a panic to their voice of where they are while the gatekeepers are throwing solutions to our conversation in real time. “Tell the TSA this”, “Use the mobile pass!” then the phone cuts out. I pray that Yan made it to TSA, the area of no cell service. “Well it looks like only one sister is going on this plane” as the agents get impatient but our Dad calls and I break down, solemnly apologizing for so many things; The ticket prices, our efforts and how I’ve failed. He responds calmly that “It’s okay because you’re going to make it. Don’t worry” while also hearing the Spirit gate agents huddled among themselves, “we bring the Spirit, this is OUR gate!” Now several are coming from the ramp and questioning just what is going on and I feel dismay for this spotlight of what should be normal status quo turned frenzy for us, but for them would seem like just a normal day on the job. We’ve only got five minutes until take-off and I’m telling them that my brother is coming, only now they can’t buy us anymore time. I walk to the middle of the terminal walkway staring down the long hall waiting for Yan to turn the corner any second, the agent who demanded the gate finally says “we need to close the doors now I’m sorry” until we see Darian booking a sharp turn. The agent yells “oh they’re running! And fast too!”. Now I’m being ushered quickly into the doors by another nice agent to quickly set foot onto the ramp to secure my seat. I walk onto the plane and see everyone’s faces of impatience and judgments. I check my phone for how much of a delay this caused everyone to see Darian rush into the plane while I help grab their belongings and stuff it under the front seats. It didn’t feel like triumph at first, Darian is crying and I give him a big hug with reassuring words to quell both of our beating pulses. Shortly after, he falls asleep and add my good luck charm to their water bottle. It’s just the start to our whirlwind Wednesday but by then we were met by the comforts of our Dad from a long time no see. After a grand time and a crazy experience we make our flight back home. I drop off my brother and am able to find the comfort of my bed midnight to tell the tale. I’d like to think everyone went to bed having tied up any loose feelings from time apart.
White Day, a subsequent occasion of appreciation to friendship or romance. Japan’s second Valentine’s Day is celebrated the following 14th of March. I spend my working hours at a Japanese owned company where I come across plenty colleagues from Japan. The Americans say the Japanese seemingly keep to themselves whereas I see they keep to their work strictly for morale but there would be one who was eccentric, sticking out like a sore thumb.
Starting as innocent interplay between a simple offering of Japanese candy and an open friendly demeanor influenced a new friendship. All he ever did was hand them out to me and my team then just like that we were already indebted. Over a span of a month he would come give us candy, make small talk through Google Translate and wish us a great day. If in need of technical support he would be there to assist. There was one instance he had been impressed with my friend’s Key-Bak taking a picture for reference, quickly noted in my ever self-serving part of the brain. I bought that exact product to surprise my work friend in which he was delighted, thanking me with a plethora of Japanese candy I’ve never experienced before. This wholesome exchange amused the fact that I unknowingly needed a soul-nourishing engagement; one so simple that filled a need in my person, I could only describe as mentally filling my cup half full.
Ultimately my friend had approached me with Google Translate at hand, “Thank you for giving me a wonderful experience working here, I leave for Japan next Saturday.”
I want to believe my working here wasn’t without purpose and our influences have made a mark not having to do with what to offer the company in itself (like how I always envisioned) but instead an impression left on another soul that will last well until our memories should fade years on
Untouched brush burgeoning through decayed wood fences and years old Ivy climbing up the sides of peeled paint houses brings out the wonder and solemn appreciation of little hidden histories that remain there
Far from a woman, I’m a wild beautiful creature on a good day then a melancholic bag of bones as the latter. I’m an enigma but I am only being me. Being so will only confuse others to the point where you are hated just as much as you are cherished, even by those from afar because what is freedom without judgement?
But it’d be self-centered of me to think I was the only woman. In this state of mind I think of my daughter and what all the other little girls await. Autonomous, powerful, outspoken women always land themselves in infamy by the opposite sex and envy by the same, even people you’ve never uttered a single word to. This can happen to anyone if you have something others want, something they can’t have.
Attempts to exert control only deplete yourself trying to right other’s wrongs. I tried my empathetic nature until killing them with kindness was only killing me, mentally. A friend advised me to just be boring, don’t attract any attention. My presence felt like a catalyst for envy and bitterness so I sat alone, went the long way, took the shortcuts just to avoid anyone’s gaze. It wasn’t until I read that isolation can feel like physical pain I asked who I was really doing this for.
Rumors can feel like defeat but instead of falling victim to baseless hearsay, it took what was left of my energy to toughen my mental state. Weeks later and I’m used to this, months later I found myself. I appreciate the experiences. Being talked about is inevitable especially in this type of setting I work in. It’ll be a different person in the gossip column tomorrow. If you know your truth and are appreciated by the right people, being hated by those who add no value to your life is nothing. Know who to trust and know that none of it matters in the end.
The first, flirtatious, with an unpredictable joie de vivre. Swift yet lucky in her ways, reminding me to embrace the moment.
Shortly after came one with enviable aerodynamics that showed me how to accept the reality of change that comes in a flutter of a wing. A reflection of what is meant of my florescence.
The last one was of considerable size to the ones before who didn’t stay for long. He took what he needed then went. A mass, ripe with hidden power that led me to fortify a stronger stem and longer roots.
I’m not depressed, possibly overwhelmed but still happy. It’s pouring outside and I’m breathing in the cool air until the weather decides it wants to be spring again. I no longer volunteer myself to the past. I’m no victim. I’m strong, I feel like steel. Look at all that I was able to do; now unphased with a mind newly fortified. Trickles of sand are swept back into the sea, but the boulder withstands against the waves and I know which one I want to be
Occasionally I wait for night and gaze atop the loft where all I see are orbs of orange street lights visible at the fore of a white backdrop. Imagine — snow and lumps of it smoothed over houses perched on the mountain side. A fraction of what a snowy Switzerland would be if I could only dream. Life’s been still outside these walls, can’t say the same for a tight schedule at home. From 7am classes to in-person tutoring sessions with my daughter’s teachers and everything in-between, I’ve been overbooked but I run this castle.. yet time stops upon a glass window to behold.
The desert glows where the road bends and in its raw beauty I wonder if this wildflower will ever bloom away from here
Shot with my cool little smart phone
The Wise Old Owl 