A Series on Cultural Identity:Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening

This Poem serves my culture identity ‘reasoning’ through my sense of being an American in the truest sense of idealism. Being an American in the sense that while you may see something in one light on a personal light you are able to either see or step into a position to see a multitude of different ways to look at any one thing, the sense of melding of ideas and cultures. This poem reminds me of one of the most ‘cultural’ defining moments of my life. Students who had some type of disability were automatically unable to take part in the AIG programs in the county that I lived in, the school kept a catch to that, while we could not ‘official’ take part we could unofficial take part by completing a number of assignments on our own and the school would place it on our transcripts. So I and a number of my classmates who were ESL students (this is considered a disability at that point) who were spend a recess a week completing these assignments to get this credit. We had to read this poem and analysis the poem for its meaning, literary elements, etc.  I learned that day a few dozen ways to interpret this poem if you based off my fellows ‘home’ cultures but it was the “American” meaning that we all ultimately agreed that was the most interesting; that the poem was about enjoying the nature of the world around us in all its glory, but not forgetting our responsibilities to ourselves and the future that we are heading towards us. We decide that this was the ideal of American beliefs and that Robert was conveying it through physical nature but he implied all ‘natures’ of the world. That sense of connection I had with them in that moment and our one-ness is to me the one moment that I understood why a sense of culture is important.  We are humans and we need a sense of one-ness and connection with our fellow man and a shared culture gives us that.

A Series on Cultural Identity: Langston Hughes

 

            Langston Hughes, not really the poem is what this artifact is about. Langston Hughes for me is an American Poet, one of the greatest in my personal opinion; he is not a ‘black’ or “African American” poet. This is about my struggle to deal with discrimination, my childhood disbelief that this existed, discrimination against my own race in puberty and my fear of burying my head in the sand now. As you might have guessed from my earlier discussions you know that I grew up where race, religions, and background were of little importance in my neighborhood. I never noticed that my many of my fellow white students and/or their parents didn’t feel comfortable with my friends from other countries, religious, or races all the way through elementary school. We went to a school consisting of many Upper Middle class families and the ‘diversification’ neighborhoods, meant to ‘even’ out wealth and race numbers in the school, so it was closer to average; our neighborhood was one of them. In middle school I got prosecuted for being a poor white kid, by many of my ‘white’ Upper classmates, and the diversification cultures almost completely none white in race were my friends, needless to state I learned to hate my race, because it was confused with the all powerful issues of wealth and power in society. In High school I went to the middle ground of being extreme and determined that the Upper classes were using racial issues to stop the lower class, getting ‘together’ from rising up against their social laws stopping us from getting anywhere no matter how hard we worked. I decide that by calling Langston Hughes a BLACK writer, they were making sure that his message of rising against social discrimination was limited to a certain race in education. My opinion at the current is a little bit less extreme, but Langston Hughes represents the many cultural idea changes I went through about racism and other discrimination, and my identity as someone trying to fight them all, while still reconciling that no discriminating view is okay and that they must be lost.

 

A Series on Cultural Identity: Sweeney Todd Movie tickets

You may be wondering what does a movie about a barber in 19^th century London, who went on a murdering spree, have to do with YOUR culture identity. The reason why Mr. Todd went on his rampage has everything to do with my culture. Often we think about Culture along the lines of physical borders, religions, or race, we often forget about the fourth barrier of culture. The fourth barrier being class; and maybe the greatest barrier to cross in today’s society. For me the movie represents the worse stereotyping and issues between the poor and those who are above them in class. The corruption, the lack of care for them, the hatred, the fear and the anger crossing those borders and controls its borders like a guard. The fear you can’t climb you can only fall. A sense that all ‘unfair’ practices that keep the poor poor are the leading cause for society evils that occur rampant in the lower class: drugs, prostitution, gangs and violence. They see it as a direct cause of the Upper class oppressing the lower classes leading people down those paths to help them ‘cope’ with the fact they feel incapable of rising above their poverty and that the next generation is equally doomed to this fate. It represents the stereotypes of the middle class I grew up, and the fight ahead of me, the fight not to continue to see it, to combat it, and to not become that stereotype as I rise from the working poor to the middle class as I get my degree  a career, and hopeful grow in wealth. 

A Series on Cultural Identity: Flowers

The spring of my sixth grade year, I got Daffodils picked from his neighbor’s yard the day before so they could cut the grass, from a boy who had been my best friend for a long while. He knew my love of flowers and my knowledge of the meaning of flowers. To the less trained eye, I got flowers from a close friend, and if you knew us you might suspect we both liked each other more than we were saying; but if you knew what daffodils meant, you knew so much more. You knew that he was asking me a question, silently on a bus full of people. His Question: Unrequited love? How the rest of that story goes is really none of your business but it’s a great way to show the value and my culture identity through flowers. Yet another ‘old school’ culture theme in my little notebook, the meaning of some flowers runs across nation, religions and races. Other sifts between the three subjects. I come from a long line of farmers and amateur gardeners, and many of my  friends of multi-culture orients also had parents like that, so on the ground of the learning of that knowledge its cross cultural and I love to learn about flower meanings from other cultures when I can find someone who is knowledgeable and likes the subject. My forte in the subject is the general European/Christian attitude towards flowers, so you do get a glimpse at my European culture background right there. With a few exceptions like the fact I only send white flowers to funerals, as I feel that white is a more appropriate for funerals, some leaked Buddhism from both my father and mine’s experiences with Asian cultures.  I feel like I accomplished something in this notebook now!

By the way Purple daisies are consisted to mean: The impossible being possible or impossible to forget love.

A Series on Cultural Identity: An Iron necklace and Superstition

“Wear Silver to blind the demons of you, Iron to keep the fey at bay, and Gold to be watched by Angels above:” My very bad translation of a family superstition. I am superstitious, seems a little too ‘uneducated’ to be part of culture, but it is in my opinion it is an important part of people’s day to day culture. When I lose something that I find it in a place I knew it was not before, I live a small cap of milk outside my house for the fairies whatever they may be called. I wear iron and silver more times than not from my family’s adage. I pray for my food whose death was done for my benefit to find happiness in the next ‘whatever’ (my grandmother swears it from my great-great-great grandmother who was part native American and we never had problems with food in tough times because of it).  I have always held the idea that while it may seem strange, I know for a fact stranger things are out there, and maybe just maybe there is truth, and reason and rhyme to why people taught this through generation, and I am not one to take chances with the powers that be.  I included it because my attitude towards some things, which fall under being superstitious, is maybe the strongest sense of my familial culture background, as it shows my large ‘blood’ background in Irish, and the other Isles of Brittany; and also of my family’s background in Germany, France, and Sicilia.

A series on Cultural Identity: A handkerchief

I identify myself as being one to try to preserve the past, specially the ‘useful’ arts. The handkerchief was chosen to represent that, mainly because it was found while I was looking for another piece of my sewing works. My parents have instilled a sense of need to save the working arts for future generations even if technology has made these ‘arts’ and skills unnecessary. I can sew, using both a sewing machine and by hand; lay bricks, wielding, minor smithy work, I can work a hand loom, clean silver, set a table for a full five course meal, and shear most farm animals for their wool/fur. For my generation having these skills is considered weird. Not sure how this plays into the idea of culture we have been talking about this semester but its culture and those of us who are preserving it view ourselves as subculture of modern culture. It also has to do with my culture identity as a female; therefore I am automatically a teacher of the next generation and must be able to pass on valuable skills and ideas to the future generations. So maybe I am bound by the ideas of feminine duty instilled by society?!? Though every culture I have ever been in seems to instill that idea to a certain extent, so it kind of fails at defining my culture for this project. 

A series on Culture Identity: the Crown of a Flute

This is one of those kinds of silly, identity things, but I cultural identify myself as a music listener/appreciators. Seems weird, I guess, but everyone else in my family all the way to my fifth cousins are musically inclined, they all play at least one instrument and can sing a least a bit. I CAN NOT DO ANYTHING THAT DOESN’T SOUND LIKE SOMETHING DYING.  I am seriously not musical inclined. It took met years to realize that I shouldn’t try to make music because it was not my forte. The Crown of my flute is a remind of Mr. Connor (who was a fed living next door working on busting a drug ring, it was weird), who told me that not being able to make music and appreciate it was an important part of culture and that it was my responsibility to listen to those who did, when he found my flute crown when I lost it because I was crying at the fact I got kicked out of band in middle school. And I listen to music, I don’t particular remember a band or group or even one type of music. I listen to everything and take every song as an individual moment of human expression. My ‘tastes’ run from R&B to Bubble gum, Mozart to techno, rock in all forms, Musicals, classical pieces of European descent to African drum stories to Ballywood film music. I listen to pretty much anything as long as the music is ‘clean’ of hate messages.

A series on Culture Indentity: Artifact One

Curry Powder and a place called Home

It’s a strange thing, Curry. For many of my fellow Americans; Curry is a sign of foreign cuisine, something that is found only in strange Asian inspired Restaurants. For me Curry, is a sign of home, family, friends and togetherness. Both kinds of families; the ones bound by blood and those bound by ties of love. The smell of yellow curry, causing a sharp singe in your nose, reminds me of winter, coming in from the cold, a batch of my father’s  chicken and vegetable curry on the stove while I warm up my fingers by the fire, it happened at least twice a month. The Sweet smell of green curry reminds me of Spring; Suki, who went by the name of James, a Japanese-Chinese American classmate; his mother in the garden planting tulips and digging up spring onions to go in the curry; and my first kiss. The Singeing pain of red curry burning my nose sends me back to being in Al’s during Ramadan, the curry cooking in a crock-pot as everyone waits for sundown, us children playing tag and role playing our favorite video game plots among the leaves.  For me Curry is a good place to start because it reminds me of the place I came from; a small ethnical diverse neighborhood on the edge of a small suburban town between two large cities; in the small run down ‘mill’ style house and the wooden condos with the paint peeling there were a few dozen countries and cultures represented by the families who lived there. A place where religions and race lost a lot of meaning to the people who lived there, especially us children, and we all ran wild through each other’s homes, and cultures; creating a blended mix of ideas about the world and who we were. It is most relevant to my culture identity because signifies my lack of understanding of culture identity, and my struggle with dealing with people with a strong sense of it. 

A Series on Cultural Identity: The Intro

For my Language and Culture Community Leadership class we had to make a Culture Notebook. A notebook containing eight to ten artifacts that represented our Culture identity and a introduction/summary of what the culture notebook had in it and themes of our identity. I am posting them here in the entirety as a series of post over the next few days/maybe all tonight, counts on how frisky I feel. 

Here is my Introduction:

A PLACE TO BEGIN

This Assignment has been one of the hardest assignments I have had all year. Why, Might you ask? It is because I have never felt I had much of a culture identity, when asked I could give you the normal stats, I am a Caucasian (I am still confused as why we are called Caucasian while those of who are actual of the Caucasian Mountains are more often than not consisted Middle Eastern, or Asian); I am a female, I live in the south eastern US (affectingly called the South), and  I have an British Isle, German, Dutch, Italian, French, and Greek descent linage. After all this is what the United States government uses to identify your culture identity on every standardize test you take through all your schooling. If asked that until the last two/three years, I would say that was my culture identity. In the last two or three years, I learned that while that is my ‘culture birthplace, I strayed a far away from that, between my birth and then, and maybe because of my parents background in other cultures, that ‘identifying was like identifying where my ancestor lived centuries ago and saying that was where I was now. Now, my culture identity is identified as my identity, if you want it you are going to have to stick about and see who I am, because it’s the only way to figure out what I am. The theme of my culture identity notebook is confusion, blending, and stories of lives brought together by the American dream. It is very possibly my only culture identity, that of an American, a child born of the blending of the cultures, races, and ideals. My identity both socially, mentally and apparently culturally are created by the blending of cultures created by the people whose lives have interacted with mine and shaped who I have become.

Red Wine is for killing me with apparently. . .

Guess who found out the reason she hates HATES HATES red wine, is that she is allergic to it, and spent two hours keeled over as she was raked in pain. Yep, Happy Day before thanksgiving to Li-Li. Though I must admit I was happy I had the most severe reaction I have ever had to red wine with my parents. I have had some before and I felt horrible afterwards but I assumed A) it was the mix of what I drank, or b) It was cheap nasty wine and it was from a college kid so who knew what else got into that bottle before I got it.  The only cases not subjected to it was the Red wine I had in Taiwan and it wasn't bad, and I assumed the massive headache was from the company not the drinking. 

Since I am on lessoned learned this weekend, I learned it NOT a good idea to ask your sister causal about the school she applied to or her SAT scores, its opening a big can of worms with an ATOMIC BOMB inside that starts ticking the moment you open it with 3 seconds on the clock. *KABOOM* You are dead. And apparently I am smarter than all my siblings, and I didn't ever know it. . . I spent three hours hearing everyone in my house (all four of my siblings, my dad, my mom and a random person on the phone with one of my sisters') tell me so. Otherwise Thanksgiving went off without a hitch, not one problem at all. It was an act of god.

In other news, I got sent an anonymous email with a note written by an unnamed party for this blog, that is apparently about me, not really sure, I get metaphors and I can't make the 'real' connection I am suppose to . I cried at it for an hour after I got it. Thank you random stranger, that is more likely not random, but I don't care;  I appreciate it.Not completely sure what it means but it was one of the most beautiful things I ever read. It was amazing.

Edit: yes it has changed a bit, I got highjacked to plot out the Black friday madness in the middle of it. I hate Black Friday with a passion but ever year I find myself spending hours out in it. Some how I think when I grow up not to be home every holiday I will not go out into this madness.

Clarity found, once again.

Today was a great day, even when it started off so rocky. I slept through my alarm, and was almost late to my first class of the day, and one of my personal favorites for the semester, Econ. Guess I was up to late sorting out all my weird emotions I didn't know I had yesterday, I really hate those days when you are suddenly overwhelmed with emotions you didn't know you had, and suddenly they are going to drown you. EEEK!

But about today, I don't know what happened but today things just clicked, I am trying to be all Sean like and define the calm-ness/empowerment that my mind just suddenly had but I can't find words at all. Today was amazing, its like the world just was freaking amazing. I did really decent on my Finance Test (a 90) which is great because its one of those classes I love but I still struggle with, and just knowing I am getting it is awesome. I talked to two of my professors in Business and I have my Academic recommendations for ISEP all done more likely early next week. So All I have left really is writing my Personal statement and then translating it into Japanese, and making 5 or 6 copies of my Application to send off and BAM! I am done with my ISEP stuff and am ready to go!

AND the Mentor class, today it went really well, I am now on the Service Committee for the LCC and I am exited, though really nervous, while I like Community Service and I think the wide range of know how that the group has and how much we can do for the people around us I am still nervous about failure. And the hostile that was overwhelming yesterday at the potluck was not there today, I am not saying it wasn't tense, but there was no where the level of malice I felt last night at my very existence, which is a great improvement. 

I am rambling on, and its almost 1 am here, and I need to sleep as my boss wants me in to work tomorrow at 9 am, b/c its more convient for her if I do. Which I think is weird as she never ever sees me at work anyways, if it was my staff co-worker who is pretty much the one I see as my day-to-day  supervisor (basically she isn't the one signing my check) is going to be here all day tomorrow so no problems there. So Yes I need to sleep. I am so excited about Thanksgiving this year, maybe because I think this year no one will have a bad time at home and no insane drama will occur.

SLEEP. I MUST DO IT NOW!

HAVE YOU EVER. . .

had the urge to do something stupid? Something that you head knows, is just dumb, pointless, valueless and actually wrong? I am having one of those moments. I feel like trying to talk to people, I hate the avoid eye contact thing, I feel almost tempted to apologize and then I realize I have nothing to apologize for. I did nothing wrong, well nothing I should have to apologize for, not to them.

All I did wrong, is ignore rumors that people, your friends, were saying things horrible things about you, that they were indeed saying because I was completely sure they were lies.  How are you suppose to know that friends are saying horrible things about you, when you aren't talking to them, because you have a problem?!? Seriously. I just don't get it. She is a bitch, I know, one of the things about her that I love, but She my bitch and she bitches at me about me, not to anyone else. Its the basics of the friendship: she is way too honest with me, I am way too honest with her and annoyingly social and force her to be so, too.  She said she would not let things fall apart that she would hunt my ass down if necessary, she promised. She lied.  I think that is what is hurting the most, is she promised and I believe her.  I don't believe people when they promise things, its part of who I am: no one, I repeat no one is trustworthy.

I realized two major things about my relationships with other human beings, only one I am willing to discuss here:

 I become Alpha is most/all relationships whether or not I realize this or not. Somewhere along the line it happens. Its my place to fix things, to yell, to scream, go the extra mile, etc for things to work. Once I fail to meet their needs/wants as Alpha no one will go even an extra step out of their way for me.

For the last thirty minutes while I have been mulling over this little write up, I have been trying to think of why I am writing this up? Why Do I need to do this? what is motivating me?

I know some of this is because I felt horrible for being at the potluck and I hate it, I have a right to be there as much as they do, especially since Dr. Hellenbrand is not letting me quit. But I know this isn't about that, I know it just the final motivator. I think its because I am being paranoid, I sit around every day trying to figure out how my behavior is going to be read, I am terrified that my un-thought through behaviors are going to be perceived as being more than the spontaneous actions of a spaz, trying to get by in a world of insanity. Though I know that is not it either.

All I can come up with is I feel alone, betrayed and I want to sort out everything so I can throw it to the win, because it not worth the energy to remember and I don't want it to tint all the happy memories, and ruin the happy ones I can have with other people around me. I don't want to burden people with my problems, the real ones at least,  because they have their own problems. 

My roommate and her boyfriend are having a hard time adjusting to dating in college; my roommate is having a fight with her mother because she realized she doesn't like psychology and that she wants to be a vet, which is actually interested in and has been for years (done internships , volunteering, etc); my sister is being worried about college, my mum is trying to survive her new job and managing the holidays (which is impossible);various friends are having their own personal life crisisi from fighting their depression, trying to find jobs since they are graduating, their families are moving cross country;  My fish, Kei has to be sick of me crying at him; and Gabriel is dead. 

So I feel alone, and useless, with little to no comfort in the situation getting any better. I just want some one to tell me how to quit caring, after all, every time a relationship has went down the loo, I was happy to see it go. Though I am happy the drama is done, I have cried tears of joy over that, it doesn't stop me from worrying. Is __ sleeping enough? How are __ grades? Do they have food, its the end of the semester? I don't know how to deal with this.

Though one bit of happy news, well two, and maybe just maybe this is the real problem: My mum said she will support me if I decided to go to Law school after college, and there was no one to glomp.  The reason I feel so sad today, is I have no one to share the happy moments of my life with.

So, I can now openly talk to my mother about my Law school ideas, how that changes some of the international business classes I want, and can openly study the LSAT at home. I am excited!!!! Even though I really thought I would never go down the lawyer path here I am heading towards the possibility, its not final so don't get all worked up if you think its wrong for me, I am just feeling it out, as another option beyond JET, going to work, getting an MBA and now, going to Law school. While currently I feel friendless, well minus Amy (my boss not the stalker); my career life, and my education is really taking off. Let's see if I can keep this side of things up.

So: Have you ever had no one to share the happy moments with?

PS -> I really like the travel quote of the day so I want to keep it so I am tacking it here

One of the essential skills for a traveler is the ability to make a rather extravagant fool of oneself.”
~ John Flinn

P.S.S. I figured it out, after I went to sleep for the night, I was writing this up more or less because I needed to vent and my room mate needed to study for her Biology exam today (which was tomorrow when I wrote this) and I knew she would feel the need to talk about it instead of studying. 

^.^ This makes me feel better, and a bit stupid because I didn't realize it then. @-@

A little reminder of the boring side of my life.

basically I need to have this somewhere were I will be able to easily reach it/ constantly remind me of my social responsibility to follow it.

Thursday-> Fried egg, cheese and asparagus on Rice.

Friday -> Fried rice; (Egg, bacon, peas, carrots) {two serving made}

Saturday _ Lunch-> Second serving of  Fried rice

Saturday_Dinner-> Spaghetti with tomato sauce and (possible steak){made two servings}

Sunday_Lunch -> Ramen with poached egg and peas {this seemed to disgust Sean that I ate these as a meal. XD}

Sunday_Dinner -> More Spaghetti with Tomato sauce

Monday-> Soba with Broccoli and Steak.

Tuesday-> on the road Home (yes I can finally say it and mean it, go me)

So yeah, my dinner/lunch plans for the next almost week. Sweet.

Because some interesting topics are for 11 year olds.

I wanted my readers to note, that I have yet  another wonderfully interesting dream post in my other blog that you might want to read, but due to its more adult topics I didn't want it here as my siblings (of tender age) do occasional get on here. 

Please head here for this post.

I also wish to point out the humor than blogger/blogspot.com's spell check does not believe that blog is a word. Lol

Clarity found.

Ever had a Question that reminded you why you do what you do? I had one of those today.

It was: "If you only an year to live, what would you do?" Cliche no? But it helped me let things clear in my mind.

''I would live my life. Sounds kind of silly but honestly for me life is freaking amazing and insane, I might add a few things to the list of things I have done, like maybe get a tattoo after all I don't have to try to get a job with it, I would try to get back to japan (which I am hoping to do in a year anyway). This is my dream, going to college, getting a degree I WANT, and living my life with what I have and never lying to myself.''



Thanks world for remembering me, and helping me through dark days. I needed it.

Because the drama should stay to the drama Blog not the good one.

all the drama blog post will be hereby moved to my secondary blog please head there for these posts. Thank you

more unfinished poetry from the summer

In the darkness
I sit and watch the stars,
that dare to out shine civilization
Bright dots among the navy velvet
with the peace rose of the city's light
enveloping the edges like a blanket
meant to hide me
protect me from the darkness
Am I still a child?
afraid of the dark night
afraid of the monster that life is
I listen to the murmur of the city
tires rhymic thump - ump
across the uneven pavement
the low voices of people
walking by, talking to someone 
so terrible far way from them,
their shoes clattering on the cement
and a thousand other sounds,
that should rock me to sleep
but I still am a wake
my mind still races.
I wonder I am still a child?

And now for a change in pace, old poetry brought to light.

I found some "old" poetry of mine from this summer/ last semester (not sure which), and though hey, I haven't posted lately and it fits all that is going on.

Poem 1
Today, you called me.
You voice was its normal friendly self too bad you weren't.
You asked ever so sweetly for me
to explain the greatest of mysteries
you sought me to teach you the secrets
that plague every mind since time began.
Did you ask me for the purpose
to all the beautiful things that the universe has?
Did you ask what began this amazing cycle of life?
No, these you didn't ask me so sweetly
that I could almost forget how far you were
You didn't ask about Death who's voice calls us all
You asked me to explain something I have never seen.
You asked me to know what I can never know.
That voice that tastes of honey,
asked me for the keys to another's heart

What was I to say?
That there is no keys at all,
there is merely a window to peer in?
And you can't even peer into mine,
so clearly laying before you.