This Is Mako

Cool Effort

2010-05-01T10:57:00.000-07:00

Socks, Grub, and Monster

2010-01-31T12:02:00.001-08:00

Fish Together

2010-01-18T14:43:00.000-08:00

Masks

2009-12-25T20:18:00.001-08:00

Giraffe

2009-11-14T20:56:00.000-08:00

Man Alone

2009-10-24T18:34:00.000-07:00

The Problem

2009-10-18T16:01:00.000-07:00

Peeking Out Behind the Stalk

2009-10-16T12:51:00.000-07:00

Dandelion

2009-10-15T13:46:00.000-07:00

Happily Ever After

2009-10-13T07:52:00.000-07:00

The Eukaryotes

2009-10-10T10:11:00.000-07:00

Overcast

2009-10-09T09:25:00.000-07:00

Things I'll Miss

2009-05-10T13:32:00.000-07:00

12 Step to Kicking Niceness

2008-02-08T16:58:00.001-08:00

Niceness can go away because it has never done anything for me. What is a smile worth without the substance to nourish respect? If all a person has to describe a man is "nice" then either that man is sugar coated and pleasing or that person is unfair and shallow in judgment. Either way, whether perceived or true, sweets leave little to grow any meaningful relationship from and so little to remember and even littler to desire. Has there ever been a word more seemingly benign yet insiduously demasculanizing as "nice?" Perhaps, pretty? Silly? Niceness can go away because it has never done anything for me. I prefer, good.

Almost

2008-02-04T22:47:00.000-08:00

Ignorance is Bliss

2008-01-28T21:59:00.000-08:00

"Change! Change! Change! We want change!" a young woman cried, a chrome microphone gripped in her right hand, a sign gripped in her left, change for the better, written in sprawling red letters, Elims for change, written underneath, rising up and down to the chanting crowd, the crowd crying back with every up and down, up and down. On her royal blue shirt, change, change, change, crawled down the front in alternating red and white, stars snaked their way down her sleeves. She held her voice in a loud strained pitch, carrying her message far across the room, "We want change!!"

The audience chanted back, "For the better!!!"

She smiled. "Here is the man who will bring us change!"

"Hooray!"

"Change!"

"HOORAY!"

"CHANGE!!"

"HOORRAY!!!"

"Here he is ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Elims, the fresh young face who will bring us all the change this country needs!"

"Mr. E! MR. E!!"

Out came a young handsome man. Mr. Elims, waving his hand, humbly accepting their applause, walking his way slowly to the stand. He gazed out over a sea of faces, their eyes reflecting the sparkling light illuminating Mr. Elims from behind. Soon the cheers died down and as the audience waited for him to speak, an obvious symbol of change some shouted, Mr. Elims prepared himself in silent meditation.

"We live in such a beautiful country!"

"YES!"

"We live in such a fine beautiful country

"YES!"

"But... it's being polluted!"

"YES!"

"These fat politicians want you to think you can do nothing! They want you to just roll over and play nice!"

"NO!"

"But I'm telling you we can do something!"

"YES!"

"I TRULY believe we can make this country great again!"

"YES!"

"We can change this country together!!"

"YES!"

"Together we will change this country!!!"

"YES!!"

"Lets get rid of all these stale old ideas!!"

"YES!!"

"CHANGE! CHANGE! CHANGE!"

"E-LIMS!!! E-LIMS!!! E-LIMS!!!"

With a wave of his hands, smiling big and proud, he accepted their applause and the women in the audience turned to their friends, "he really has a nice smile doesn't he?"

"My it is such a nice smile."

"Makes me think we can really change!"

"He's so hopeful. With him we can!!"

"But he's so young!"

And then the men in the audience turned to their wives, "that's why he's not like them!"

"Nope, he's different!"

"I can't believe how he wants to change everything."

"Truly amazing!"

"He's the greatest!

"No one better!"

"CHANGE! CHANGE! CHANGE!"

"Yes, he's the one!"

The Big Climb

2007-11-18T22:01:00.001-08:00

Mrs. Conti

2007-11-12T22:36:00.001-08:00

Perhaps, there is a part of the brain that switches off when faced with horror and things so appalling, we stare in disbelief. I believe there exists another part, equally weighted and full of compassion, and within that most human of places a cause for action, a reason to persevere, a calling to the line. I've seen that line and along its corridors, the narrow passings filled with those who wait and wonder when their time will come. I've heard the chimes of others, proclaiming overwhelming excitement for situations so grim, thereby implying natural talent for the cause and missing what it means to be a witness. I sit and boil over such comments, because human suffering is not exciting, because a human being should never be reduced to a wristband, because this place is full of such great hope and crushing personal tragedy we cannot afford to lose our humanity within it. These emotions are said to fade, I'm told, but if they do what will take their place? From where will come a friendly hand to rest upon a nervous shoulder or gently sweap a fallen hair behind, or from where will come a simple human question from one being to another and sometimes, against all odds, court a smile back in reply?

The Donkey's Apple

2007-10-30T00:15:00.000-07:00

No matter how old I get, I fear, I will always be that young nervous wreck: awkward pauses, stumbling half thoughts, quarter of a smile, some would say just a grin. My two left feet are prone to missteps, especially around a pretty lady, particularly around that pretty lady.

But wait, what would life be without motivation? Because it seems these things provide the grist for action, get my heart pumping, provide answers when all else seems meaningless, and yet, at others times just the opposite, make me nearsighted and petty. I think, but it's hard to know, I ponder these things because there are two sides to every heart and they, consistently at war, say all sorts of things to get what they want.

Just a Moment

2007-10-21T18:34:00.001-07:00

Don't Pop My Balloon

2007-10-12T18:18:00.000-07:00

Let me live my life and live it well but never let me fall between the cracks and do nothing at all. Whether I tread through the mud or dance in the sun, I want to always keep moving. Sometimes I look back and wonder how I managed to go so far with little to no consideration towards direction. Through sheer luck I have been born into a healthy guidance. Some people think there is no point, that circumstances have set their path in stone, that their lives will mean nothing regardless, and so there is really nothing to live for. I say they are trapped within an illusion, self feeding and dangerous, but change is not impossible. Life is full of suffering. That point cannot be refuted. But what can you do about a constant? Life has never been fair nor ever will be. It's one of those things that come included with the package. But we must remember that regardless of how life starts, our environment is maleable to our will, though things may not always end how we want, to try is the best we can do. Like Pandora, we can only hope, with hard work and a idea of what we want, life will work itself out for the better.... Some will say I'm being way too preachy and I do agree but this isn't for you, so don't pop my balloon! I'm trying to be my own best cheerleader because no one's gonna do it best but me, and I want to keep my pace until I can't run no more.

A Little Help

2007-10-08T00:30:00.001-07:00

Bestest Friends

2007-10-06T23:09:00.001-07:00

Random Thoughts

2007-10-03T01:11:00.001-07:00

Humans are very much like sharks. If we stop, we run out of gas.

Some people talk about other people's problems out of genuine concern, most don't.

Even the poor can spoil their children.

If you think you know everything, you will never figure out what you don't.

For some people, money is everything. I wish I was one of them.

I am an idealist, but isn't everyone?

No point to settle now, plenty of time later.

The Wedding Conference

2007-09-30T22:17:00.000-07:00

Ring the bells and send the call to all who are near and dear. Watch my pretty dress twirl and the sparkles of my necklace fall. Here is a day to envy. Imagine yourself in my shoes and wish you were here. I know love is supposed to be a factor of these things but what is a tearful story worth? I can flip through the cards and pull a hand but nothing seems worth the bet. Love is a gamble but these chips are saved for flaunting and today is a day for debutantes. So pull out the cameras and save your memories of this day because it's the most special day in the world. It's a day for me, I'm mean us. Because this wedding is not stopping for anyone. It's too important. It may be a little stressful now but it'll get better. After the day is over. Yes, once it's over, it'll be fine. We'll be happy. You'll see.

The Long Road

2007-09-23T18:55:00.001-07:00

Midnight Whining

2007-09-23T00:51:00.001-07:00

I'm becoming bitter and sarcastic in my writing, which means I'm heading towards a place I've been to before, unfortunately, it's also a place where most of my best writing and breakthroughs take place. It's a sick cycle, this whole creative process and it's linkage to horribly depressive states. What can I do? I guess it's just the nature of life. Beauty in death. Appreciation only possible through the fading nature of time. Oh it's all so sad, the passing of sand, the trickling of moments gone by. Happier times always seem like they happened in the past. But it's just not true I tell myself. I have to tell myself. I told myself a while back that I would be my best cheerleader. Pep talks in the middle of the night. Laying awake in bed worrying about this or that would all fade away. Instead I'm not achieving this goal. Instead I'm still basking in the perpetual whining, the abysmal cynicism. Sigh. I want relief as well. I want a positive outlook all the time. But it does get hard. I was cataloged an idealist by a friend and when I think about it, I find I am not. I think I'm a grumpy baby adult. The idealism is my attempt to overcome the harsh realities of life that I yearn for. Because lets be honest, harsh realities are all relative. To me, scratching my new cell phone seems like a significant blip on the radar. Sigh. My psychiatrist says I should not trivialize my feelings, but it's hard when you put my problems up against, babies are dying in Uganda. Or against, some fathers beat their kids when they're angry. Sigh. Sorry doc, but I just can't help myself.

Friday Night Hunter

2007-07-07T00:31:00.000-07:00

He is the guy who for the first time in his life feels what it's like to be a star and he revels in it, can't get enough of it, and every girl that laughs at his faked naivety makes him sing a new song which was never his before, confident, and so it trickles down, passing years and parties, accented conversations, the over the counter greetings make for fewer and fewer returns, so he returns, grossly over exaggerated and beaming of hot and heavy conquests, gone, and endless names and figures, gone, to anyone willing to listen for a round or two of beer.

Minority 101

2007-06-29T08:49:00.000-07:00

Walking to school allows me to see the students for the first time and them see me but not so much me as kiwi, white skinned and curly haired, she asks me if I notice them, I look around and tell her, yes, she’s like a star but kiwi says she doesn’t like it, and so we walk, following the stream of checkered uniforms and multi colored umbrellas, counting the number of head turns and too short skirts, one by one.

I tell kiwi I guess I’m lucky I blend in, but this is the only time in my life it’s worked in my favor.

We talk about racism in America.

At the end kiwi tells me I sound angry and bitter and I tell her I just feel very passionate about the subject. She tells me about the Maori who were nearly wiped out from New Zealand, subjected to little more than slaves, and how even today they live in poverty and are a bit rough. I tell her of course it’s not that bad but still frustrating.

Foreign Feelings

2007-06-23T00:46:00.000-07:00

Excitement is overstated for the moment, it doesn’t reach me, nothing does, because we’re out here by ourselves, kiwi and I, trying to navigate a program with too much bureaucracy and too little explanation, but we go along anyways shuffling from trains, to bank, to the board of education, sit down for an hour or two, twiddle thumbs and eyes, then off to the high school where we’ll teach. Armed with workplace guidelines and gifts, we bow and exit with Koccho, baby faced and balding, he gives us little emotion but makes small talk in the best English he can, asking me where I am from, America, and asking kiwi if she likes sushi, yes, while he drives, no shoes on because he took them off before stepping into his car. Confused we did likewise, best to follow suite. So we drive, barefoot, into the foothills of Osaka through winding streets and narrow misses until the houses clear and the school fence breaks the tiled horizon, our factory unfolds, and as I come level with my life for the next year I see dozens of cherry blossoms full bloom lining the driveway from end to end. I stare at the most beautiful thing I have seen since stepping off the plane three days ago and think wow, I’m really here.