From the Portland newspaper The Asian Reporter , quoted from the article "Oregon's birthday and St. Val's Day on Lunar New Year"
The writer (seemingly of an Indonesian family) first reflects on some of his thoughts regarding the confluence of these three celebrations and how they all came together for him as he was driving the loop around the river, around and around, a regular routine to calm himself after a busy week. As he drove, he imagined seeing a little old woman in the back of his car - his aunt - who had saved his life when he was young by inserting herself into a fight when some other boys had, in an ethnic or racially-induced fit of rage, attacked the writer. She shielded him with her body, taking the blows intended for him that had built up over hundreds of years of racial tension. When he was ready to acknowledge her in his vision, she spoke to him. I thought she had some very good advice, so as he shared her words, so I share them too:
"Time to see it right ...
For too-too long, you remember only wrongs. Only those ugly boys. And every next wrong, every next mean man or bad woman brings out of your bones that ugly time. Swelling your heart. Nothing right can come to you, Joh. Not til you get this right. Not til you let go those boys and you come to me ...
... Forget them. Remember what I gave you. My love for you. My gift. Your life.
And when you let go of them, Boy -- you will see gentle men and sweet women everywhere. Every time. And you are ready for kindness. And more kindness.
Here's what I want you to do, Joh --
These three things you must remember. Three things you must tell your friends. Your enemies too. Listen carefully, Boy.
For our first seven days of Lunar New Year: Think only good thoughts. It's hard. But try. Think only good.
For seven days, say only good things. This is easier. You control what comes from your mouth. You do.
And for New Year's first seven days, do only good deeds. This is easiest of all. Easiest if your thoughts are good and your words are kind. Easiest because everyone will return your kindness. Everyone except demonio, bad kids, and bad dogs."
I am very happy that my brother is now blogging his accumulated and digested opinions on good anime. Here is the first post, Stolen Hours of Pocket-watch Surprise.
I'm excited that he will be discussing animes both that I already love and that I have not made time to appreciate yet. And, I'm looking forward to an exhaustive list (with opinions) of quality anime, especially since I have introduced him to the addictive 'Summit' inter-library loan system...
You may be thinking 'Anime? really? are you serious?"
Yes. I believe that anime is one of the more profoundly versatile media for expressions and struggles of the human soul and condition. Good anime is a breathtaking journey in visual poetry. And yes, that goes for graphic novels and comics as well. It is a goal of mine to have a well-versed and thorough repertoire of quality comics, graphic novels, and anime / 'cartoon' media. As a genre, it represents an significant, though often sidelined, body of literature.
My brother and I share a deep appreciation for good anime, though he has made it's study a higher priority. I think we were both inspired by a chance viewing of Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke in our earlier years, so we have high standards.
As my brother says,"Not all anime is full of strangely drawn, over exaggerated characters who just power up over and over and stare at each other in combat while hurling cheesy insults at each other. That is not the anime that I will be looking at.
I will be trying to cut through the crap and get anime that means something. That is beautiful. At the VERY least, has a good story."
When I was in elementary school - like, first or second grade or so, this elementary school guidance counselor woman would come in, and teach us elementary social wisdoms with her puppets - a dolphin and an otter, whose names I can remember pronouncing but have no idea how to spell. I've actually thought about some of those early lessons a lot as I've grown.
I remember her repeatedly encouraging us to be unique, because unique was good and made us special in our own ways - and we should understand that everyone is unique.
I learned that unique was good and also to be appreciated in others. It seemed like an easy fact. What took me longer to learn was that in some ways, it is 'safer' to be like everything else, and so, 'unique' must also be encouraged and expressed from within myself, even if at odds with my surroundings. It is a choice, and sometimes it is not easy.
Even though I wrote a speech for high school graduation about the necessity of guiding oneself beyond what "they" say (because, if everyone listened to "them", then how would we ever get anywhere new?), I am still learning and practicing what it means to choose and cultivate a uniqueness, and to own and assert the sense of person that I am - even when it seems to disagree with the usual accepted expectations.
( In fact, I think this may be when it is most important to follow a sense of personal uniqueness - if I'm doing it honestly, people seem to react mostly out of curiosity. Besides - they all want to be themselves anyway, so I think that if I assert myself as an individual, that this can be enabling for other people, too )
Also, uniqueness does not mean being all things. I have had friends remind me, at various (and necessary) times that I cannot be everything to everyone. Perhaps it has to do with maturing further, but I feel that as I specialize as a personality and make choices about the person I want to become, I must recognize that if there are some things that are particularly like me, there are also things that are not me - and both of these are aspects of who I am. My sense of self demands that I represent both honestly, though there be varied consequences.
Recently, a good friend of mine shared a couple versions of this song with me. They were important to him, and that importance made me think twice about what it meant to me. This is what I've been reminded of.
Being a particular and unique personality inevitably means being 'different', and this can take a lot of courage, both to discover and to assert (to yourself and to others). But, don't you like meeting people who are not like anyone else you've ever met? If you don't assert your own sense of individuality and creativity of person - then how can you expect anyone else to? Go be the things you are. It's very important, and only you can do it.
The Fine Grind on 39th has recently become LYRIK. I was attracted by the stylishly drawn words and image of a small floating monster. Also, I needed to get out of the house and go somewhere else to work. I'd never been to the place while it was still the Fine Grind, so I can't compare, but I was pleased with what I found on my adventure today!
There's a great assortment of weird and art on the inside, complete with lots of counter/table space and windows a-plenty so that even the gray daylight of January Portland provided pleasant natural lighting. Lots of little notices and cards for the taking to alert people to art shows and craft nights.
baked goods: fresh ones for $2, day-olds for $1. This large walnut/cranberry scone gave me something to munch on for a good while.
hot chocolate:
I test hot chocolate everywhere I get a chance, and I was sad that my hot chocolate here tasted very much like chocolate syrup. *Edit: I found out that they use Ghirardeli chocolate sauces. If you like Ghirardeli chocolate sauce, then this is great news. However, I am somewhat particular about what makes good hot chocolate good, and I guess this is not on the list. It has a weird sweetness, I think. They used to use Monin flavors for chocolate, but people seemed to prefer seeing Ghirardeli. They still use Monin flavors for other things though. I am going to have to find an excuse to get the irish cream flavor in something.
Good news though - I have been becoming more agreeable to the taste of coffee. So maybe next time I'll have to try a mocha nutmeg whatever whatever.
bagel sandwich:
Oh, this was great. The breakfast sandwich menu is both extensive and easily adaptable. I got a toasted everything bagel with cheddar cheese lathered on and a beautiful fried egg right in the middle, plus the extra tomato slice I asked for. Warm toasty cheesy egg bagel goodness, with tomato. Yes, it was a pretty standard breakfast bagel sandwich, but it was a very solidly well-done standard breakfast bagel sandwich!
I know what I'm getting next time I'm there for lunch. There's a sandwich with my name on it!
I've never really done the coffee shop thing, but with it's endearingly border-insane artsy-ness, Lyrik is such a Portland coffeeshop. I will miss places like this whenever I get around to going elsewhere.
I have decided that the city of Portland is not unlike a small, cuddly monster, as far as city personalities go.
And with the winter came snow, rains, darkness, and ice. But, the resourceful earth hid away her life deep within her, underground where the winter could not reach. And so, the life endured, awaiting again the touch of sunlight to emerge.
....
Today, I noticed the trees growing their soft spring fur coats.
Walking across the front lawn, I met an Olde CoOper from my former life. We caught up with each other a bit and savored the old memories over the music and new scent of spring wafting from the lovely flowers perched characteristically atop her guitar. We passed the guitar back and forth, singing of freight trains, wagon wheels, and the home we called home.
Eventually going our ways, I felt brighter - as though a piece of me gone dead or faded had been touched and re-enlivened, and I remembered. I am always forgetting important parts of myself. I feel fortunate to encounter reminders and have my important components touched 'back to life'.
You know those games, like capture-the-flag, where there is a jail? And once in jail you have to wait for a teammate to rescue you and tag you to resurrect you back to the game?
Have you seen the movie 9? I won't spoil it for you, but I do like the character division and development.
The Turing Test is a test of artificial intelligence by which a computer and a human interact, with the computer 'trying' to seem like a human, and the human trying to determine whether he is interacting with a computer, or with a real fellow human being - an unforgiving game of 'Bot or Not?'
Fellow Reedies tell me that a fellow Reedie contributed to this stroke of sheer plot twist brilliance (..no I haven't gotten very far). Man versus machine just got a whole lot more 'meta'.
It is a pretty fun game in which a different person takes turn being the 'judge' in each round. So, the way you play is largely dependent on the personal preferences of who is judging that round, which can be pretty arbitrary. It can sometimes be very hard to decide which cards to play.
I recall one game in which, not feeling like I had any good idea of how to win, began an experiment to intentionally lose. I began playing to lose. I played the cards that I thought were worst suited to the round being played. This strategy was a lot of fun, put absolutely no pressure on me, and had the interesting side-effect that I began to win.
I've been considering that this might not be a bad strategy to apply to other areas of my life. Depending on the context, it could even be advantageous. There are many many adventuresome, interesting, and creative ways to lose at something, many of which may have gone entirely unconsidered thus far.
Play to lose your heart, your mind, .. In the New Testament, Jesus tells people to play to lose their lives, saying that this is the only way to really gain something. I am not advocating anything destructive, but I guess I'm just trying to say that, maybe losing isn't as bad as it sounds. .. Has possessiveness ever gotten anyone anything good? Maybe it's not what you thought it would be anyway.
La dee da, walking towards the bus stop to go to class one day, and...
.. What's this? I'd heard the talk in years past, but, are they really doing it?
Yes. It seems that after all the talk and little 'Save 39th' signs stuck in peoples' yards, 39th Avenue is actually being renamed! Unfortunately, I didn't have my good camera on me, and it wasn't very convenient to try to get a picture of both the Cesar E Chavez sign and the 39th sign. I think that '39th' is probably even too blurry to show up in these pictures... but it was a small historic moment, and I was there. I tried climbing onto the walk-signal buttons, but when they asked me to get off, I resorted instead to requesting that they tip the sign on their truck so that I could take a picture of with both signs at the same time.
They amiably complied, but pointed out that the two signs will remain side by side for a minimum of 5 years as part of the name-changing process.
So, why are we changing the name of 39th Avenue, which has developed its own very-39th Portland personality and is beloved by residents and small storefronts bearing those familiar numbers?
I have no idea.
I assume that it probably has something to do with honoring members of our society who are not white, but to me, it looks more like a bandwagon.
I feel that if a community is going to rename a road in honor of some distinguished member of society, ... then that should be done gladly and willfully by those people. I have noted a marked lack of gladness and willfulness about this road name change. My first thought is that this seems counterproductive for the purpose of honoring the individual for which the road is being renamed, and my second thought is, .. Really, Portland? I know it's cool to think that Cesar E Chavez was a neat dude, and probably in the distant future, the road will be as uncontroversial as MLK Blvd, but I suspect that Portland is not really honoring him, but rather earning PC points.
In that case, if we had to rename a road to show our enthusiasm for diversity, I would've much rather chosen one of Portland's own. There are plenty of non-white people who helped build the city that is Portland today. I would have liked to honor one of them, ... but not by changing 39th.
Since my own opinion lacks information, Here are some relevant articles:
I'm tired. It's late. again. My small world is an island of illuminated table-top that recedes off into the fuzzy dark of time and space beyond.
I compulsively drink water out of a large library mug and use a certain set of songs to influence my consciousness and associated abilities. There is too much to do on all sides, and I am not doing it quickly or efficiently enough. There is a lot of future out there that I am unprepared for. I don't know where I'm going. I don't know if I will be proud of my work, or if I will have the resources to do work that I will be proud of. I cannot consume this avalanche of information, experience, and opportunity quickly enough.
But, although it sometimes seems like a treadmill, I am going somewhere. And, in this margin between days, pressed among responsibilities on all sides, I am still functioning. I think I feel happy.
I keep coming back to a question asked a while ago by a good friend:
What would the world be like if you weren't afraid?
What would life be like without fear?
I have a good imagination, and a lot of practice. I can make flowers sprout out of table-tops, fill rooms with water to see the items float, and watch fish swimming around the trees.
But, more usefully, I can often see or sense the way I want things to be, and then move towards that future. Vision and visualization are important tools to me in setting and moving towards goals. If I can perceive it in my mind, I can often find a way to execute it.
For my next endeavor, I shall summon the courage and skill to imagine a life and a world in which I am not afraid. And, I shall live it.
"If we really believe that God's presence is always a Saving Presence, then we come to know that when we reach out to others in unconditional love, we are being saved. When we tear down walls & build bridges in our relationships, we are being saved. When we seek our true selves in the depths of our being in God, we are being saved. When we replace a mere collective being together with true community, we are truly experiencing ourselves as being saved. And this experience of being saved is the only way we can experience God's Presence as a Saving Presence. We find a Saving God in the experience of being saved" - William H. Shannon
The Pangaea Project (Bringing the World Back Together) is a relatively recent nonprofit organization that provides high school kids from underserved areas to get involved with various issues of social concern on the international and local levels by giving them a chance go abroad and learn from others in the international community.
This Video of returning students addressing the Mayor of Portland is solid evidence for the great work this project is doing, and will continue to do.
The windows all around my heart must have come loose, and I hope to keep them so. I sense the wafting curtains in my chest, and feel again well-ventilated.
Tonight, I went to a celebration thrown by a local nonprofit, the Pangaea Project. I donated some money to them because the work they are doing is important, and they invited me to come to their event held at a neat bar in northeast. Sometimes when I'm doing things like this - going to events, talks, documentaries, screenings, exhibits, restaurants, I mention it to a friend if someone happens to be nearby.
"Oh neat," they usually say and then, "Who are you going with?"
I usually smile and say, 'oh, it's just me.' Sometimes I wish I had a different answer. It feels lonely when they put it like that.
I remind myself to respond to fear and uncertainty with an openness and willingness to greater understanding.
If a stranger is a friend you've never met, perhaps fear can be a world unexplored. I will ask its name and place of birth and allow us both to be transformed.
A friend and I were talking last year about the concept of good things coming from bad situations. I think I believe instead that good things come to those who can keep their heads lifted enough, no matter what the situation, to see them.
I watched Dream Weavers, a documentary about preparations for the Beijing 2008 Summer Olympics today.
One of the young girls on the gymnastics team reminded the interviewer that "bitterness comes before sweetness" when she talked about how difficult and tiresome it was to train. (I wish I could remember their exact sayings)
She and the others making their preparations - such as the architects and builders of the birds nest - expended great effort in a relentless striving for perfection with high stakes.
They reminded me that the end goal takes dedication and difficult or unpleasant work in the getting there. That is the necessary exchange. It is not enough to endure the days leading up to the Olympics - one must actively work and invest to avoid failure.
If the builders had merely done their job to get it done, the Bird's Nest may have collapsed when they took away the supports. But because of extensive preparation and testing, before rigorous precision and demanding execution of the building tasks, the creation stood and succeeded as the centerpiece of the Olympic structures.
They were willing and able to follow through with making the exchange.
I think that the general image that our society has of an abuse being committed by a willfully harmful person against another small and weak individual is unfortunate and misleading.
It is misleading because there are many situations which are not so clear-cut. And, it is unfortunate because, like most lies, it makes the truth harder to see. It seems that many times, especially situations where the abuse is not physical, the abuser and the victim do not see each other as fitting the stereotypical roles and therefore do not recognize that the situation really has an abusive dynamic.
The stereotypical model makes it difficult for victims of more subtle psychological or emotional abuse to realize that they are in an abusive situation. They may not see their abuser as an intentionally destructive person, and they probably don't see themselves as the vulnerable and helpless victim. Neither image does justice to the complexity of the many kinds of people that find themselves in either role. Neither image is useful for determining whether a person qualifies as an abuser or as a victim.
It seems probable that part of the reason people do not recognize when they are in this picture is because they might not see the other person as being in the picture either, or might not want to admit it. For example, if a woman consistently suffers because of the improper manner with which her husband is treating her, she might still believe that he loves her and is not intending to harm her (and she may be right, but that doesn't make it ok). This belief conflicts with the usual image of the abuser as being obviously and willfully destructive, so she may not think she is being abused.
Further, even if she suspects she is being abused, she may not want to admit it because of the connotations or associations of being cast into the images of abuser and abusee. If she thinks of herself as a victim, that might also carry connotations of being weak, passive, and helpless, and she may not want to see herself this way (and she might be right). Or possibly more compelling, if she begins to think of her husband as an abuser, this can carry the connotation that he intends to harm her, and she may not want to accuse him of this. This is not necessarily foolish protectiveness - she may be right. It may very well be that he does not intend to harm her, but that his ability to interact with other people is just so poor and underdeveloped that in trying to satisfy his own psychological needs, he inflicts unnecessary pain upon others.
(In the above example, I used the image of a woman responding to the abuse of a man. The genders in the example could be reversed, identical, or neutral without changing the idea. Perhaps it would even make a stronger point to consider that the situation where a female abuses a male is not as easily recognizable to society as the image I chose to present.)
I think that in order for people to more easily recognize when they are in an abusive situations and to more easily point out when someone else is in an abusive situation, we need to (as a society) reduce the social stigma and taboo around being either a victim or an abuser. This may make it easier for people to realize and seek help because they will recognize the nature of the real situation before it reaches an extreme. They will not be afraid or deterred by the stigma of being either helpless or uncaring.
It's also true that there probably are situations so terrible that they fit and deserve the extreme depictions. But, I expect most cases are more subtle and are probably just the case of someone who, in their inability to express themselves functionally, harms others. These kinds of power dynamics exist in all sorts of human relationships, and I think that abuse of any kind of power is something that we as a human society should open up more for discussion and introspection.
We as people need to be alert to responsible ways of interacting with our fellow humans. We will make mistakes sometimes, but we must be open to realizing, atoning for, and learning from our mistakes.
It seems that too often, unhealthy and dysfunctional power imbalances are allowed to escalate and perpetuate (and perhaps even become expected or 'normal') because they are not extreme enough for people to recognize and discourage. I think that because people cannot really believe that their situation is as bad as the accepted model (and it might not be, but it is still unhealthy), they do not see that their situation also counts as abuse and believe that there is just something wrong with the way they see or understand things.
These people begin to believe that they are crazy for sensing that what is happening around them is not right. They are not crazy.
It is possible that they have just been misled by the popular image of what abuse is 'supposed' to look like.
I downloaded Google Chrome recently and just started it now. This post is in honor of something I should have noted here long ago, which is now available as a Google Chrome theme. Hedgehog in the Fog is a russian folktale brilliantly made into a film, produced in 1975 by the Soyuzmultfilm studio in Moscow. Google Chrome created the theme in honor of the film being awarded 'Best Animated Film of all Time' in Tokyo in 2003, according to Google and Wikipedia.
While being curious regarding the source of the whole 'leekspin' meme (originally Loituma Girl), I stumbled across this quote in Wikipedia which, although directly applied to the explanation of 'leekspin', seems to adequately describe much of the rest of the internet as well:
This is basically a joke for someone who spends all of their time staring at a computer, made by people who spend all of their time staring at a computer. It's possible to read deeper meanings into it, but it sort of defeats the purpose because in the end it's just this hypnotic clip of animation. -Patrick Macias, as interviewed by The World
It is sometimes hard to tell if there is much correlation between how hard I try and whether the results are 'good enough'.
The downside? Well, that could be kind of a disappointing thought. It's a little painful to invest a lot in a particular thing for no or negative return.
The upside? Maybe I can save myself a lot of tragic effort by realizing that I'm already either good enough or not (and things will be ok one way or another) before I start. That could be a load off my shoulders.
I find that the presence within me of negative thoughts about others, even if well-justified by a sense of self-defense and self-preservation, decreases the quality of life I am able to enjoy. Like a piece of glass embedded in flesh, it only continues to cut and cause pain until it can be removed.
If I am to be inflicted with such shrapnel, I desire only to be left alone while I, like an oyster, slowly enshroud the offending shard with my own enamel, rounding the edges and distancing myself until I am finally able to handle (and expel) the packaged result.
Perhaps someone else can appreciate the pearl that I only want to be rid of so that my wounds will stay healed.
I was talking with him on the phone about housemate interactions - internal good will and the use of chorewars, billmonk and the like - when he made a distinction between a household where it was more like a family and ..(here I waited, because I couldn't tell what the contrast would be) .. shared housing like a dorm where people are more just sharing the space.
From reflecting on his distinction (his words held a mirror to my assumptions), I don't think I have ever considered living with people without considering them family. Certainly I have lived in some families composed of very autonomous individuals, or families of individuals with whom I did not interact all that much, but to live in a place with other people and not consider them some kind of family feels very foreign to me.
It now occurs to me that it is possible for others to live with people (including me) and perhaps not consider themselves to be in some kind of family. Especially, because I'm now guessing that sometime in the future, I will have to live with people that do not consider me family or whom I will not be able to consider as family. At least now, if this unfortunate event transpires, I will probably be confused for less time.
I have been subject to the opinion that I should not care what others think about me.
And yet, I do. Is my opinion invalid? no.
I found some words to explain it.
I care about what others think of me because they will speak to me and understand me in terms of who they think I am. If they have a false or mistaken perception of me, then they will have a false or mistaken perception of where I am coming from with the things I say and do, and so will not interpret me accurately (although I recognize that I won't necessarily have an accurate view of myself either).
I will be less free to speak out of my own thoughts, because in order to make myself understood, I will have to anticipate how they will filter my words through their perception. For most people, this does not matter, but for people with whom I communicate more closely, errors are more significant.
And, if I incorrectly assume things of others, then I subject them to the same restrictions of perceived expression by my own lack of understanding (however, there is always room to change one's opinion).
I will no longer feel as if I am doing myself a disservice for caring what others think of me, although I will try to be careful not to be impeded and to recognize that there will be necessarily-acceptable losses.
The suggestion seems to be that if I care what others think, then I am weak, looking for external validation, too-easily-influenced, too ready to go along with something...
and I might be some of these, but mostly, I think I want to understand and be understood, and to promote understanding.
How can this happen if I am conversing with someone who already assumes something of me that I disagree with?
Sometimes, I remember that, in a way, everything is fine just as it is.
I remembered while riding the bus home in the dark, at least half a year ago. An odd place to feel enlightened - I thought - on late night public transportation. The seed of doubt which found me in the middle of my sense of comfort in that time and place was knowing that, probably later, I would forget.
You know those stories... the stuff of science fiction / fantasy books and movies where a normal person is contacted, or discovers, or has revealed to them, some alternate reality or alternate world that sweeps them up into the plot of the rest of the adventure, as a character in a series of events that they never thought possible or even real before.
I think one of the least realistic things about that kind of story is the idea of a normal person believing the alternate world/reality or giving it enough credibility to allow themselves to become a part of its goings-on.
I think - and other people have told me, too - that I'm pretty open-minded. I like being able to learn and observe and incorporate new things. But I feel like sometimes, I am too ready to give something a chance ... it might be convenient to just decide how the world is, and then to view different things as strange and foreign intrusions. I would just decide on what I thought should be the 'acceptable world', and live with a static perception (I don't really want to do this). As it is though, I feel like I have passed through many worlds - or, if you prefer - many perceptions of the world. My constructions are what I live in, and they are subject to change with new observations and understandings. Sometimes this feels adventurous and sometimes it all keeps morphing. I guess it can get hard to see the river for the currents (and they never stop).
I suppose the only constant thing is change. It seems that I am nothing if not adaptable.
And I do not notice until I feel myself coming back.
Where do you go? He asked me once, point blank, as if his words might peer into something that eyes are untrained for and draw out a response from somewhere beyond that would return me to where I sat beside him.
That was four years ago already, and I still don't know the answer.
I would like very much to be a respectable person.
I think I actually am, but I would like to re-learn this and internalize it and feel confident about it. Of course, it is a life-long process and it's not like I would cease striving -
but ...
still. I would like very much to be and to feel like I am a respectable person. Because, I think that it is actually true, even if I sometimes feel very insecure.
I hope, if I have children - sons or daughters, that I can teach them to be respectable and then to expect respect from others, and not to put up with any nonsense if they don't receive it.
What he had to say about it felt personally unburdening. In that spirit, and in a desire to continue a sense of unburdening, I considered that I might try confessing one of my crimes against myself (and others)-
I thought before, that if I ever had a boyfriend, I did not want to be the person who and neglects her other friends for the sake of a relationship. I can try to argue extenuating circumstances - I was trying to do the best I could - but excuses aside, I failed. It troubles me that I could manifest this disparity of intention and action on a topic that is so important to me. There are exceptions, but in general, inside, I feel that I have betrayed many of my friends, and I can only hope for forgiveness and re-acceptance.
I harbor a fear that if others knew of such severe inconsistencies (mistakes, or poorly-applied intentions) within myself, that they will realize that I am a less worthwhile person and that they need not bother with me further. Or that, having been out-of-the-loop, I will not be able to re-enter. I feel like while having been 'away', I may have become a slightly different creature than before, and should allow friends the ability to decide that I am no longer the friend they wanted.
I haven't brought this up to anyone because I think they would tell me it was a silly idea, which I already know. I already know that this fear is largely irrational, and therefore it makes no sense to try apologizing for it or addressing it in some legitimizing manner.
I find myself frequently feeling insecure and wanting to prove myself willing and able to return to being friends with people who probably did not fault me for my absence to begin with. Of course, this insecurity means I continue to be not-fully-present. In order to be a proper friend, I know ought to drop this useless attempt to make up for my previous absence and just relax back into the order of confident friendship.
But, even though I know this - I don't seem to have internalized it.
I am sorry, friends, for not being an available friend before, and now, for needing (and failing) to feel 'good enough,' and for feeling ashamed and doubting the friendships that you have continued to extend.
This week, I've been trying to remember that other people are often not so critical.
A good friend told me (about another subject yes, but I think it applies) that since a task I'd set upon was so difficult to accomplish, then there must be something amiss about the expectations. Either my expectation of what I should be able to do was unreasonable, or my expectation of the amount of time I would need was unreasonable and I needed to spend more time working on it.
I have recently been trying to remember that other peoples' expectations of me are not necessarily my own. This means that if I am disappointed with myself or my actions, then other people are not necessarily disapproving or thinking less of me.
I am trying to remember that if I am dissatisfied with myself, I should also credit myself with that opinion and not project it onto others.
"Kimjongilia: The Flower of Kim Jong-Il" is a documentary, based primarily on interviews with some who escaped to South Korea, primarily between 1996 and 2006. Largely through the narratives of interviewees, but with occasional historical asides (brief synopsis of the Kim family's rise to power and the creation of North Korea) or cultural asides (various North Korean propagandas used to brainwash the society) to establish some context, the film describes the repressive political atmosphere in North Korea, and its heavy tolls on both human life and the human condition.
The producer was available for a few questions afterward. ( I was caught off-guard and didn't immediately have many good questions, but ) she did say that the person who filmed it was inspired to make the film after meeting a man in South Korea who had escaped from North Korea in 1992 and was one of the first to expose the fact that North Korea uses concentration camps extensively to purge (up to the third generation) anyone who could be considered a political dissident (Listening to South Korean radio could be, and was, considered such a crime).
When she met this man and heard his story, she decided to make a film so that others would know. She writes more about her production of the film here: http://www.kimjongiliathemovie.com/learnmore.html
"For sixty years, North Koreans have been governed by a totalitarian regime that controls all information entering and leaving the country. A cult of personality surrounds its two recent leaders: first, Kim Il Sung, and now his son, Kim Jong Il. For Kim Jong Il’s 46th birthday, a hybrid red begonia named kimjongilia was created, symbolizing wisdom, love, justice, and peace. The film draws its name from the rarefied flower and reveals the extraordinary stories told by survivors of North Korea’s vast prison camps, of devastating famine, and of every kind of repression."
The documentary is composed of interviews with some who have escaped North Korea, interspersed with information about North Korea's history and development of its leaders and present state.
The interviewees, having made it to South Korea, can speak in ways that no one living in North Korea is able to, and their voices are strong. Many of them speak of their story in a calm, controlled, and concise manner - underscoring the extent to which they must have been forced to adapt in order to survive and come to some reasonable terms with the atrocities they suffered.
One was an officer in the military, one was completely stripped of her family, one was sold into sexual slavery while searching for her sister, one was carried comatose on the backs of his brothers over the border, some suffered for unknown reasons in concentration camps, and one was born there, knowing nothing else until a newcomer brought stories of hope from an outside world.
Several escaped by bribing border guards to buy a pass to get near the boarder between North Korea and China. As one woman said, "If you didn't buy the pass, you got caught. If you got caught, you were shot to death." Crossing directly from North Korea to South Korea is nigh-impossible due to the DMZ that lies between, unless one is willing to go by sea.
The citizens of North Korea are subject to a complete program of brainwashing. They are isolated from the rest of the world and prevented from learning the deplorable state of their own condition. The reigning Kim is viewed as a deity.
As one man says in the film, comparing the way many Christians say grace to God before meals, "... we said grace to Kim Il-Sung." And adds, of the opinion formed in his mind of Kim Il-Sung, ".. we thought he didn't even pee."
One woman recalled her reactions to Kim Il-Sung's death in 1994 while she was still living in North Korea, subject to North Korean propaganda, "When Kim Il-Sung died, I thought the world was ending ... what would we do?" It was unthinkable that not only could the Great Leader and Father Kim Il-Sung be mortal, but that he might actually die and cease to rule North Korea.
A woman who danced as a youth in North Korea recalled how, while starving, she and her troupe were led to sing songs with lyrics like 'how shall we spread this bountiful rice?'. "Even now I don't understand," she says.
"I thought of the Great Leader as a father," said one man, of his realization of the true nature of conditions in North Korea: "So how could he let us live like this?"
Since leaving those oppressive conditions, the escapees have further recognized what was really going on and how they were being deceived, but the previously quoted man adds, "If I were still there, I would still worship him", presumably more as a matter of consequence than a matter of choice.
A woman identified as Ms. Kim asks, "How could anyone praise Kim Jong-Il? ... I am filled with hatred for North Korea. They killed my family. How can I live without tears? He left me alone ... cursed Kim Jong-Il." Ms. Kim was arrested because her best friend had become Kim Jong-Il's lover and she knew 'too much' about the lives of important men (she met others who had been arrested for crimes such as spreading a newspaper picture of the Leader on the floor, and for listening to South Korean radio). Her mother and father starved to death in a camp. She lost one son to drowning, one to being shot while trying to cross the border, and one to being tortured until his lungs filled with blood. He is still alive, but hospitalized and cannot breathe on his own. She gave up her daughter for adoption to save her from the stigma of being associated with a family that was imprisoned, so that her daughter would have a chance to marry one day. After 35 years, she doesn't know what her husband was arrested for or if he is alive. If I remember right, she escaped by selling everything she owned in order to bribe the guards to let her pass.
One man interviewed was taken with his family to a concentration camp at the age of 9 years old. Someone in his family had been considered to have committed a political crime, and North Korean practice is to purge 3 generations. He screamed so much that the guards let him bring his pet fish with him. For a time, he dried bugs to feed his fish, but when the concentration camp work began he said, "I had no time to cry. We worked so hard and I was so cold. You don't care about your pet fish when you are dying." He was eventually inspired to escape after reading The Count of Monte Cristo, one of the smuggled books circulating among prisoners. He swore that he, too, would take revenge.
The coal mining was the worst. The best job was tending the official beehives. The North Korean economy actually depends partly on the large quantity of labor demanded from prisoners. The camps manufacture military uniforms, bricks, and leather shoes. Some of North Korea's exports, notably doilies to Poland, paper flowers to France, and bras to Russia, are crafted by forced camp labor.
One young man was born in camp, never knowing why his parents were there. He describes how at camp, school was simple. They taught you how to dig coal and how to transport it. Korean reading and writing, as well as addition and subtraction were also taught. At roll call, they recited the camp rules, the first of which was "Any prisoner who does not complete his assignment will be presumed to have an attitude ... and will be executed by firing squad immediately." The other rules begin with things like hiding food, not obeying diligently, trying to escape or failing to report an escape attempt, ... all ending with immediate execution.
This young man was inspired to escape by a newcomer to camp who told of his former, outside life. "The best stories were about eating," said the young man. After hearing such stories, life in camp became unbearable. Together, he and his new friend tried to escape through the fences around the camp near the mountains. The young man made it, squeezing through the fence and descending on the other side of the mountain, but his friend never made it, and he realizes that probably his friend was electrocuted by trying to pass through the fence first.
One interviewee comments: It is a disgrace to the human race that such camps exist.
Not all the interviewees were arrested or escaped from camps. One concert pianist, a man whose story proves he truly lived to play the piano, learned of his country's oppression after traveling to study in Russia and then being reported for playing a piece by a French composer after returning to North Korea. This restriction over his ability to play was intolerable, so he bribed the border guards for an escape to China. Before making it to South Korea, he was captured and tortured by Chinese police. Hung upside-down, he tucked his fingers into his armpits, thinking only that he must not let them harm his hands.
In North Korea, an artist is an instrument of the Party, the film explains, children of the upper class - those loyal to Kim Jong-Il - are the only ones admitted to conservatory. Family background (loyalty to the Party) is everything. One woman explained that although she was a singer, her voice was unacceptable in North Korea because it sounded like the voice of a South Korean pop singer, a capitalist.
Although in the 1950's, North Korea proclaimed the great Worker's Paradise, in the 1980's, there were food shortages which became widespread in the 1990's. After the Great Famine in 1994, the biggest problem for the state in 1995 was how to take care of the corpses. A system was imposed by which circulating military trucks arrived to be loaded with, and haul away, the dead.
One boy from a rural area describes how his family went to the mountain forests to collect roots. They ate grass and bark. One day, while foraging, he was soaked by the rain and became ill. Having no money for food or medicine, at first they laid him aside and waited for him to die. He entered a coma. When he awoke weeks later, he was in a room with an old woman who informed him that he was in China. His brothers and sister had carried him on their backs over the mountains and across the border. But, their parents remained in North Korea and there were penalties in China for harboring North Koreans. His oldest brother felt responsibility to care for the family and would make trips back and forth to bring his parents food. One one of these trips, he was captured. He turned himself in, hoping to receive a lighter sentence. He was publicly executed.
"The fact that they killed a guy like him," says his surviving youngest brother, "It's really hard to deal with." The youngest brother still feels guilty, as if his brother's death is somehow his fault for his sickness causing their first crossing to China.
The military also suffered from food shortages. The State provided them only with salt and rice, and they were left to supply everything else themselves. Further, even though the officers gave orders every day, it was impossible to get work done even if one wanted to because of missing supplies. One officer escaped after brooding for 10 years over how his 'so-called country' had become so tragic and horrific. He took his family by boat through a thick fog, dodging government ships (which actually had no fuel) until he saw the trees on the mountains and knew they had made it to South Korea.
The documentary shows briefly the efforts of some groups to locate escaped North Koreans in China and assist in smuggling them to safety in South Korea. Neither China nor Mongolia are safe for refugees.
Considering the godlike status of Kim Jong Il, there is speculation that North Korea will be wash into chaos at his eventual death. For 20 years the entire NK population has stopped working, says a man in the film of the effects on North Korea's industry and economy. If that becomes 30, then I think it will be over.
Others state: If foreign countries stop aiding Kim Jong Il, North Koreans will end it with their bare hands. Of this, I am certain.
and, If the person who created such a place isn't a criminal, I don't know who is.
However, despite the cruelties they suffered at the hands of their nations leaders, many North Korean refugees separate the hand of power from the land of their home.
"If [ Kim Jong Il's regime ] collapsed today, I'd be in North Korea tomorrow."
The film closes showing the hope that North Korean refugees maintain for their own lives and for the future of their family, friends, and home in Korea.
Ms. Kim speaks again at the end, I am grateful for South Korea and the world and peace - for the people who love peace and freedom - since I have tasted freedom, I have to return to save my North Korean people
I wonder if anyone's listening to our pleas? North Koreans can't speak
(Sundance Institute Documentary Film Program) (one of 10 films chosen by the IDA to be considered for an academy award) Kimjongilia.pdf
The message left by the Documentary is that the world has to save North Korea My own brief thoughts on this is that (although some actions must take place on the diplomatic level) on a more basic level, it is the people of the world - not the countries - and not the United States - who must be aware of and consider the kind of work this will take, on behalf of their fellow people.
( images used are downloadable from the film's website ) ( only phrases shown in quotation marks are direct quotes. Others are paraphrased. )
Way back in the blurry days somewhere between first grade and third grade, when the elementary school guidance counselor, Ms. Millard would come to class with hand puppets, Dulso (that's what it sounded like to me) the Dolphin and a Sea Otter, and teach us that every person was unique and special in their own way.
Of all the times she came to class, one of my more concrete memories is of a discussion about how sometimes people give things away because they want other people to be their friends, and they think that if they give away their trading cards or their candy or their toys, that people will like them. I also remember a class discussion on how some people were like Monsters and some people were like Mice. I might be confusing two different experiences here, but - the kind of people who are like Monsters are the kind of people who put other people down because it makes them feel good about themselves (I did not understand how this worked for a very long time). The kind of people who are like Mice might be quiet and nervous about playing with others. They might give away their own toys so that other people will like them (I also did not understand this exchange for a very long time).
I'm glad that thought stayed with me for the 15 or so years since I heard it, so that this week, I could recognize this unhealthy symptom in myself - having recognized it, I hope to dismiss it.
I have noticed that recently, I tend to feel a need to be able to provide others with something in order to be worthwhile to them - be it food, good company, or anything that I think will make their experience of being a friend of mine more enjoyable. I become overly conscious of evaluating whether I think they would decide if it was worthwhile to spend time with me.
I have been accused in the past of martyring myself, but I contend that I derive personal enjoyment from being able to share things with others, and from contributing to a good outcome overall. I think that in most circumstances, my willingness to share and contribute is generally constructive, although I recognize that things can get lopsided.
But, this is different. While I recognize that I enjoy sharing things (and food is especially fun to share), I have recently found myself feeling helpless when I don't think I have anything to offer, as though I myself and not worthwhile to others unless I have something to give them. Do I expect this of other people? No. I enjoy them for who they are and for whatever we happen to do together. Why shouldn't I think that friends would expect nothing more of me?
I am trying to relax and to trust that my friends are my friends, regardless of any consideration of how I can benefit them.
IF thou couldst empty all thyself of self, Like to a shell dishabited, Then might He find thee on the Ocean shelf, And say—" This is not dead,"— And fill thee with Himself instead.
But thou art all replete with very thou, And hast such shrewd activity, That, when He comes, He says :—" This is enow Unto itself—’Twere better let it be: It is so small and full, there is no room for Me."
In a much previous post, I hoped I would not be left empty for the way I internalized this poem.
I think I would like to add to that, a hope that I would never be full.. either extreme can be prohibitive of interactions of an individual with the surrounding environment. Were I full, I would no longer be able to receive new input from my surroundings. If I cannot interact with my surroundings in any way, I might as well be dead.
I've had some conversations stretching over the months about setting goals in life.
The people I've talked to have set strong courses for themselves, deciding what they want and aiming their careers and efforts towards a future that will bring them money. With money, they can acquire what they want - be it things or activities or lifestyles - to sustain and thrive.
I wasn't so sure. I think I want more a particular means of living.
They would remind me that also, if you want to do some good in the world, it helps to have money. The Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation for example. Look at how much good the Gates (and others with enough wealth) can do because they have money.
But, I've thought of this before. And what troubles me is -How did they get that much money in the first place? While so much of the rest of the world is so poor?
I suspect that if I made a lot of money like that and then contributed it to charity, that I would still not be able to make up for the series of injustices that allowed me to collect such a share of disparity.
I am not against the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation. I'm not against people who work to establish a healthy life for themselves. The System exists as it is, and we must work within it.
But, I think I believe that I want a future where such foundations do not exist, because I think in that world, they will also not be needed.
My goals? The best description I have so far is that I am trying to follow a tributary. I don't know where it's going, but I can feel the current and I want to find the river where these things come together.
Somewhat recently, I realized that it seemed like I'd been thinking of programming more as a culture into which I wanted to be accepted than a tool that is useful for commanding computers.
If I can remind myself of that second thing - to view programming as a tool - it becomes more approachable, some pressure eases off from somewhere, and I think I feel more able to explore since my goal is now more directly to discover uses for these tools.
He told me about how in high school, he was trying to tutor some other guy in Alegebra or something. It wasn't working very well. The guy couldn't keep his attention and effort focused on the subject.
The way he told it, the guy was trying - he wanted to learn, he wanted to focus, and he wanted to be interested.
But, he just wasn't interested, and there was nothing he could do about that.
since I have begun to believe that living according to a rule of 'no regrets' puts pretty high stakes on the chance that I will risk and lose, which I think is actually counterproductive for me. Also, I have known myself acting out of an avoidance or fear of somehow still harboring regrets, despite the fact that it is often difficult to anticipate what things I might or might not regret and to inform my decisions with that anticipation.
(I am speaking very much in the first person because I am aware that others may perceive the reminder 'no regrets' in a more personally useful manner. It has lost its use for me, possibly encouraging me to take rash actions in the name of not regretting.)
I like the concept 'no resignation' because it prods me to, whatever the situation, not give up. not give in. To the best of my abilities, my actions (whatever direction) will be choices. I will not suffer or cripple myself in advance for the sake of things that I cannot know whether or not I will regret ahead of time.
But I will do my best to not leave myself at the mercy of my situations, but to make what seems to be the best choice at the time and not to resign to circumstances making the decision for me. If I regret one of those decisions, so be it.
"Doctor, without your wounds, where would your power be? It is your melancholy that makes your low voice tremble into the hearts of men and women. The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and laundering children of this earth as can one human being broken on the wheels of living. In love’s service only wounded soldiers can serve ..."
- Thorton Wilder, The Angel That Troubled the Waters
