Well my friends, the end has finally come. This blog has served me very well and I am very sad to leave it, but it simply has too much exposure. For me, my blog is for my close friends and the occasional stranger. Either they know me well enough to take all that I say with a grain of salt or they see the face that my writing reveals. I've lost that anonymity and my ability to write with real freedom. I have learned my lessons about the internet and I will be a applying them. So I leave this blog behind with true regret.

Aduie, dear friend. You have been the only journal I could maintain for the last six years.

再见

By Vitas

I cannot describe to you how wonderful it feels to be back in Kalamazoo. While the wedding and the memorial went fine, my extended family can be stressful for me to be around. Also, my father and I are not meant to live together. He overreacts and becomes angry over easily resolvable issues. So while I miss my mother, my friends (though the majority of them aren't home anyway), and the country, home is where the heart is and mine has settled (for the moment) in Kalamazoo.

An interesting note: My writing style seems to be rather stiff and formal these days. I'm not sure exactly why. Maybe I'm overly concious of how the writing reflects on me, or maybe writing is the only opportunity I have to use certain vocabulary!

when

 i am alone.

  and i sit, late at night, searching for a connection
       
            to whom i consider home.

How often do we consider the true ramifications of what we say? The boundaries between our lives and others are blurred the more intimate we become. Your best friend confides in you, and it feels like it is your knowledge simply because they are such an integrated part of your life. You share an experience with your lover and it IS your life... But it's theirs as well, and you have to respect their desires for privacy.

That's the line I've been straddling lately. When I thought about why I haven't been posting, it's because my thoughts have mainly been about relationships: the ups and downs, the complicated interrelatedness, the emotional bombs, sensitivity, trust. I'm going through something many people have done before and often I want to reach out for wisdom or guidance. However, I just as frequently hold back. First of all, what if I resolve the issue in my own head? Or with my partner? If people have certain impressions of a relationship, the shades and edges of it but not the core, they will judge, and that judgement will stay with them. Gossip can do ugly things to a relationship and no one but you can know your heart.

I suppose this is what it means to be a grown-up. The art of disclosure because while you might want to speak, speaking is not always best. The art of "discretion is the better part of valor." I'm not saying that I wouldn't come to a friend individually and ask for advice. I would lose my mind otherwise, because Lord knows I can't do "internalizing." No, I mean realizing that it is wiser to hold my tongue because it's not about just me anymore. It's about someone who's life is entwined with mine. It's about protecting your loved ones and giving them (and yourself) a chance to see if you are wise enough, truthful enough to work through things together.

This all implies that I have a bumpy relationship. I admit to being an emotional idiot on plenty an occasion. I also know I've not done this well before. But that's learning, and learning from your mistakes. I have felt so much personal growth in the last four months. I have grown with, and because of a person I care for deeply. That's powerful. That's worth learning the art of disclosure, or more accurately, the art of discretion.

I love you.

i.

i am painting two portraits
one
of my mother
one
of my father
and connecting them with a trail of white boxes
a select few with their lids off,
and wondering if people will see little beds
or sarcophagi.


ii.

my father wearing the worn blue
mechanics suit he has had longer than i have
lived, and i
am his daughter.


iii.

today i have been informed that
by my mother
in an indirect way
that she is old
and getting older

these
will be the final in
the series.

the fragrant hills
south of the summer palace
boast a forest
that burns brilliant
red in the fall.

the color expresses joy
and wards off evil, so
people choke the highways with
taxis and cars and then they fill
the streets, a surging mass of tradition,
pilgrims for luck.

as we move briskly up the mountain,
packed shoulder to shoulder,
marching up stairs spaced
exactly nine inches apart
(representing eternity),
i wonder why these people
have come.

they stare at the black hair
in front of them and they do not
look
to the sides
to the trees and
only a rare few take
the worn side paths through the
flames they came to see.

it is as though ascension alone
is the peace
they came for.