Mar 152010
 

Nothing creative today, though my emotions run high still with love, laughter and joy. Sometimes I think I need to be pinched to shake me out of this state of bliss I’m in. Yet, the truth is, why should anyone want out of this state??? So, I’m writing a more personal entry today – not usually found on my normal blog even- but, I think it gives some context to my current and future writing.

For most of my known life, I’ve been writing. It started at 8-years-old when I decided it was time to write things down so that I would remember them since I had vague memories before then. Most of what I had wasn’t good and with my new family (the Bilyeus) I was finally making happy memories that I wanted to keep. At the time, I didn’t know how long I would be staying with the family, so I wised up to the purpose of writing.

Now, over 25 years later, I write as reflection and a release. Sometimes it’s as if my thoughts and feelings aren’t real unless I’ve written about them and given them some solid form of existence in this world. I’m not sure what that’s about just yet, but I’ll continue to think on it. ;P

Occasionally I go back over my writings and reflect on how I’ve felt or the state that I was in. As I read back over my recent poems, I can sense the depths of my peaceful state. There’s no sense of uncertainty like there are in previous poems. (Do my random readers see this too?) Though I like to write about love or angst, or other such sentiments, I’m usually much less sure about the nature of my feelings or the ones I may claim to have them for. So, this current place I’m in is new and amazing. It’s like my mind has taken on a different level of peace, contentment and joy.

Every day I laugh. Every day I feel happy and content. I owe that to having found someone I love deeply and truly. He makes me want to be a better person. He makes me want to achieve more. He makes me feel beautiful inside. He knows my moods and thoughts often without speaking and we understand each other like few or even none have ever understood us before. Each day I make a prayer of thanks that he is in my life.

So, when I write, I feel like I strive to find the best ways to express/represent these feelings that run through my soul. Usually, I write to release the subtle or blatant frustrations or doubts of my emotions. Now, I’m writing to release the joy and bliss that is hard to keep bundled up inside.

And so, I’ll end my long post here. I’m in love. I’m in love with who I am. I’m in love with who I am with. I’m in love with who I am, with who I am with. And, while I would normally make a wry statement of sarcasm to lighten the vomit-factor of this happy-state; instead I’ll just end with a contented smile. 😀

Until next time…

-T

 Posted by at 08:36  Tagged with:
Mar 032010
 

I cannot access my regular blog while my usual computer is having surgery fixing its screen. So, this arena must suffice to carry my thoughts, which I prefer to keep separate from my writing – though I can’t really explain the logic behind doing that….

Lately, I’ve been considering the concept of being “an academic” and what exactly that means, looks like or embodies. I like to study, research, read. I love literature and absorb classic novels like water to a sponge. Yet, I cannot quote Shakespeare, recite famous poems or discuss the great literary theories whilst sipping a lovely Merlot (though I can definitely use some Merlot!). To me, it’s cliche to be the “literary” or “academic” who does this and yet it’s this persona that mocks cliches. A bit of a paradox, I say.

So, I wonder though, do I need to learn to play the role? Should I at last learn to act and finally participate in the game under the “normed” rules of society so that I might truly succeed?

Until now, I’ve generally succeeded in this game of life. Until now, I’ve basically seen my efforts pay off, some say it’s because I have not embraced the stereotypes that surround a person like me, with the interests that I have. Yet, I find myself wanting more, deserving more…and so I wonder, do I need to return to basic training and learn to speak, walk and live as an academic, an intellectual, a person of knowledge and wisdom so that I might achieve what I desire? Or will I be selling out somehow…?

-T

 Posted by at 08:20  Tagged with:
Feb 092010
 

There was this person I once knew who used to worry about everything. She used to cry every night to sleep and wonder why it seemed that God really must hate her. When she became a free adult, she felt lost and confused about what she was meant to do in this world and then she found love. In that love, she found an identity that was suitable and what she needed at the time.
Through the love, this person was able to reach into her core and confirm what she really stood for. For most of her early childhood, she was lied to and learned it wasn’t worth lying herself. When a lie would threaten to enter her life, she could feel the darkness, the sweat and the worry creep into her very soul. So, she always had to set it free.
Through the love, this person was able to gain confidence in her sense of integrity and honesty that would bless her amongst friends, in her work and the way she attempted to live.
The love stabilized her, anchored her and defined her.
Then, the love began to die. Her world began to shatter piece by piece and all that she stood for began to crumble. The love died and disappeared and this person was left confused, lost and unknown. She began to panic and in that panic became someone she did not recognize.
The lies became easier. The darkness was welcomed. The worry from days of old returned and was like a comforting blanket. Her honesty and integrity was lost. It seemed it had not served her well in the past. She questioned what it was all for.
As time passed, she would see glimpses of herself from the days of love and miss that person she used to be. But, she didn’t know how to return to that person without the love, without the anchor and sense of stability. She searched for it. She looked for it in others. She looked for it in work. She looked and looked.
Then, one day she decided it was time for a drastic change. She took on the challenge to move away from all that she knew and loved to redefine who she wanted to be. However, the dark blanket was not easy to let go and she held on to some parts of the way she had become, until at last, she was overwhelmed by the burden of the darkness and tired of what it was doing to her soul. Finally, she gathered the strength to let go and to be free.
That person.. was me – is me. That person has found a new love, but it’s a love inside myself – for myself. To be completely honest, there is a new love from external sources and that love has reminded me of the comfort, anchor and stability I had before. But, the real beauty is, that it is coupled with the love that I’ve also found and accepted inside myself to be the person I want to be; to reclaim the honesty and integrity that has served me well before; to be beautiful and true on the inside and outside, through and through.
So, the person that was me for the past several years has taught me to take control and be the person that is me and will be a me to be proud of.

-TW
~February 9, 2010

 Posted by at 22:20  Tagged with:
May 082009
 

Tonight I was asked,
“So, Tara, where is your family located?”

I paused to consider what the question really meant;
I knew that was not the real question.

I responded,
“In Oregon. In the States.”

“Is the rest of your family in Japan, then?”
As I expected, he didn’t really want to know where my family is.

I replied,
“Well, I’m not Japanese. I’m adopted and was born in Korea.”

Inside my head, I am screaming,
“WTF? How does this always come up in a conversation with me?”

Then, I thought to myself,
Why does it matter? Why do I get so worked up? What is it that really bothers me?

“You have issues,” I have been told by a beloved colleague.
“We all have issues,” I responded politely.

The difference is that we always have to discuss MY issues when a question is raised
About where I am from, who is my family, why am I Asian and only call myself American…

To me, asking this kind of question is the same as me asking someone to talk about their most sensitive issues in a casual, nonchalant, “I’m totally insensitive to your feelings” kind of way.

I know that is not necessarily the intent, but what right does anyone have to ask or assume that when I say,

“I am American. My family is from and is in Oregon.”

That I should be saying,

“I was born in Korea and I was adopted, so I don’t speak Korean. No, I don’t know my birth family, and I don’t know much about Korea.”

If a white man says,
“I am American. I’m from New York.”

The question that generally follows is:
“Oh what part? The City or Upstate?”

No one would think to ask,
“Were you born there? Is your family there? Where are you or your family from originally? Does your family speak that language still?” with underlying assumptions that he doesn’t belong, that he must have another reason for saying that he’s from New York and calling himself an American.

Why is it different for me?

Why is being Asian on the outside not freely acceptable to be considered American?
Why is being Asian on the outside an invitation to question origins, history and in general one’s existence?
Why is being Asian a free pass to consciously or subconsciously make a point that I am not from the dominant, colonial culture and therefore, I must have another reason for passing myself off as “American”?
Why is being Asian questioned at all?

Why is being adopted still not accepted?
Why is being adopted still an awkward topic, while being homosexual or transgender is less so?
Why is being adopted still something to be pitied or forced to be grateful about?

I suppose I will never escape the questions
I will never stop people from asking…will I?

Acceptance…peace…issues.

-T
~May 7, 2009

 Posted by at 06:52  Tagged with:
Jan 092009
 

Thought it might be good to change up the content a bit. I can’t believe that I have been writing so much poetry. It’s been years since I’ve had the desire to write again. Too many years spent silent, unhappy in the dark.

So much to say and yet no way to say it all. Poems express succinctly the deeper feelings within my soul. Though I write often in my diary, I do not write enough prose in story form. I want to write stories, but am not sure how to start or even how to finish. One day I will have time to just write and perhaps then I will never stop.

Now, my heart is up and down. My life is moving forward. My mind is weary but sharp. All is well and yet somehow I feel as if the end is drawing near…

Until next time…

-T

 Posted by at 02:30  Tagged with:
Dec 052008
 

Lexi felt a sense of pure joy as she looked at the end of the aisle and saw the man of her dreams standing and waiting for her. As their eyes met, they both smiled knowing that this was the beginning of the rest of their lives.

She smiled as she recalled that magical day just 5 years ago. Now, they had a little two-year old boy who was the reason for being for Lexi. Little Jj was taking his nap in the playpen as she tried to catch up on some work. Lexi had begun an online business selling hand-made items. She had met James when he contacted her about selling his hand-crafted boxes on her site. His work was amazing and they had both mutually benefited from the business.

Jj began to whimper as Lexi hit the send button on an email to a client. She reached down to pick him up, but he began to cry even more. Checking his forehead just in case, Lexi was alarmed to find his head burning up….

 Posted by at 09:46  Tagged with:
Sep 132008
 

My Japanese friend, her mother and I walk into a Coach store in New York City. Everyone is always very friendly in these stores because they want you to spend hundreds of dollars on their product – and I very much want to!

As a nice lady introduced herself, she asked where we were from and decided to guess. I laughed, thinking “good luck” and continued browsing. Her first guess for my friend and her mother was Malaysia. Unusual, but interesting. My friend politely said No and then said they were Japanese.

The nice lady was surprised and said, “I would have guessed she (pointing at me) was Japanese, but not you guys.”

My friend and I exchanged looks and laughter. The nice lady noticed and said, “So, where are you from?”

I politely replied, “From Oregon.”

“Interesting. I would have totally thought you were Japanese because you have such nice skin.”

My friend laughed and said, “That’s it! That’s why you are always confused, it’s the skin!”

Hm… is my thought. In fact, I feel a little disgrutled by my Korean heritage because aren’t Koreans generally better known for their beauty and skin? If they aren’t, why not? Most Korean women I see have much better features than Japanese women. No offense, but …

Anyway, this is the first reason that is starting to make sense for my mistaken identification.

 Posted by at 12:09  Tagged with:
Sep 022008
 

So, why all the Mistaken Identity Dialogues? Well, as you may have gathered, I am not Chinese. I am Asian-American. However, I do not call myself Asian-American – just American. Asian-American holds the nuiance that I have Asian culture in my upbringing or that I identify with being Asian in some way.

I am an adopted Korean. I grew up in a very white community with average white-American parents and family. I went to camp once a year for 5-6 years where other Korean adoptees like me met up and pretended we were “normal” for a week. It was only then that I learned about Korean culture, language and food. The rest of the 51 weeks of the year, I was a pseudo-white American.

Now, I live in Japan and have for about 9 years. Adoption is not talked about or really understood in Japan. Everyone Asian is Japanese or should be. When I visited Korea, everyone Asian was Korean or should be. I speak Japanese. I do not speak Korean. Yet, despite these two cultures that are somewhat part of my life, I often most commonly mistaken as Chinese.

I grew up being called “Chinese Tara”. I am NOT Chinese. I do not WANT to be Chinese. I AM AMERICAN! <sigh> But, then why is it so important to me?

We all have an identity that we hold on to and want others to accept as who we are. By constantly being told what my identity is, I am often frustrated and bewildered that this is such a common occurrence. Are there cases where someone is told, “You are American”, despite a correction of, “No, I am from France”? I doubt it. So, I wonder what about me says it is okay to challenge who I am? I wonder do others like me struggle with the same thing? I think there must be, but their voices aren’t heard. Thus, I felt it was time. It’s time to write about it. It’s time to talk about it. It’s time to hold firm to who I am!

So, this site is for my writings. Dialogues, short stories and such. Not all will be related to me not being Chinese as that will get old after a while. I believe I write in a variety of styles and genres, so we’ll see.

I’d appreciate comments, feedback, criticisms or whatever to know that I am being read and heard.

Until the next installment,

-T

 Posted by at 16:42  Tagged with:
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