247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco

What am I here to know?

From my experience, seeds of learning get planted at one point, and then traveling through the timeline of life, I reach another point where an experience helps the learnings germinate and grow. Other seeds don't have a catalyzing experience and they never develop significance.

Sometimes we're lucky enough to have an opportunity to have another experience that lets us see the original seeds; the source of the learning, because usually when we have an experience we learn from, we don't remember the source of the learning, why a particular experience has significance to learn from it. A lot of the seeds may be from early childhood or previous lives. This is just from my own experience.

I learned this from the PBS "Cosmos" series by Carl Sagan. That was just the metaphor for the learning. I had watched the series a long time ago. Subsequently through the years I learned stuff. And then I watched the series again and realized that the seeds for a lot of what I learned was sourced in the ideas from Cosmos.

I think I'm here to learn to not be affected or saddened by what I know are just appearances. Amina made it really difficult, but it was all just appearances. I can forgive it, I can let it go. I can try to love her despite my instinct to hate her. I know full well that deep down I do love her. What she did was shitty, I hate what she did, but someday I may learn to not even hate that. She is not characterized by just one of her actions.

Just appearances. A woman called Amina. A person called Amina. I will never get back together with Amina, I may never let her back into my life again. It's all appearances, what matters is what is not seen. Our souls and spirits. They transcend these bodies and this lifetime. If the magnetism between us, the gravity that attracted us into each others lives is what is real, then we will meet each other again. We may not remember this, but it will happen.

Our time together in this life. It was just a scratch on the surface. We only spent a minuscule amount of time with each other in this lifetime. It has been shattered. And in that time, I loved her so deeply.

Her name is vile in my mouth now. "Amina" is just an appearance. Remove the name, remember the heart, the images, the impact. Not the actions. I learned from her and if what we touched in each other transcends lifetimes, then there will always be other lifetimes. This lifetime is insignificant, just appearances. Just one time out of countless times we have met, known, and loved each other. This lifetime is pain, what has happened in this lifetime is what was meant to happen in this lifetime.

247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco

Life in a daze, floating through waking and sleep, frustrated by the absolutes imposed by reality. Memory as an enemy. I want to forget everything. I don't want to be a part of anything or anyone else. I want to be completely detached, to cut out, to drift off taking nothing with me and leaving nothing behind.

And as memory acts as my enemy, it builds and more and more is added to it. Each month that passes is another volume of entries into my memory, bits of information that I can reflect upon, talk about, carry like baggage for the rest of my life. It gets added up in here.

Memories assault me. New Jersey. The red house, the yellow house, the same house, the white house. I have brothers? The 'rents? The list goes on and on and I can dig out countless memories that I would rather have erased.

A memory of Shiho and me in New Jersey. High school. A warm, sunny, Spring day at the 'rent's house. We only know English and the U.S. and we're together. She sees me a certain way. I see her another way. We couldn't guess how little we would know of each other's lives ten years hence. So much that we would never discuss, so much that we would have to lie to each other about.

Memories distilled. We are different people and I still love her. If only we hadn't lost so much time. If only we could build something good out of all the bad that has happened in either my life or our lives.

Not much matters here in this daze. The 'rents are far away and I'm untouchable. My oppression is my own. So much doesn't matter anymore. I'm losing touch with myself. My skin bothers me, itching and welting up nightly. It's never been so severe before. The hearing in my right ear is going funny. I don't think it's permanent though.

It would feel so good to shed this skin. To head up high above the earth and hover and watch and see everything happen. Just to observe from a distance. Life as a spectator sport. Life can be. Life is.

247 19th Ave., #2, San Francisco

My life couldn't be more boring. Looking for jobs is futile without any prior experience. Dead in the water. Fortunately, Tria hooked me up with the catering company she works for. At least it's something. Tria is actually the fastest developing thing in my life. I do trust my judgment in friends, but it really is hard to negotiate someone who didn't go to Oberlin. Oberlin has become a curse. It feels like something happened there that wasn't normal and now we have to try to live with it in real society. Agent Oberlin. We have to recover and recuperate from Oberlin.

I can't make assumptions with Tria the way I can with Oberlin folk, and it doesn't matter how careful I am with words. Even if I hit the exact right word to express my thought, it doesn't feel like Tria takes the step in my direction to understand the meaning of the word and why I chose that particular word. It's frustrating trying to explain myself and not being able to get through because our assumptions and backgrounds are totally different. Or that we didn't have the same college education. I can't start painting a picture and count on her to fill in blank spots. If I want to communicate an apple, I have to paint an apple.

Sometimes I don't know if she's understanding what I say the way I mean it. Sometimes I don't know if she's listening. Sometimes I don't know if she wants to hear what I'm saying at all. Oberlin was intense. We derived meaning from our experience by keeping open ears. In the real world, there's more, "I never had to think about this before and I really don't want to now. So I'm going to stop listening."

But she's been wonderful and I feel like I'm getting a lot from her. She brings things out in me which I really need. Things are tight and cozy with my Oberlin cronies. They are stimulating, but they also are not challenging in the way you get when you deal with someone who is totally different from you. With Oberlin folk, I can ask them what they studied, what they did, and where they hung out, and I'd have an idea about what they know and how to approach them. With Tria, I'm totally in the dark. I'm confounded by her use of "girls" in reference to women.

Well, whatever I feel about Tria, it's because I want to feel that way about her. She's not getting in too deep. I appreciate her and I think she's good for me, so I hope we continue being friends.