Poetry: Halcyon Days

I look back
Because I'm sad
And I want to think of something good
It had to be better than this
The hurt now is so real
I couldn't possibility have been this low before
I had friends, then
Right?
Looking back it seemed so good
So serene it stands in mind

But I have proof of that time
My letters
My poems
My diary
Messages long forgotten
Remembered only when read again

It wasn't good

I hurt now
Emotionally
The scars of abandonment
Split open
They don't want to close as easily as before
Fears
I didn't know I had
Whip me in the face
(Oh goodness
My flippancy in youth
Paid for now)
Tears fall
The pain is real
It couldn't have been like this before!

Yet

When I was younger
I wrote about my contemplations
My desire for metal to pierce my skin
An inexplicable want to get fiercely raped
Desiring to die
I didn't know how to stand
So I wanted to fall
How I wished I could faint

Maybe it was worse then
But I can't remember that
All I have are my words
The memory of their sincerity
Haunting me

Now?
I am alone
Struggling by myself
Unable to reach out
Confused
Not knowing where to step out
To step forward
Terrified of losing
What little I have
Fed up with continuing
Not willing to start over

Then?
I struggled with identity
I was ashamed to be me
Self-conscious
Sarcastic? Loud?
All covers
Because I wasn't okay alone
Urged by doomsday
I spoke out fiercely
I hated the resistance that I met so often
So many changes
I wasn't mentally ready for
And no one knew how to prepare me
Lost in despair over a broken family
Confused about the hierarchy of my friends
Torn between called a prude
And falling into slut
Stretched between religious and too much so
Lost between loving romantic stories
And fearing the consequences of that desire
Finding myself or acting out?
I didn't know
Keeping my profile of being the perfect student
When I didn't know how to learn
Constantly having to prove to others
That I wasn't going to be a repeat
Of my brother
Because I was always put in his terrible shadow
Lost because everyone had phones to communicate
Except for me
And so I was often left out; forgotten
Swarmed with school work
That for the first time
I didn't immediately understand
Weekend obligations
Relying on parents for transport, money, anything
Wanting desperately to find my happy conclusion
When I knew I was still in the prelude
Ignoring logic or feeling -- never both
I was an idealist
I was a bridge
I was a child

I was spinning chaos and I was very lost

These were my halcyon days
Most nights ended in tears and frustration
The question:
Was it over school work or romance drama?
Didn't matter, didn't sleep
Didn't eat
Too proud to see my limitations enough to stop
Lunches were stressful
I had to choose sides
Every day
Habits developed
People were left behind
Misery plagued me
I wrote about it often
I drew images of blood
Illusions of grandeur?
Reassurance to keep myself from breaking down?
God only knows
I didn't
I don't
Friends of convenience
Didn't want to stick around
But I did
(I have yet to learn how to leave)
Stuck living school
Only living for homework
Social activities swarmed
But I had little access
Always the bridge between people
Never a part of the group
How I longed for connection
How I needed to love deeply
Not knowing how
Falling into wrong habits
On purpose
Just to feel alive
Not knowing why I felt so empty
Drained
I wasn't suicidal
I wasn't depressed
Simply overwhelmed
Lost and confused
Not knowing how to seek the help I desired

That time is what I treasure
Which contains my fondest memories
Reminiscence tainting the past
Corrupting the reality
When change came
I said, "Goodbye, halcyon days"
When really it was, "Hello, change"
But I didn't know how to greet it
So I hid
And in hiding I found myself lonely
Fearing that I'll be here forever
Forgetting that I put myself here
Forgetting why I ran away
But the words don't change
The past locks in
I want to stay true to how I felt
It's so easy to lie to yourself
Time erases the potency

I look back
With rose-colored glasses
The truth hurts too much
I need a time to turn to
In my misery
Pretend it was perfect
Not for forever
But for now
Get through this
Things weren't always this bad
I have to believe that
To believe that it can get better

When the good of now
Corrupts
Molds
Sours
When it hurts to think about
When I can't think about the good
Without thinking about its present situation
And that makes me cry
And I can't handle it
And the reality is too much
I can't fabricate a future
So I lie about the past
It was my idyllic time, I say
I make myself believe
It becomes truth in my head
I make myself forget
When I look back
I see what I want to see
A beautiful past
A beautiful history
These thoughts comfort me
I fall asleep
Dream
Of those blissful days

Another day I'll read my notes
I'll see what I said
Remember with sincerity
Stains
Rust
Blood
Covered that story
But I don't want to remember

I wish for perfection
I desire an ideal
I yearn to live a paragon

Now sucks
Therefore, then?
It had to be
Halcyon

Poetry: Clear

A new house is full of dust
The time it laid in wait
Had an effect

The windows are covered
In tarp
Some shade of blue
Unveiling their glass
Reveals a fingerprint or two

Get out your mops
Grab all the brooms
Turn on the vacuum
Use those feather-dusters
Make sure your rags are moist
Open all the windows
Turn on all the fans

Time and effort
Cleansing the structure
Realizing what is contained
Starting off strong

Moving in is quite hectic
A long time later
Everything settles in
The price of moving?
Cleaning once again

As time goes forth,
Little tasks keep dust away
Staying busy now
Keeps trouble for another day

Look out the window
Remember when it first was revealed?
Dusty and dull
Nothing special or shiny
Recall the sites it has shown you
The memories that have passed away
Varying shades of filth
Hiding truth away

Now here I stand
With rags and a mop
Touching the glass once again
A small, simple task
Menial and short
Changes the reality so much
Look through
Why go to all of this effort for an immaculate house?
It suddenly all makes sense
It suddenly is clear

Poetry: The Truth of Love

It's been so long since I've seen you
All I want is your embrace
To catch up, to laugh
I want to share our stories
Make memories together
Enjoy the time we have
But
Somehow
For a reason I can't understand
I'm yelling at you
You're frustrated with me
Our time together is soiled with rage
And we're being miserable
They say misery breeds company
But really
It's the opposite
And I don't want this
And you don't need this
But I don't know how to stop
My thoughts, my words
Hurt me
Hurt you
I just want simplicity
Unfortunately it's more complicated than that
For this and that
I'm sorry
I guess I'm bad at showing love

Poetry: Indecipherable

When you first meet me
Your words confuse me
And in a delight
I respond

The response remains the same
No matter the times it frequents
But you fail to understand
The reason

I want you to understand
But the answer
Is not something
To be said

In my silence
Your anger festers
(Impatience breeds
Its own reward)

I am a woman
This is something you know
You've read the books
You've heard the stories

Why can't you appreciate
I want to be a mystery unveiled?
Demanding, I lash out
Half truths and lies

These are things you accept
(The quick answer
Is usually wrong)
It soothes your rage

So now I'm stuck
Having to pretend it's true
('Cause you'll fulminate again
If I told you the truth)

I am a simple person
But some things
Are hard to say
And need time to ripen

Impatience plucks these fruit
Off their branches green
Tasting sour
When you bite them

I am a sweet fruit
Much treasured
Very dear
(But handle with care)

I talk in my own time
I say as I can
Never saying everything
Even if I wish to

That is the essence
This is how I want you to learn
Experience me piece-by-piece
Know me at the end

But you want a map
An instructional guide
"Hey peach, tell me how you work
And it better apply to pears too"

I can't do that
I'm sorry but it is not possible
I clam up
I freak out

You need a guide?
Then I'll change the road
For if you can't follow my way
Then you can't reach my destination

I talk in riddles
Then tell you what they mean
You are amazed at the puzzles
And love your hatred of them

Sometimes I stop
Sometimes I'm me
Blinded by the game
You just can't see

And you think I'm lying
When it's the truth I reveal
So wearily the mask goes on
And we continue for your zeal

You sometimes complain
Wishing I were more simple
But you don't understand
The complexity is for you

Like a rose picked
Before it had a chance to bloom
You yell at me for not being open
But deny me the soil and the sun

Prying hands
Brute force
Harsh words
Tearing at me

Yes, this way you can too
Find my center
But you'll miss the point
You lose the mystery to be unveiled

Don't pry at me
Don't pester me
Don't yell for an immediate response
Don't grumble at how I work

And after all this?
When you've beaten me to a pulp
When you've whipped the personality away
When you forced a fake reality

You complain about the rules
Of the game you needed
To understand
How to relate to women

I am not women
I am just one
I work my way
As does anyone

I speak lots
And I can ramble for days
But if I'm not ready
No truth will I say

And I try to tell you this
But you aren't ready to learn
Begging for answers
You aren't ready to unearth

So I made up a manner
To please your frustration
Making rules as I went
And you lived by them

You think I'm hard to read?
No, you just need to listen
Give up your way
And patiently give in

All you want to know
Can be revealed in time
Follow the procedure
Trust that I speak the truth

Your thirst for control
Your desire for order
Your need for hierarchy
Your lust for submission

Build up a wall
That neither one of us
Wants there
Blocking the path (listen!)

But the demand doesn't stop
The yelling continues
The blame game rages forth
You make me into an enigma

I'll be your riddler
If you need answers your way
I'll give you a code
That I write quite frankly

I'll work by these new rules
And it does please you
So I am glad
The hatred of me dwindles

But if you can remember
How I acted when we met
It is no longer the same
I am now bound by your edict

Like an electron
Your search to know me
Changed me
And stole away my candor

Listen sometime
When I am with other people
For they haven't caged me
My speech is more wonderful

The rules you live by
For interacting with me
Apply to only you
Why can you see?

I am not hard to learn
I am not difficult to understand
But to trust with the truth
I need time and love as guarantee

Want an answer from me?
Give me time to explain
Not an hour, not a week
Don't measure it for me

Show me you care
Not about the answer
(It matters not)
But about me

Don't tell me
Don't get frustrated
Don't complain
Actions speak louder than words

Your actions are few
Your words are trying
Why would I tell you now?
How could I reach you?

Raise the question
Maybe one reminder
Drop it
I'll tell you when I'm ready

Show interest in what I say
Put the technology away
Don't look at your watch
Be present

You want an answer to a hard question?
Raise it
Engage in light conversation
And be interested!

Appear to forget your inquiry
Let me enjoy our talk
After I have relaxed
After you gave me some time

I'll answer without prompt
So why do you demand from me?
I like being upfront
I value honesty and truth

So let me be so
But to do so
I need to follow
My way

I am not cunning
I am not one to riddle
I speak as I feel
(Sometimes that's metaphorically)

I can be blunt
I can be harsh
I can be kind
I can be honest

But I need to get there
On my own
And your pushing?
Is nagging

When I'm badgered
I shut up
I close shop
Because you don't care

Not about the issue, no
You certainly care about that
But the price of the answer?
My personhood?

You show that the answer
Is vastly more important
Than the problem
Than the steps to solve it

So might as well
Tell you no lies
But not the complete truth
Scrambled in code

Because you care more about
The answer
Than what the question truly is
Or the method to understanding

You're welcome
This game was made for you
Because of you
Do you enjoy it?

At least you can get answers this way
But no matter what I say or do
I have found no way
To get answers from you

You want my thoughts? Done
You want my schedule? Done
You want my feelings? Done
You want my company? Done

Since you won't play my way
You'll have to do some decrypting
But, hey
At least you learned... something

But when it comes to you
And understanding your thoughts
And knowing your feelings
And being present in your life

I can only say that you're
Indecipherable

Poetry: Just Say

A decision needs to be made
But many factors are still in the air
What you can provide
Just isn't quite as clear

We ain't decided yet
If we want you around
But you can't tell them right yet
Till you know if our decision is sound

Get going
Answer
Be clear
Be concise

Don't look back
Hold your head high
Know where you at
'Cause you can't see the sky

Make up your mind
Why can't you decide?
Just because we're figuring it out
Don't mean we'll let ya slide

There are choices in this air
And we want to know where you stand
You don't get a full deck
Heck, you'll lucky to have a poker hand

Be assured
Be confident
Show us
Your worth

You don't know your answer?
Just say yes.
Once the air clears,
You can sort out the mess.

Poetry: The problem with waiting is

I've never had sugar

Not a lick

Not a spoonful

No candy

No cookies

No cake

I want to savor my first bite

I want to leave the full experience

So that it's pure

And its sweetness I could never forget

I believe that its goodness belongs to dessert only

And I haven't gotten past lunch

Don't tell me about your sweet cereal

Don't brag about your candied snacks

Don't speak to me about saccharine meals

I don't want to know the "benefits" of Halloween

I don't want to know what your favorite treats are

I don't want to know how frequent you feast upon sweetener

I have decided to follow this rule

So don't

Don't tempt me by making food I will not consume

Don't leave small candies behind in my room

Don't describe for me the joys it causes

Don't tell me that it won't spoil my meal plan

Don't tell me that I can have dessert before dinner

Don't tell me your personal lines of distinction

Don't make fresh cookies while I am near

In fact, I don't even want to see it

Hide your sugar, hide it all

You say I'm crazy

My lines are too strict

It's possible

But I won't take that chance

I say I'm waiting

Waiting for it all

~*~*~*~

You offer a small confectionary

Just smell it, you ask

I can imagine placing it inside my mouth

What harm could a little bonbon cause?

I falter and so you leave it in my care

Make the decision yourself you say

You leave

In your absence
I consult those I trust

On this matter of sucrose

They grew gluttonous in their youth

From their experience they tell me

The dangers of sweet voracity

I almost broke

I cannot believe it

I have let this dreaded delight

Too close

~*~*~*~

I taste a small piece

It's intoxicating

It's what I hoped for

More than I envisioned

My head reels

I need more

I close my eyes

Relish the goodness

I open my eyes

The shame of my glut lies before me

But I'm now addicted

I knew I'd love it

This is why I had those boundaries

Thank goodness it is now past dinner

Let the feast begin

~*~*~*~

It turns out that all of my years

Of abstinence

Built an intolerance

For my justified vice

It turns out that my patience

Is limited

And I demand what I crave

Now that I know that my craving

Can be satisfied

It turns out that what I desire
Is not always easily offered

(In frustration do I take it

Or grow angry and resentful?)

It is dessert time

I demand to receive

It's what I waited for

It's why I ate my dinner

~*~*~*~

I guess the problem with waiting is

I wasn't really waiting at all

Just living in restriction

Closed in under tight boundary

Forcing distance to enforce security

I didn't learn how to be secure

All my hopes and dreams

Got tied into this

I had unrealistic expectations

Instead of channeling

My wait into patience

I stored it all

For this future moment

And it didn't pan out

Like I wanted

It didn't last

Like I imagined

Too many hidden variables

Too many changing factors

Too many unforeseen difficulties

And certainly

Too little patience

(Because it's finally birthday

And I need to open all the presents now

I thought I could laugh at all

The early openers,

They who celebrate on the wrong date,

Those who open one present a night early

Because I waited

And my reveal was supposed to be

Glorious

But the boxes contained PJs and socks

And more and more unfascinating things

And rules appeared

About when and how

The presents could and should be unfastened)

This isn't what I pictured

This isn't what I wanted

I thought I was being patient

It turns out

It was just a guise

For my greed

~*~*~*~

Do I understand now

What I didn't then?

When you said,

"You can have dinner without dessert."

In my urgency to consume

The prize of the meal

Did I forget the importance

Of a strong fundamental base?

In my greed to finally satisfy

The hunger of my flesh

Did I forget the reason

Such a gift is even offered?

Did I forget that it was a gift?

In my desire to achieve this end

Did I ignore the truth of the matter?

The possibility it might not even be offered?

(I wonder how true I would have stayed

If I found out that my end prize

That I have placed everything onto

Would not have been made available)

The problem with waiting is...

I hadn't learned patience nor love.

And I am all the worse for it.

Poetry: Hourglass

I have a list of things to do
And only so much time
To complete them
I think I can do
Them all if I
Perform
Well
So
I
Try
Very hard
To complete them
But as time rushes by
(That is as time is keen to do)
I realize that I seem to do accomplish
Less and less of each of them
In an attempt to reach
The end of the line
I fail to draw
Closer
My
Efforts
Seem so true
Yet you cannot reap
From their crops in harvest time
I guess I forgot where to plant the seeds
And thus put them where ever the wind blew them

Poetry: Shallow

I have no hard feelings towards you.
What do hard feelings consist of?
Hate? Love? Passion?
What is a soft feeling but mutual indifference
Or a nothing more than a pleasant feeling
To a bystander that has made no effect?

To one who lives by the rules of black-and-white:
Are the only two possibilities
To live life fully, deeply, hard
or
To live life barely, superficially, soft
And if so, then
By this logic of yours, then
Do you not admit to the second when
No hard feelings are felt?

No.
This cannot be so.
Let me show you.
Through my riddles
Will my point be made clear.

A cup can only hold the amount of water that it was designed to hold.
-No more
Asking for a chalice to contain more than what it can carry?
-Pure madness

You're not hard-hearted
You're not being mean
-You're not

There is only so much depth
When the boundaries are established
-Shallow

If I was a well
You sought to capture my water
Go for it
But don't get mad
For you use a tablespoon
When I know how much better
A bucket is for the task

So meticulous
So painstakingly slow
Must every drop be examined
Or understood
Or felt?
(A spoon is all you had
Bravo, you took on the task)

When I met you,
You were a small clay cup
Barely could hold 6oz
And you boasted of your great capabilities
For you were made of clay
I wet you
Put you back on the table
Worked on your soft earth
Formed you with more

You were hardened
It took a lot of persuasion
Melting you down to your basics
Just to increase your being

Why not get a larger cup?
Why not find one yet made?
Where is the fun in that?

In work
In labor
In tears
In long hours
In physical exhaustion
I wore you down
I built you up

I wasn't perfect
Not everything I did went well
Some pieces of hard rock never softened
These places you couldn't let go

Now you are a larger cup
You can hold 20oz
So much progress was made
But my work was not done
I spent too long in the shop
I forgot the passage of time
The sun rose up onto you
I watched in horror
You solidified

(And this time
It wouldn't be as 'easy'
To mold you back)

A crack ran through the top
The glorious rim
That I spent hours
Weeping into form
It fell off
10oz
My efforts
Seem in vain
Progress made?
Yes

But

Look at you now
As the sun's beams
End your tutorial
Every addition I made
Runs a lighter color
One day it'll all fall off
And you'll be as you were before

I had high hopes for this cup of clay
Only to realize that
It was shallow made
And I could not force the difference.

It is not your fault.

Poetry: I am a tree

I am a tree
My leaves and branches
Spread
Cover the world

My roots dig deep
Thorough
Down in the moist earth
Drawing life source
Where the worms lie in sleep

My leaves laugh in the wind
Die in the cold
Mature with the spring
Cry in pain in the heat

Munched on
Stepped on
Pulled out
My leaves know pain
But they still shine brightly
Their green never fades
Drawing from my life source
They see the beauty in the day

I am a tree
Time has made me quite old
No longer a small sprout
Struggling to fight competitors
I am well worn

Look at my scars
See the many battles I've won
The beaver that tried to eat me
The porcupine that tried to choke me
The man that stabbed me
As a way to show love to his fling
The bugs that nestled nests into me
The birds that made me their home

I know what pain is
And I don't care

The beauty of living is wonderful
It fills me up with contentment and joy

The children are happy
They swing on my branches
The birds sing
They nestle in the comfort
The flowers shout with joy
I block them from the harsh beams
The pain that I've endured
Has only caused others happiness

I am old
I know many things
To learn more
One must cast away regret
Pains of the past
Live here now
The sun is shining
The wind is blowing
Is this not a beautiful day?
Accept it as it comes

I am at peace

Poetry: Soccer

There's two teams
We're pace-to-pace
Running is our style
Both trying to win this race

There we are
Look at us go
Running this tract
Like a river flow

But then I stumble
No, you tripped me
Falling forward
Now I have a skinned knee

Stop
Game's off the clock
We're all gathered near
Gonna get problems under lock

My coach is back at the bench
All my team mates returned for some gatorade
But you and your team
You swarm me asking about lending some aid

Yeah, there are tears in my eyes
It kind of hurt
A short betrayal that lead me
Sliding into all that dirt

But whatever, man
Let me brush it off
I don't need all this fondling
And don't act like I boff

You ask me
To talk all about it
You poke at me
Hoping to grasp by touching whit

Well, whatever man
I never asked for you to understand
All this constant poking and pricking
Whoever said that I wanted to be scanned?

I tell you I just need time to heal
It's not that big a deal
I don't want to talk about how I feel
Stop trying to get me to squeal

You say you know what's best for me
As you examine the damage
By touching the tender
And clumsily adding bandage

Well that little scrape that started this mess
Is now twice as large
Bleeding everywhere, spreading infection
I want you to discharge

Oh, and now you're getting mad at me
For not accepting your kindness
Yelling 'bout the blood on your jerseys
Like it's my fault and you're blameless

So I yell at my team
I feel like a little recruitment
On my side for my story
Can only add some betterment

You act like it's a betrayal
For me to seek other advice
To find someone to stop ranting
I guess this is the price

But I need a medic
Not someone rubbing salt in
I need time to heal
And patience is wearing thin

My coach is too far away
To hear the complaints of mine
Falling into the wind
I guess I don't have much dyne

But the wind blew my words
Back into your faces
Making you hear distortion
Well, isn't that just aces?

This hurt you caused me
Just to end the game
Started this madness
You think my annoyance is from the same

I'm not upset that I fell into the mud
Seriously, I know how to brush myself off
It's the micro-managing when it's not your deal
That makes me want to quaff

Hit me, fine
That's how the game is played
Acting like you care, getting in my affairs
For that crap I don't get paid

And now you're upset
'Cause you're covered in blood
You see both sides are hurt
But I started the flood

I'm fed up
Of being in this court
The longer I'm here
Increases the issues to sort

Should I forfeit?
'Cause I feel like I lost
You make me feel criminal
I didn't know this was the cost

You wanted an end
Well my team is calling me out
All of your players
Want the same, I've no doubt

I've spoken with your coach
Of that I can guarantee
Bossing people around
Y'all know that she's Queen Bee

But I'm not on your team
Of that I am sure
Making me follow your strategies?
That wouldn't be pure

I try to mention
Because you seem of the reasonable sort
Of the double standards
But you only snort

Blinded
By your own team's defense
I guess you can't see
Their destructive offense

That little scrap that started this mess
Has grown like a monster
The only solution I see?
Self-sacrifice on a virgin's alter

Peace

Poetry: Lines

Know?

Given 1mL ink
Given 1 quill
Given 1 piece of paper
Given 1 hour
Given 1 empty, white room
Given 1 old, rusty desk
Given 1 simple window

Go.

How many participants
How many tries
How many supplies
How many sketches created
How many days pass
How many tears shed

Before?

We get it right
There is a match
It all aligns
Perfection is found
It all works out

Guess.

A couple hundred
A few dozen
Just one
We never come close

So?

Should we give up
Should we try really hard
Should we never start

End.

I don't know
I only have calculations

Sorry

There is only one road to clarity

Essay: American Indian Clichés

Stereotypes play an integral part into how we are treated as individuals. First impressions are often surface level — just like how our pigmentation is only skin-deep. Many of the characters in “The Surrounded” are prejudged due to their affiliations and these restrictions on their persons are only broken through personal interaction while the initial reaction does not change towards the affiliated groups. Stereotypes do not go away because when you lump people into groups certain attributes are tied to them. Instead, through individual experience and understanding, stereotypes are broken by seeing people of certain ethnic groups as unique individuals that do not fit into easy categories and through these individuals in your life as an influence, group affiliations are changed. “Be the change you wish to see in the world,” is quoted to Martin Luther King Jr when he spoke about breaking away from the categories that he felt black citizens were tied down under. By showcasing yourself positively, how the larger group is viewed will slowly change over time.

To start with, what is a stereotype? A stereotype is simply a common over-simplified concept that a wide number of people hold to be universally true for members of a certain group.  Common ones would be things like, ‘all Asians are smart’ or, ‘all geeks have huge square-shaped glasses with tape holding them together’ or, ‘all Hispanics are incredibly funny’. Stereotypes are not harmful by nature and we have them to aid our understanding of the world. The problem is when these stereotypes affect the way individual members of that group are treated because it over simplifies their person and makes unhealthy assumptions about their behavior and interests. According to “Myths and Stereotypes About Native Americans”, the authors state, “When it comes to Americans’ knowledge about Natives American culture and history, one might say there are two types of people — those who know nothing about Natives and those who know less than that.” (pg 1) The oversimplification of this highly diverse group of people has caused in many cases for certain tribal groups to be completely ostracized by the American public for not meeting these preconceived prerequisites for what it means to be a Native American tribe. While stereotypes are based in truth, applying them as if they concern most if not all cases can be very dangerous. This has been seen even on the academic level where seven United States textbooks have been found to portray Native Americans as being tied down to reservation life, going so far that, “none of the textbooks actually report how two-thirds (65%) majority of Native Americans do NOT live on reservations.” (Hawkins, pg 53) This is a serious problem because these stereotypes are not being used individually to understand what unites certain group members together but rather to systemically view them as oppressed and second-rate citizens. What was supposed to be benign and useful in aiding basic appreciation of another culture has led to a lie that harms them both as individual members in society and as a group. In “The Only Good Indian is a Dead Indian,” Mieder explains, “As long as the white majority population of the United States retain its prejudices and stereotypes about this minority population, the proverb [the only good Indian is a dead Indian] will not cease to exist.” (pg 56) Many of the common stereotypes about these tribal people are causing real damage to their image and their treatment within society. How someone is perceived has a huge impact on what type of life is possible for them to live.

In the poem, “The Exaggeration of Despair,” a person is noticing the destitution that surrounds many Indian lives, especially when they inhabit the reservation allotted to their tribal group. The poem emphasizes the pessimism that the people feel living in their situation and the desperate measures that they go to in an effort to survive. “and this Indian woman was born to an Indian woman / who sold her for a six-pack and a carton of cigarettes / and this Indian poet shivers beneath the freeway / and begs for enough quarters to buy pencil and paper” (pg 424) The hopelessness in these lines portray a lack of empathy that deeply affects their living conditions. The stereotypes of reservation life and what it means to be a member of a Native American tribe has created a self-fulfilling prophecy that keeps these people in a state of misery without an easy escape.

While there are common elements, these stereotypes harm each person in a different way. In “The Surrounded”, Max Leon’s impression of the Salish people cause him to separate from his wife due to their inability to trust each other. (pg 10) After the book plays out, several of Max’s conceptions of the Salish change and so he requests his son, Archilde, to plead for his wife, Catharine Le Loup, to move back into his home as his wife again. (pg 177, pg 183) She agrees without much hesitation because she has a strong forgiving nature which Max had not considered previously as he had viewed her too much like a stereotypical Salish squaw instead of as an individual woman who was his wife.

McNickle emphasizes the stereotypes given to tribal people by making all of the minor characters personify these attributes. Hoefel explains that all of the female characters have been, “[d]epicted as squaws, princesses or heathens to be converted, they have been stereotyped, often at the cost of their former status within tribes.” (pg 46) This has been done to emphasize the perspective of the speaker in those moments. When Archilde first returns home, his view on native peoples is negative and limiting. After reconnecting with his mother and other family members, Archilde develops a better understanding of them and stops viewing them adversely.

Archilde’s personal struggle to overcome his perspective that he gained while away at school is aided by the women in his life who, “defy the persistent impotence of [Archilde’s] misguided ‘kindness’ which arrives, unbidden and oblivious.” (Hoefer, pg 52) The two most clear examples of this would be at the end of the novel when Archilde sees the situation most transparently. The first case would be when he encounters the old woman who, “could not even understand that he wished to help.” (pg 234) By encountering this woman, he sees firsthand how terrible the poverty of the people could be, forcing him to realize that there was to be no simple solution for fixing the problems that native people face. A little while later, he encounters a starved mare who had too much pride to be helped but in his obstinance and short-sightedness, pursues the idea of helping her until the only mercy he can show is death. (pg 238-242) At the beginning of the story, he probably would have shrugged off this event as just a dumb animal too stupid to accept the help offered and go about his day but because of all that he has learnt throughout the story, he comes to understand that the Salish people are just like that horse in that what may seem to be a kindness can be considered hindrance to their way of life. Even so, these new revelations that he has accumulated did not change his initial effort to help without understanding because the image that he holds of the native people has not changed — merely his view of certain individuals has modified his conception of their ability to fit within his stereotypes of them.

A prime example of this would be the guilt of Faithful Catharine after she murdered the man who shot her son. She grew up with Catholic beliefs and so confessed her sin to the local priest but when that did not satisfy the remorse in her heart, she determined that she had to fall back onto the old ways of the tribe: “The Whip has covered the Fault.” (pg 49) She pleaded her case to the other Salish members and once they finished talking, she got her wish. (pg 211) Their personal methods of dealing with justice fit into their beliefs systems more authentically and so were more accepted than the rules of general society. Goldberg explains this point as such, “[W]hen tribal communities do not consent to the criminal justice system operating within their territory, when that system is culturally incompatible with the community’s understandings of justice, and when the system is perceived to be unfair, the system will lack legitimacy.” (pg 851) The legal system that everyone wanted Catharine Le Loup to follow would have led her to confessing her crime in court after her Confession. However, the Salish people do not right wrongs in that way and she did not believe that it was necessary to have her say in court when her sin was in retaliation against her son’s murder. She believed that she deserved personal punishment for the game warden’s death but saw no need for legality. The Sheriff and those involved in the case viewed this reasoning as an act of defiance and immorality while the Native Americans considered their methods to count the issue as resolved. This difference of opinion helped reinforce negative stereotypes about native behavior due to a lack of understanding and compromise between these separate methods of resolving the transgression. The medium between these two opposing forces was Archilde who believed in following the national law but found it difficult to convince himself that his mother should have to investigated by this system that she did not accept as legitimate. In this way, Archilde rids himself of his predetermined assessments of tribal resistance to modernization by acquainting with the people.

One of the most effective ways in literature to emphasize the importance of an issue is through satire and exaggeration. McNickle based the premise of “The Surrounded” off of his own youth (Goldberg, pg 839) and then expanded the story to the climax of the composition. In his first draft of the story, Archilde managed to travel to Spain and lived a happy life after accepting integration. However, after reuniting with his own mother and realizing the disservice that message left the Native populations, McNickle revised the story to convey a message to the majority population about the harmful effects of their current thought processes towards the tribal peoples. One of the ways he does so is by personifying quite a few of these stereotypes into his characters. “Most of McNickle’s Salish respond to the prohibition of their traditional economic practices by relying on government handouts or engaging in illegal activities.” (Christensen, pg 13) A common stereotype of Native Americans is that they are all gambling, drunk fools who waste away their days on reservations without amounting to anything. When Archilde comes back to the reservation for one last visit to his family, he learns from his parents that his brother is wanted for being a horse thief. (pg 4, 11) The book starts off with the premise that reservation Indians all live by these negative stereotypes and those who live in the town nearby expect nothing else out of them than just that. For example, George Moser complains about their drunkenness and the debt that the natives owe him while at Father Grepilloux’s funeral service. (pg 146-147) Even Archilde’s father who is married to an Indian woman and had several children with her holds these stereotypes as truth to the point that he exclaims, “What kind of Indian are you, then?” (pg 6) when Archilde admits that he does not play card games. This strong oversimplification of the tribe allows the revelations made by the characters later in the story appear to be more dramatic as they unveil the truths that they have been denying the entire time by relying on common stereotypes to understand the situation.

McNickel spent his life trying to modify the perceptions that the general public had towards this minority group through his works. In “The Surrounded” most of this effort is shown through the character development in Max Leon and his son, Archilde, as they come to appreciate and understand the Salish community. Not all of McNickle’s efforts were as subtle as this approach in his other works. “In 1949 McNickle published a history of American Indians in the United States, the first comprehensive history written by a Native American. They Came Here First contained descriptions of the diverse and ingenious peoples who had lived in the Americas before 1492. He described native legal systems and religious beliefs and reviewed the history of contact and European expansion.” (Hoxie, pg 9) As mentioned previously, even historical textbooks have been misinformed about native life (Hawkins, pg 53) and by creating his own source to represent their history, McNickle was hoping to break down some misconceptions and reveal the simpleminded approach that the tribal peoples had been viewed with. Unfortunately, They Came Here First was written over 65 years ago and most of the stereotypes have not gone away or changed. Why is this so? Mieder explains that, “[r]ationality is not part of stereotyping, but changing the truth and perpetuating lies are definite ingredients.” (pg 54) Hearing the truth is not enough to change a person’s mind. If this was so, there would not a war on GMO’s or vaccinations in this country. It is only through personal experience and a willingness to listen that change can occur. Knowledge does not sink in without hands-on experience. This is why students enroll in lab sections when they are taking science courses. This is why mission trips are considered so life-changing to the people that travel to unfamiliar country. You cannot help someone that you do not know.

By publishing works of literature that express the real frustrations and issues of native peoples, the urgency to change the current awareness of their issues and who they are has expanded from those who are intimately involved in the situation to people all across the world. However, this alone is not enough of an effort by itself. “First, it seems clear that Native American historical perspectives vary over time and space . . . Second, and perhaps more interesting, is the fact that none of these major interpretive approaches can trace itself to pre contact Native American culture . . . suggest[ing] that Native American perspectives on the past are products of history as well as of cultural inheritance.” (Hoxie, pg 13) Every tribe is different in how they have been affected by Westernization even though some elements have remained constant between them. Members in these tribes are even more diverse than the differences between tribes and so approaching the situation requires much care and thought for the efforts of those concerned to be useful. Only through personally interacting with the people that wish to be helped for the purpose of understanding who they are and what they need can the endeavors of outsiders be beneficial.

In conclusion, stereotypes have a strong influence on the treatment of individuals. The simple judgements that are made when we learn of group affiliations help simplify complex subject matters. However, the over usage of these easy tools can cause harm when a more personalized understanding is essential. In the case of Native Americans, the common stereotypes of who they are and how they live have resulted in a strong need for change. However, stereotypes are like bad habits and do not break just because you say ‘please’. Only by familiarization and a willingness to listen can these stereotypes be broken by showing how ill-fitting these broad generalizations are for the people in question. How can we aid one of the most repressed minority groups in the United States? Know who they are.

Works Cited

Christensen, Laird. “Not Exactly Like Heaven.” Editorial. University of Nebraska Press 1999: 2-16. Print.

Fleming, Walter C; Juneau, Carol. “Myths and Stereotypes About Native Americans.” Editorial. ProQuest 30 April 2016: 1-8. Print.

Goldberg, Carole. “A Native Vision of Justice.” Editorial. Michigan Law Review April 2013: 836-854. Print.

Hawkins, Jeffrey. “Smoke Signals, Sitting Bulls, and Slot Machines: A New Stereotype of Native Americans?” Editorial. Multicultural Perspectives 2005: 51-54. Print.

Hoefel, Roseanne. “Gendered Cartography: Mapping the Mind of Female Characters in D’Arcy McNickle’s The Surrounded.” Editorial. University of Nebraska Press 1998: 45-64. Print.

Hoxie, Frederick E. “Thinking Like an Indian.” Editorial. Project Muse March 2001: 1-14. Print.

McNickle, D'Arcy. The Surrounded. Albuquerque: U of New Mexico, 1978. Print.

Mieder, Wolfgang. “The Only Good Indian is a Dead Indian.” Editorial. University of Illinois Press 1993: 38-60. Print.

Purdy, John Lloyd., and James Ruppert. Nothing But the Truth: An Anthology of Native American Literature. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall, 2001. Print.

Essay: Portfolio Cover Letter

When I first came to A's class at the beginning of the semester, I honestly thought that this class was just going to be a hindrance on my study time and the rest of my schedule. I was not really looking forward to engaging in the class, reading four books, writing several essays, presenting class projects, and watching stereotypical Western movies for a subject that has absolutely nothing to do with my majors, minors, or any of my interests. I enrolled because I needed a 2000 level Honors course and it fit the bill. While I had heard good stories about A as a teacher, my expectations were rather low and going through the syllabus the first day only made me more annoyed for what was to come.

The first few homework assignments we had were to read short stories and poetry from “Nothing But the Truth” and I did so lacking all enthusiasm. When we came to class to discuss what we had read, there were a lot of awkward pauses and a general lack of input. In a class of nine students, one cannot afford to be introverted. It seemed like I was the only one contributing to the discussion that first week and it disheartened me further. However, I was pleasantly surprised by A’s analysis of the works and the focus of each of his discussions. I could tell based on our class time that he knew what he was doing and was passionate about the subject which was a nice change from Freshman Colloquium I and II.

As the class settled, the other eight members became more comfortable talking which was a relief to me because I did not feel as much pressure to keep the discussions afloat. While the poetry we read did not really appeal to me, the discussions became pleasurable anyway. The week-to-week load of work was lighter than I had previously imagined and so this class that I had deemed a thorn in my side was proving itself to not be so. My two presentations were getting taken care of via weekly meetings with my partners, the reading load was light, and the class time was actually being used. I was content and had reorganized my five classes such that Honors was no longer considered the bottom of the heap.

Then we switched to read “The Way to Rainy Mountain.” This book was terrible and I hate it with a passion. I did not realize the consistency of the three paragraph types across the pages (until it was brought up in class), instead it was just a block in my ability to read the story because the narration and the font kept changing. I did not like how it was written and in class everyone seemed to be praising it but it did not make sense and it just seemed like a sloppy children’s story that we had to read for some reason. The sense of place paper was introduced to us around this time as well and that became a stress on my schedule because I was dealing with examinations in my other classes as well as both of my presentations were coming up really soon and the work was not yet finalized. These two, three weeks were really rough and basically justified all of my previous uncertainties about taking this course to begin with.

My presentations followed right after and they were fine. I knew my material and I have no issues with public speaking so I was a little flippant about presenting because 20 minutes is not that long a time to lead a discussion, especially with a partner. The background one was rough due to technical issues that made S and I look like goofballs and in the discussion one, I sort of just let N lead because he got so passionate that I let him steal some of my material because he got invested in what he was saying. Around this time, Thompson pushed back the essay till after break so that stress was gone from my mind.

“The Surrounded” was probably my favorite book to read all semester which is really bizarre because going strictly off of titles, I totally thought that I was going enjoy “Blood Meridan” the most. It did help that I presented on the first third of the story so I got over invested in the tale due to all of my preparation for that. Spring break in the middle of the discussion for this novel really helped me to find time to finish reading it as well as collect some ancestral data for my essay. After finishing the novel a week late, we moved onto some short stories that I vaguely remember printing and reading but they were really boring and did not stay in memory.

Writing the essay was a struggle for me because I find it rather difficult to talk about myself and connecting my ancestry to my personal life. While I take a lot of pride in being a member of my family, I do not really think in such a way as the paper was asking. I knew a lot of the stories and the situations of my family but applying them to my life? That was just crazy talk. I spent quite a bit of time thinking and stressing over how I was to conduct the essay because it was unfamiliar to me. I also was unsure of how to incorporate the statement, “in the style of Momaday” to my writing technique so I broke the paper into three segments like “The Way to Rainy Mountain” and tried to mimic its pattern. I do not think I was very successful, though.

After this, we moved onto the movies in the course. We watched an introduction to an old TV show that was very stereotypical of cartoon Westerns and then we saw a 20 minute clip from The Searchers which was so boring that I struggled to not fall asleep while watching. I always have difficulties getting through an entire movie because movies are so boring. We then spent the next week of class watching the entire film of Unforgiven which was a nice break in my schedule from course work. I still find it weird to see Clint Eastwood perform roles outside of Paint Your Wagon because that film was my only exposure to him for so many years. A kept pressing us to start reading “Blood Meridan” around this time because we were going to start it the week after the film concluded but I was very busy in my other classes and I am a very fast reader so I ignored him.

When we moved onto “Blood Meridan”, we spent a lot of time on the introduction and how the novel initially presents itself which made me question if we would have time to finish the story even though A kept insisting that we would. The first chapter was kind of boring even though it was full of important information and it made the story have this initial languorous feel to it even though the story was fast-paced and full of drama. I feel like I did not get a lot of information out of it when I read it due to this. I probably should read it again over the summer so that the story can have a greater impact on my psyche. Finishing the book did not really resolve the story to the point that I questioned my eyes upon seeing “The End”. A was really focused on The Judge when we did our class discussions which is really cool to look at the book from that perspective but I did not share in his fascination with the character and so the discussions were not as fun as ones we had on previous works. Regardless, it was still enjoyable to learn more about the novel and different ways of looking upon the same scenario so I cannot complain too much.

Around this time, A formally introduced the precis, portfolio, and research paper assignments. I was a little grouchy that he had not given us more time to work on these things because of how many other projects, homework assignments, essays, lab reports, and examinations that I had to complete in the same amount of time but you deal with it. After we completed the novel, the only class activity I can think of that follows would be our outline discussions with him on our final day of class. I felt like I was a bit of a disappointment because I did not really come with an outline as much as a list of sources, quotes, and general ideas blotted randomly around on a piece of college-ruled paper but I don’t really write rough drafts and I find it hard to do so. Normally I just blot around ideas and put down all of the items that I want to include and then after contemplating for a few days about the mess, I write it out and then turn that in. So, it was my rough draft even though it was not a typical English class one.

That concludes my experiences in the class. I had a lot of fun and I learned quite a bit more than I had anticipated. I entered the class with very low expectations and a sour attitude but I left feeling disheartened that it was over because it was enjoyable and well-taught. I am sorry that I enrolled with such a negative attitude and if A taught me anything, it is that a teacher really can make all the difference.

As a thinker, I tend to think rather pragmatically but in a sporadic manner. If something catches my fancy, I can talk about it for days without too much struggle but if I do not find it interesting then it becomes very hard for me to engage even if the answers are easy. Generally, I write the way I talk unless I have to be super formal but I feel that my words are more genuine when they look like something I could have said in a face-to-face conversation with someone about the topic at hand. When I speak, generally what I say is exactly what I was thinking which can be dangerous because it can sound racy or offensive without that being my intent because the connections that lead me to that statement stayed inside my head with only the conclusion escaping my lips.

My artifact is a worn out rosary because I would not have gotten this far without my faith.

Essay: The Notion of Honor

The greatest stories ever told all have one element in common: honor. It is the motivator to fight and it is the reason behind our strongest actions. Our honor ties into our duties, ties into our patriotism, and ties into our lifestyles. Honor is the lifeblood of a person’s humanity. Honor ties us to our identities and ties us to each other. Every person has their own code of honor that they follow and so does every country. In China, honor is described as “face”, calling the process of being deemed with dishonor “to lose face”. While we in the West may have given up as a society our affiliations with honor, China has not.

To start with, what is honor? According to Catholic Education, there are two types of honor: reflexive, “[t]he honor of the savage,” and cultural “which comprises the traditions, stories and habits of thought of a particular society about (among other things) the proper and improper uses of violence.” Reflexive honor is a personal honor code such as vengeance and is normally deemed unacceptable by society. In the case of China, reflexive honor can cause loss of face because of their belief systems. Cultural honor comprises of what makes someone respectable in society. It has just as much to do with how someone is perceived as how they act. 

Chinese honor is expressed through their concept of face which is daily affected by the people and the situations that are encountered. This type of honor is a communal one, which is why it is termed ‘social face’. “The Anatomy of the Chinese Business Mind” describes it as, “Social face, however, represents one’s social recognition and reputation, which can be enhanced through one’s own efforts . . . Chinese society emphasizes group value. An individual’s face is closely related to the honor of one’s groups, including family, work place, and school. In interactions with foreigners, face is associated with national pride and thus becomes even more sensitive. In a word, the Chinese consider it important to have face and maintain face anywhere and anytime.” (page 104) How an individual fits into society and what they are doing to bring favor to their environment is paramount to Chinese honor because their integrity is tied so closely to the group.

In the movie “To Live”, Fugui constantly struggled with the issue of face. After the political upheaval that resulted in Chairman Mao acting as the new ruler of China, a lot of social strain befell the citizens in making sure that they were following the rules and proving themselves to be against Capitalism. When his friend gave their family a gift to apologize for the death of their only son, Fugui wanted to refuse the gift due to family honor and personal dignity but because the gift was a portrait of Chairman Mao, he could not refuse the offer because his family’s social honor was more important to maintain than his individual sense of one. In the United States, he would have been socially justified in refusing the gift because personal pride is viewed as more important than keeping the peace as a group; almost deeming it immoral to concede to society’s norms when they conflict with personal integrity. This is just one of many circumstances in the film that Fugui surrendered his personal dignity to maintain face for his family and his community, showcasing the friction between reflexive and cultural honor.

Fugui had strong connections to the puppets that he used as a career for many years and he tactfully pled to keep them during a time where China viewed its artifacts negatively. Eventually he had no further excuse to convince the authorities that he should have them and so they are destroyed by fire but their demise would have come years sooner had he not implored of their value. This time of turmoil in Chinese society shows the strong differences between Chinese and American honor because from an American standpoint, Fugui is just weakly giving in to the system that oppresses him at every turn, marking him with dishonor while from a Chinese standpoint, he tactfully maneuvers to bring honor to his family during this time of struggle, even at the cost of personal conviction.

While Fugui surrendered a considerable amount of his personal pride for the sake of his family, that does not mean that this is always the case. It is a part of Asian culture to view most circumstances that befall the individual to impact their community. Sam Louie states, “It’s the most difficult thing to admit to themselves, their families, and other loved ones that they have a problem and need help. The mere acknowledgement of an Asian person having a problem is going against cultural norms because it sends the implicit message to others that you have let them down.” (Psychology Today) Because Asians are culturally a communal people, their personal honor is tied alongside their connections to the community and their family’s face. While in “To Live” it may have seemed as if Fugui was betraying himself for the sake of his family, he probably would have viewed it as a worse betrayal of himself to act in a selfish manner and thus put his family at risk. His selflessness for the sake of survival in such a chaotic time in China was what gave their family face to the community and thus was a part of his personal code of honor.

In the United States, strong connections to honor no longer exist. During the classic Western time period where cowboys, assassins, and Indians were a trademark of the American image, reflexive honor was dealt with using gun fights. Personal attacks to honor were met in this way. However, personal quarrels are no longer allowed to be handled outside of the legal system, making vengeance of life illegal. On the issue of cultural honor, America is so diverse in its thinking and the people that live in the nation that there is no one-standard for behavior. With the constant impact of this liberalism, most people have developed a flippant attitude towards their fellow man, making it hard to gain or lose honor as they no longer have such a connection to each other. Some people in the United States have tried to desperately hold onto old values and thought processes but their resistance to society’s fade of cultural honor has made their ties to cultural honor a personal one, making honor and dishonor to be an individual thought instead of a social one. Since America is so individual-based and focuses on individual gain, cultural honor is not really an issue or even a concern for most people. The ties to Capitalism and Libertarianism mark reflexive honor as the only type of honor that could fit into society without too much strain. Honestly, most of America does not even care about how they are viewed within their own families. While in China this lack of face would be alarming and a terrible reality to deal with, most Americans are too individualistic to care about how they are viewed or even the image of other people.

Honor is a part of our identity. What it means to be honorable in a society deems an individual’s worth. In America, reflexive honor is paramount and a person has good standing as long as they are true to themselves. In China, cultural honor described as “face” is essential to their lives and lifestyles. Honor is core to their Daoism, Buddhism, and Confucianism. The constant struggle to maintain face is a common Chinese task that connects them to each other. In China, cultural honor is of the uppermost importance which is why Fugui can be deemed an honorable Chinese man even though those in the West would not see him that way. In the end, following the Code of Honor that your country, your family, and you have given yourself makes you an honorable person, connecting you to your identity— regardless of how those outside of your honor system perceive your action.

Works Cited

Bowman, James. "Introduction: The Two Kinds of Honor." Catholic Education Resource Center. Encounter Books, 2006. Web. 3 May 2016. http://www.catholiceducation.org/en/culture/catholic-contributions/introduction-the-two-kinds-of-honor.html

Louie, Sam. "Asian Shame and Honor." Psychology Today. Psychology Today, 29 June 2014. Web. 9 May 2016. https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/minority-report/201406/asian-shame-and-honor

To Live. Zhang Yimou. Samuel Goldwyn Company, 1994. Film.

Yuan, Fangyuan, and Meiru Liu. Anatomy of the Chinese Business Mind: An Insider's Perspective. Singapore: Cengage Learning, 2009. Print.

Poetry: Cold-Hearted

Feeling lost
Alone
Forgotten

Left in a world
Dimmed
Barren

Aching for something
Someone
Hold me

But no.

I get a casual text
A frank, "tell me"

In that, where
Is the passion?

I see no reason
To open up

It's empty

You wanted to see me?
Well, you know where I'd be
So if you truly wanted to
Why weren't you there to meet me?

Don't go on with the
"I thought about it"
Don't tell me your
Story of pity to guilt me

I don't need to hear it
I don't want to read it
I certainly don't have time to listen
To a list of rambling excuses

Show me.

'Cause all I see is a case
Of the cold-hearted.

Don't call me your friend
If you're not going to be there
Don't say you care
When you choose to prioritize me
At the bottom

I don't want to start something
That isn't going to be finished.

So stop it.

I'm tired of listening
You say so much
But without action
It means so little

Don't say you give me a thought
When you know I'm upset

You would have acted if so.
You could have helped out.
You should have been there.

You unfeeling jerk, you.
Cold-hearted

Poetry: Dawn and Dusk

Carmine

Rising from the ashes of the night

Cyan

Sinking away with the weight of the day

Both so similar in appearance

The transitions from the extremes of light

Two sides of one coin
One viewed more often
Worn with use
Which is more valuable?

One is precious and rare
Adding hope to the day
Reminding of the journey not yet made
One is halcyon
Full of memories
Experiences forgotten in dimming glow

Their colors swirl together
They are the same
The time of transition is identical
But it never feels that way

Look at the light now
Moving from darkness to light
Moving from day to night
They stand on opposite shores
In parallel

No, they aren't the same
But they understand each other
As only they could

Glance once more
They fade away
The happy medium
Falling to give way

Poetry: What For?

Why do we have friends?
Over the years
The numbers rise up and up
New faces in each
New experience
Fading away
As their relevance fails.

I didn't want to be lonely
Friends
I needed guidance
Friends
We were partnered together on a project
Friends
We saw each other everywhere
Friends
You were funny and I laughed
Friends
Our parents knew each other
Friends
We had so many classes together
Friends
We hated the same people
Friends
I thought you would be interesting to harass
Friends
I had a crush on you
Friends

But
We stopped needing each other
Goodbye
I could no longer turn to you for help
Goodbye
Our project concluded
Goodbye
Our lives diverged
Goodbye
Our humors no longer aligned
Goodbye
Our parental past connection no longer mattered
Goodbye
Schedules changed and the present concluded
Goodbye
We changed our line of thinking
Goodbye
I thought wrong about what we'd be like
Goodbye
You weren't safe to flirt with
Goodbye

Friends have a special place in our hearts
And the past is always sweet
No matter how often it actually was bitter.

Friends help shape our values
Either by testing our resistance
Or dragging us along with them.

They are close to our hearts
We need them
More than we know
Until they're gone.

Our family, our siblings
Our first friends
But never the last
Teaching us how to be one.

Our middle school friends
Shaping our ideals
Helping us to discover our identities
Teaching us how to love
(For if we can't love them,
How would we ever learn?)

Our adult friends
Formed by proximity
Hoping that this time
It'll be the last time
You say goodbye

And then
Lastly
Most importantly
Them
Your best friend
The only one
You know you can't give up
So you make them yours
To love until death.

It's all so beautiful
It's all so wonderful
And you never would have gotten here
Without them all
During your uncertainties
There they were
During your triumphs
They cheered you on.

And when you needed love,
They were safe.
They were your outlet.

You didn't need to hide.
You didn't need boundaries.
You didn't need to live in fear.
You didn't need to worry about 'being too close'.
You didn't need to worry about being mistaken.
You didn't need to question it.
You were close.
Closer than close.
It didn't mean you were in love
But it did mean that you did love.

So, what for?
What reason have you to not?
How could you not?

The heart is the center
And in the heart of all things
Is love.

Don't ever close it.
Don't ever give in to the hurt of this broken world.
The world needs your charity.
So give it
Freely
No reservation
No harm can come
From loving too much.

What for?
For the greatest of all things
Love.

Poetry: I Lose

No matter what I choose
I lose.

(It's not really a decision)
Would you rather lose your left or your right eye?
Does it matter?
Either way
You'll be half blind
You'll be disfigured
I lose.

Stop trying to make it out to be
A choice
A decision
An option
Is it really?
I lose.

So
I forfeit
I give up
I concede
Here's my white flag
I lose.

Happy?

I let myself die a little each day
I ignore it till I'm alone
Then the tears of pain come
And it really hurts

But I do it for you

You need your lines in the sand?
Fine.
But I'm the sand
Your lines tear me apart
I'm splintered
I'm shattered
I'm broken
I lose.

How do I tell you?
What could I tell you?
You wanted your boundaries.
It's not possible for me to change your mind.
I lose.

You ask me to deny my very existence
To make me
Constantly
Without end
Feel like a failure
And a monster
Someone who is not even human
I lose.

Fine.
You think my being is flirting?
Whatever.
If being myself is too much
And you can't handle it
Fine.
I lose.

I'll do it.
You won't see me complain.
It'll be hard
It'll hurt
Failure to do what you want
That disappointment?
Almost as bad as the deprivation.
(If not worse)
I lose.

But

Then you go
Flirting
Every day
All day
And it frustrates me
And it makes me want to
SCREAM
How is this fair?
When I live in this
POVERTY
For your expense
And you
Cast around affection
Like a rich man
Throwing dollars at the poor
Is this a joke to you?
I'm not a circus act.
I lose.

You make me feel cheap.

Do you not understand this?

You make me feel powerless.

And yet you say that you hate bossing me around?

Are you for real?

You make me feel undesirable.

And yet you say that I need to have higher self esteem?

You make me feel like I have no control.

And yet you ask me for my opinion? My feelings?

Forcing a reality that I loathe upon my being
Tearing up my humanity
When killing me would be a mercy
You ask me for my thoughts?
When they don't matter?
When they can't change anything?
When your mind is settled?
Way to kick a dead dog.
Congratulations
You just slapped a woman in the face.
I lose.

And you CONSTANTLY freak.
Boundaries!
Image!
Face!
Perceptions!
Heart!
Family!
The Future!
Borders!

Answer this.
If you saw a girl hug 15 different people in the course of 10 minutes
Smiling the entire time
Sitting with one
Maybe two
Would you really think that she's dating them?
Any of them?
Not really.
But if you think it makes her floozy...
That's your decision.
I lose.

Answer this.
If you saw a guy walk around for the course of 40 minutes
Conversing with just one girl
Opening doors
Carrying her stuff
Grabbing her food and drinks
Bowing
. . .
Isn't that worse?
Kind of.
But if you think that means he's a cavalier...
That's your decision.
I lose.

I'm not the flirt.
I'm not the one
Whose actions and words
Don't line up.
I lose.

Don't say you won't court me
Don't say you don't love me
And then do that.
(How is that not in complete opposition to your words?)
I lose.

You think I care that it's how you were raised?
You think I care that your personal pride is on the line?
You think I care that my words you'll never listen to
When I PLEAD for you to stop?
Of course.
That's why...
I lose.

But how do you not see the double standard?
But how do you not see the pain you cause?
But how do you not see that some days
(Not all)
I just can't.
And your disappointment in my refusal
To play this dumb game of yours
Is just another dagger
In my already weeping heart?
I lose.

You were raised to be a gentleman?
I was raised to be a bleeding heart.
You were raised to service the weaker sex?
I was raised to give my all to everyone.
You were raised to... what?
Whatever.
Do I even need to guess?
You'll just yell at me
For breaking yet another rule
Tomorrow
I lose.

I can't ever be good enough.
I can't ever satisfy your requirements.
I try so hard.
Do you know how many people call me crazy?
For trying?
For putting this much effort
Into something
That gives me nothing?
I give it all away.
I lose.

I am an empty corn husk.
Within a few days
I won't even smell like corn anymore.
I won't be anything anymore.
Okay, I'm being overly dramatic.
But, still
I lose.

I was not dealt a winning hand
I wasn't given a chance
Did I go in blind?
Am I still blind?
The rules aren't going to change.
Ever.
THAT was made clear
(Crystal)
So.
What do I do?
Where do I go from here?
There's no shot at winning.
I lose.

Why play a game that you can't win?
Good thing I'm not (that) competitive.
I'm in this for the long haul.
This pain is nothing
Compared to what loss is.
So...
When will you be done with me?
Will I eventually bore you?
Will you get too busy to bother?
Will I appear to be too obnoxious?
Will you leave me for someone easier?
Will you forget about it all?

You have all the cards.
You have full control and authority.
You have all the power.
You make every choice.

I lose.

Poetry: All I Want is

Maybe I'm living in the past
I want to be pursued in a world
Where men hardly move
From the couch
To get themselves
A new drink.

Maybe I'm living in a dream
I want to be loved
In strong, undeniable action
In a world where
Text messages
And soft meaningless words
Reign
In the mind of all.

Maybe I'm living in a fairytale
To want this
To need this
To desire this
To turn everyone away
Just because
Of this standard.

I believe in living a chaste life
But why does that have to come with
A man too reserved
To ever reach out?

Is there not also harm
In failing to hold someone you love
As there is in getting to close to the flame?
Yes, there's potential burn
But how are you supposed to have a spark
Without the fire dancing
Before your eyes?

Maybe I'm asking too much
Maybe I'm phrasing this wrong
I want a man with a visible struggle
In staying within mine and his values
Because I want to be seen as desirable
A must have
Someone worth the time
The effort.

I don't want to just set boundaries
Stick to them
And GO
I want to set boundaries
And have it be HARD
To keep them
To have to have several conversations
Re-evaluations
Nights of pure crying in frustration
Because we're not sure how to keep
To these boundaries
That we won't forsake.

(But not because we're rabbits
But because we're turtle doves)

That's how I'll know.

That's what I'm waiting for.

I'll be waiting a lifetime since
It's a fairytale
It's a dream
I'm living in a romanticized past.

I've read too many books
I've seen too many movies
I've listened too often
To the songs that flutter my heart.

But

All I want is

Love (v.)