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----"Get Me Out of this Box!!!"---- Fria Kim's WeBlog

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Jan. 5th, 2009 @ 12:24 am
I wish i had known I was better without.
Dreams and discovery and devotion and doubt.

I wish i had known that all i required
is hearth and a home and always to be hired.

Some things I think might have been better to forget
his face and his name and the day that we met

Some things I hope will always remain
my teeth and my humour and always my brain

Oh how I wish I had not gambled away
my heart and my pride abd my childlike ways

Oh how I wish i had not acquired
this fear and disdain and the dust from this pyre
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2009! Jan. 2nd, 2009 @ 10:28 am

2008?  I have something to say to you.

You fucking sucked.  The whole of your year was coloured in a creeping misery of despair.  You're gone and done with and I'm glad to be rid of you!  All the good things that happened during your year were like borrowing from different dimensions, as Time is one.  Whether it was 1993, 2007 or 2009, or any number of years that are not YOU,  those brief moments of respite from your clutches were what made you bearable.  The ones who Love me, truly Love me, they were never a part of you.  They are constant, unlike you.  You have ended.  I'm glad for it.  Good riddance!

NS and SF and LA and Bmore?  That was 1993 and 2009/2010.

Memorial Weekend?  That was 2007.

The campaign and Election.  Yeah, baby, that's 200-fuckyeah-9!

My everlong true Loves and Friends?  They are timeless.  Timeless.  No fucking year can contain what is True.

2009 already kicks ass!

 

Asskickers!Collapse )


Time to clean my guns.  And buy a new slide.

Kiss off! 

Fria

 


A Scientist to a Philosopher Sep. 20th, 2008 @ 01:24 am
"You hide behind wit and sarcasm. You only THINK you understand Newton. You are incapable of understanding Leibniz. You're a provocateur. Everything you do is about something else and makes trouble for you. Criticize this. Denounce that. Are you capable of discovering something of your own?"
-Emilie du Chatelet to Voltaire

Reboot Sep. 16th, 2008 @ 08:36 pm
Quiet now, the noise has receded
In the face of the will I project
Created the space, the field of silence
Expanding past the resistence.

Breathe in now, cleansing deep
far into my being
One by one, they reveal themselves,
As I open to discovery,

My eyelids flutter, my softened lips part,
As I drink in all there is,
This night is one of a million
Tonight it belongs to me.
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Who's YOUR Hero? Jul. 27th, 2008 @ 11:40 am
It's shameful for me to realize that I didn't know about the internment camps of WWII until less than a decade ago. Moreover, I didn't know about the Nisei soldiers until just several years ago. The Nisei Soldiers, for those who don't know yet, are American Citizens of the 442nd RCT and MIS who were of Japanese or sometimes simply Asian decent, largely recruited from these internment camps. They were all volunteer American citizens, (Nisei means second generation)  labeled "enemy aliens," simply because they were Asian or of Japanese Heritage. With their friends and family still interned, they volunteered as a way to show their patriotism and loyalty to the United States. I feel it is because they had chosen this route to prove their worth and patriotism that racism against Asians today is largely marginalized. The 442nd RCT are the most decorated unit for its size in US history. The number of casualty incidences exceed the number of actual individuals who were in the 442nd, with around 9,400 Purple Hearts, 7 Unit Citations and 21 Medal of Honor Recipients.  

442nd RCT

For Asian Pacific Heritage Month in May, I thought it would be a great idea to bring a few Nisei Soldiers to speak, so our diversity group, which I coordinate events for, contacted the Japanese American Veterans Association (JAVA) and two representatives came and spoke at my agency.  Terry Shima of the 442nd RCT and Grant Ichikawa of the MIS spoke brilliantly and without a trace of bitterness if sometimes with irony.



Talking with Grant extensively at lunch afterward, he invited me to the Memorial Weekend Ceremony at the Arlington Cemetary Collumbarium where I met Medal of Honor Recipient George Sakato .  

Grant, George wearing his medal, and MeCollapse )

After the ceremony, SB and I helped Grant and his wife Millie ( a heroine in her own experiences )Read more...Collapse )lay wreaths at gravesites of friends and battle buddies of  JAVA.

Later they had asked us to the JAVA Quarterly Luncheon as guests.  I was able to attend with about 80 others at a very nonpretentious gathering of some extremely interesting individuals of all walks of life.  Not all members are Japanese, Asians or even Vets.  It was then, amongst these warm people, that I realized that Antonio Taguba was in attendence.  Major General Taguba.  Of the Taguba Report !   THAT Taguba! 

Yes, THAT Taguba!!!Collapse )

 A man whose work I have quoted time and time again.  The man who was ordered to find the truth of the Abu Ghraib scandal and was eventually forced into early retirement for reporting the truth!  I'm glad that more flag officers have come forward after they've retired in criticism of policies, abuses and systemic issues, but it takes a true patriot, a true hero, to remember that a soldiers loyalties should lie first to his country before his commanders and those who will dictate his career.  More recently, he made an incredible declaration against this current administration. 

If you don't see how the internment of innocent civilians (read the damn report if you disagree) within their own country is wrong even after the lessons of the Nisei and Ronald Reagan's public apology on behalf of a remorseful and grateful nation with the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 , if you don't know what it means to me to have met a man whose work brought to light the unbelieveable conditions that people, whom I care very much about, had to work and live under and whose lives have been irrevocably scarred by what they've endured alongside those detainees, if you don't understand how grateful I am every day that racial slanders against me are few and truly rare because of the Nisei...if you don't know why that's a big deal to me, you don't know me very well and I would wonder, who is your hero?

The Perfect Storm Jun. 20th, 2006 @ 07:05 pm
You know the perfect storm is approaching when it's an exceptional hot day and suddenly it seems like night. Yesterday we had a perfect storm. I had a few more hours to put into the office when suddenly it looked like it was way past dusk. Outside my office overlooking the Beltway, I could see the jam of cars trying to beat it home. I wanted to get out of the office, too, but not so that I can beat the storm. I wanted to grab my kids, get out of the suit and into a sun dress and wait for the deluge. Instead, I was in the office, fingers against the window, looking at traffic with the my email inbox filling up.

After the dull, soft thud of rain started to fall, I could feel that the water was still warm because the windows never felt cool. I wanted nothing more than to jump in puddles, feel the soft water slick on my skin, I wanted nothing more than to hear my kids laugh at our silliness.

A warm rain is soothing and sensual. My memories of warm rain varies, from shadow boxing at a dance club in the deserted courtyard by myself because no one else wanted to get their pleather and boots wet... to walking with my sister at night around the neighbourhood enjoying the childlike charm of being kindred spirits ...to running from the house to escape the oppression from within into the vast open arms of the warm rain. There were soft rains filtering through trees by a creek in the summer night where shadows provided cover from prying eyes and hard rains where I laid my burgeouning belly on a tennis court pavement, my body curled around her protecting her while I felt the cool water wash over me.

There were rains that washed my tears and rain that embraced me. There were rains that whispered sweet nothings while I slept and rains that roared his anger at me. There were rains that cooled my frustration and rains that soared my spirit. I've been lost in rain, discovered by rain, danced with rain and fought with rain.

I never feel totally alone in rain. Rain is like an amorphous lover, fickle and tempermental. Sometime you're parched for him and sometimes you wish he'd just leave you alone. You don't know when you will see him again, you only know he will return. You don't know what sort of mood he will be in, you only know he will affect yours.

I never feel totally alone in rain. But I was standing by the window looking out, my fingertips on the glass feeling the warmth permeate through.

I wasn't in the rain.
My Heart on my Sleeve is: morosewistful
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