...I know it's been a minute since I've last written something here. But, I haven't forgotten the duties I have to myself or the one visitor to my discrete page. I've just been occupying myself with other things lately. And nothing that I'm too yiddy to speak about now. I'm not in a very articulate mood, therefore my ability to think normally isn't with me... it's 6 in the morning and I have yet to go to bed from the previous day.
A friend told me I'd be up to greet the sun, I told her it wouldn't be the first time, but in the back of my mind, I hoped to prove her wrong and be offline before the sun arose, but, I think it's beaten me. So, yet again, I've succumb to the defeat of the inevitable... I mean because the sun always rises, it's just a matter of whether you choose to rise with it, greet it when it comes or sleep right through it.
I'm a big fan of the latter for I do value my time of sleep, but often, on the weekends anyway, I find myself greeting it when it comes. I suppose because the weekends are my days to do whatever... just chill, relax and do me. So, I'll write often until the break of dawn. Only though if I have nothing to do, tomorrow slash today, I have something to do, so this foray wasn't intended. Oh well, sometimes it happens.
Anyways, when I'm in a more articulate mood, I'll grace your eyes with another treatise. Until then, I'm out. Holla Pimpin'.
Peace
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Ever Feel ...
Have you ever felt like: "I'm on top of the world."? Have you ever felt like: "I can do anything now."? Have you ever felt like you could cry if you just sat still? Have you ever felt like you are missing something?
I feel all this right now.
I'm at the height of glory for my life. What I've wanted to achieve for so long has come to me. But, when reality begins to blend in with fiction, your emotions become entangled into the drama as well.
This will sound crazy, I know, but it's so true, just listen. Keep reading you'll understand where I'm going.
I've started writing a book. I didn't know it was a book at first. I would just jot some thoughts down and keep it moving. But, the thoughts turned into ideas. And the ideas turned into sentences and those sentences turned into paragraphs. After a little while, those paragraphs turned into over 40 single spaced pages ... And, I'm not done.
The two main characters in the story are based on real people. One of the characters is someone I've never met. I've only seen her. The other person: is me.
After I realized what I'd been writing, I began to write the story in such a way in which it could yield true human emotion from the reader. I transformed some of the writing to mirror my other essays, in a descriptive and semi succinct way. I've worked on it, day and night. Almost every chance I get, writing and reading, re-writing and researching, I’m on it.
Yet, now I've found myself almost pushing it away... pushing it aside. Not because I'm tired of it, because I'm scared of it. I'm scared of the way it makes me feel. I'm scared of why I'm feeling this way. I'm scared of the length of time I may potentially feel like this: wanting something more.
And I think to myself, "Robyn, it's okay." "It's 'normal' to feel this way at this age, especially if you look at Erickson's Stages of Development." But, then my subconscious speaks up, "Whoa! Hold up son! We don't blend in with the typical 'stamp' of normalcy. We don't go with the grain. We don't accept the status quo!"
So, a battle consumes the most peaceful regions of my mind and questions about the writings relentlessly ensue and strain my ordinarily percipient psyche. I'm blind.
Searching for answers within my own soul and scouring the universe to find a truth that would hopefully emulate mine: That it's okay to feel this way.
I love the story of the two characters I've created. I truly do and I pray one day my life will mirror the tale. But, for now because my emotions are so tied to the story in trying to create a bona fide emotional showcase in the reader, I'm somehow struggling to hold on to my reality and not get caught up in the emotional rollercoaster that is my writing... I'm caught in a metaphysical battle of not allowing reality to meld with fiction.
I told you it was crazy.
But, it's true.
I rush home every night to get to the character I've created in this book and see what she's going to do next. I hate to leave her in the day, because then I'm not with her. When I return, I smile at the way I've lead her fictional life into peace. Yet, when I'm away I search for her in reality. I dream of her in reality. I plead for her existence to be real, for my reality. And though the character is based on a real life person, I'd never really spoke to this woman. I only shared a few words, maybe four in a typical greeting.
I then observed her actions for about 14 hours as we were together on the flight here, but after immigration I never saw her again. So the character I've created is based simply off an observation. Who's to say that even if I should find her again, she would be like the character I've so fallen in love with? What if she’s different? Then is all this fawning and pining over her really necessary?
I wish I could answer this.
So, as I struggle to continue to write and fight off the looming, shrinking distinction between what's real and what's not, my true emotions are toyed with. And I don't like it. I've put a level of writing into this story that I never knew I had in me and now this 'level' is taking it's toll on me. I'm trying so hard to be as emotive as possible that the efforts have turned themselves against me, and onto me. And so I wonder, "Is this normal? Am I really okay? Have I really fallen into a pseudo love with a dream?" Though my subconscious continues to shout out, "Hell naw this ain't normal! And Hell yeah it's okay, you're a writer and some writings do evoke emotion," there are some questions left looming around the barriers of my mortal mind that even it can't answer.
What do I do?
I guess … I shake my self off, dust off the pain, keep going and believe that this one day will happen in my reality as it did in hers.
I've come to learn that through Belief and the act of never failing that belief, dreams do come true. May be not when we want them, but when they need to arrive. So I won't give up. I will keep writing and though I may still struggle a little, I won't let it overcome me. Besides, how could I possibly dream of evoking an emotion in someone I'm only describing to them if I've never felt it myself? I can't.
So, I'll be okay. I will be fine. The pages of this book will continue to turn until the final chapter is written. One day, the element I feel is "missing," from my otherwise "glorious height of existence," will enter my life, and I and we shall be complete.
It's amazing what writing can do to a person. As I’ve written some things that have had me in tears, some have made me laugh and others have allowed me to come to a peaceful realization. And this piece, I see now, it’s one of those, that's given me peace.
At this coup, I smile, sigh a deep breath of relief, chuckle a little and tilt my head to the side for one last key stroke, for this section anyway, I say to you: I'm out.
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, October 2007
I feel all this right now.
I'm at the height of glory for my life. What I've wanted to achieve for so long has come to me. But, when reality begins to blend in with fiction, your emotions become entangled into the drama as well.
This will sound crazy, I know, but it's so true, just listen. Keep reading you'll understand where I'm going.
I've started writing a book. I didn't know it was a book at first. I would just jot some thoughts down and keep it moving. But, the thoughts turned into ideas. And the ideas turned into sentences and those sentences turned into paragraphs. After a little while, those paragraphs turned into over 40 single spaced pages ... And, I'm not done.
The two main characters in the story are based on real people. One of the characters is someone I've never met. I've only seen her. The other person: is me.
After I realized what I'd been writing, I began to write the story in such a way in which it could yield true human emotion from the reader. I transformed some of the writing to mirror my other essays, in a descriptive and semi succinct way. I've worked on it, day and night. Almost every chance I get, writing and reading, re-writing and researching, I’m on it.
Yet, now I've found myself almost pushing it away... pushing it aside. Not because I'm tired of it, because I'm scared of it. I'm scared of the way it makes me feel. I'm scared of why I'm feeling this way. I'm scared of the length of time I may potentially feel like this: wanting something more.
And I think to myself, "Robyn, it's okay." "It's 'normal' to feel this way at this age, especially if you look at Erickson's Stages of Development." But, then my subconscious speaks up, "Whoa! Hold up son! We don't blend in with the typical 'stamp' of normalcy. We don't go with the grain. We don't accept the status quo!"
So, a battle consumes the most peaceful regions of my mind and questions about the writings relentlessly ensue and strain my ordinarily percipient psyche. I'm blind.
Searching for answers within my own soul and scouring the universe to find a truth that would hopefully emulate mine: That it's okay to feel this way.
I love the story of the two characters I've created. I truly do and I pray one day my life will mirror the tale. But, for now because my emotions are so tied to the story in trying to create a bona fide emotional showcase in the reader, I'm somehow struggling to hold on to my reality and not get caught up in the emotional rollercoaster that is my writing... I'm caught in a metaphysical battle of not allowing reality to meld with fiction.
I told you it was crazy.
But, it's true.
I rush home every night to get to the character I've created in this book and see what she's going to do next. I hate to leave her in the day, because then I'm not with her. When I return, I smile at the way I've lead her fictional life into peace. Yet, when I'm away I search for her in reality. I dream of her in reality. I plead for her existence to be real, for my reality. And though the character is based on a real life person, I'd never really spoke to this woman. I only shared a few words, maybe four in a typical greeting.
I then observed her actions for about 14 hours as we were together on the flight here, but after immigration I never saw her again. So the character I've created is based simply off an observation. Who's to say that even if I should find her again, she would be like the character I've so fallen in love with? What if she’s different? Then is all this fawning and pining over her really necessary?
I wish I could answer this.
So, as I struggle to continue to write and fight off the looming, shrinking distinction between what's real and what's not, my true emotions are toyed with. And I don't like it. I've put a level of writing into this story that I never knew I had in me and now this 'level' is taking it's toll on me. I'm trying so hard to be as emotive as possible that the efforts have turned themselves against me, and onto me. And so I wonder, "Is this normal? Am I really okay? Have I really fallen into a pseudo love with a dream?" Though my subconscious continues to shout out, "Hell naw this ain't normal! And Hell yeah it's okay, you're a writer and some writings do evoke emotion," there are some questions left looming around the barriers of my mortal mind that even it can't answer.
What do I do?
I guess … I shake my self off, dust off the pain, keep going and believe that this one day will happen in my reality as it did in hers.
I've come to learn that through Belief and the act of never failing that belief, dreams do come true. May be not when we want them, but when they need to arrive. So I won't give up. I will keep writing and though I may still struggle a little, I won't let it overcome me. Besides, how could I possibly dream of evoking an emotion in someone I'm only describing to them if I've never felt it myself? I can't.
So, I'll be okay. I will be fine. The pages of this book will continue to turn until the final chapter is written. One day, the element I feel is "missing," from my otherwise "glorious height of existence," will enter my life, and I and we shall be complete.
It's amazing what writing can do to a person. As I’ve written some things that have had me in tears, some have made me laugh and others have allowed me to come to a peaceful realization. And this piece, I see now, it’s one of those, that's given me peace.
At this coup, I smile, sigh a deep breath of relief, chuckle a little and tilt my head to the side for one last key stroke, for this section anyway, I say to you: I'm out.
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, October 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Uncertainty ...
So, this weekend I went to visit a friend of mine in Iwakuni. While I was at the train station, I met this old man. He seemed to want to have a conversation with me. However because of the language barrier, little defining if any is left up to the imagination in explaining what the conversation was really about.
I remember it going a little something like this:
Old man, "You're American?"
Me, "Yes."
Old Man, "Army base?"
Me, "No, English teacher."
Old man, "Army base?"
In Iwakuni, there is an American military base, so he kept asking me this to see if I lived on base. Again I replied though, "No." I attempted to say with my poor Japanese skills, "No, I'm an English teacher. I live in Kudamatsu city." He understood English teacher, but I guess he didn't understand, Kudamatsu. I guess I was pronoucing it wrong.
He asked me if I spoke Japanese, I said, "Skoshi dakay." (A little bit)
As he spoke, he kept walking closer and closer to me. I was sitting so, I would just lean more and more to the other side. I didn't want to actually get up and leave my seat, I figured that would be way to rude. So I sat there, with my spine definitely out of line. I was on a trip to the far left that day as he stood on my right.
I thought he was trying to stalk me. Lol. In my mind I kept saying, "You are violating my personal space. You people must not know about the three feet rule." Needless to say, he was waaaaayyy to near me.
Anyways, he went on further to speak more in Japanese. Once he figured I could speak a little, he decided to throw a lot at me. I just looked at him and smiled as he spoke. He pointed somewhere, my eyes would follow. Then he pointed down at his pants, I'd look. When he finished. I said, "I don't know." He laughed and smiled, "Aaah, ok. I don't know too." He paused for a little bit, he looked around. Then he proceeded to speak again. Once more he pointed elsewhere and back at his pants. Again, my eyes would follow. And at the end of his rant again I said, "I don't know."
He laughed again. He realized that the language barrier was just too great. At this point my sullied mind begin to think, "This old man is dirty."
He kindly tapped me on my shoulder and thanked me for my time. Then a train conductor stepped off one of the trains and the old man caught his attention. "Sumimasen," he said. Which means, "excuse me." He said something about "ere-baytah," an elevator. I looked around and said to myself this station doesn't have an elevator here. (I'd been to this station a number of times before. So I'm familiar with it's surroundings. Apparently though, the old man had not been to this station before) He then went on to repeat the same words to the conductor he'd said earlier to me. "Hai," responded the conductor. Which means, "yes."
The conductor got on a walkie talkie and translated the message to the train office. Moments later a train station official walked down the stairs and called after the old man. "Hai, hai." Said the old man, and again he pointed in the same direction he tried to show me and the conductor earlier. The official nodded and walked further down the stairs to grab a suitcase.
The old man said, "Arigato Gozimashta." (Thank You Very Much)
And one last time he turned back to me, he said "Nihon de blah, blah, blah." Again he pointed at his pants. He tried his best to translate to me, although his English is rough, like my Japanese, I understood what he had been trying to tell me the whole time. "Japanese kindness," He said. As he pointed and began patting his pants, He said, "Pain. I hurt."
At this moment, I began to feel really bad. Here I am thinking, with the mindset that all old men, who approach you and point to their pants are dirty. When all he had been asking me to do, is to help him carry his bag upstairs. He hurt his knee and could not both walk up stairs and carry his suitcase.
As he walked off and limped up the steep set of stairs one at a time, it hit me: The uncertainty of communicating in all ways to those who do not speak one's native tongue is evident in any country. But one thing we all want as humans is a little help from time to time. Even if the language barrier is too great.
As he and the official walked up the stairs the old man kept repeating, "Arigato Gozimashta, arigato gozimashta."
I looked at him and said quietly to myself, "I'm sorry, but I'm glad you have your help now." Next time, I will be certain. Thus, my quest to master the Japanese language continues.
Before the old gentleman disappeared from my sight completely he turned back to me one last time to say, "Gambattay kuda-sigh." Roughly translated it means "Good Luck."
Thank You and Be Blessed Old Man. Wherever you are.
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
I remember it going a little something like this:
Old man, "You're American?"
Me, "Yes."
Old Man, "Army base?"
Me, "No, English teacher."
Old man, "Army base?"
In Iwakuni, there is an American military base, so he kept asking me this to see if I lived on base. Again I replied though, "No." I attempted to say with my poor Japanese skills, "No, I'm an English teacher. I live in Kudamatsu city." He understood English teacher, but I guess he didn't understand, Kudamatsu. I guess I was pronoucing it wrong.
He asked me if I spoke Japanese, I said, "Skoshi dakay." (A little bit)
As he spoke, he kept walking closer and closer to me. I was sitting so, I would just lean more and more to the other side. I didn't want to actually get up and leave my seat, I figured that would be way to rude. So I sat there, with my spine definitely out of line. I was on a trip to the far left that day as he stood on my right.
I thought he was trying to stalk me. Lol. In my mind I kept saying, "You are violating my personal space. You people must not know about the three feet rule." Needless to say, he was waaaaayyy to near me.
Anyways, he went on further to speak more in Japanese. Once he figured I could speak a little, he decided to throw a lot at me. I just looked at him and smiled as he spoke. He pointed somewhere, my eyes would follow. Then he pointed down at his pants, I'd look. When he finished. I said, "I don't know." He laughed and smiled, "Aaah, ok. I don't know too." He paused for a little bit, he looked around. Then he proceeded to speak again. Once more he pointed elsewhere and back at his pants. Again, my eyes would follow. And at the end of his rant again I said, "I don't know."
He laughed again. He realized that the language barrier was just too great. At this point my sullied mind begin to think, "This old man is dirty."
He kindly tapped me on my shoulder and thanked me for my time. Then a train conductor stepped off one of the trains and the old man caught his attention. "Sumimasen," he said. Which means, "excuse me." He said something about "ere-baytah," an elevator. I looked around and said to myself this station doesn't have an elevator here. (I'd been to this station a number of times before. So I'm familiar with it's surroundings. Apparently though, the old man had not been to this station before) He then went on to repeat the same words to the conductor he'd said earlier to me. "Hai," responded the conductor. Which means, "yes."
The conductor got on a walkie talkie and translated the message to the train office. Moments later a train station official walked down the stairs and called after the old man. "Hai, hai." Said the old man, and again he pointed in the same direction he tried to show me and the conductor earlier. The official nodded and walked further down the stairs to grab a suitcase.
The old man said, "Arigato Gozimashta." (Thank You Very Much)
And one last time he turned back to me, he said "Nihon de blah, blah, blah." Again he pointed at his pants. He tried his best to translate to me, although his English is rough, like my Japanese, I understood what he had been trying to tell me the whole time. "Japanese kindness," He said. As he pointed and began patting his pants, He said, "Pain. I hurt."
At this moment, I began to feel really bad. Here I am thinking, with the mindset that all old men, who approach you and point to their pants are dirty. When all he had been asking me to do, is to help him carry his bag upstairs. He hurt his knee and could not both walk up stairs and carry his suitcase.
As he walked off and limped up the steep set of stairs one at a time, it hit me: The uncertainty of communicating in all ways to those who do not speak one's native tongue is evident in any country. But one thing we all want as humans is a little help from time to time. Even if the language barrier is too great.
As he and the official walked up the stairs the old man kept repeating, "Arigato Gozimashta, arigato gozimashta."
I looked at him and said quietly to myself, "I'm sorry, but I'm glad you have your help now." Next time, I will be certain. Thus, my quest to master the Japanese language continues.
Before the old gentleman disappeared from my sight completely he turned back to me one last time to say, "Gambattay kuda-sigh." Roughly translated it means "Good Luck."
Thank You and Be Blessed Old Man. Wherever you are.
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
Friday, September 14, 2007
It's About Damn Time ...
... Those Boys come home. I just read an article on CNN.com that gave the story on President Bush's address to the nation last night. I'm sooooo pleased. Like, if you know me, you know how against the war I am anyway, and the fact that people are losing their fathers, sisters, mothers, sons, daughters, cousins and friends needlessly is inhumane.
We still haven't gotten a good reason from Bush as to why the war even began. Iraq had NOTHING to do with 9/11! Meanwhile, bin Laden is still sending miscellaneous videotapes to the American government. WHERE THE HELL IS HE? One man, can't possible be so invisible as to hide from the entire world for seven years. Somebody knows where his ass is. But, yeah I saw that article too. All I did was shake my head. This lunatic really still is taunting the American Gov't with his damn tapes. With all the advances in technology, some have got to recognize the flaws as well.
It's crazy, this world is so messed up and backwards. Like I really wonder if anyone else feels this way. I can't be alone in thinking this. It's wrong. Things are wrong! Something is seriously, seriously wrong with the way diplomatic relationships are handled around the world. Think about it. What's all the stuff we're taught when we're younger, "It's not right to hit," "Talk don't fight," "Don't tattle," "Be nice," "It's not nice to spit on people," "It's not nice to kick the dog." (Or maybe this last one was just me)
When one grows up or get's to an acceptable age of beginning to understand somewhat how the world works, all of the obedience and courtesy lessons are thrown out the window. None of it applies in a world of "fight, Fight, FIGHT!"
I wish so much that so many people would not have had to die for a counterfeit cause from a curmudgeon. It's not right. And no matter who or what defends the reasons for the war, I will not agree. It's not right to kill people, especially over a lie.
I'm so happy our troops will be coming home. I really, really am. And I wonder who got into Bush's pants to get him to say it. I say "say" because, I don't believe he really wants to bring the troops home.
There was no success in Iraq. Killing toddlers before they talk, children before they graduate, mothers before they conceive, and fathers before they can come home to see their firstborn isn't success. It's murder.
If one can factually, not statistically, but factually prove to me that there was success in Iraq, maybe, I'll buy you a cookie. They're 50 yen at the local convenient store. But, I'm not changing my mind. It's waaaaayyyy past time for our guys to come home. And I will never believe in the necessity to perpetuate and stimulate a lie, especially when the cost is the life of one, and much more thousands.
Bottom line: it's time, It's time, It's time.
I just wish I could say with full faith that this was truly the end. Sigh.
The Journey Continues ...
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
We still haven't gotten a good reason from Bush as to why the war even began. Iraq had NOTHING to do with 9/11! Meanwhile, bin Laden is still sending miscellaneous videotapes to the American government. WHERE THE HELL IS HE? One man, can't possible be so invisible as to hide from the entire world for seven years. Somebody knows where his ass is. But, yeah I saw that article too. All I did was shake my head. This lunatic really still is taunting the American Gov't with his damn tapes. With all the advances in technology, some have got to recognize the flaws as well.
It's crazy, this world is so messed up and backwards. Like I really wonder if anyone else feels this way. I can't be alone in thinking this. It's wrong. Things are wrong! Something is seriously, seriously wrong with the way diplomatic relationships are handled around the world. Think about it. What's all the stuff we're taught when we're younger, "It's not right to hit," "Talk don't fight," "Don't tattle," "Be nice," "It's not nice to spit on people," "It's not nice to kick the dog." (Or maybe this last one was just me)
When one grows up or get's to an acceptable age of beginning to understand somewhat how the world works, all of the obedience and courtesy lessons are thrown out the window. None of it applies in a world of "fight, Fight, FIGHT!"
I wish so much that so many people would not have had to die for a counterfeit cause from a curmudgeon. It's not right. And no matter who or what defends the reasons for the war, I will not agree. It's not right to kill people, especially over a lie.
I'm so happy our troops will be coming home. I really, really am. And I wonder who got into Bush's pants to get him to say it. I say "say" because, I don't believe he really wants to bring the troops home.
There was no success in Iraq. Killing toddlers before they talk, children before they graduate, mothers before they conceive, and fathers before they can come home to see their firstborn isn't success. It's murder.
If one can factually, not statistically, but factually prove to me that there was success in Iraq, maybe, I'll buy you a cookie. They're 50 yen at the local convenient store. But, I'm not changing my mind. It's waaaaayyyy past time for our guys to come home. And I will never believe in the necessity to perpetuate and stimulate a lie, especially when the cost is the life of one, and much more thousands.
Bottom line: it's time, It's time, It's time.
I just wish I could say with full faith that this was truly the end. Sigh.
The Journey Continues ...
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Perpetrating, it starts young ...
So, today this little girl, well not real little she's 15, but this girl really upset me. I'm teaching English right? So she’s supposed to learn it ... Right? Well, it doesn't seem like that’s what she's doing. I got upset because she's lying in the class. The class she's in is a higher level course. This class should have basic conversation skills. She doesn't.
And I'm upset because in this level course, I shouldn't have to repeat little simple sentences three and four times only for you to not understand. I'm looking like, WTF? Come on Cletus, learn.
Somehow she's manipulated the system into believing she knows something she really doesn't. Or maybe, the other students who speak English better just learn faster. One way or the other, something's gotta be done. I'm starting to get a little frustrated with this lil' girl. I ask her questions, she answers "I don't know." I ask her what happened in the day, every time she answers, "Nothing special." As if that's the only English she knows.
I see the road to speaking is going to be a long one with her. Fortunately for her, I'm willing to walk her down it. But, in the least, she shouldn't have to lie. If you have a question, ask it. That's what I'm here for right? To help?. Ask don't lie. If I can't answer the question, there is always someone there who can.
I just really wish she wouldn't hide this from us. Don't pretend to know something you don't, because that one act can have terrible repercussions down the road. Talk about payback being a Bitch, in this instance it can be ... (okay I won't say it M-F, but it can be) worse; a whole lot worse.
Anyways, I'm going to work with her and of course speak with my supervisor about her. This isn't the first time I've had an issue with this child and somehow I feel it won't be the last. But, I'm working on it. Maybe this lesson will have some life-lasting learning and positively reinforcing qualities to it. At least I'm hoping so. And it doesn't have to be that she becomes better at speaking English than I do, in the least I hope she learns how not to lie.
Don't get caught up in the Cloud of Perpetration. It really isn't all that it's cracked up to be.
As I shake my head and Sigh, I'm out.
Peace
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
And I'm upset because in this level course, I shouldn't have to repeat little simple sentences three and four times only for you to not understand. I'm looking like, WTF? Come on Cletus, learn.
Somehow she's manipulated the system into believing she knows something she really doesn't. Or maybe, the other students who speak English better just learn faster. One way or the other, something's gotta be done. I'm starting to get a little frustrated with this lil' girl. I ask her questions, she answers "I don't know." I ask her what happened in the day, every time she answers, "Nothing special." As if that's the only English she knows.
I see the road to speaking is going to be a long one with her. Fortunately for her, I'm willing to walk her down it. But, in the least, she shouldn't have to lie. If you have a question, ask it. That's what I'm here for right? To help?. Ask don't lie. If I can't answer the question, there is always someone there who can.
I just really wish she wouldn't hide this from us. Don't pretend to know something you don't, because that one act can have terrible repercussions down the road. Talk about payback being a Bitch, in this instance it can be ... (okay I won't say it M-F, but it can be) worse; a whole lot worse.
Anyways, I'm going to work with her and of course speak with my supervisor about her. This isn't the first time I've had an issue with this child and somehow I feel it won't be the last. But, I'm working on it. Maybe this lesson will have some life-lasting learning and positively reinforcing qualities to it. At least I'm hoping so. And it doesn't have to be that she becomes better at speaking English than I do, in the least I hope she learns how not to lie.
Don't get caught up in the Cloud of Perpetration. It really isn't all that it's cracked up to be.
As I shake my head and Sigh, I'm out.
Peace
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
Driving on the Other Side ...
So, this week I had my first driving experienced. And I also received my new car, at least the car I'll be driving while I'm here. It's quite exhilarating. I have to keep reminding myself to "Stay left." Cause if I don't, I could possibly die. Or at least end up in a really bad accident.
I remember when I was here two years how afraid I was to even ride in a taxi because of how crazy they drive here. But, this city is a little calmer than the last. So, I'm managing pretty well.
If it looks like someone is definitely going to hit me, I just pull over to the side and let them pass. I only have one life to live, and they will not be the one to decide when it ends. Lol!
Oh yes, and this week I saw more foreigners! I'm not sure if there from America or not, they could be from Russia. I hear many Russians come here also. But, it was quite the treat to see someone else like me; someone different from the typical grind of the status quo in Yamaguchi.
At ECM my classes seem to be going pretty well. I have students of all ages. My youngest student is 1 and the eldest, 60; quite a gap, yet exciting. The days aren't the same. And that's good. I love the variety. I think I'm starting to like the little ones and older ones the best though; the ages in between only really complicate things. But don't we all know it. ;-0
Of course the little ones tend to speak more Japanese, but when I tell them, "in English," they either translate or get quiet. Sometimes I have to use my poor Japanese skills to get their attention though. I'm learning though. I've purchased a few items to help me learn how to read and write the language, as well as, speak it of course.
I'm expanding my knowledge of the Japanese culture. Oh what a joy to learn. I've found that with all experiences in life if one takes nothing out of them, you've not grown. You haven't learned. And learning is essential to the successful productivity of the soul.
When life rapidly changes and your mind begins to spin out of control, it's imperative to have the skills to know how to navigate your way back through to the side of comfort and complacency.
These learning experiences help one to learn skills that one may never use, provided on the sequence of events occurring in life, or skills that may have to be used unexpectedly, time and time again.
Such skills can prepare you for driving on the other side of the road. Regardless of the type of "road," taken; often, you just have to know how to drive it.
But, I'm still learning.
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
I remember when I was here two years how afraid I was to even ride in a taxi because of how crazy they drive here. But, this city is a little calmer than the last. So, I'm managing pretty well.
If it looks like someone is definitely going to hit me, I just pull over to the side and let them pass. I only have one life to live, and they will not be the one to decide when it ends. Lol!
Oh yes, and this week I saw more foreigners! I'm not sure if there from America or not, they could be from Russia. I hear many Russians come here also. But, it was quite the treat to see someone else like me; someone different from the typical grind of the status quo in Yamaguchi.
At ECM my classes seem to be going pretty well. I have students of all ages. My youngest student is 1 and the eldest, 60; quite a gap, yet exciting. The days aren't the same. And that's good. I love the variety. I think I'm starting to like the little ones and older ones the best though; the ages in between only really complicate things. But don't we all know it. ;-0
Of course the little ones tend to speak more Japanese, but when I tell them, "in English," they either translate or get quiet. Sometimes I have to use my poor Japanese skills to get their attention though. I'm learning though. I've purchased a few items to help me learn how to read and write the language, as well as, speak it of course.
I'm expanding my knowledge of the Japanese culture. Oh what a joy to learn. I've found that with all experiences in life if one takes nothing out of them, you've not grown. You haven't learned. And learning is essential to the successful productivity of the soul.
When life rapidly changes and your mind begins to spin out of control, it's imperative to have the skills to know how to navigate your way back through to the side of comfort and complacency.
These learning experiences help one to learn skills that one may never use, provided on the sequence of events occurring in life, or skills that may have to be used unexpectedly, time and time again.
Such skills can prepare you for driving on the other side of the road. Regardless of the type of "road," taken; often, you just have to know how to drive it.
But, I'm still learning.
Peace.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
E.T. in Japan
Well, I'm here and I'm fine. The flight was not as comfortable as last time, but it was okay.
But, talk about your lack of diversity. I'm loving it here, but you know sometimes you just want to be around someone else like you right?!?
I know many of us, are accustom to being the only African or Brown skin colored person in a setting, be it a classroom, an office or what have you. But, imagine being the only Negro in an entire city. Imagine the shock and happiness that overcame me when I saw a white man in a city an hour away from where I live. I was overjoyed.
It was so funny to me inside because of how I feel about the "Caucasian presence" in and throughout all of American society. But I smiled at this stranger, as he smiled back. A friend. A brother in a strange land. Someone like me, an Alien.
I had to go register for my Alien cards, the other day, at the local City Hall, it was quite the treat to see and realize I didn't understand any of the signs. I'm so happy I wasn't alone on this trip. :-0
I laughed at myself: It hit me, "I'm now the foreigner. I'm the alien everyone's looking at like: "You're not from around here are you?"
But, it's exciting. I smile quite often and laugh at the realizations that become aware to me daily. Things I thought and the way I felt about issues in America are somewhat obsolete here. It's almost refreshing.
When I was first introduced to my new office, I noticed a giant E.T. doll sitting on the highest shelf in one room. I looked at E.T. and said, "Dude, you're not alone anymore."
Later this week, I found out just how true this statement is. A little girl, about two years old, was in the same room with her mother one day while waiting on her older brother to get out of class. When she saw E.T. sitting on the shelf, the little one kept screaming, "Sobo, sobo!"
Translated to English, it means "Grandma, Grandma." I couldn't do anything but laugh. But, I was also strangely comforted by the fact that if E.T. had found someone he could relate too. Somehow, I will too.
Peace
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
But, talk about your lack of diversity. I'm loving it here, but you know sometimes you just want to be around someone else like you right?!?
I know many of us, are accustom to being the only African or Brown skin colored person in a setting, be it a classroom, an office or what have you. But, imagine being the only Negro in an entire city. Imagine the shock and happiness that overcame me when I saw a white man in a city an hour away from where I live. I was overjoyed.
It was so funny to me inside because of how I feel about the "Caucasian presence" in and throughout all of American society. But I smiled at this stranger, as he smiled back. A friend. A brother in a strange land. Someone like me, an Alien.
I had to go register for my Alien cards, the other day, at the local City Hall, it was quite the treat to see and realize I didn't understand any of the signs. I'm so happy I wasn't alone on this trip. :-0
I laughed at myself: It hit me, "I'm now the foreigner. I'm the alien everyone's looking at like: "You're not from around here are you?"
But, it's exciting. I smile quite often and laugh at the realizations that become aware to me daily. Things I thought and the way I felt about issues in America are somewhat obsolete here. It's almost refreshing.
When I was first introduced to my new office, I noticed a giant E.T. doll sitting on the highest shelf in one room. I looked at E.T. and said, "Dude, you're not alone anymore."
Later this week, I found out just how true this statement is. A little girl, about two years old, was in the same room with her mother one day while waiting on her older brother to get out of class. When she saw E.T. sitting on the shelf, the little one kept screaming, "Sobo, sobo!"
Translated to English, it means "Grandma, Grandma." I couldn't do anything but laugh. But, I was also strangely comforted by the fact that if E.T. had found someone he could relate too. Somehow, I will too.
Peace
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Finally Here ...
I'm back in the land where I've been trying to get to for the past few years. I left Japan with a sweet peace in my heart and a yearning to return. And almost everyday since the time I first left Japanese soil and flew out of the Eastern Hemisphere, I've been thinking of a way to come back.
Throughout this time of waiting, I've experienced death and sorrow; happiness and joy; pain and confusion; heartbreak and anger; understanding and growth; did I mention I also graduated from college with two B.S. degrees. Yes indeed, I'm so proud of this, even as I sit here now I stare at the bag holding the case that has my degrees neatly arranged in the sleeves. And now I know one wonders, "If I'm so proud of them, why are they hidden in a bag?" Well, long story short- -which also takes me further off track, the degrees arrived to Japan before I did. And today, I just got them back.
But, my peace is that I'm here. I'm here. I'm freakin' here. It's amazing to me the things God has in store for us and the fact that we (I) just wine and complain and wine and complain until what we want is given to us. And then when it finally arrives, of course we Thank Him, but then it's like we don't know how to act around Him, because He's answered the desires of our heart.
It's been a long journey in trying to get back to this place and I'm thankful of the things I've learned and *some* of the people I've met, but not of the debt I've accrued. Even in my place of peace I think of things developed in the past that carry on throughout this future. I wonder, "Am I really worthy to be in such a wonderful position?" And then it hits me, "Yes."
This would not have happened if it wasn't meant to be. So even the imps that try and follow me into my "now" don't have any power. I learn, I work and I do my dues to this society and the next.
Things happen for a reason; whether or not we're appreciative of those reasons and learning experiences; things still happen. And if we keep fighting to get to where we want, and keep our desire in the forefront of our minds without letting it cloud our everday judgement, we will get there.
I'm a witness to this.
I've struggled deeply and some of that struggle has had some overage. But, I've prayed, I've believed and I've spoken it into existence. And all of this work has paid off. The Lord did not let this desire pass by unanswered. It came at the time it needed to arrive and now because of this faith and I can say, "I'm Finally Here."
I hope one day, you'll be able to say the same thing for whatever your heart may desire. But if/when you get there, remember that The Almighty is to be kept first. He is in fact the reason for all existence anyway, whether you believe this or not. One day you will.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
Throughout this time of waiting, I've experienced death and sorrow; happiness and joy; pain and confusion; heartbreak and anger; understanding and growth; did I mention I also graduated from college with two B.S. degrees. Yes indeed, I'm so proud of this, even as I sit here now I stare at the bag holding the case that has my degrees neatly arranged in the sleeves. And now I know one wonders, "If I'm so proud of them, why are they hidden in a bag?" Well, long story short- -which also takes me further off track, the degrees arrived to Japan before I did. And today, I just got them back.
But, my peace is that I'm here. I'm here. I'm freakin' here. It's amazing to me the things God has in store for us and the fact that we (I) just wine and complain and wine and complain until what we want is given to us. And then when it finally arrives, of course we Thank Him, but then it's like we don't know how to act around Him, because He's answered the desires of our heart.
It's been a long journey in trying to get back to this place and I'm thankful of the things I've learned and *some* of the people I've met, but not of the debt I've accrued. Even in my place of peace I think of things developed in the past that carry on throughout this future. I wonder, "Am I really worthy to be in such a wonderful position?" And then it hits me, "Yes."
This would not have happened if it wasn't meant to be. So even the imps that try and follow me into my "now" don't have any power. I learn, I work and I do my dues to this society and the next.
Things happen for a reason; whether or not we're appreciative of those reasons and learning experiences; things still happen. And if we keep fighting to get to where we want, and keep our desire in the forefront of our minds without letting it cloud our everday judgement, we will get there.
I'm a witness to this.
I've struggled deeply and some of that struggle has had some overage. But, I've prayed, I've believed and I've spoken it into existence. And all of this work has paid off. The Lord did not let this desire pass by unanswered. It came at the time it needed to arrive and now because of this faith and I can say, "I'm Finally Here."
I hope one day, you'll be able to say the same thing for whatever your heart may desire. But if/when you get there, remember that The Almighty is to be kept first. He is in fact the reason for all existence anyway, whether you believe this or not. One day you will.
© Robyn K. Mizelle, September 2007.
Friday, June 1, 2007
It's real ...
The shackles on my feet have been broken, the complacency in my life has been destroyed. I am moving on. I've been offered a job in Japan! I'm so super thrilled about it. I'm leaving! I'm leaving! I'm LEAVING!!! Lord knows I've been wanting to go back to Japan sooooo bad! And I've been looking for ways to go back. Early this week, the morning of my birthday, I received a phone call from a woman who has the authority to help change my life.
She offered me a job. And, I'm Taking it! I'm so happy. Wow! It's a new beginning. It's a new gig. It's a new opportunity. I'm ready.
She offered me a job. And, I'm Taking it! I'm so happy. Wow! It's a new beginning. It's a new gig. It's a new opportunity. I'm ready.
Friday, May 18, 2007
I Think I've Been Caught ...
This chick that I had a *thing* for wrote a blog about an admirer of hers. I strongly believe it's in reference to me, but I've moved on right!?! And within my own mind I've acknowledged this for quite sometime. But, I think this chick has found me out. (Laughing) I read her blog, because honestly, I like to read things my people write. And if I know about it, like my friends blogs or articles, I read them. So, I actually found out about her blog on one of those college networking sites. So, I took the time to stop by.
Sometimes we hang out. And, so through this networking site, I sent her a message and asked her if she wanted to go hang out one night. She said she already had plans. I didn't have a problem with that, but when I go to her blog to see what she's written for the day I see a new post about her *knowing* about *some chick* liking her.
It really took me aback, because I'm hoping to God that she's not referring to me, but somehow deep down inside, I believe she is. But, throughout the course of her commentary, the writing seemed to get more bitter. She says she doesn't think her admirer gets the signals of her pretty much being "strictly dickly." If it's in reference to me, I get them. But, who I am, I am not going to change. I didn't even know I was making her feel like I may like her. Because, (at least in my mind) I treat her like I do all my friends.
Anyways, Wow! I really am completely in awe right now. I have been floored. Almost angry in her response (to whomever this person may be- -possibly me), but alas, almost doesn't count. And I'm not upset because of her not being interested. I picked that up a loooonnngggg time ago. I'm upset because of the brief acrimony I picked up in the note. However, for the most part I laughed. And I had a few brief stints of nervous chuckles, as if I'd been placed under bright spot lights with all eyes on me.
But whatever the case, as I've said before, I am moving on. I have moved on. The quest is still on. A new search has begun. The journey continues.
I'm out.
(Posted by IdentityQuest at 2:06 PM- - Friday, May 18, 2007)
Sometimes we hang out. And, so through this networking site, I sent her a message and asked her if she wanted to go hang out one night. She said she already had plans. I didn't have a problem with that, but when I go to her blog to see what she's written for the day I see a new post about her *knowing* about *some chick* liking her.
It really took me aback, because I'm hoping to God that she's not referring to me, but somehow deep down inside, I believe she is. But, throughout the course of her commentary, the writing seemed to get more bitter. She says she doesn't think her admirer gets the signals of her pretty much being "strictly dickly." If it's in reference to me, I get them. But, who I am, I am not going to change. I didn't even know I was making her feel like I may like her. Because, (at least in my mind) I treat her like I do all my friends.
Anyways, Wow! I really am completely in awe right now. I have been floored. Almost angry in her response (to whomever this person may be- -possibly me), but alas, almost doesn't count. And I'm not upset because of her not being interested. I picked that up a loooonnngggg time ago. I'm upset because of the brief acrimony I picked up in the note. However, for the most part I laughed. And I had a few brief stints of nervous chuckles, as if I'd been placed under bright spot lights with all eyes on me.
But whatever the case, as I've said before, I am moving on. I have moved on. The quest is still on. A new search has begun. The journey continues.
I'm out.
(Posted by IdentityQuest at 2:06 PM- - Friday, May 18, 2007)
I'm moving on ...
Okay, the last time I commented on this mystery woman, I was completely head over heels for her. Well, now, I'm moving on. I'm realizing that I should really, just let her go. I see a really great potential friend in her and I wouldn't want to ruin the possibilty of a lasting friendship with my advances. So, needless to say, I never did ask her out, I never did confess my feelings for her, I never lead her to believe (or so I think) that I like her and subsequently I never will.
I suppose one day I will find someone for me. But I don't think it's going to be in this Hell-ridden city I live in now, I've got to move on. Within the next few months, hopefully, I will be ... in more ways than one.
(Posted by IdentityQuest at 4:54 PM 0 comments Thursday, May 17, 2007- -new page, new colors)
I suppose one day I will find someone for me. But I don't think it's going to be in this Hell-ridden city I live in now, I've got to move on. Within the next few months, hopefully, I will be ... in more ways than one.
(Posted by IdentityQuest at 4:54 PM 0 comments Thursday, May 17, 2007- -new page, new colors)
Caught Up ...
I'm at work again. You know the drill, clock in, clock out, etc. Some mostly predictable days, with sleepy, tired eyes. Wishing I was sleep in my bed. But, I'm not, I'm here. So I make the most of it and learn what I can to better myself. However, through out this time of "work," I frequently get lost within my own thoughts and hope ... I get lost and wish ... I get lost and want ... a woman. A new person who's just recently entered my life. A new beauty who doesn't even know she's on my mind.
On many levels it's disturbing, because I too am of the same persuasion. And have not yet come to grips with these relentless feelings I have of lust. Even as I type this, I wonder if I'm really going to release this onto the world wide web for the whole world of whomever cares to see. But, in essence to calm my worries, I look at it this way: it's therapeutic.
As of now, my main concern is if I could actually "trap her." My friends and I joke around about them being in a "thing" and trying to "trap some dude" into a relationship. It's funny, because some guys are so oblivious to your feelings. But, with women, they can pick up on it in a different way, sometime. I'm wondering if she can pick up on mine. I've only known her for about two weeks. But, I just have an overwhelming feeling to know her more. Hell, I don't even know her. But, I want to learn.
What's worst than being alone, is constantly having someone plague your thoughts while you're alone. She is always on my mind. And I'm like, I don't even know this girl. Why? I've talked to her a few times in person and a few times over the phone, but I don't know her. I don't even know how old she is.
I just wish we could almost choose who we like, so then things like this wouldn't happen: completely losing your mind over someone who doesn't even know your last name.
I chuckle some, I guess to ease the disturbance in my psyche. Because laughing is fundamental. It eases the mind. It pleases the heart. It soothes the spirit. So, when I'm confused out of my mind, I do my damndest to smile, because it will get better. Even when she doesn't know who I am. Because only one of two things can come of this anyway: either, we become what I want or we don't.
Of course I hope, want and wish for the first, but only time will tell.
How much is too much?
I wake up each day eager too speak to her. I wake up wanting to see her. And again, I've only known her for less than two weeks. This, it seems like a bit much. Especially when going back to the original point of us not even knowing each other. Us speaking and laughing together a few times, doesn't constitute knowledge of the other person.
Why do phenomena like this occur?
One fighting one's insides to rid themselves of feelings they don't want to have, but possess anyway. There is a battle in my soul; Every morning, every day, every night. And ... it's disturbing, to say the least. It really is. I'm so caught up in my own internal battle that I can't consciously make sound decisions regarding relationships anymore. I go into deep thought and evaluate what each person I've encountered really means to my life and determine whether I really need them. {Now this doesn't all apply to meeting her, but it's been an on going task from past bad relationships, it's just been amplified since these feelings began.}
I guess this is what it's like to be caught up ... or trapped.
What's it like to trap someone and don't even know you've trapped them? Because if she were to call and invite me somewhere or want to do something, I'd jump at the opportunity, but it hasn't presented itself yet. {I say "yet," for wishful thinking.} And meantime, I spend most of the work day wondering, "If I call her, will she think I'm weird for doing so?"
Wow, the madness continues ... and meantime, I'm caught up.
(Posted by IdentityQuest at 12:09 PM Wednesday, February 28, 2007, this is a new page, I hated the old colors and created my own, but I actually wrote this piece way back.)
© Robyn K. Mizelle, February 2007.
On many levels it's disturbing, because I too am of the same persuasion. And have not yet come to grips with these relentless feelings I have of lust. Even as I type this, I wonder if I'm really going to release this onto the world wide web for the whole world of whomever cares to see. But, in essence to calm my worries, I look at it this way: it's therapeutic.
As of now, my main concern is if I could actually "trap her." My friends and I joke around about them being in a "thing" and trying to "trap some dude" into a relationship. It's funny, because some guys are so oblivious to your feelings. But, with women, they can pick up on it in a different way, sometime. I'm wondering if she can pick up on mine. I've only known her for about two weeks. But, I just have an overwhelming feeling to know her more. Hell, I don't even know her. But, I want to learn.
What's worst than being alone, is constantly having someone plague your thoughts while you're alone. She is always on my mind. And I'm like, I don't even know this girl. Why? I've talked to her a few times in person and a few times over the phone, but I don't know her. I don't even know how old she is.
I just wish we could almost choose who we like, so then things like this wouldn't happen: completely losing your mind over someone who doesn't even know your last name.
I chuckle some, I guess to ease the disturbance in my psyche. Because laughing is fundamental. It eases the mind. It pleases the heart. It soothes the spirit. So, when I'm confused out of my mind, I do my damndest to smile, because it will get better. Even when she doesn't know who I am. Because only one of two things can come of this anyway: either, we become what I want or we don't.
Of course I hope, want and wish for the first, but only time will tell.
How much is too much?
I wake up each day eager too speak to her. I wake up wanting to see her. And again, I've only known her for less than two weeks. This, it seems like a bit much. Especially when going back to the original point of us not even knowing each other. Us speaking and laughing together a few times, doesn't constitute knowledge of the other person.
Why do phenomena like this occur?
One fighting one's insides to rid themselves of feelings they don't want to have, but possess anyway. There is a battle in my soul; Every morning, every day, every night. And ... it's disturbing, to say the least. It really is. I'm so caught up in my own internal battle that I can't consciously make sound decisions regarding relationships anymore. I go into deep thought and evaluate what each person I've encountered really means to my life and determine whether I really need them. {Now this doesn't all apply to meeting her, but it's been an on going task from past bad relationships, it's just been amplified since these feelings began.}
I guess this is what it's like to be caught up ... or trapped.
What's it like to trap someone and don't even know you've trapped them? Because if she were to call and invite me somewhere or want to do something, I'd jump at the opportunity, but it hasn't presented itself yet. {I say "yet," for wishful thinking.} And meantime, I spend most of the work day wondering, "If I call her, will she think I'm weird for doing so?"
Wow, the madness continues ... and meantime, I'm caught up.
(Posted by IdentityQuest at 12:09 PM Wednesday, February 28, 2007, this is a new page, I hated the old colors and created my own, but I actually wrote this piece way back.)
© Robyn K. Mizelle, February 2007.
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