Oh soldier man, what have you done? You protect your country, but you haven't protected me.

            I’m not entirely sure I believe in talking to the dead. In fact, I don’t believe interacting with spirits is truly what was happening here. I believe that all of these random outbursts mother has are memories of past events.

            It could be that I simply don’t believe communicating with the dead is plausible, but I have firm suspicions that the mother was a comfort woman once upon a time and is now engaging in flashbacks from that life. After all, wouldn’t being a comfort women toy with your mind?

            Mother doesn’t have this remarkable gift that people keep mentioning, mother has simply lost her mind. Think about it. You need money and you need it fast, what do you do? Go keep military men company in the time of need? Sure, sounds easy enough. But then you get there and realize you were deceived and taken for a fool. They want more than just the pleasure of your company; they want sex.

            But the money is paying back your debt and helping to support your family, what do you do? Do you swallow your pride and take care of your family? Or do you go home broke, with starving children and empty promises? Chances are you do what you need to do, just as I believe mother did. So she became a comfort woman, complete with a daily sex schedule.

            Yes, a sex schedule assorting the ranks of military men verse the day of the week. Who needs sleep or time to rest? There is money to be made and the war will only last so long. So you go to upscale events and you receive gifts from many men who don’t really care about your well-being.  I’m sure you are meeting all kinds of people, and being treated badly by the worst.

            You are making enough money to get you and your family by, but you are an object and nothing more. When you look at Japanese soldiers and soldiers from your own country you fear them even though they are your people because of what they have allowed you to do.

            It’s years later now, and you have a son. Your son thinks you are crazy, along with everyone else. But you don’t think you are crazy, you have no idea what everyone is talking about. Your friend thinks you are communicating with the dead, but this isn’t something you understand.  You have no idea what she is talking about. You’re just living, with nothing coming in your way.

            Because you have been through a lot and if there is one thing you’ve learned it’s to not stop and take in what’s happening. It’s to keep moving, and slowly but surely let your life float into air. You stop feeling, you stop thinking, and you don’t know who has a hold of you these days.

            Because you were in the war, and just like mama, you lost yourself there.

Camp Notes (And other depressing things.)

Sometimes I won’t eat all day, and still by the end of the day not feel hungry. Sometimes I head off to work or school and wish that life would just stop and give me some time to think about all that has happened. Sometimes I just want to go back to bed, just so I feel a little more peaceful and don’t have to worry so much.
These poems remind me of days like those. I know by no means could my life seemingly compare to the pain and sorrow these people have been through, but if I could imagine their feeling it would be days like those. The days where you could lose your husband, your job, and your kids all at once, and still you would feel nothing because you have to be feeling something to begin with to be impacted by the nothing.
The first sorrow I felt began with Harmony at the Fair Grounds. The lines read, “Lines formed for food// Lines for showers// lines for the john// lines for shots.” Everything needed in life they must wait in line for because they are too imprisoned to have the freedom of not waiting. If they are to wait in line for essentials, what about things deemed non-essential? What must one do for the love of a husband or wife, or child? Is there a line for nurture and love?
I too was intrigued in the Desert Storm poem. I wondered how glamorous, or how at home one must feel with the lines, “This was not// im// prison// ment.// This was// re// location.” I wondered about the hidden meanings inside the lines, what was with the random separations of words? Did they mean for the words prison and location to jump out at me as they did? What did they mean? Were their lives so terrible there that when distinguishing relocation vs imprisonment the difference had to be clarified? Or was there a hint of sarcasm in this author's voice?
Sometimes, I don’t think hope was entirely lost for all. In The Watchtower it was said, “This is what we did with our days.// We loved and we lived// just like people.” What do you know, they are people too, just like the people they are being treated so poorly by. My views on these lines are similar to the P.O.W. poem that says, “My daily routine// of going to the mess hall// has nothing to do with// my appetite.” When saying this I also wonder if they went to the mess hall for the human interaction, or simply because if he fell off routine he would realize how cruel life really was. Maybe going to the mess hall and staying in routine kept his mind away from reality, sadly enough.
I feel so sorry for these writers because I can’t imagine such a world, or at least living in one. I don’t know why at any point in time people should treated less than human because of their heritage. Chinese, Japanese, German, Italian, Scottish, Mexican, African- you are all people to me, no matter how members of the white race has behaved before.

Will everyone someday be free? And not be addressed, recognized, and stereotyped as say an Jap? Just saying, when does it end?

Bring Freedom forward. (I envy this photographer.)

Oh Rico Suave, you just aren't the one for me. (And I'm white.)

It is almost as if Rico’s character was supposed to impress me significantly throughout the story. The way he is described makes me feel as if I too, should envy him. We begin the chapter by reading, “When I was growing up Rico Divina was the baddest Filipino I ever knew, and I knew them all” (page 18). But I suppose bad means something different to the narrator than it does me. Perhaps to the narrator to be the baddest is to be the best, whereas I am not sure I would ever dance a tune with that pink shirted fellow.
Rico reminds me of that super popular boy in high school who may be all that in one small town, but everyone knows in another town he has nothing and never ever will. To be envied and desired in society we don’t look to people who aren’t going to college and aren’t very bright. When you tell someone you are going to be doing some sort of petty line of work such as being a manager at a restaurant, their initial response will be that you didn’t go to college, and so you probably aren’t that bright. We had kids like Rico at my high school and now they are off in California living freely so we envy them, but not living with the same opportunities we have access to so we pity them. Rico is the difference between an accountant, and a man who flips burgers. We don’t tell people like Rico that they are nobodies, because I don’t think many of us understand them well.
Rico may not be joining the Marines because that is what makes him happy, but I think he is doing it because he is better at working than learning how to work. I don’t believe Rico would have the time, patience, or work ethic to go to college. I believe he is living life looking for that instant gratification as opposed to spending years preparing for it. I, myself, am afraid to be like Rico because I am afraid of trusting myself more than I do a diploma. I’m afraid of dropping everything that makes me worth something to society to live freely and be happy. I don’t want to fail anyone, so I am not in California and not headed there. I am instead in Oxford, a town I mostly hate, going to college at the Miami University, the supposed Harvard of the West.
The narrator said in the chapter, “But it was Rico’s show, and he was its dark star” (page 19). I think this is the best way to describe Rico, honestly. Rico is the dark star opposed to the light star, and Rico was living life as if it were a game or a simple tv show as opposed to it actually being as serious as life. Rico is the dark star on his own show because he is what represents the impureness in the world, the impractical, tainted, and sinful. Rico is the guy sleeping with as many girls as possible, not being a gentleman, fighting in rings, not going to college, and being too afraid to show emotion. Rico isn’t the person you want to represent your country or your family, because he isn’t a white star. He is the guy living his own life, unwilling to compromise it with the world.

Rico reminds me of like these T-Birds. The smoking, sexual gestures, skimpy/ revealing clothing, etc make them dark stars. Ps I really want to go buy the Grease movies now.


Oh and I know they are just movies, but for those of you who seem to believe Rico had no option of being more like Buddy consider these movies, because chances are just because they are only movies doesn't mean these situations have never been in existence.

Two Hearts, One Homebase.♥

I’m a sucker for love stories and hopeless romantics. Needless to say, the mother and father in “Homebase,” caught my direct attention with every letter, every heart, and every darling throughout the text. While reading “Homebase,” I couldn’t stop hoping for another ‘I miss you, I’m lonely without you,’ type of dialogue. I found the way the husband spoke to his wife or about his wife to be so breathe-taking, so passionate, and so heartfelt that I wanted a book focused primarily on their love story alone. It was all so beautifully written that I even bent a few pages so I would have no problem going back to read them again.
In the beginning we read, “A few months after they were married, my mother received a letter from her father telling her that China was closed to her” (page 10). I read that and thought how sweet a love could be to choose love over one’s family. As the novel continues the father/ husband explains a vision he had about hawks tearing apart his beloved. He said, ‘The hawks that tear our flesh are disturbed by the perfect day, the pure sun that warms the wounds, I am singing and they cannot tear us apart’ (page 14). I couldn’t believe a man could write this, or feel so strongly about a woman he loved. What he is saying here is that no matter what comes their way, their love will rise above. He’s saying that their love is stronger than cruelty of the cold, the hawks, and all else. It makes me very joyful to know the husband doesn’t lose faith in his love.
Throughout the novel the husband proves himself to be a genuine sweet guy and kudos for that. It’s really pleasant to have a man not afraid to share his heart, especially seeing that in today’s time a man is mostly far too egotistic to go that far. The father/ husband had also said, “The earth went around before my eyes. I could feel it. I saw the jupiter… The jupiter was a vision of the heart, it was one man’s love” (page 18). I read that and thought it was magical I wanted to be the wife if only for a second in time. Here this man was comparing a planet to love, as if without doubt love could be that powerful. I was really impressed by those lines, I wish a guy would say that to me.
The husband didn’t stand out to me most because of his wild tales of going through caves or the making of railroad tracks. I was really taken to the part of the husband who was a lover, and lonely without his wife. I think that the husband and wife’s story would make for an amazing book alone, the story of two people staying together though world’s apart. Tell me that isn’t hopeless romance? I love to read love stories, and perhaps that is why the husband stood out to me the most.


This clip reminds me of the two lovers from "Homebase." From two different worlds, torn apart, love through letters... ya know, hopeless romance kind of deal.

Alright the love for TV dinners was hysterical but I adore Grandma.

When I first started reading grandma’s story, or I should say her view of things I was a bit concerned. To be honest I was a bit concerned about the dialogue being used. Maybe it is just me, but although I was reading the text silently to myself I could hear an Asian voice speaking the English words. At first I thought I was going to have to reread the text multiple times to decide what was going on or what grandma meant to say. The way the words flowed together was a sure sign this was not someone who knew english like the palm or her hand. But next thing you know, I couldn’t put the book down and am dead set on not only finishing the book but also keeping it.
I don’t know what the transition was but I had no problem following along to grandma’s voice and I thoroughly enjoyed her voice in fact. I loved the way the simple words of her story indirectly opened up her world to me. I felt through her context alone I was gaining personal knowledge of who this lady was and that is something I really enjoy about reading. I love getting lost in a book and reading as though I am going through someone’s diary. I love being introduced to a new world, and therefore I loved grandma’s character most. In fact, oddly enough, I had a more difficult time following, “Cold- hearted,” than I did this. I love grandma’s story and didn’t really connect much with the steak guy.
Grandma’s voice was so honest it was welcoming, despite the bluntness she offered. But I never looked down upon grandma, even when Grandma admitted, “Now I know why the Chinese beat the Irish” (page 175). When I read that I didn’t think grandma was rude and bitter or not very open- minded. I read that and was absolutely fascinated with her ability to tell me who she was without being afraid that I wouldn’t like her. Or when grandma spanked Sophie for misbehaving, even after Sophie’s parents said no, and then didn’t lie but was very deceitful about how she got Sophie to listen. Grandma was very sneaky in hiding the spanking when she replied, “After twenty- eight years experience with you, I guess I learn something” (page 182). If grandma were someone else, anyone else, I would have been highly disappointed in the lack of truth.
But it was grandma, and I believe grandma knows best. Grandma offered me information about her culture and what they believe in. Everything she said seemed to have an indirect statement attached. Such as her commenting on the husband having issues not working, but also issues when he was working. It was as if she were trying to convince me the husband was just a whiney Irish brat, without directly mentioning it. I’m a firm believer in keeping family traditions alive, even if they are no longer deemed acceptable. I felt as if grandma was trying very hard to keep their Chinese heritage alive, and I really admire and respect that. Especially because I also felt as though grandma were trying to understand the Irish family as well. I’m sure grandma didn’t like having to compromise her family’s background but I suppose the bittersweetness of it all is that she did it for the love of her daughter, and I really love that ending.



Here is a video I thought could represent a view on the difference of relationships between parents and their kids vs the culture. Also, forgive me, and no offense to anyone, but I laughed a bit during this clip.