Per Te

Source

You were (and still are) what this means to me. 

Entropy

In between yesterday and tomorrow--      
today, mo chroi--
With those jagged, vertical lines
You made your choice
Without struggle, irreversible, final.
Tell me, beloved:
Was it nothingness you sought,
Or elusive relief, perhaps
Unreachable it seemed?

Merciful God, they claim, deems you a sinner.
Prodigal son, Bedouin without a tribe.
Locked out of Valhalla
Shackled now to Hades eternal. 

'Coward, you are,' Oh how mere mortals judge,
'Brought shame and dishonour
  to your God
     your country
        your family
           your friends.'
Their forked tongues seethe with righteous indignation,
     eyes of steel

          lips in perpetual sneer. 



But you fought, beloved-- 
Oh how you fought
     and raged
          and thrashed
against the quicksand
     in the darkness
          and in silence!
They never knew,
     and I...

          I saw much too late. 

In between today and tomorrow--
forever, mo chroi--
I shall carry this,
    peeking out behind the clouds: 
      beloved, yes--I meant to say. 

Happy 21st + Awesome-th Birthday, J!

   Best friends are like bras; close to our heart and always there to support. With that in mind, we would like to take this time to celebrate one of the most important brahs in our life, J. 

     Like our lingerie collection, there are many shapes and colours to J that are worthy of getting to know and loving in their own right. There is the no-nonsense, white cotton blend bra: practical,logical, dependable. J is able to temper passion with pragmatism, which makes her a kick-ass advice dispenser. Freaking out about whether to stay at a stressful (albeit well-paying) job, or take a risk and travel abroad for a bit? Dial the 818, and J'll break down the pros and cons for you, all the while being supportive. 

     The animal-print bra: magnetic, dynamic, and oh so fierce! C'mon, there's no denying that J is one gorgeous babe. Beauty and brains, the whole package. Whether dressed down in jeans and a tee, or dressed to the nines in night-out attire, she is stunning. She has a natural magnetic quality that draws people in to her and makes them want to get to know her. She and R met at a Gender Equality class, and according to R, she knew right then and there that J would be a great friend. Same goes with me, when we met in Tibetan Buddhism class. J's inner beauty comes out like a disco ball that lights up even the darkest, dankest tunnels. 

     There's the sheer, lacy pink bra: sweet and innocent. This is the nurturing, tender side to J that most people, for some reason, don't really bother to unearth. They don't get to see this side because they're too busy being hung up on the animal-print bra J, and boy is it ever their loss. J's the type of friend who'll pack sugar-free candies in her purse, in case her rebellious diabetic friend gets a sugah cravin'. She'll sit there for hours --iPhone battery life be damned--to listen patiently to her friends unload their burdens...without judging. Not too many people can make sense of me when I'm full-on  snotty/bawling and speaking in languages other than English, but somehow she does. You see, J listens to beyond the words and straight through to the emotions behind them. And so in moments wherein I go "waaaah, miss him...wahha... why... sniff,  daddy have to die? waaaah.. hurts, gaaaaaah," she knows exactly what to say: nothing. J understands that there are just some things that have to be dealt with through silence and time. 

     And then there's the corset: feminine and powerful=100% woman. One of the things we love most about J is the fact that she is who she is. She, R, and U taught me most about what it means to celebrate womanhood. Womanhood is not just about the femininity, the virginity, the sweetness, the ability to give birth, and all those other stereotypical gender stereotypes. To be a woman is to have strength and vulnerability, sweetness and sassiness...sometimes at the same time. To be a womanist or a strong woman means that you do not restrict yourself to societal norms, and to love yourself even if you don't fit the mold. J, like a corset, makes those around her see the beauty and the strength in themselves...beauty and strength that although can't be seen by others outside, is there underneath...like your own little secret. 

     We may have met by chance, but we are in each other's lives by choice. To know J and to have the privilege of seeing the many layers of complexities in her is a blessing. There's more to her than meets the eye. In a world of Fruit of the Loom underwear, J is definitely La Perla. 

In closing, dearest J, we leave you with one of our favourite quotes from childhood: "If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart, I'll always be with you."  Mischiefketeers Luv, R and L

For M, a Cherished Friend

M, being the usual kickass and thoughtful person that he is, sent me a list of Turkish songs and musicians a while back,  complete with YouTube links. Whereas some were of musicians that I already knew and loved--Mor ve Otesi, Pinhani, Portecho, Sezen Aksu, Enbe Orchestra, Teoman--some were hidden gems that made me smile like a kid on Christmas morning while I listened to them. M not only compiled a list of modern pop/rock/dance musicians, but traditional ones as well. 

Today  as I was listening to Pinhani's Istanbul'da , I was struck again by how nice M was to do this. M's is a very busy person whose work demands a lot of time and brain power, but M still managed to carve out some time to look up these songs and E-mail them to me. More than expensive presents on special occasions, it is the little unexpected presents--random acts of kindness, unexpected gestures of thoughtfulness--that I cherish the most. What makes me even more grateful is that this list of Turkish music was sent to me on an ordinary day. I had a rough day, actually, which became extraordinary because of this little present via E-mail. It is in these little details that I realize how lucky I am to have such amazing family and friends. 

So for my favourite Turk who doesn't celebrate Christmas, I dedicate these songs:

Have you ever held someone as they lay dying?

I have.  

It has been seven years, and still this memory shimmers at the edges—a standout—and it has since coloured and broken me into a million different mosaic pieces that tell a story only I can fully understand. It is my momma's and my shared memory, and people we know have lived snippets of it with us, and yet the colours and the jagged edges are mine alone to sift through. To make sense with.

November 13th, 2002. Aloha Nursing and Rehab Center. Kane'ohe, Hawai'i. Another time, another place, another life.

I crawled into my da’s narrow hospital bed—tubes be damned—and tucked myself into a fetal position, my ears pressed to his chest, listening to the ragged breaths that I knew would soon fade into nothingness.

“Everything will be okay, daddy. You can let go now. You don’t have to hold on for us anymore.” I said these words even as I wanted to scream and beg for him to fight harder to stay with us. It was 10:20 PM, long after visiting hours had passed. My momma said, and I will never forget, "Hold on, Ron. Wait for us in the morning." But it wasn't about our wants anymore--my momma's and mine--but rather, about what a tired man needed. I looked at my watch as I stood in the doorway of da's room. 10:37 P.M., it declared.  

I dreamt of him that night. My daddy and I danced, bathed in an ethereal white glow. Spin me around, daddy! Spin me around more! I was his darlin' little princess again. Safe in his outstretched hands, I spun around and around, happy to see my da. But then the music stopped and the world, as it had before, became a blur of jumbled backgrounds. I turned to see my da, wanting an explanation, but then, like world, he slowly faded away.
 

“No, daddy! Don’t go! Don’t leave me again!” I stopped dancing, held out my hand to hold onto him, to finish my dream, the place where I could always see him, but then he was gone.

I awoke to silence and knew. Just knew. He was gone. I woke up my momma and told her softly, "Momma, the phone is going to ring, and it will be the doctor or the nurses, telling us that daddy is gone." Half-asleep, momma looked at me and said, "How do you know this? No, no...It cannot be. Your daddy cannot leave us. He..." Before she could even finish the sentence, the phone rang.

My daddy died at exactly 1:17 AM. 

People always tell me that I have the memory of an elephant. Professors have commented that I have a photographic memory. "I wish I had that," one of my mentors said. "It would make life easier!" Well, if I could, I would  give this gift of vivid memories to him. Memories are a double-edged sword. Some memories I am so grateful to have, while there are some I wish I didn't remember so vividly. There are little details in everyday life--seemingly innocuous--that can bring it all back. Triggers, they call it. A song, a word, a scent, a sound. They wield so much power over me sometimes, and I bend. Kneel.  They can send me into a tailspin...down, down, down into a spiral of anger, resentment, and a pain of loss so unbearably sharp I cannot find the words to express. Nobody understands.
June, November, and December are particularly difficult months. Right around Fathers’ Day, I tend to withdraw from the world as I half-drown in a strong current of sadness and anger that my father is gone. He died on November 14th, 3 days after Veterans’ Day and a full two weeks before Thanksgiving. A month and two days before what would’ve been his 65th birthday. Right before Christmas, his favourite holiday. New Year dawned without him in 2003, just as it had from then on and will from hereon after. 

In my dark moments I rage and I scream. Silently. In my head, in my room. Intellectually I know that a vegetative body ravaged by diabetes, stroke, and multi-organ failure cannot possibly endure forever. 18 months was a courageous fight. A miracle. Spiritually, I understand the impermanence of life and the enlightenment of letting go of that which are not ours to keep. And yet the child in me--an eternal half-orphan--sees neither reason or life's cyclical nature: I feel abandoned. Betrayed. How could've my Hawaiian Superman succumbed to the Kryptonite of illness? Wasn't my da the invincible wounded soldier who survived two tours of duty in Viet Nam? What happened to the immortal man who defied two cardiac arrests, a quadruple bypass surgery, and a pacemaker? 

I graduated at the top of my class from a university he had also been accepted to. On a drizzling June afternoon, I stood in front of a podium and spoke to my graduating class about persevering and finding one's worth. My momma cried, especially since I didn't tell her about what I--we--had achieved against all odds. How, despite losing the luxuries and comforts from our old life, nothing could take away what is within us. Da should have been there too, because more than anyone, it was he who gave wings to my intellectual curiosity and pushed me to ascend to the pinnacle of my limitless potential. Everyone tells me that of course he would've been proud of the woman that I am today, but how could I possibly begin to explain these unnamed feelings inside me, this guilt because the sound of his voice saying"I'm proud of you, darlin' " is slowly fading away? 

Hurricane

From the moment I met you

Something in your eyes

Wrapped itself around my heart

Was it the loneliness I saw?

Or was it the gentleness

That lay beneath the fire in your eyes?

In those tears you tried to hide

I saw through those defenses

And into your broken soul

You make me laugh 

You make me cry

You make me feel like I never have

You've built walls around you

For far too long

Like a hurricane in its wake

You push everyone away

Destroy everything in your path

Breaking the hearts of all those concerned

Oh, can't you see

That you and I are the same?

You and I

We ache inside

Hurricane

No matter how hard I try 

You could get to me

Like no one else ever can

You say the world's forsaken you

So much anger, so much hate inside

Never knowing what else to do

But shut out the world

Your smile covers up the poison you hide

Concealing scars you'd forever carry

You make me laugh

You make me cry

You make me feel like I never have

You've built walls around you

For far too long

Like a hurricane in its wake

You push everyone away

Destroy everything in your path

Breaking the hearts of all those concerned

Oh, can't you see

That you and I are the same?

You and I

We ache inside

Hurricane

Hurricane






You ache inside 

A broken child

But I still

I still love you

And I won't ever give up

On you.