A Birthday Present I Can’t Give to My Young Daughter

The IMPACTS of divorce, on a, very, young, child…translated…

Being a slave to my baby girl, every year, I’d always, hoped to give her a birthday present which will, impress, her.  But, because after I divorced, I’d not lived with her, we’d lost a ton of father-daughter time together, and can, only use what little time we had together, to make it up, to her.

That day, on my way, walking her home, she’d pulled and tugged on my shirt, told me she won’t go home until she had ice cream.  I saw a good opportunity, squat to her level, made a deal with her, “Answer one question for daddy, then, I’ll take you to get ice cream, okay?”, “Yes, what is it?”, she’d moaned, impatiently.

“On your birthday, what do you want daddy to give you?”, I’d then, gotten back up, kept, walking, but didn’t hear any, responses, and so, I’d, turned around, looked at her, I saw her, focused, using the tips of her toes, getting her slippers up, tried, clearing the pebbles that’s gotten in, waited until both her shoes had no pebbles in them, she’d walked toward me slowly, and, slowly, responded, “for my birthday, I want mommy and daddy with me at home, when mommy’s busy, I can play with daddy, and when daddy is busy, I get to, play with, mommy.”

Then, she’d, walked onward on her, own, leaving me, where I’d, stood.  And, at the very moment, I’d felt, that the pebbles she’d dumped out of her shoes, got, dumped into my, heart, and I’d not known how to, dump it, back out, again.

So, this is what divorce is like for a young child, and, no matter what, it’s always going to be the children who’s, suffering for your (stupid) adults’, sins, because the two of you did NOT see clearly when you decided to marry, and what’s worse, was that you two FUCKED, and, reproduced those, “pretty little, mistakes”, who FELT that they were, mistakes, because of how the two of you, STUPID adults are, falling apart, and it’s ALWAYS and FOREVER the kids who ended up, with the, shortest ENDS of those, STICKS!

Melted, Dreams…

Dreams they melted, like molasses, on a hot summer’s, day, sticky, gooey, yucky, or, is it like tar, that will, TRAP our feet???

Melted, dreams, due to the HEAT of reality that kept on, coming on, stronger by the day, bleeding us all, dry, and before we knew, we don’t have it no (so???) more.  We’re, suddenly, without the, ability to dream, at night, or, during the daytime…

and here’s what that, became…photo from online

Melted dreams, they’re all, bent out of shape now, and, nothing can ever, turn them back to how they were, before, so, do we, just, dispose of them all?  I mean, can we?  Can we, just leave ALL those dreams we’d weaved up together, behind, and go our, separate ways???

Melted dreams, let’s just, put that tarp over it (like how the police covered the dead bodies at those, crime scenes???), and, we’ll, tread carefully around them, not to, step over or on them, to DAMAGE them even more, and, maybe, after awhile, we get, used to, the presences of these, no-longer-in-one-piece, no-longer-together, dreams that we once, shared…

Melted dreams, we still can’t quite, bring ourselves to, THROW them out, we just, let them, stay, and they’d eventually, invaded into our lives, becoming that, unwelcoming, presence that, plagued us.

The Dojo in the Basement

How all it takes, is a sensory input, to take you, right back, to that place, that you once wish you could, belong to, but never fitted into as a child…translated…

The moment that scent had, made its way into, my nostrils, I’d started, looking around me, for the source.

When I was in the elementary school years, I’d thought, that someone who knew Kung-Fu was, too amazing, which was why I’d signed up for the Tae-Kwon Do club.  After I was given a suit, learned the skills, advancing through the levels, and although each level was harder than, the last, I’d still, loved and looked forward to Wednesday afternoons.

After the tests of our skills, the coach told us, if we were interested in continuing training, we go practice the fighting skills in the dojo he’d owned, there are the more complete sets of equipment, with the older young adults who will train us, to make us, better.

The streetlamps started lighting up on the small alley, there’s, that unique scent out of the basement, with the various smell of sweats, body odor, and the scent, unique to an old basement, I’d not disliked it, just felt it was, unique, that it’d, left this, deep, impression in me.  And yet, as the time passed, I simply, couldn’t get, into the groups with the other pupils, from before, none of my friends worked out there, and I was the one left out, of the trainings.  And, the two, three class periods per week was nowhere near enough, I’d not, gotten enough abilities to fight back the mocking of the other pupils, and, going to that dojo became, an enormous source of, pressure to me.

a place like, this…with the worn out floors, and the pale light…photo from online

And the dressing room was, also, filled up with that same smell.  The stacks of things, the icy cold floor tiles, the barely working light fixtures, I’d looked at my self in the mirror, not filled with the fighting spirits at all, just felt my stomach turning, that there’s something in my chest, not opening up.

Into the middle school years, this feeling, it’d, gotten worse and worse, and in the end, I’d used the excuses of keeping up with my studies, to drop out of the karate classes.

I’d looked around, and found, that the familiar scent was from a gym located in the, basement.  I’d once longed to be a hero, but this scent was a constant reminder, that I’d, run to escape like a beaten down, animal.

So, it’s the mental barrier that you still, quite, get across in this, because of the childhood feelings of being, singled out, the one left alone, that you’d, carried to your adulthood, and, the smell of sweat, the muffled up air of the gym, it took you, right back, to that, feeling of isolation you’d felt as a child, in your, karate class.

In the Alleys of Florence, a Poem

The memories of that lost love, became like that ghost that just, continues, to haunt, nonstop, and no matter where you escape, where you go, it just, won’t, leave you, alone…translated….

You Sat, at the Most Distant Corner of the Plaza

Distant, Listening Along with Me

The Pure Calls of the Church Bells Ringing

Next to the Ancient Streets of Florence

In the Alleys that Only Allowed the Speculations to Squeeze Through

The Female Painter with a Ponytail Wore that

Tight Black Leather Jacket

Covering Up the Imaginations of a Foreign Land

With the Earrings that Circled the Entire Night of the Firenze

In the Alley that Allowed the Peeping

Propped up Her Easel at the Missing Corner of Time

Using the Thin Oil Paintbrushes

like this…artwork from online

Delicately, Painted out, that Sorrowful Side Profile

A Horse Carriage Broke Out of the Sorrows

Leisurely, Sailed, Across the Entrance of the Alleys that’s, in a, Daze

With the Sound of the Hooves, Lifting, Pulling on

A Magazine Stand, with the Hung Many

Flavors of, Florence

Routes 6, 11, 22, 36 and 37

Stood at the Bus Stops, Waving to the Clouds

The Church, the Plaza, and the Map Made with the Jigsaw of the Red Shingles

Every Route Circled Around the Renaissance

And, Returned Back to the Renaissance

Every Route Has a Terminal Station, I Suppose?

Like They’re, Driving Toward the Guarded Palace of Your Heart

Or Toward the Broken, Torn Down Bridge of My, Soul

So, this is the distance between the two hearts, too hard to breach, and yet, all the two of you ever shared, even after the love was over, is still, very much, alive, that lost love never really, dies, completely, does it?  Of course, N-O-T!

If I Didn’t Delay the Pursuits of My Dreams

The regrets of putting what we want to do, off to a later day, because, there won’t be a later, because, you’d, wasted your lives away, and you won’t have anything left…translated…

The company I’d worked for a long time suddenly stopped operating, I’d originally thought, that in a few years I’d be able to retire, that dream went bust instantly, for the sake of my retirement, and so long as the work is related to my education, my areas of interest, I’d sent in my résumés, and can only pray, that at my age, I will be able to find work that corresponds to my interest profile.

There were two firms that accepted me at the same time, one of them pays more, the work is challenging, and I’d had to take more time learning the skills needed; I’d thought, that this may be a second chance given to me, so I’d, turned down the offers of the other company.

First day of work, it’d hit me, that it was going to be quite difficult, to familiarize myself with all the new skills, although my boss has confidence in me, and was willing to give me time to adjust, but, the pressures caused me to become an insomniac.

illustration from UDN.com

The days that followed, I’d found, more surely, that this work wasn’t, right for me, if I were, a decade younger, then I could have enough brain power to handle this job, with stronger psyche, to cope with all the pressures.  But now, I just, couldn’t, past midlife now, my body, my mind, forced me to, thrown in the, towels.

Thankfully, the other company still welcomed me.  Although the payrate was lower, the achievement isn’t as high, but, at least, it’s something I could, handle, and I got the time and energy to care for my own, aging mother, this was the way I can, of treating myself, and my family well.  From before, I’d loved feeling busy to make me feel achieved, this time, I’d, selected to, give myself, that break.

In her eighties, my mother would express her envy of how the elderly neighbors could still travel out, and I’d planned many a times to take my mother out, but she’d always, turned me down, her reasons, bad sight, lacking muscle strengths in her legs, bodily aches and pains, and she’d sighed to me, “if I were, a decade younger, I would’ve gone traveling everywhere, to enjoy what’s left of my life, and not like this, can only, stay, at home.”

My mother kept our home her whole life, stayed my father until last year when he’d passed, then my mother wanted to, go out and see this, world by herself, attempted to live on her own, and yet, she’d found herself elderly, and couldn’t manage so well, she couldn’t travel too far away, and so, she can, only, stay, close to, home.

There are only a couple of decades in our lifetimes, there’s not infinite time to us, we should, take advantage of now, to start living our lives, to live out, our, dreams.  And now, I’d put my own health ahead of my work, I will be, living every day from here on out, well.

Or maybe, we will all get limited by our years, but, at least, to the end of life, when I looked back, I can say: NO REGRETS!

And so, this is the importance of doing it now: whatever you want to do, just go for it, don’t put what you want to do off, or, it will be, too late, that, is the lessons of the limitations of life for all of us, to learn, and yet, as some of us finally realized, that we don’t have forever to waste, it’s, usually, too, late.

The Hunter-Gatherers of Broken, Dreams…

We’d become, the hunter-gatherers of broken, dreams, and we just keep on, picking up, after those, dreams that got broken for us, again, again, again, and again…

The hunter-gatherers of broken, dreams, we are destined to be, there’s no way ‘round it, got too many dreams broken for us, and, we can’t even, begin to, pick up our own, broken pieces, ‘cuz we got ZERO clue where that very first chip happened!

like, this??? Illustration from online…

The hunter-gatherers of broken, dreams, it’d been so difficult, working as, but I’m still, working this god damn, @#$%ING (maxed out!) annoying job that nobody else wanted (‘cuz SOMEBODY HAS to, do it, right???).  The hunter-gatherers of broken, dreams, we all became, picking up after those broken pieces of our own selves, and someone else…

The hunter-gatherers of broken, dreams, this is like that girl that put on those, dancing shoes, that can’t stop dancing, until, the priest of the church, CUT her legs off, and we shall, keep on, hunting, gathering, these, broken, dreams.

‘Til the end of, T-I-M-E………..

Dreams, Tapered, Off…

Dreams, they’d, tapered off, you can’t see the end, and, that’s usually, how it goes, you never get to finish, whatever became of those, childhood dreams of yours, do you?  Nope.

Dreams tapered, off, and that, is how it goes, because things we’d dreamed up, they don’t, EVER become, anything real, and as we’d become, adults, we lost our abilities to dream, as we all got, hounded down by, reality, the bills stacking higher by the day, the appliances going out of whack, the animals we own needed to get vaccinated or that they are sick, and the vet bills became, too highly costing………

like how the tail just, disappeared…photo from online

Dreams, tapered, off, and you never know whatever becomes of them, because you grew up, you’d, stopped dreaming, you forgot how to, dream.  As the hound of reality (instead of Baskerville???) kept, nipping behind your, heels.

Dreams, tapered, off, like those jet clouds high up in the air, you don’t see where the plane is, but you see that, white smoke trailing behind it, until, it’s, gone, yeah, it’s, exactly, like, that!

Broken Dreams Revisited…

Why can’t the dead just stay, DEAD, for good?  Why can’t what’s broken be, out of our minds?

Broken dreams revisited, is there, a purpose, of this god damn stroll down that, Memory Lane???  I mean, this place burned DOWN as we left it, and now, I’m, arrested for ARSON, over more than a decade ago?  Wow, does the law actually keep track???

Broken dreams revisited, what do you hope to find, revisiting these dreams that got broken long ago?  You think fining those broken bits and pieces, knowing that you once had those dreams, will help you, move on with your lives?  Don’t be stupid!

similar to this, only, it’s, even MORE broken than that!

photo from online

Broken dreams, revisited, yeah, that’s a stupid idea all right, ‘cuz, who’s to say, that we’re not gonna get trapped again, inside the brokenness of our pasts, and not get ourselves, out of that, freshly dug grave?

Broken dreams, revisited, just leave it (like I’d told my boys???), and go, leave it all behind!  Oh wait, but you can’t, you’re still hung up on that DEAD fetus that your EX should’ve carried for you, and yet, she decided she wasn’t old enough to take the FUCKING (so???) consequences of allowing you to HUMP H-E-R, remember???

Take What’s Broken, Make it Whole

Yeah, unless, you’re, a master repairer, then, good luck!

Take what’s broken, make it whole, but it will, NEVER, be “whole” again, you broke it, remember?  You might think that you’re, skilled enough, to patch what’s broken up, to almost, unnoticeable, but, oh, someone will notice it all right, and it’s still not “just” you.

Take what’s broken, make it whole, why the HELL would you want to do that?  Because what you broke, was way too precious (then, why’d you break it in the first place, huh???).  Take what’s broken, make it whole, uh, you can’t do that, ‘cuz, it’d already, been, broken, and, unless you found that door to the past (which does NOT exist), or a wormhole (or so I’d heard???), you can’t, get back what you’d, lost.

can’t fi this! Photo from online

Take what’s broken, make it whole, yeah, you wish you could, but I don’t want to, besides, I’m, moving on, from you, and you, and you, and you, and you…………(wow, I can be, promiscuous too, can’t I?) already.

Take what’s broken, make it whole?  Don’t even, you can’t unbreak what’s already been shattered, you can cry, you can mourn for what’s already lost, but you still ain’t getting THAT back.

A Room Full of, Memories…

Those memories, they’d, filled up, this room of yours…

A room full of, memories, and now you’re gone, what am I supposed to do with these things, huh?  Keep them as reminders of how I loved you, oh so much?  Toss them away, donate them to others who might have a need for them?  What, what am I supposed to do with a room full of, memories?

like this…painting found online

A room full of, memories, what do we do with them, now that they’re, no longer valid anymore, huh?  You can keep everything, ‘cuz, I don’t need ‘em!  A room full of, memories, that, is all that’s left, of this, broken family of ours, and, as I’d looked at these memories, my heart ached, and I can’t withstand this, excruciating pain.

A room full of, memories, guess I should, toss them all out, but I can’t, I still can’t quite, bring myself, to get rid of you, entirely, not yet………