Home - La casa - der Haus

Home - la casa - der Haus

Ich fühle mir nicht zu Hause
E questa casa non e` la mia casa

The Home, the transient metaphorical word for describing where you belong.

They say Home is where the heart is,
But the heart is in the body and do you feel like you belong?

Two inches into your chest, bypassing skin, muscles, tendons, and bones,
Does your heart feel like it's beating out "belong"?

Das ist mein Haus, aber es ist kein Haus
Dov'e` la mia casa? Perche` la mia casa non sta li.

My house of a body is doomed to wander - I cannot belong because I do not know how.

If Home is where the heart is, and your heart is in your body, then syllogistic logic reasons that your body is Home.

Ma il mio corpo non e` una casa- it is not a house.

In the strictest of words, my body is a mobile temple of living breathing flesh that doesn't know the word belong.

To live is to exist, but existence does not guarantee living,
Just like a beating heart does not guarantee belonging.

Because Home, der Haus, la casa - la casa non e` tutto il mondo - the house is not the whole world.

But I plan to find it. To belong is the goal to comfort my weary soul.

A little poem to get me through my migraine

I realize I'm a bit off the deep-end, A bit overshadowed.
A little too obsessive, And sometimes a little callow.

I think I'm often a touch out of reach, And maybe a bit cheeky.
A head in the clouds, Perhaps that's why I look a tad peaky.

I seem so far away, And I probably am distant.
At least I'm somewhere here, Albeit a bit resistant.

I notice I'm a bit bias, A bit opinionated.
Quite a bit informed, But often times slated.

I guess I can raise hell, And all sorts of trouble.
But sometimes I clean up, And I do a pretty good job sweeping through the rubble.

Blankets to hide the world

Hiding under the blankets to keep the warmth, as to enter hibernation.

Perhaps the wind and snow and rain and sleet won't see through the cotton sheets.
Maybe they'll just go away, and plan not come back another day.

New plan emerges with the prospect of the elements falling from the sky.

The snow can be the new blankets, to hide the world.
The rain will wash away the anger and the sorrow.
The sleet will beat back all ill wishes.
And the wind, Oh how the wind will howl and blow and swirl those leaves.

Oh how the wind will be the clean-up crew, to let all the snow to hide the nooks and crannies.
To allow the rain to purge even the smallest of crevices.
To permit the sleet to beat back in all the directions.

And just as the wind pushes everything through and away,
It'll push the body to move out of hibernation and into the world.

"Forget perfect, I'm trying not to be worthless..." -Fort Minor

Slap a monetary value to something to consider its worth. The more money that the thing is valued for, the more it's worth.

Slap a monetary value to an animal, and it's a pet under your ownership.

Slap a monetary value to someone, and it's prostitution.

But never mind you bought an animal for the sheer enjoyment of it, like you do for an individual for your sexual gains. But everyone decries prostitution, saying it lack morals and valued judgement.

I didn't realize we put a price tag on judgement.

How do you value yourself if you can't do it the way society values everything else, by money?

The most expensive items in the world have the heftiest price tag, but the most important people you can ever meet come with a simple fee: trust, love, and acceptance. Simple of course is debatable, just like you value self-worth. But if you define your moral code and ethics by Love, and not by greed, you'll see the exact displacement of your worth in one reality and how its suddenly placed and worth more in another.

The debatable quandary

Here I am, stuck in a quandary.
Is it me, or am I losing my humanity?

I see society and it's expectations
Reaching out to envelope me.

Heart scream, "DON'T FORGET."
Brain reasons, "You need a livelihood.
You need to be able to support your dreams."
"Don't leave just yet," my heart screams.
"To conquer those mountains, you need a job.
To fly to the moon, you need to pay."
Rational Brain says I need to stay.

"Forget the job, just run through the trees.
That sound calling you is the wind rustling the leaves."

Silly old heart loves the autumnal breeze.
Silly ol' heart... And that damn rational brain.

The war inside is the product of society,
Where money via capitalism is the key.

It suppresses by nature and kills all joy,
Reminds you that deviation is the devil,
And that the Church wants you to pray.
But I'm society's prey to be stalked upon
And when will it be okay for me to say:

Nah man. I'm the predator.
Beware, for Hell can't touch me, nor will it want to.
And I'm more than some tamed beast.
I will tear you piece by piece.

Welcome back, self. Now take a seat and wait patiently.

Resisting without resisting, gosh that's deep, and these past few days, I've been losing sleep.

I'm struggling to find the middle ground for myself. Working a full time and a part time job, while juggling a relationship with my boy of five years, who's now back in school due to my persistent nagging.

A lot has happened in the past few months. I basically tripped face first into some opportunities, that now leave me with four less teeth (wisdom teeth, to be exact). I met some great new people, but I seemed to have alienated a few as well (I don't think I can ever forgive myself for ruining one of the best friendships I had). I hit a mental block with school and work, but now that I've learned two languages, and continue to learn one of two, I have four different tongues constantly jabbering in my head. Which doesn't ease the seven year stint of migraines. Oh, and I wrote my first thing in months, so there is hope for my deadened creativity, maybe it'll arise a zombie, and eat some colorful brains.

But I understand myself better. Which I guess is good. But I still see myself as a work in progress, which we probably all are, but it's hard to convince myself sometimes (most times) that it's all worth it. People feed me such praise, but I wonder if they see through the facade. But like I said, a lot has happened this past year, and that mirror I used to want to smash is starting to have lighter glint to it.

I know this post doesn't follow the typical rhythm of the others, but you shouldn't care. Because you're thoughts are probably aligned with mine: aren't we all feeling a bit out of time? Deep down, we all battle these indiscriminate insecurities... In one form or another.

Practice limited limitlessness

I have a lot on my chest and more in my head. I'm afraid to take a deep breath because I don't know what's in the air.

"Love thy neighbor," religion preaches to our face, but we're getting stabbed in the back.

Speak your mind or keep your peace, but you'll get ravaged and trampled like how we treat the Middle East.

The blood of the innocents marks a trail of man's march through history. Hegel preached that history was the dialectical movement of God's march through time; but it's not. It's a struggle of human selfish interests against the selfless ones: empathy saves us, but greed rips us apart at the seams. We shouldn't aim to survive and reap a living by stepping on others; helping each other survive will let us all thrive.

The government and court systems can bring down the activists, the geeks, the "freaks," the outspoken lover of Gaia Mother Earth, and the kid who was sexually assaulted. But it won't bring down McMiney-Bags and Big Oil, athletes who bend the rules because they can get away with it.

We preserve a system that has been corrupted by power and greed, plunging us further away from cooperation and coalition building.

Why do we claim success based on material belongings? We measure happiness with dollar signs as we steal resources from indigenous groups and their livelihoods. We deplete the earth through over farming and then claim we didn't know better and it's no irreversible.

These discussions. We need to have them.

I don't respond well to mixed messages

They tell me I have to be better.

I sit there learning day after day

Spending hours studying, analyzing, rehearsing,

Breathing.

They told me to take a break.

Why? So I can be lapped?

So I can be beaten, burned, surpassed?

So I can lose?

They tell me I have to do better.

How much longer can I sit here

Trying to absorb this profound sense of knowledge?

I've worked so hard, how much more?

Do I dare ask?

They told me I work too hard.

Damn straight I do,

I didn't spend all my time learning,

Working, exercising mind and body,

To be told 

"You work too hard, take a break."

I told them they missed the memo.

To stop trying is to stop living,

Struggling to achieve makes the reward

Taste, feel, seem infinitely better.

Don't hand it to me.

Don't stand in my way.

Because I'm like a steamroller, 

I will run you down, 

And take what I earned.

Disoriented and alone

Two days. That's all I get.

Two days, to be spent with this kid that I've been in love with for three and a half years.

Two days, to lay in bed with my feet on the wall and my head on the mattress, demanding to re-enact the Spider-Man/Mary Jane kiss.

Two days, to feel my hand wrapped tightly in a warm meat blanket of another hand that is just slightly bigger than my own.

Two days, to remember the smoothness of each other's skin and the glorious tickle spots.

Two days, to know that the bed is big enough for two people, but small enough to hold the warmth between us as we whisper to each other in the darkness of two in the morning.

Two days, to get over the disorientation of not seeing each other for a month and begin to remember that our memories extend past the thousands of text messages sent.

Two days, to lose the familiarity of texting and to learn how to function without a phone.


Two days, to be just enough to hold us over for another month, whether we like it or not.

The things I learn

Last week I competed in my first strongman competition.... and I was the only girl competing.

The one thing I learned from the competition is that even when I feel like I'm strapped to a truck, I know that I can keep moving forward. Even if it's slow and arduous, and the goal seems so damn far away, I can keep going.

Icarus wished he had wings like mine.

Don't mind me. I'm just here to grab my wings.

I figured since I'm gonna fall anyway, I might as well learn to fly on the way down.

I'll see ya later.

Hundred miles to get a kiss

"You two are so cute with how you make your long distance relationship work."

"'Cause we're a boss. People are too emotional ! OMG I MISS YOU BABY! Back in my day I had to walk a hundred miles uphill in the snow both ways to get a kiss before work!"

The wonderful little moments when that kid you spent three and a half years loving comes up with the best comment to the best compliment.


Ti voglio bene <3

The in-between

In between sleep and awake, that is where I'll find you. Where the drowsiness of sleep still makes everything fuzzy and the alertness of being awake isn't as clearly defined as it should be.

Filtering my filter

Maybe we're not supposed to have a filter. The words that we're supposed to keep to ourselves are the things that would not be condoned saying out loud in today's world. But maybe it's better to just say them; maybe we need to be shocked and insulted, be annoyed and have our world knocked upside down.

And maybe our filters are just so we won't get punched in the face, but maybe we are just too sensitive and need to be a bit more abrasive. Because really, who needs a filter when you have the spectacular show of reactions.

The sun and the moon

The moon said to the sun, "Let's just leave. Let's just pick up and go. Who is going to miss us?"

The sun just swiveled restlessly as he listened to his little moon.

"The earth won't miss us," cried the moon. "This place is so big! Let's go get lost and stay there for a bit."

The sun peaked over his horizon to eye the moon. "That won't do, dear. You know you can't stay in one place for very long. You will have to keep moving; you won't find peace until you've been everywhere and even then, it'll be temporary."

"But at least we can say we've been places!" the little moon jittered with tired excitement, the kind she gets from thinking too long about picking up and leaving.

"My dear, that will not do. You have obligations to this little earth."

"Says who?!" but the little moon turned in defeat, 'one day, I will get away,' she vowed to herself. 'One day.'

I hate when the past haunts me

And I will think of you everyday. And I will write home one day.But until I can, please keep in hand my heart for when I come back.

Can't put a title to an emotion so encompassing

I wish I could be really witty and inspirational right now. 

I wish I can passionately say "Failure is the only option if you lose faith," and then go on and succeed. 

But I gave myself away to too many people, and so I will never wholly get myself through anything.

I wish I can say that this will work out because I can do this. 

But lying never suited me well and I don't think I'm quite ready for this. 

After years of dreading this, you would have thought that I would have came prepared.

But after spending so long fighting, I just want to fall between the cracks for a bit.

But then I will never forgive myself for not fighting hard enough. 

Ode to the Underdog

 Into the Valley of Death we rode to face the enemy of a lifetime. And with sticks and stones they will break our bones, but with our hope comes their despair as we raise our fists into the air and swear to fight until our last breath. And in the end, it was them who has slaughtered us, but it will be us who will be remembered for giving the enemy one hell of fight.

For although we may be gone, the legacy will go on. Not of the six hundred who rode into their death blindly, but of the underdogs who walked with their heads held high ready to fight.

The Trimurti

Once upon a time there was an artist, a painter to be exact. She was a wonderful artist with an amazing ability to express emotion so clearly with her paints. She held an event for a weekend, a three day affair to show off her latest work of art. The paint swirled into patterns of anguish and love, happiness and the feeling of breaking into pieces. During the first days of the exhibit everyone complimented her genius and wanted to know the title, she responded with a slight nod of appreciation and the words, "It's not completely finished. Not yet."

The first two days of the one painting gallery, she implored everyone to come on the third day for that will be the day she will finally finish the art piece in front of everyone invited. The third day came, and as the audience shuffled in to the enclosed room, there were stones on the ground encircling the painting and its stand. The painter walked to the middle of the room, thanked everyone for coming, and lit a match. The match's fire leapt to the canvas with the painter's help; as the fire engulfed the canvas the crowd gasped at the spectacle- surely the painter was nuts, the paint fumes must have affected her brain in a strange and twisted way.

The painting crumbled to the ground as the smoke rose into the ventilation system of the exhibition house. As the fire dwindled to a wisp of smoke, the painter took a bow to a shocked audience. Such a work of art, gone forever.

"Why?" Was the only word heard through the room, whispered in the quietest of ways.

The painter smiled, "After creation, there is a destruction. In order for a new creation, we must destroy. As the Trimurti of Hinduism represent creation, preservation, and destruction, so does the life we lead. Born, lived, died; created, admired, destroyed."

Take a breath and leap

Just when I thought it was too much for me to bear, I jumped from the tippy top to fall haphazardly towards the hard ground. And just when I thought I was a goner, I landed on my feet.