that bird I saw that couldn’t find a spot in the tree you know the one that inspired this little poem/ blurb 

June 6 2015

I saw a pigeon

struggle to fly into a tree

it kept trying

again

and

again

but it couldn’t find its footing

it would plummet in embarrassment

so it flew farther

and much harder than it thought it would ever have to

and it took the scenic route

and it flew back home

to safety

and comfort

it flew where it was wanted and loved

and the tree would still be there

when the wind settled down

and the branches were ready

western

May 2 2017

My psychologist said I look “Westernized”… like I know what means

Did she mean I look white? I wasn’t wearing a bindi or a saree so I must not be Indian?

And my optometrist said he could tell I wasn’t white from looking at the pigment in the back of my eyes… he said he wanted to ask my heritage and would have never guessed what I told him

He said I look “yellow like him”… I didn’t know what that meant since he was Greek.

I don’t get what it’s supposed to mean when people (adults) tell me things about myself and my race

Am I meant to be complimented when people say that “my mix is so interesting”

I don’t get it

My optometrist also said that everybody is mixed now and that none of them are really that interesting

I try to play along with these conversations but in reality its just a routine part of my day

It feels like when people ask me about my mix (aka where my parents are from), theyre really asking why am I not more white looking? Why am I not more brown looking? Why am I here? Why should they be interested in my existence on the MOST superficial and basic aspects of my existence?

Being mixed has shaped my entire view on the world (naturally) because I don’t really belong in any nice neat box to check off

So when one of the first things I get asked by strangers/ doctors/ anyone is about my racial mix, then it kinda makes you feel like shit

Like my value is in this answer and that I better make it interesting

rambling thoughts .2

everything i think is a ramble

i remember another thought

and i think i’m so smart so i have to include it

even if it doesn’t flow or connect

i guess i’m finding my voice

‘wow that’s really smart write that’

that’s what i just thought writing this

so new and cool and everyone will want to read it

then you can make content good enough so you can post the link to it on your instagram

instagram is so cool its so original

oh brother 

now this is a ramble

i can’t fucking post this

i feel like i’ve been thrown for a loop

going on social media throws me in a daze of self doubt and near hatred

what do i do with my life and when will it be worthy of a post on my instagram?

i’m trying to be original and these rambles are my notes to a future self

or as evidence of my growth when i someday become a big famous writer

stuck in a rut

how do i create

where can i create

who will come with me

create with me

journey with me

it feels discouraging to create alone

wheres my family in arts

i feel like I’m waiting for the next stage

but every period is a stage that I’m waiting to pass

when will i create

when will i live

truly

freely

fully

a ramble of my thoughts .1

my experience being who i am

growing up in canada and australia

parents from finland and singapore/india

belongs to no where (not everywhere)

“ethnic” looking enough to be interesting but white enough to be pretty

high cheekbones but tan

doesn’t belong to those darker cus I’m too light

but not accepted as white

i grew up white didn’t i?

can i white pass?

is being half white make me white?

can i associate myself with those struggles of people darker when i feel them or is that not for me?

who decides that

why can’t i be the one to decide

where I’m from

what i am

whats important to my identity

“wow where are you from”

are you asking because of my accent

or my colour and look

why do you even want to know

what makes you really care

do they think about that

or is it so easy being apart of one set group that you don’t have to think about it

when your culture accepts you then you don’t have to think about it

some envy he ambiguity of my look and identity

the idiots

how ignorant and dumb

you may be bored but by god you had a choice of aninimoty

what i wouldnt give

on top of all those confusion I’m a woman too

don’t look at me and don’t sexualise me and don’t touch me and don’t think about me

i don’t need you to find me beautiful

i scared of you finding me beautiful

god

even if I’m ugly in your eyes I’m scared

I’m not white

or I’m not what you are

I’m not enough or strongly inside of any ideals to belong

where am i and when do i land

ill never be finn

I’m trying to learn but its hard and I’m scared and i don’t have to right accent and I’m embarrassed

ill never be sikh or singaporean

I’ve never tried

i felt the push and anger or something negative from that side a long time ago

people saying I’m trying so hard to be something

i was just dancing? i was just wearing a dress?

i didn’t know that my fathers culture wasn’t permitted for me

where do i sign up for a permit?

forget it i won’t even bother

the culture is intimately around me

yet its not for me

the language, the food, the music, the dance, the people and the land

but its not for me

what is for me

and when can i have it

and what if i don’t want it

and please stop asking me where I’m from

when do i start creating something new?

if i can’t use what i have can i make it all up

when will the internal matter more than whats from the external

when do i take ownership

no body knows

ill keep asking

post pole class blues

i googled “how to create a safe exercise space women” and i expected a lot of other people to have blogs all about it, all about how they struggle to deal with people in their fitness classes or their friends talking exclusively about their body after class. i don’t wanna talk about that! it makes me feel sick!!! stop talking about how you need abs or a tight ass or real nice arms. i’m here for myself and for my health, not for some idea that i need to change my body in order to be happy.

i find myself sad and defeated after a class that i did really well in. i feel myself beating myself up when i go get a snack when i’m starved. i feel useless after i feel my muscles get sore and how much more work i still need to do to see any physical progress. i should be proud of myself!! i should be satisfied with my progress and motivated to move forward! and the things is.. i was! before my friend told me about how important getting her body into some idealised form was, when she’s already at a size and shape i will never possibly physically be! my bones aren’t that small, my genetics don’t give me a curve-less figure! it’s just how we are both built, but i find that hard to swallow. especially after everyone else i talk to seems to feel the same way she does. how i should want to only be doing fitness for my physical appearance. that my body and weight and look should be so undesirable that it should be obvious that i am only working out to make myself skinnier or better looking in a bikini.

i hate that i feel so sad about something i have been so excited for, but my struggle to create a body positive space for myself continues to exist of a space including only myself. i will keep going to my classes and keep telling myself that i am here for my health (mental and physical) and that the end goal of my fitness, has and always will be, for my inner self! since, at the end of the day, all i can do is block her and everyone else out. i can’t cut out a good friend for this, but i’ve thought about it. next time, i’ll take the class alone and i’ll talk to myself about it and i’ll tell myself what a good job i did and that my body is great how it is. i’m the only one i can rely to tell myself what i want to hear.

x

Thoughts after you left that still hurt me now 

November- January 2015/16 

It’s like we never even met, I’m home and you’re at your home and it’s like we never spoke or touched or looked at each other. That kinda hurts. I miss the way you would always trace things on my legs or shoulders. It made me so calm. But none of that ever happened right? 

I’m still so into you. Someone wanted to kiss me today, I only thought of you. Of kissing you instead and what you would have thought of me if you knew someone else asked me and how no one is gonna kiss me like you did. 

I don’t know how I’m meant to talk to you now. You aren’t my friend (right?), you’re my ex. You’re someone I thought I could fall in love with. Someone I kissed and loved and wanted to be with all the time. 

My biggest mistake was telling people and thinking that we would last when it became pretty apparent pretty early that we weren’t on the same page 

I hate you so much. I don’t hate you, but I hate that I ever met you. I don’t hate that either, not really, but fuck you man, fuck you so hard. Why did I ever have to meet you? I didn’t ask to, I didn’t want to. This year was such a fucking fuck up and you were the cherry on top. I’m so angry that I gave you any power in my life. Fuck you man, I thought I could love you. I thought I might love you. I wanted to love you. I trusted you so much and I lost so much confidence for you, because I figured I wouldn’t need it anymore. I wanted you and you had other plans. 

I had a dream that we were kissing in my parents bedroom but you weren’t that good anymore. Maybe it was just that you didn’t want to kiss me anymore.

I dreamt about you last night. I went to help you fall asleep and I lay over you to kiss your cheek and say soothing words, but you told me no. You said “don’t”. It hurt in the dream and it’s hurt me all day. I can’t be yours anymore