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Showing posts from May, 2017

"All Is Present," For Pos Moua

All Is Present
For Pos Moua
Let us celebrate             the gardener and his blooms                         the blushing, the spiked, those spawning young, let us celebrate             the first tree, axis mundi no borders, ever-turning leaves, boughs craning towards, away from, vining around center—                         the weight of the world in two cupped palms. Let us celebrate the gardener immortal garden incarnate boulder, soil, soul, light, jeweled buds, mystic roots             bless the earth, drink rain                         bind carbon into sweetness.   Mythical companions, Kunlun Mountain domes of jasper and jade deaths and births, secrets and freedom, Peach Blossom Village, fruits of fire.  At the Jade Pool, fish dance and nip, flirt with silver bells. Sunlit waves crash in hidden caverns.              A single boat paused against embroidered, ten-colored horizon. Tao Yuanming deemed it impossible to find the way back, rediscover those fragrant woods. Yet, remembering, we celebrate           …

What's in a Uniform?

While uniforms may perpetuate stereotypes and differences in social status, they also remind us that underneath the fabric, we aren't all that different--those few alleles coding for skin tone and hair color/texture are nothing in the grand scheme of the human genome. In fact, we have far greater differences internally (blood type, e.g.) than externally (hair, skin).

Uniforms were a large part of my formative years, from kindergarten aprons and hats, sailor outfits in music school, hideous military-style khaki in junior high, to shirt, tie and pants/skirt in senior high. We even had uniform hair--I was one of the last generations of Taiwanese girls with 3-cm-under-the-earlobe regulation haircuts (boys had shaven heads). Sure, our faces looked different, but with other variables controlled (no makeup or piercings, socks and shoes regulated), we also appeared the same.

The uniforms were our identity. If one wore the dirt green shirt and black skirt of Taipei First Girls, people wond…

To Be A Nurse

Got a letter of acceptance in the mail: I'm in the Registered Nursing Program.
This all started almost two years ago, when an ambulance took my mother, unconscious, to the ICU of Irvine Hoag. Pneumococcal meningitis secondary to metastasized endocervical cancer. After multiple surgeries that had attempted to preserve her life, then brain and motor function, she came home with us for home hospice.
Being her nurse made me want to continue being a nurse, if not for her, for others.  
After some chem, math, anatomy physiology micro, here I am. At the same community college where I first started teaching after gradschool, where I was repeatedly mistaken for a student at the Registrar, except they were right after all, because it's true, I'm right back where I started ten years ago, but this time as a student.