writing.

I never really felt as if I was attached to writing.

I never found myself enjoying writing essays or writing any kind of academic related pieces.
I’ve always thought the theme I would write about it as being interesting, but never felt very excited putting them on paper
to convey to others or to write a good essay for a prof or teacher.

I stopped reading as much as I used to, which also hindered my level of writing.

But, today I was writing in my journal, I wondered what it is to really like to write.

I’ve always loved to express myself in words. I’ve always found attachments to certain quotes or words that could express an emotion or even sound or have beautiful meanings. Each language possess a word that I have fallen in love with, and they will come out in my journal all the time. And yes, it has to do with the fact that I am corny, but I think there are some indications that I actually do like writing.

Writing, is a medium to communicate. It is used in many different ways and there are many different combinations of words that create certain kind of outcomes. I love writing when no one can potentially see it. You can use anykind of combinations of words and no one will judge you for it. The words you scribe on the paper then bounces back to your brains making meaning of the different words that were pushed out by my pen. There’s a feeling or organization of the words, the jumbled emotions and thoughts that are captured into words so that it  can be scrutinized and analyzed by the brain. All the overwhelming feeling just pours out into the page as my arm just keeps on moving to get out the last few drops of words, so that I can feel sane again.
I love writing, I love this process, and that’s why I still hold a diary til this day– it’s probably my 10th diary I have owned.

I wonder how many words I have placed on paper. I wonder how many questions and ideas have been inked into the pages.

I clearly have some kind of affair with words. And perhaps, I’m not learning something totally out of my interest.

How close is writing to you?

January 17, 1995

My life quickens as I age, and I wonder how much more fast paced it’s going to be when I turn 25, 30, or 35.

The life now is so much more convenient and our lives seemed to have been busier as ever.
And our personal life occupies our time very much… But there definitely are somethings that we should never forget.

17 years ago, Today, the Great Hanshin Earthquake that occurred in Hyogo prefecture.
I can’t say that I remember a whole lot of this day or the days to proceed. It’s like I have a recollection of photographs that
flash in my head. I don’t know if they are even accurate anymore. It could be that my head had filled in the blanks.
My family wasn’t affected, but I remembered having family friends losing a family member or many of them came to
stay for a few days in our house. Alot of people came in and out of the house. My Mom and I stayed a few days at other family houses.
Everything, seems to be a blur.

“HANA!”

I woke up in the middle of the night with the world around me shaking. I could here things violently bumping into each other, creating chaotic noises. My Mom had woken me up and she was hovered above me, maybe trying to protect me if anything fell. We grabbed our blankets and hurried downstairs to take refuge under the table. My Dad brought out the flash light and radio. The circular round table that we ate around turned into a refuge camp for our family. It wasn’t too big, my Mom hugged me close to her. I didn’t quite know what was going on. I just quietly kept close.

The outside was horrible. Things had fallen apart. Old houses had collapsed. There was no water running, but a kind neighbor with a well shared her water supply. We would carry them in our hands, fetch water with our plastic buckets, since we needed them to flush the toilets or boil water in tea kettle to take a shower, since we had no electricity either. I remember my mother using least amount of water as she could, scrubbed my body in the cold bathroom. Pasta was boiled in sports drinks. We had an abundance of those since people from my Dad’s company in Osaka would train to as far as they could and then bicycled them over to our house. We were super thankful for these people providing us with food and necessities. Then one day, the house next door caught fire. Firefighters told us we should grab our important things and run away cause they didn’t know if our house would catch on fire. Luckily, a huge tree in my garden saved my house, apparently it stopped the spreading of the fire. This tree, is still in our garden and loved by everyone else. I saw alot of people crying in my house. Devastated. Lost. And also wondering what would be of them. Alot of my friends flew back home to their country when they had flights were arranged. They never came back.

I was four, and I don’t have much memory of the event. But what I see as after effects was all the help that was given to us and how greatful we were of it. I am kinda proud to think that the Japanese people were that generous and warm people, to be sharing supplies and necessities. And we must not forget that this event affected a lot of people and may had created scars that still do affect them today. And I won’t say to feel the pain of the people, but realize how greatful we should be living today, to think about the generosity and warmth people are still able to provide, and to not to forget that we, each one of us have that feeling and capacity too.

It’s the balance. Of praying for the losses  and also cherishing humanity.

 

Where are you?

It’s 2012. A brand new year has started and I can already feel how packed with awesomeness this year is going to be.
I can feel the energy that is ready to face all the challenges and the adventures this year will bring.

Like every year, I start thinking what I should accomplish this year.

This year is my last year being a student, or a consecutive student. I’ve never not been a student in my life, so ending my schooling is
something very big and unthinkable for me. Another semester (hopefully) and I wonder where I should steer my life to.

And while reminiscing my years at art school, something had struck me.

Thinking back to my three years and a half of art school, I always remember myself as being an art student… But I couldn’t
remember myself being an “artist” creating something I really feel passionately about. And I remember seeing so much beautiful and moving work,
but I wonder, will I ever be able to deliver art to people that can truly move them and make them utter how beautiful art can be? Will I ever be able to create art work like the first year at art school which I truly loved? Everything was new back then. Everything came from some inner gut art feeling I could rely– or more like had to rely on. And the conversation between me and that gut feeling, the struggle that it faced seemed to have created some pieces that I still feel are one of the most powerful and raw. I felt like creating art was part of my life. That was all I did.

And now, where am I at? Where did that gut feeling go? Is it there still? Did it vanish? Or do I need to rediscover it again.
I need to turn into myself and find that “self” again. This last semester need to be a semester where that can re-bloom again.

I want to create something beautiful. I want to create something that can be raw and available to the viewers.
I want to create something that can be part of life.

I hope, wish, and wonder if i will be able to.

 

 

words that mean something

Words are empty  until you give them meaning.
Some words are so old that they decided to retire, or more like they were asked to leave.

Each word we speak is spelt the same way, but the “life” that are spoken into them
are very different.

Emails and texts can be deceiving, because you’ll see the mould of what you may saying, but you don’t know what goes into that mould to receive the complete package, the end result that could be
so much different from what you expected.

Therefore if you catch yourself spitting out empty words,
there is a huge chance that will not be understood by others.
There is a huge chance that it will be interpreted against you,
creating ugly fights or painful disputes.

When all you maybe need is a few words that mean and actually are close to your “heart.”
The words that speak your heart, are somewhat more gentle and caring.
And so much more welcoming as a person who receives it.

Everyday, we mask many words that we feel shouldn’t be said.
We restrict ourselves because it’s either against our morals and beliefs–or
it would go against our images, or other personal reasons.
And maybe some of those decisions you make are quite good ones,
since it saves you from complicated issues and arguments.

But hopefully it doesn’t affect the true feelings that you need to speak,
clouding the judgement of having to say the words that is IMPORTANT,
because those are the ones that also have the potential to make
the greater changes and also impact the ones that are close to you positively
than the words that were spitted out, to mask your true feelings.

To be sincere, I feel, is to be truthful to the ones you love and care, and respect the others that have no harm to you. Not everything has to be said, but if things need to be said for your well being, then it has to be said, because it will affect you and the people around you greatly in the long run.

There is nothing positive trying to live a persona that is super perfect and responsible.
The flaws makes us unique, so even if we occasionally make the mistakes of saying too much,
it’s better than spitting the empty ones and bottling up the heavy full words… Only to see
yourself exploding at the end.

And at the end of the day, words may not describe EVERYTHING you feel, but at least you’ve tried,
and most importantly you have trusted yourself and your words.

nostalgia.

Nostalgia.

Something so bittersweet, something that lingers within our minds and has the power to evoke the deepest of emotions. It exists in snippets of shots of color and black and white, brings back the longing, of the past, or wait, would it be rather a shelter that we dwell in to hide from the present reality? It’s that safe place that you know nobody but you can reach.

We share this memory with such love and care, and I wonder how much we fill it up so it sounds more comforting. Reality is harsh. Living life is not easy as it seems. And maybe sometimes we even color in the blanks with such vivid details… Just to make it even more special. And facing all the questions as we age, we wonder what our past was all about, where that comfort went.
Where did our childhood dreams go?
Where did our creative mind in the protective environment go?
It was such a real but a surreal place we grew up in.

But that world,
It’s just so delicate… and beautiful.
And that’s why I think we hold on to it so dearly and lovingly…
And we never can let it go.

The last day that I’m 20.

Ok, guys it’s going to be another post full of dramatic and a bit cliche-d blog post…
I just love being kinda emotional and nostalgic on special occasions…

So. Here I go.

It’s the last day I am 20. It’s the last day I say that I’m 20. It’s the last day that I’ll ever be 20 again.

Tomorrow will just be another day, probably a soggy and normal Vancouver one.

But for me, I like to think about it as a very special one, the one that proves that I have lived 21 years.
Compared to others, my life may not have been that dramatic or even hard to live through.
However, it’s another year that I was able to survive and live through healthy.
Another year I will be able to live to the next year, when some people may have lost their lives
way too early… Why not celebrate that mark?

I also really feel the importance of the people who surround you. We live our lives alone, but without
the support and insight of others, I probably wouldn’t go too far. Alot of greatness and bitterness
comes through the relationships we have with others. The experience and the things you learn from
others through the encounters, I believe truly enrich our lives. We may be too involved sometimes,
but we learn most from these moments. Otherwise, what’s the fun being stuck in your own world all the time?
Although I admit that I have my flaws and there are so many more things I need to learn,
I’m grateful at where I am right now being able to be the person I am.
I cherish the moments I spend with my loved ones, the ones that give me the real laughs, inspire me, and
stay close when I’m about to be blown away by the wind.
So much struggle and questions that I’m faced with daily, but without them I wouldn’t be able to reflect and
dream to attain something better.

I love living life. It’s not perfect, but to think that one body can feel so many different things and experience so much,
I can’t think of ending my life just yet. So much more possibilities and people I would love to get to know and meet.

I’ll just be 20 + 1 tomorrow, and I won’t be someone totally different in one day.
But having another great excuse to spend time with your friends and loved one
shouldn’t be problem right?

Mom, Dad, and Ran (my cute dog who I know secretly stil loves me…) I love you so much.
You really have really given me the roots and morals I should live by well, I know with
what you gave me, I can really go far.

And for all of you that have read this post til the end,

Thank you so much I know that in someway or another you care and that means a lot.
I have probably been a bad friend at some point in everyone’s life, but I appreciate that
you decided to still stick around in my life, it means a lot to me… Even if we have fallen
out of touch, the memories still stay very fresh in my mind, something that has created “me.”

I’m so excited to think about what I’ll be saying when I’m 22
I think I’ll have an all pink party…

But til then, I’ll just enjoy the last hours of being 20. Haha.

Lots of love,
hana

the last days of being 20.

*caution* this is my personal blabberings…

I love talking to my Mom.
Today I decided to call her since I had been neglecting to contact her.
Each time I call her, she does blabber alot of things that I may not be listening
but, at the same time has a lot of wisdom about little things to big things in life.
That sounds very vague, but it does come out in random conversations but are
charged with wisdom. As I have been writing in my past entries, I have heavily
been influenced by my Mother and she has always been a person that I have
been looking up to. Although recently, I finally realized that I couldn’t be her,
I still respect and take her words of reason to balance out my heart of emotions.

I call myself “wagamama,” a word in Japanese that means self-centered or selfish.
But when I was talking to my Mother about it today, I realized that alot of these
qualities root from me placing my “emotions” in front of everything and
really pushing through it at anytime.
This can both be a great but worst trait ever.

The reason I’m writing this all out is because I’m turning 21 in a week and a half,
and I feel like this year more than ever was a year of my emotions. I thought
i would be maturing, but it seems like I have been going back to my roots…
I wonder if this year turning 21 now, I can really focus on thinking about others,
and really figuring out what it is to be “thinking about others.” And also creating
a mind that can just stop being too emotionally thinking frantically and incorporate the
“jeitinho Brasilera” which direct translation “the brazilian way,” or as they are, being less serious
and just going with the flow. According to my Mother, I should just incorporate a little
bit of that. Haha.

I guess in reality, my life will not change over night. Just because I turn 21,
it will mean nothing much, it’s another day that I happen to turn another
year older, another year healthy that I lived through.
AND I PLAN  TO LIVE LONGER AND LONGER!!!!
And, I know I’ll change, and it will be interesting what I’ll be saying when I turn 22…

But, it is the first birthday ill be spending here in Vancouver.
So it should be different….?

If you read it til the end, thank you very much for listening to me
blabber! Cheers!

cultures.

We should never judge people by looks, yet in many cases subconsciously
I find we make assumptions by just looking or more with the
first impression we get from them.

Where are they from?
What kind of clothes do they wear?
What do they smell like?
How do they carry themselves?
How do they speak?

All of these affect alot of how we see the person.

I understand how looks deceive the reality of the person, but many so
much more than we can really realize.
We are born with a certain identity look that we receive from our parents.
But depending on where your parents are from and where you are brought up,
alot of your identity will change during that period. You might start speaking
languages that other people will never believe you could speak or know about
a certain culture…
Our identity is not really created by how we look like anymore, but more about
where we were born and the culture your parent’s were brought up in too.
I’m born between a Japanese decendent Mother who was born and raised in Brazil,
and a Japanese Father who was born and raised in Japan. So that does make me
Brazilian and Japanese. Yes, I don’t look Brazilian. But I’ll ask you, what is
Brazilian? This territories we call countries, it’s identites are so fragile.
The situation has changed very quickly, but our way of categorization
seems to be lagging, evolution at the end is not a quick process.

And, when different cultures share one space, it is hard to find common ground of knowledge and
I know for a fact that each culture fights to survive, gain the same rights as some
other people in the country. The cultural diversity that we cherish at certain time
creates turmoil, violence, and despair. Now with globalization probably
much more than it used to be. It’s ironic, but such a beautiful thing.
But the reality is, it is very hard to understand every culture or be educated about it.

An aquaintance the other day said to me:
“Oh, I love how you say your name and everything else in an Japanese manner!”
I’m sure she didn’t mean in light of any negative intent, but no honey,
my name is pronounced “Hana” and that is the only name that I have.

But I didn’t want to negotiate, my name is just lost among Hannas and Hannahs.
I should have told her, but I was just too drained to be negotiating.

And should it be each person’s duty to actually notify them about a part of your
culture? How much should we actually negotiate? And for me, I feel as if I should
spend time with people that I actually care about and that’s who I really want
to be understood by, or at least acknowledged by.

It is such a delicate topic, I hope I haven’t offended anyone with this topic.
I apologize if I have, and I hope they come to talk to me if they are.
But what I wanted to just write about was the fragility of looks, countires, and cultures.
There isn’t any more distinct cultures that exist anymore… We really need to
start looking at each people with a bit more open eyes and not assume anything…
Something I should learn to do too.

Rawr.

being lost.

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. … No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others”
・ Martha Graham
Weird roads are taken, questions unanswered.
We accuse ourselves of things that happened
and wished we could relive it. We suffer with it.
We ponder about it. We wonder what if and
feel we are
LOST.
When I’m probably lost until years to come.
Only to realize what I have done really impacts my future.

 

It was a conversation I had with my Mother that made me realize that I just need to keep going.
Please forgive me for my selfishness and restlessness.
Please forgive my passion other than school…

 

Oh, I love my Mom. She’s so great. Everytime she finds something like this or interesting
articles she immediately lets me know. The other day I found a actual letter in my mail box.
Wondering what it was I tore it open and I found a newspaper article in it.
I remembered that we talked about this newspaper article, but never thought she would
send it over like this!

I miss her so much…

Lots of loves,
hana.

my battle.

There are many realizations. Many mistakes.

Many should-a, would-a, could-a. Some too bitter to forget.

Just so much anger.
Just so much frustration.
Just so much fear for the future.

But I won’t let myself give up just yet.

I know

I am a fighter.

No,
I don’t pick fight with others
’cause I’m too busy fighting my own battles
’cause I believe by working at it
light will always shine through
no matter where you are,
who you are,
what you are.

Just for the single hope,
I need to fight for it.

I will fight for it.

 

 

 

 

 

This was what I thought about yesterday, while I was doing my assignment.
I feel we need to accept the situation we placed ourselves sometimes,
and just deal with it. Not avoid it, but fight with it, devour it, and struggle with it.
Do what we can do in that moment… So that there may be a few less things that we regret in life.