Backburner

He comes home for lunch at 11:05, shoulders stooped from the weight of Language Arts and Algebra I. Last night's pizza is pulled from the oven and set on the table.

“When are you going to buy milk?” he asks, instead of saying thank you.

This is how he lets me know he needs something. Not, we're out of milk or I drank the last of it this morning, but when. When will I replace the milk I didn't know was out, the shoes I didn't know were outgrown. When will he get his license, a car, a haircut.

Why We Need To Talk About Cameron Crowe's 'Aloha'

On the surface, the hullabaloo about Emma Stone's casting as hapa wahine Allison Ng in Cameron Crowe's Aloha might seem pretty ridiculous. It's only one movie, right? A fun summer love triangle rom-com set in a beautiful location and it's all just Hollywood fantasy anyway. Nobody actually thinks movies are real life, etc etc, so why is everybody so flipping angry? See also: don't we have more important things to worry about?

Today Is Another Flaming Pile Of Shit (And That's Okay)

Yesterday was a tough, busy day filled with all sorts of exciting and not-so-exciting things and I was feeling it keenly. By the time Ian got home from work I was nearly incoherent with exhaustion so he sent me to rest while he made noodles to go with the experimental dinner I threw together. (Verdict: I'll make it again.)

...And Who The Heck is John?

I'm starting to nose my way out of it now, but for the past couple of weeks I have been fighting a tight little depression spiral. I have been wanting so desperately to withdraw from everything, finding an awful solace in that soothingly ugly isolationist voice my mental illness uses when I'm feeling overwhelmed. And boy, has it been overwhelming here. Not only has it been overwhelmingly busy lately, but (as it sometimes happens) the busy lined up perfectly with my overwhelming hormonal cycle. Which, yay*! The fricking worst!

My Indigenous Identity

Ian's brow furrowed as he struggled to understand what I was trying to convey. But he wasn't understanding, and when he reiterated that he didn't consider Texas to be his homeland in the same way that I considered Hawai'i to be mine, I kind of lost it.

"I'm not from Hawai'i the same way that you are from Texas," I said forcefully. And then, in a less yelly voice: "How did your family end up in Texas?"

He started to tell me about his father's move from North Dakota; the uncertainty of his mother's family. I stopped him.

"I don't think you're really understanding what it means that I am actually Native."

Not that I blamed him.

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