it wasnβt until today I realized how ordinary you really were It wasnβt that you were ever that interesting or special It was me with my lovergirl delusional glasses refusing to see past what was in front of me Seeing and getting caught up in fantasies of who you could be when really you were, the most ordinary of men not malicious, not especially intelligent not really helpful just kind of existing without any spark without anything that would make me look twice at you now
Pretty gets me in a man’s door but also makes me feel like a whore I’ve been pretty sexy, pretty nice, pretty sweet I’ve also been pretty crazy, pretty Petty, and pretty mean men love me when I’m pretty and submissive but not when I’m pretty reclusive men want the pretty girl who’s fun but not when I’m a pretty girl who’s a selfish cunt pretty gets me notice but also gets me dismissed
As I’m thinking about this answer, two teachers come to mind. One is my 11th Grade English Mrs.Idica and the other is my college professor of creative writing, Dr.Blais.
Who knows what would have happened to these two if it wasn’t for Mrs.Idica πππ
I took Mrs.Idica’s Asian American Lit and Creative Writing class my junior year of high school. I did really well in my creative writing class but almost flunked the Asian American lit class. I remember not liking her too much at first because she pushed us to do our best and was strict. I think I did well in the creative writing class because I really loved writing poems and little short stories. At the time, I didn’t think it was something I’d ever be passionate about but of course the class did have a great impact on me, here’s a poem I wrote in that class:
Mrs.Idica ended up being my homebound teacher when I was on maternity leave with my first son at the beginning of my senior year.Β That meant that for 6 weeks, she came to my house to give me my school assignments and helped me with them if I needed help. She would stay and talk to me and always encouraged me to drop out of high school and to continue on. This was important for me to hear as there was pressure from people in my family to drop out and work.Β She could have easily just dropped off my work and not have these conversations with me but instead she showed up with the compassion and grace I needed during a really dark time in my life. She also had the patience of the saint as I trudge through my school assignments since I was an terrible student. She never gave up on me or told me my life was ruined because I had a child at such a young age. In fact, she was one of the few people who didn’t shame me and reminded me my child was a gift. The encouragement from her and her belief in me really made a difference in my life. I don’t believe I would have put so much effort that last year in high school and graduated on time. I think what made her not just a great but exceptional teacher was that she was caring, had the patience of a saint, and was this light of compassion and encouragement for me when I needed it. This is a poem I wrote about her:
I also want to say that I’m still in touch with her through social media where I share updates about my life and my writing. Even now, she tells me she’s proud of me and that means a lot to me.
Right after taking Dr.Blais class
Another teacher in my life who was exceptional was my creative writing professor Dr. Blais. Like Mrs.Idica, she pushed us to do our best in the class and provided a safe space for us to express ourselves creatively.I also learned to be super disciplined with my writing in her class and the editing process. She was very patient with us and in her class I wrote 3 plays and both of them won 2nd and 3rd place in the college writing competition which meant a lot to me since it was the first time I was writing plays. She also encouraged me to continue writing and even invited me to one of her playwright workshop groups but I couldn’t go due to family obligations. Also, her class was my favorite escape from my busy mom life that included 2 small kids and 3 part time jobs at the time. It was a crazy time in my life where my mental health was a bit touch and go but going to Dr.Blais class helped me cope. Like, Mrs.Idica,Β Dr.Blais saw potential in me and encouraged me and was incredibly patient in kneading the writer out of me. I think taking her class validated my passion for writing. Especially when the last assignment was making a book which I titled “My Quarter Life Crises” . I felt accomplished in making that little book of my poems and plays. Here’s a link to one of the plays I wrote in her class:
Unfortunately, I lost touch with my Dr.Blais after college and can’t seem to find her anywhere.Β Last I heard is that she’s had success as a playwright in New York.
I think I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have had two educators show up in my life who made a positive impact on effect. It doesn’t always happen that way (thinking about my super condescending English professor at UGA- but that’s another blog post) . It’s hard to imagine who I would have become without both of them.
as long as there is breath left in me I will try try to be a good mom to my kids try to tell my story try to love everyone the best way i can try to find understanding for what happened to me try to find joy in the most ordinary of moments try to dance my way through my most depressive episodes try find my inner peace and calm
youβve change from spring to autumn within moments never knew if I should wear my feelings on my sleeve never knew if I should wear layers of cynicism Iβve made it as simple as possible for you and nothing happens and slowly my hope of love recedes in the background
my exes should all get a participation trophy for dating me, for marrying me, for putting up my madness for becoming muses of my poetry unwillingly, unintentionally for surviving the rollercoaster that is me
I hope this story is buried for a final time and you donβt pop up again and I have to play whack an asshole once again blocking you on yet another platform would the universe be kind enough this time for it to be good riddance forever cause Iβm tired of my past mistakes to constantly come out of nowhere to disturb my present
I wrote this poem in June of 2024. It was inspired by the disappearance of little Latina girl in my area that I didn’t feel was getting enough media attention.
it’s how this story made me feel
I pray for the little brown girl lost in Gainesville the one thatβs my sonβs age the one that looks like my sister at that age the one who has my mamiβs name I pray sheβs found alive I pray that she finds warmth in her parents arms soon I pray more of a big deal is made out of her disappearance and sheβs found quickly because Iβm sure that if this little girl had been a jonbenet look alike more would have been done to find her and bring her back to her family her community thatβs been missing her greatly
Iβm ready for steak dinners and an expensive bottle of chardonnay shared over awkward getting to know you conversations with no expectations to put out Iβll be a completely different woman when Iβm dating again a woman selective about who allows near her a woman who no longer seeks validation and attention from the wrong men
a glass of champagne in my hand as I raise a toast who I used to be a woman mentally ill and needy a woman who gave men easy access to her hips a woman who thought intimacy could only be created and felt in between her sheets we say goodbye to the his woman lovingly as we usher a new era of me a woman who knows her worth and wonβt settle of anything less than she deserves
you could have been my forever muse, my forever thot But like the others before you you donβt know what to do with a woman like me maybe my ingenuity is to blame for this wanting to live in a delusional daydream of love instead of grounding myself in reality and radically accepting love is just a four letter word in my vocabulary that wrecks and ruins my sanity
three years ago, I was dealing with the most chaotic move of my life never thought my new home would see the death of me the princess who moved in and the resurrection of the queen I was about to become
never understood why you took us with you maybe it was to assuage your guilt maybe it was say you really did nice things for me and my brother inviting us to an all day road trip to Tijuana in your air conditioned Blazer silent as mice and on our best behavior to not disturb you, your husband and your son it was all so strange the only thing I can remember was the messiest hamburgers we needed a hundred napkins to eat and the picture with the donkey maybe you were kind and graceful with us at times but all of that has been lost with the trauma you incurred on us Iβve blocked out and 34 years later in my middle age sitting in my hot car in between jobs I still donβt understand why you took us with you
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty even as Iβm suffering, even as Iβm cast aside for someone else even as Iβm crying and dying from grief at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about all of the lovely and terrible things that come with falling in love at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons about life and love Iβve carried into my middle age