The bus ride

For the first time in a while, I can say that I was thoroughly ashamed at the representation of Natives by their actions. This story happened today while riding on the bus, and if I offend anybody, I sincerely apologize. This experience triggered some deep rooted negative emotions I hoped to never feel again.

It all began on an evening bus ride home. Today, I missed the 120 bus home by 20 seconds, so I had to wait 15 minutes for the next one. I wasn’t too upset because I knew waiting would mean a less crowded bus (I would take that over a packed bus and getting home earlier any day).

After my 15 minute wait, the 120 arrived with plenty of seats, all of them being in the back. I perched up all the way in the back row of the bus and slid to the left window. There was an older white man who was sitting in the same row but all the way to the right window. The bus ride across the west Seattle bridge was pretty calm, a few bumps made me pop up off the seat but nothing was noteworthy.

We passed the bridge, hit the second stop, and the hell began.

"WAKE UP EVERYONE!" This 35-40 year old man yelled. I didn’t really look up, something inside of me crawled when he walked on the bus. He was belligerently drunk, and as he maneuvered on the bus, I kept thinking "Please don’t sit back here." He planted himself between myself and the older man. I notice he appears to have a pretty dark tan, and a long ponytail running down his back.

"Man, I didn’t mean to WAKE UP THIS BUS!" He continued to scream in his stupor, "Hey, bitch get over here!"

The drunk man’s male friend who strategically sat within arms reach of his friend, aware of the guys running mouth.

After some more yelling, the female friend who boarded the bus with the two, makes her way between Drunk guy and myself. This was a sign of relief for me but was also worrisome for the older man.

By this point, drunk guy is trying to talk to older guy. Much of the conversation is inaudible for me (I wasn’t paying attention much), until the older guy says, “Man, I’m just trying to change the topic. Can’t you just let it be.”

Drunk guy, swiftly reacts with “what’s wrong with your teeth man? Why are they so fucked up?”

I’m in astonishment at this comment. How could someone be so blatantly rude? His friends were thinking the same thing as they tried getting his attention, and told him to hush down.

The old man replied with “Why the fuck would you ask someone that? I didn’t take care of my teeth, okay. Enjoy your teeth and your health while you can. Take care of yourself.”

While the old man was offering some words of advice, the drunk man turns and smacks the woman who also appeared about 35 and to be Native, to shut her up.

When the drunk guy realizes he had an opportunity to talk, his only comment was, “I’m native man, I have good teeth but I’m gonna die young. I’ll drink till I die like all natives do.”

I’m astonished at this comment, but the words don’t stop, “See this girl,” smacking the Native woman’s arm with the back of his hand again, “she’s native too. She’s my bitch.”

At this point, I begin to grow concerned for safety. Not only for myself, but for this woman. It’s all too common for native women go through abuse.

This situation is happening all to quick for me to react. My emotions are running and they’re mostly triggering memories from childhood. This drunk guy leans over the older man, and begins to yell out the window “HEY ALL YOU PASTIES!!!”

Finally, the drunk guys male friend gets him to simmer down, but not enough for him to not comment, “see that short bitch right there, the things I would do to her…”

I thought he was referring to someone outside, but I had come to realize there were no women out there, he was referring to me.

Finally, as quickly as they arrived, they got off the bus, but not before drunk guy smacked his girlfriend on the side of the head, and she merely laughed it off.

When they got off, I looked around, completely in shock that everyone was acting like nothing had just happened.

I don’t know what bothered me most: the poor portrayal of natives, the possible domestic abuse, the overt racism, the targeting of me sexually on the bus with no regard to me being there or the fact that everyone acted like it was nothing.

Honestly today was a long day as is, but this experience was a reminder that I need to keep up this fight. I’m not sure if there’s much of a moral to this story. I know there may be some details I may have forgotten, but please consider that this was not a pleasant experience for me. Take from this what you will.

Buffalo Knitter out, Peace.

Updates, and upcoming poems

I know my posts have been far and few, but it’s been for good reason. I moved across the country to Seattle for a year.

Today, I broke my writing hiatus to begin a writing project I’ve been hoping to work on for about 2 years now. I knew that mentally, I would have to be in the right place and have the right support system. I knew that this would dig into places I didn’t want to recollect. The places I’ve hidden dark into my head, into my heart, into my being. I’m only 500 words into this project, this potential 3,000 word project and I find myself hardly able to go on. 

I have begun this, I’ve opened pandora’s box, and I can’t stop. Now I know that this seems far different from how my blog started, but this is a part of me too. 

Dropping a throwback poem today

Deep into night, In a monologue to himself, He asked me, after I had fallen into slumber, “why don’t you love me?”

it’s not that I don’t love you.

But that question, it doesn’t have one mere answer Because it is a storm. You are the sun, and I am the rain. we always are competing for the same goal. The goal to be the one that provides, that nourishes others. We compete and compete to give and give, but rarely do either of us take. We push each other to our limits, but fluster when the other doesn’t step aside.

In those fleeting moments, yes we do work together, and it’s beautiful, and it’s a rainbow, but it’s growing far and few.

I need the thunder. Not the sun. I need someone who can create a storm with me, build a hurricane together. My presence should not be masked by light, but announced with the clash.

This constant battle, it’s exhausting, and either I will run dry or you will burn out.

Dingy motels

Sitting in silence I would rather be here trapped, Jailed in the prison of my thoughts, Than know that my life could be in your hands.

I know that you are apologetic, I know that you fear, The power, The strength, you gave me by leaving me in this solitude here.

The silence of my mouth: It does not represent passivity. It only means that my thoughts are not emulated through noise, They are potent in written words.

I used to find sleep at a loss,

while my belief safety was nowhere, and my heart ached.

Now, rest is in abundance, I’ve heard that you still pace the floors. I can remember the brushing of your feet against the tile.

The smell of cigarettes, they haunt me, reminding me

Grounding me back to where I have come from: of the bar side lies, and the hushed sighs.

I can still visualize your distant gaze, never present, ever glazed.

And you ask the same questions rarely absorbing the answers because all I am is white noise.

I remain. And wonder had happened. And wonder what will happen.

Because I know I cannot trust you yet.

                I cannot.

How does this stuff happen to me?

Well, this may be one of the most awkward experiences that have ever occurred in my life. Now this isn’t something that had happened recently, but in conversation today this story had come up. After, I had told this story to my friend, and he was thoroughly dying, he said this was definitely worthy to post. Previously, when I had made this blog, I had decided that this was not going to be censored, that I would not limit what I posted. Now, over the past few weeks, I have found that I had been holding more and more back, but this is totally going against what this blog was made for: AWKWARD, STRANGE, MESSED UP HAPPENINGS IN MY LIFE.

For the sake of everybody involved, names are definitely changed. I apologize preemptively to all of you, but this is totally blog worthy.

Back quite a few months ago, this one guy I had been seeing, (who we will call “Fearow,”), his roommate ( who I shall call “Lickitung” ) and I were just hanging out. We were all talking, watching tv, having a good old dandy night, but it was growing late (around 1:30 am). We were used to staying up until 3 in the morning, but this night Lickitung decided to head to bed a little earlier than normal. Lickitung left Fearow’s room and went to his own.

Fearow and I decided to head to bed as well. We both got some sleeping clothes on, turned off the light, and head to bed. We were both lying down, cozy under the covers, and both began to get a little frisky. Clothes, at least what little of them were on, began to come off, and suddenly we heard a sound.

The walls in this apartment seemed to be paper thin, and that’s when we both realized it was the room to Lickitung’s door. Immediately, we both froze and were nearly holding our breath. We heard some foot movement, heard the door close again and thought we were in the clear. After a few moments, our previous actions had resumed. Things started to get hot and heavy, but then we heard some shuffling and Lickitung’s door had opened once again.

Footsteps approached Fearow’s room. I turned over, pulled the blanket as far over myself as I could tucking myself in tight, and Fearow knew the cue to pretend he was sleeping. Lickitung came into the room and asked  with a slight giggle, “Hey guys, are you sleeping?”

I had replied, “Yeah, I had just started to doze off, whats up?”

He giggled a little more and scampered over the bed. I was thinking to myself don’t sit down, please. Don’t touch me, don’t come near, I don’t want this to be any more awkward than it was. Fearow had turned toward me, which meant his back was more toward Koffing.

Lickitung was standing right next to the bed when he said, “I’m cheezing right now.” (This meant that he had partaken of a special herb and was flying higher than a kite.)

Upon saying this he laid down on both Fearow and myself, and proceeded to try tickling us. I’m super ticklish myself so this had me laughing pretty hard. I had a death grip on that blanket, and I could feel how tense Fearow was, especially since he was also a little… excited.

Lickitung trying to up the ante, began to try reaching under the blanket to tickle me worse. I suck in my abs, and curl up into the fetal position. This made the already strange situation even more strange.

 Just imagine, you’re in bed with a significant other, about to get it on. Moments before this is about to happen, his roommate barges in, under the influence as well. The roommate lies on top of both of you. You both are naked, under a blanket. YOUR ONLY PROTECTION IS A BLANKET. ONE. LAYER. OF. BLANKET.

We are both at the point of incredible awkwardness. In my best whiney voice that I can summon from the inner valley girl that every female has, I say “Duuuuuude, I’m soooooo tired. STAAAAAAAHHHHHPPPPP.”

At this point, Lickitung stops, and begins to cuddle us. HE IS CUDDLING BOTH OF US. I’m still petrified, holding onto that blanket for dear life. Time. Seems. To. Stop. Not in a cute way either. About 2 minutes later, Lickitung says “well, goodnight guys,” and heads to bed.

Once Koffing’s door closes, Fearow and I begin to uneasily giggle. Given the circumstances, any urges that we previously should have dissipated in that unworldly awkward encounter. Somehow, by some miracle, this strange encounter was not a cock block…

The next morning, I ran into Lickitung in class, and he had apologized repeatedly about the previous night. I was under the impression that he had known about the nakedness and whatnot, until he mentioned, “Yeah it was really awkward, I was really high and you two were just trying to sleep.” … Well, not exactly.

What the hell, Wednesday…

Buffalo Knitter out, Peace…