Young folks

When I take the bus home there is the inevitable terror at SE 29th and Division. This terror is middle school kids. They are awkward, loud, and mischievous. Lucky for me I only have to deal with this for about 2 stops. Trying to get off the bus consists of pushing through pre-teens who don't know how to live in society.

All of them are either over confident or uncomfortable in their skin. I see the milieu of typical characters: fat boys being tough, tall girls trying to be small, and nerdy kids trying to stand out. It makes me chuckle as an adult to see these kids, who are so young. It also reminds me that when I was their age, how I thought I was grown and smart. Obviously, I was wrong and so are they.

Once I am off the bus I have a short walk, which also bypasses more hellions. I see some strange white boy beating on trees. The next day on the same route he is pushing an abandoned couch on his skateboard with only one shoe on his foot. He stops about 15 paces from me to catch a breath. He then carries on as if pushing a shaggy abandoned couch is his mission for the day. Strange kid.

Another day when I'm coming home from work and feeling old and jaded I see a heartwarming scene. Two tweens, one tall and one small having a discreet little kiss. The boy, who is very much shorter, plays it cool and walks without embarrassment in the opposite direction. His face is blank, and he is wearing jean shorts on a cold day. Meanwhile, his beau is rushing away. Her much lankier legs propelling her down the road. She turns back to see if he is doing the same. Unlucky for her notion of romance he is not. Luckily, she's got a phone in hand and begins texting, likely bragging to her friends, "OMG! Brad and I kissed!!!" Or something like that. Or maybe she just texted him, saying, "I miss you already." I'll never know, kids are weird. 

Race based compound interest

"In addition, there is a psychological defense called projection –  when one accuses someone of having traits they refuse to acknowledge in themselves –  that also explains some of the reason white people fear the violence of Black people. Instead of acknowledging the past and present forms of violence Black people have suffered at the hands of whites, it is projected on the victims themselves"
http://stuffwhitepeopledo.blogspot.com/2010/07/fear-black-men-oscar-grant-open-thread.html

White people eradicated the Native Americans and violently and psychologically oppressed those from Africa for generations. Now those whose grandfathers were accomplices to abuse and murder want to act like their actions were justified.

I sit here as a descendant of people who migrated to the west. I know that the Oregon trail was a disaster for Natives. I have to reconcile my birth with the fact that so many were massacred and displaced just because a country said the land in Oregon was available for settlement. The whole of America has this problem, some places have the additional factor of slavery. Either way, I don't think we can say that the development of America has ever been fair to those who were not white. It was not until the 1980s that Native Americans got to open up casinos and start earning money on the desolate land that treaties quarantined them to.

But guess what? The descendants of slaves never got that same opportunity. Imagine, as a white person, that your family was uncontrollably sent to another land. In that land you were owned. After 150 years and multiple generations were divided, abused, and overworked, you were free. But wait, not really. Free in name only. We as whites hear of ancestors coming to America and getting a shot at a homestead or a plot of land, for minimal money. THAT NEVER HAPPENED for the descendants of slaves.

Irish people and their ancestors love to talk of the hardship they endured. The English effed 'em and when they came to America they were also discriminated against. Its such a popular story; the downtrodden Irish. Well, sorry, its all bullshit compared to those who came from Africa. The Irish flourished in America because they were considered white.

The secret sauce of America is the fact that the majority of whites are of German descent. Funny enough, the hatred of Germans was of equal levels to the current outrage against Mexican immigrants. There were petitions to stop the use of German due to fear that the language of the Huns might one day takeover English. This was of such extent, that today, many Germans have Anglicized last names in America. Muller became Miller, Fischer became Fisher, Weber became Webber, and so on.

So there it is. White people assimilated and benefited. People who just so happened to be born black, and had ancestors who were sold into slavery, were marginalized and received none of the benefits that white people did. Imagine the difference between a person who is hardworking who is given land and another who is hardworking but is legally prohibited from buying land. This is what it boils down to. The actions of your ancestors receiving benefits from the government of the United States gave a huge leg up, basically compound interest doled out over generations. The descendants of slaves never got that.

I will reflect on my own life. My mother and father were poor and came from dysfunctional families. Yet, they were white. They had no discrimination against them pursuing college. Although they were the first in their families to try. My dad served in the military, he went to Vietnam and helped guard the DMZ in Korea. I constantly think about if they were not given access to certain benefits how my life would be different.

Lucky for me they were white, although poor. They had generations of ancestors who had tried to farm the land, which they got for free. Unfortunately, terrible parents seem to just skip a couple generations. All the hard work of their ancestors had been eliminated by their direct parents. Shit happens, right? Lucky enough for them they could take advantage of the dividends of prior generations and the goodwill of having the right skin tone.

Today I benefit tremendously from the fact that both of my parents made it through college. Their hardwork, as well as opportunities given to them, had a huge benefit to me. I think sometimes about how different it would be if they had never achieved beyond what they were born into. I am thankful everyday that they struggled and worked to give me a better starting point.

TL;DR: Shit a'int fair. There are many historical tales told by whites to make themselves feel good. The descendants of slaves didn't get the same opportunities, and if you multiply that fact by generations there is a very large deficit. We took their labor and then spit on those from Africa. Honestly, reparations make sense. Its not a handout, its just a throwback to lost opportunity. Oh, and my parents are amazing and I'm grateful. However, all people in America should have the ability to benefit.
#tiredofcrap #history #convicttherealcriminal #nomore #AllAmericansMatter  #compoundinterest #discrepency 

I Purkbot

If I could describe my outlook and general style of living life it would be curious. I started out as a kid who said "No!" This was my instinct. My parents would recount many times when they attempted to introduce new things, places, food, and so on. The result would always be "No!" I laugh now because I consider myself to be open minded. I have an undying thirst for facts and knowledge. My friends always joke about my "fun facts." The truth is that the thing I find most interesting in the world is undeniable statements. I get tickled when I read articles about new studies presenting facts that will change the course of humanity and history; or in my mind, dramatically presented as: "This will change mankind FOREVER!!!"

I really can't say why facts attract me. Maybe its the short shelf life? Facts are comforting because they allow a degree of certainty in an almost certainly un-certain world. Facts allow just enough certainty with the option of changing. There it is! The options!

If there is one thing that approaches my zest for curiosity, it is options. Bereft of choice, I begrudgingly choose that which I'm most curious about. The interplay between the two motivators is undeniable. The worst scenario I can have is to have only 2 choices, both of which I am not curious about. To me, maximizing the best of the available options gives me satisfaction. I know many of my friends tell me that too many options just adds stress to their lives. Personally, I say bring it on. 

So I know at the top I made a bold statement. Guess what? I have options. I was preemptively committing to a stance. This is a perfect segue to another trait of mine, playing the devil's advocate and engaging in smoke and mirrors. 

I personally believe that all people should have a shred of themselves that they reserve unto themselves. What I mean is that the whole notion of revealing one's soul completely is silly. In this world we ultimately wake to ourselves, sense ourselves, and pass on to the next realm by ourselves. There should always be a part of yourself which is only for yourself. 

Am I making myself clear? 

Most sacred to my thinking is the ideal that one cannot change anything outside of their own self. Ultimately, the only thing we have control over is our own self. The notion that we can change others or even help them is a bit far fetched. The only thing one can do is provide an example or offer support. When you do what others must learn, you just delay the inevitable; possibly, with greater consequences.

What was, and what was before: Part 1

It's been awhile... That is the short version of many stories to come. The last time I updated I was in the Midwest, and had been previously gallivanting round the Ilha Formosa. Now I'm back in my native land, the often gloomy Pacific Northwest. All I can say is that this blog will be taking an expanded role. It is no longer limited, but instead is the platform for Purk's ongoing perceptions.

In the intervening years between my journeys to Asia and meandering to the Midwest, I had many events and ups and downs. For the majority of the existence of this blog I was in a relationship with my soon to be ex-wife. I would consider these early years of our relationship some of the highs, but also previews of what would become the lows.

This is the first part of the story of my recent relationship. This is not meant to be a critique or an overtly positive recounting. This is just how my mind remembers things. Mostly, this is my experience and view, things that are beautiful and things that are not. I'm not going to write about the nitty or the gritty, but more about the mood and the feeling. I also think that some of these things that have happened to me are just life and know that others have similar experiences. I just hope by putting them to paper it creates an opportunity to relate.

And so it begins:

We originally set out to bridge the distance, I lived in Portland, she in Chicago. Ironically, bridging the distance involved both of us moving across the Pacific to a small-ish, diplomatically isolated, "renegade" province of China. Known as the Republic of China - officially, and Taiwan - unofficially; the country is a mountainous isle in a semi-tropical location in Asia. The majority of the population can generally be called Chinese. Yet, this does a disservice to the actual realities of the island. The island and is people and history are complex and important but are not essential to this entry.

My ex and I had met previously, back in college. She arrived for a conference and was the friend of my best friend's now wife. We got along, were attracted, and shared a moment. Fast forward a couple years later, and our friends are now getting married. I'd done the Facebook friend thing, keeping in contact occasionally but dismissing the possibility of anything serious due to the distance. She was someone alluring but not available.

Enter the wedding. I've known my best friend nearly my whole life. We went to grade, middle, and high school, and even a bit of college together. We've been co-workers and also best men. My friend's wedding was to be in the Chicago area, which meant I would see the one that had previously been an impossibility. I traveled with my friends, and for the most part we treated the time like a field trip, exploring the city of Chicago, going to the sites and various bars, walking next to the frozen Lake Michigan.

When I saw her again, I was confused. I was in her territory, a large city about which I knew nothing about in the dead of winter. We broke away from our friends and had time to reconnect. It was during this time that I decided to give the improbable a chance; I dove in and tried to seize love. The trip became a blur, the time flew. The experience of fresh love enlivened everything. We became paired up during the short stay. We went to parties in mixed crowds of my friends and hers. It all seemed so memorable and unique.

After having these fun times, something started to take over. It was a feeling of curiosity. I had always written off any possibility of a relationship due to numerous factors, distance and relative unfamiliarity being the predominant ones. Yet, I was feeling risky. All my brain said was "Take a Chance." I tried to ignore this as much as possible, but it remained.

The wedding came, it was amazing, the night was spent dancing and in sweet joy. We got together once again. At first, awkwardly putting on a front of disinterest. On my part, knowing that the clock was ticking and my time was running out before I would return home on the West coast. She knowing the same. But the energy was too much. We spent the rest of the night together and inseparable.

Later, in the wee hours of the morning, surrounded by the entire wedding and in the dark, we made a promise to one another. We would teach English in Taiwan together, that way we wouldn't have to move to the other's city. In this way we didn't have to compromise, we both got to do something we wanted, and do it together. It seemed to be the perfect solution to the unfamiliarity and the distance problem. I felt like there was something between us and wanted to see it through, even if that meant trying in a distant land.

Later days:

Hell, I even did the counseling thing, but oddly enough it was directed the wrong way. The counselor was asking why I didn't want to proceed with a wedding after my fiancee peaced out and came back a week later begging for me back. I was the issue to be dissected, but what really strikes me is that he never asked a single question why she had broken things off. It was like a tag team and me under a lamp being asked why I didn't want to get married after a very public and embarrassing break up that was 6 months before the wedding. Even worse, the things that had broken us apart: future of kids, location to live, and how you want to live your lives, were all easily swept aside with a simple, "I thought long and hard for one week and now I want to have all of those things with you because you are the best." Needless to say, the counseling was more directed at my doubts that we should be married.

So we got back together, lived in like 7 months of bliss, and then everything went right back to the original things that had pulled us apart. This all made me feel like she had been more interested in the production and saving of face rather than me. She has her thoughts, and they will never be clear to me, but that is that. We are divorced and my life is on a new track.