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hattalom · 1 year

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Do I feel love?

I don’t know if I do. I feel angry and disappointed, it’s mostly my ego. My ego is hurt, feeling like I couldn’t be the one that he chose. But why do I want to be chosen by him? To be chosen by someone who never saw you as a choice. Why do I still find myself wanting to cater to this feeling of validation from someone that didn’t even respect me enough treat me with intention.

But is he now? Maybe. But I still I find myself feeling not confident. Feeling the moments that he made me question who I was and why. And I hate that. That is not my fault, but that is.

I do pray for someone that is interested in me. Wanting to know who I am. Someone who I never have to question who I was to them. Being around them, I know who I am to him.

What do I feel for myself. Do I feel strong and safe and loved?

My spirit was hurt deeply by him. And I am still exploring how to heal the deepest parts of myself. To heal the parts that I find wavering and scared and not feel loved.

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hattalom · 2 years

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I hear my country in your voice

Or more like my island

Once, in class, I saw you draw a latte stone. I commented on it and saw your eyes light up. Sometimes we never expect to see ourselves in public. But we connected and ended up meeting in Guam a few months later.

I heard my island in your voice

And I ran to it as fast as possible. It has been a long time since I last swam in the ocean, so I dove right into your waters.

I heard my island in your voice

And tasted it too. You once made me beef tinaktak when we got back to the states. It was beefy and milky and green beanie, and I loved it, reminding me of my grandma. My stomach didn’t like it though, as I was a vegetarian at the time. But I didn’t mentioned it because you wanted to bring the island to us for a moment. And I missed the taste of the land.

I heard my island in your voice

You always brought the island with you. You were a weaver and shared your knowledge of the land, letting me touch and caress and move leaves around to make baskets and fans and items only found at home. I still have many of them, tucked away in Tupperwares, cared for, or even hidden. Maybe they knew what was to come.

I heard my island in your voice

And I know you heard the island in mine. To be two CHamorus navigating guiaya (love) in a land not our own. We became reflections of a place that felt multiplied when we were around each other, islands magnified, seen, held.

I continued to hear my island in your voice

Even when you stopped hearing it in mine. I saw you searching for more land, like ancient navigators, hoping for more. I saw you reach for other islands, islands bigger than me, stronger in some ways, islands that can hold you in ways that I never could.

I continued to hear my island in your voice

As I began to forget the island in mine. And I know this made you want to search more. Like a storm passing through, I felt barren, naked, until you said that you were leaving. There was another island that felt more like home, another voice that wrapped you like warm ocean breezes. So I saw you leave the island in me, saw you sail into the horizon, and didn’t turn back. Even after you left,

I continued to hear my island in your voice

In the spaces that we grew, in the dreams that we dreamt, in the community that we cared for. I continued to hear my island, see it all around me. But I couldn’t see you. Your sails were long gone, and I was left with remnants of a time. Every so often, I find pieces of the past as I walk along my shores, hoping to maybe see you in the horizon. But I know you aren’t coming back.

Sometimes I still hear my island in your voice now

When you sometimes come and visit. But keep your distance, staying outside in the reef. It makes sense though. Sometimes familiar places don’t allow us to grow. You wanted your roots to extend and grow as far as they could. But sometimes I felt like a pot of soil around you, unable to sustain even myself.

I still hear can hear your voice when I think of the islands. And I feel mahalang every time. But that is not yours to hold. I am happy that you are finding your voice, and found other islands to call home. I know that is something that you want and hope for. In this vast ocean, it is healing to know that we aren’t alone.

Now that you are gone, I want to hear the island in my voice now.

To remember where I come from. To remember the trees and the birds, and the way the worlds sounds from underneath the water. I want to remember the songs of the land, of aunties laughing, of the somber silence of a warm jungle evening….

Everyday I am beginning to hear the islands in my voice again more and more. To remember the power of the land, the kanna of the ancestors buried deep within her soil, the dreams of a future for those that come after. I hope to remember the language of coconut trees and coral reefs, of words that reflect salty ocean winds and plant medicine, to speak in genealogy and gratitude….thank you to the islands that have always been within me. I know you have always been there. Hu guiaya hao.

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hattalom · 2 years

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I hear my island in your voice…

Of lazy days swimming at beaches, of bbqs and music and the smell of wood smoke wafting in the air

Of cool rainy evenings after a hot sweaty day

Of rides to grandmas house in the back of pick up trucks

I hear my island in your voice.

Of laughter and giggles of cousins playin tag

Of stern words after cutting my dads favorite flower

Of the piano and children singing Christmas songs at hotel lobbies

I hear my island in your voice

Of the morning sounds like spam cans being opened

Or a rooster crowing

Or dogs barking as the buss passes on by

I hear it all, in your voice.

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hattalom · 2 years

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Eating ice cream at a McDonalds

Today I asked my mom to borrow her credit card. I wanted to rent a uhaul to start moving my stuff. I picked her up at Lams Seafood but I could tell she wasn’t happy. She was a bit distant and short, and could tell that she didn’t like what I asked. Once in the car, she told me that I hadn’t paid her yet for the car or the credit card I borrowed in April. I told her that this month has been hard, that I only had enough for rent (which was a lie) and bills (which is true). I was going to get paid later in the month and was going to pay her what I owed her, but she needed to remind me that I was late. That she didn’t make a lot, that her savings was going down, that I was almost 40…

She always brings up my age, that I am supposed to be at a certain point in my life, that I was suppose to be giving her money, caring her her since dad is gone. I told her that I wasn’t her husband, that it wasn’t my job to be this family’s financial solution. That I am just trying to care for myself, but sometimes I stumble. All I look for in these situations is just some grace. Some compassion. But to her, I am selfish for asking. Knowing her situation. Yet, she knows very little of mine. Doesn’t seem to care…to I told her that I didn’t need her card anymore. In the rain, I told her I was okay, and that I had stuff to do. She wanted to talk, but I don’t think I wanted to hear what she said. I told her she was right, that I shouldn’t be asking these things. I didn’t want to be reminded of how much of a disappointment I was to her. So I left and scooted to the uhaul in the rain. Glasses foggy, I skidding by roads and cars, thinking about that situation. Of how I wished for an understanding mother. A caring parent. But I know her story. And I know she can’t be those things.

I also thought about how poverty has influenced the way I navigate through life, how being resourceful is an outcome of not being to buy anything, so you made use of what’s around you. How my home care is a reflection of how I wish I could take you to fancy places. Like a sweet bath. Or a lovely dinner. It’s my way of giving. But deep down, I wish I could offer you more. Like a vacation. Or eating at a fancy restaurant. I know I have limitations, but try to not let them define me. However with my mom, it seems that is all I am to her.

Right now, I am at McDonald’s, and can’t help but think of her. This was her first job on Guam, and I am eating ice cream and having coffee. Well, more like mixing them together. A poor persons affogato if you will. She has worked service jobs her entire life. From restaurants to grocery stores to retail spaces - her work is her body. So I know why she hoped alot for me because I went to college. Like many immigrant parents, we become a way to overcome their limitations. But when we don’t follow their dreams, we are their disappointment. And that is where I find myself struggle. Struggle to love myself. Struggle to give myself grace. Struggle to believe that I deserve love, when I am financially struggling. I know she is operating on survival, and I am too. I just hope that I am we will get to a point where we will be able to thrive. Just one day at a time.

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hattalom · 2 years

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I feel like something was stolen from me, taken and hidden from sight. I feel like my spirit was buried, smothered and burdened by fear and worry, with anger and hurt.

I feel like my joy was taken from me. I don’t know when exactly. Maybe it was in NZ. Maybe in Guahan. Maybe here in my home. All I know is, that something was taken from me and I want it back.

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hattalom · 2 years

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Why does my inside scream when I see him? Yell and thrash and his enters my consciousness? Why do I find visceral anger when I see him doing things? Living life? Connecting with others? Why don’t I want the best for him? Why do I feel so angered when he does things that remind me of things? Why am I still so angry? Why am I still holding so much grief with this one? Why does it hurt to see him? To know that he will be in community? Why don’t I want to make space for him in my life anymore? Why do I feel anger at making space for him? Why don’t I feel compassion for this person that I once loved? Why don’t I like go of the hurt and worry, and just be present? Why can’t I shift my perspective with this one? Why can’t I imagine something new for me? Why can’t I hope for renewal and rebirth after all that has happened? Why do I feel stagnant? Why do I feel stale? Why do I hold onto trauma? Why do I feel like he will hurt me again? Why do I feel like I can’t protect myself? Why do I feel like I have to protect myself? Why don’t I find peace when I am around him? Why do I still miss him? Why am I angry at missing him? Why do I think I miss him? Why do I feel foolish? Why do i feel horny? Why do I feel hurt?

Because I do.

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hattalom · 2 years

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Today

Today I smoked weed

Drank coffee

Ate tamales and japchae

Drank more coffee and

Smoked more weed

Drank tea and ate some tune

Also made some corn tortillas with honey

Also a smoothie of blueberries and mangoes.

I need to have a better relationship with food.

I don’t feel healthy. I am not even hungry. My mouth is just lonely. Next time I want to eat something I can take a breath first. I need to lost some weight this week.

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hattalom · 2 years

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My spirit is tired.

Unsure of how to fly again. They feel heavy, burdened, fearful.

My spirit feels heavy.

Unsure of how to let go. I pulled a card today, that said I need to leave what is not serving me. That I have to keep following my physical and spiritual goals. Until it leads to death. To transformation.

My spirit feels fearful, her spark faded, hidden, from heartache and hurt. Mistrust built up like barnacles on a ship, making it difficult to swim as time goes on.

My spirit misses her spark, her openness to see optimism in everything, even herself.

Maybe I need some holy water to cleanse, to dissolve. Maybe the ocean can pull away what is slowly drowning me.

My spirit feels angry, wrapped up in a blanket of rage that suffocates and binds. Sometimes I just want to yell and then disappear. To be heard, and maybe even understood.

My spirit feels used, unappreciated, unsure of intention. With some, the walls come down. But my heartaches remind me to be cautious.

My spirit feels tired, and I want to take a nap right now.

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hattalom · 2 years

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I thought about these questions, about where I am now versus where I was before I met person - and think about all the sadness and grief that has happened since then,

Leaving jobs and places of home

Being layed off shortly after

Father passing away

Challenging relationship and breakup

Family dynamics and distance

Financial insecurity

…

Not to say that I am not grateful for all that I have, I think I just had to tell that to myself, to know that it’s okay to reflect on your life and the things that we carry now. I carry more sadness and grief now behave of life events. Before, there was a lightness, an excitement to share life and experiences. Now, I feel like I center unprocessed sadness and grief more in my conversations, versus curiosity and openness, joy and passion.

I think I am trying to find home again. I feel so lost, unsure of the place that i am. It has been a while since I have felt rested, felt safe in my space. Even by myself, I don’t feel like I am enough. Lots of things enter my mind, things I have put off, procrastinate against, smoke into oblivion. It did at one time, with Roquin, when I first moved in. But it was violated by someone I cared about, which feels hard to let go.

I want to find home again. To be able to feel curious about my life. Even here in LB, I find myself going back to familiar spots. But I want to explore outside my comfort zone again. And today will be a first day. 😀

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hattalom · 2 years

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Dream / 2/25/2022

I had a dream I was at my Nina’s house. It was bright, lots of sunlight, and we were collecting gifts to put in her car. I think there was a specific amount, that we had to find, like a scavenger hunt. Small trinkets here and there, hidden around the house.

I remember going outside, into the backyard and saw some straw grass huts around the lawn. There was one in particular, in the way corner by the cliff, that was long, but small, but builds really well, with something wrapped up inside. There was another, to the right, along the invisible property line of the neighbor, of more organic in construction, which made me think of it had to do with burials, like a symbolic reminder of someone’s passing.

I remember going outside, and there was someone there, maybe medlodie? She was talking about her grandparents, and how they were tough and made waves in their community, so she had to excel as well. When she said this, I imagined tools and sculptures that she was making, that had to be as good as her grandparents.

As she was talking, a little girl on a bicycle road up to the house and went to the side, chanting in a pacific language. She represented the next generation, that knowledge was being passed on.

I also remember looking at the plants and trees my Nina had. Behind me there were these types of plant garlands, made of not just flowers, but they were sculptural, yellow and green in color. They reminded me of lemons and limes, but made of different materials. I remember they were moist because they were outside, but they seem to be very sturdy, and could last outside.

This is what I remember from that dream. I remember telling my mom that I was unsure at staying at her house, because I was afraid of ghosts. But in my dream, her house felt open, bright, with the energy, even though it felt like she was moving. Maybe that’s why she wanted us to find her gifts, to pack it in her car so she can have things with her on her new journey.

I remember that house very well. It was literally where I spent my childhood, growing up there, running around the yard, walking through baseball fields to get pickled items, waiting for the bathroom and seeing that sign (about nobody, somebody, and everybody), thinking about all the get togethers, the slide and slide, family parties….

I think about the children that went through that space, maybe that is why there was a little girl there, riding her bike. It was a place where my childhood was spent, and I feel grateful to have spent my time there. The green prickly grass, the concrete garage that protects you when it rains, the dogs and cats you couldn’t let, the flowers - my Nina loved roses and orchids. I remember the last time I was there, she had a log with beautiful orchids growing out of it. It was like a sculpture, and reminded me of my dad, about the things he would grow too in his garden. Maybe I could make that one day, a place where orchids grow. That sounds like a lovely title -

A place where orchids grows.

Or where flowers blooms

Where we once laughed…

Thinking about titles and stories for my film. Maybe it’s just a recollection of memories of the island. Of the beach. Of a place that held lots of memories, laughter, and connection. 🌅🌅

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hattalom · 2 years

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Sound bath - literal

Thinking about the film in Guahan, on themes that I would be exploring. Lots of grief and emotion is coming up, anger and confusion, resentment and reflection. Kota wants us to think about our healing, but healing takes time, it takes care and compassion, grace and reflection. it feels like I need to heal my family trauma in a couple of months, which I am having some resistance too. What is really the purpose of this? To fulfill this project? When you are talking with artists about their trauma and healing, to have them contextualize their emotions for production, I find myself a bit at an impasse. I want to do this for myself, and my healing is not as linear as maybe they would like.

I just want to be in the water, to swim and just be present. I also find myself not wanting to share my family story so openly, it’s something for myself to hold, it’s not ready to be seen so openly.

I want mystery in my story, bits and pieces of memory that come in and out as I swim, as I release, as I be. I want to see it more as a meditation, as a want for myself to find grounding in a place that I feel both connected and disconnected at the same time. To feel the ground on my feet, to feel the salt water crystallize on my skin.

I don’t want the film to be about my father, about my relationship with him. I want it to encompass something more, to think about my relations to the land and the water, our first parents, father and mother.

They say that the land is the domain of women, while the water is the domain of men. As a queer person, who feels in the middle, the beach feels symbolic in a way, a place where I feel whole, feel like I can be those parts of myself, masculine and feminine.

Maybe swimming is a way to connect to the masculine, to my father, to those who the ocean has claimed / countless lives lost, or maybe lives finding their home again. Like Andrew.

The beach feels like a place of meditation for me, a place where I can let my kind wander, a place of safety. But how to encapsulate that in film?

Swimming

Playing with sand

Cleansing

Walking along reef and coastline

Maybe fishing in regalia

What does a fisher person wear? What do they hold with them as they walk along the edge of an immense sea?

A talaya

Baskets for hold fish

How can I talk about this place of safety in a film?

Is grieving a part of this?

Embodying both a masculine and feminine role? How do I move between worlds?

Tagachang Beach seems to be the place that I am called too. It’s the only land that I find connecting right now, a place where one could see sakmans and proas glide. Maybe that is a part of it, making paper boats to remember those connections to the open sea.

Or making structures on land, rituals and ceremonies to honor the journeys of people who will set out into the known.

Making regalia from what is there. Machom. To Become closed; become impassable; become covered with vines, trees, bushes, ect.; stopped up. Or to be an effeminate male, unaggressive. Does that mean that there is something that is covered within? Has my kanna been closed? What is the relationship between the two?

Do I cover myself in vines, found at the beach? Do I walk along the waters, covered in land, searching for fish and sustenance? Do I shift between masculine and feminine roles, while at this place?

How has the beach been healing for me. What is it that I am drawn towards in the place. What are the masculine and feminine roles that I have embodied in my life?

Singing. Building. Dancing. Weaving. Carving. Cleaning. Caring. Cooking. How do I embody the energy of this place?

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hattalom · 2 years

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Was just at the opening of the Hawai’i Triennial, celebrating the Pacific Sisters, among other artists. Photographed by Pati Tyrell, each photo represented the spirit of each sisters, using recycled and natural materials to tell their story. It was so lovely, so loving, and makes me want to get my act together so I can have more clarity in my spirit and voice. Thank you ancestors for sharing this moment. I hope to honor the sister in me someday.

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hattalom · 2 years

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Was just at the opening of the Hawai’i Triennial, celebrating the Pacific Sisters, among other artists. Photographed by Pati Tyrell, each photo represented the spirit of each sisters, using recycled and natural materials to tell their story. It was so lovely, so loving, and makes me want to get my act together so I can have more clarity in my spirit and voice. Thank you ancestors for sharing this moment. I hope to honor the sister in me someday.

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hattalom · 2 years

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I find myself afraid to exchange energy, to open myself up and deepen a connection. I feel closer up sometimes, defensive, unable to really feel myself and the connection and energy in the other end. Maybe I am still deeply sad, or that I feel like I am not worthy. Or maybe seeing these dark circles under my eyes makes me feel hopeless. But I want to change that. To change my life. To make choices that uplift me, that choose me.

I was invited to be a part of some creative works, one even a residency in Minneapolis. I would love that, to be away and reflect.

I realize that I smoke because I don’t want to feel, feel the negative emotions that visit me a lot in this space. There is still a lot of trauma in this place for me, a lot of things that make me doubt and question myself. But I want to change that.

Maybe that’s why I told myself that I want to do a marathon. Well, a half marathon. I feel a bit excited about it, like it’s a physical goal that I can work towards. I was never really fond of running, well, running without a destination, but this feel doable, like I could accomplish this. This will take a lot of work but after living these past years hiding away, being exhausted at my situation, I want a change.

I want to feel all my emotions, and not run away from them, find ways to redirect my energy, to focus on mindfulness and movement, to release instead of holding on. I want to deepen my relationship to myself, to love my body even more than I could, to choose myself and make me happy. It will be challenging, but I can’t go back now. I am turning 40 and I want to be able to feel good about myself when I go back home. To love how I look, love who I am inside. I think that is the way to breaking this curse - sweat it out and release.

Affirmation: I walk away from negativity and choose myself in an act of rebellious self love.”

What are some ritual releasing of stuck and negative energy can I practice?

What is my spiritual connection to the world and my surroundings?

What value do I add to the world?

How do I lead with my values? Have I forgotten them? How do I remind myself if my value, and what I can offer to people, how I can help people and make their lives better?

Comfort, comedy, compassion, care - these are things I led with while working at the wing, values that I miss and want to lead with again.

Who was I before I got hurt? I was a joyful person, excited to meet people, learn their stories, and share with them things about the world, about themselves, talking story about the past but making it relevant today. Making things personal by talking about the things people experience. Emotions. Sense of belonging. Remembering and honoring the past, our connections to each other, holding stories to be sacred.

Lead with values.

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hattalom · 2 years

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Dragon Lady / Feb 9 2022

A story about the choices a mother had to make as a young girl in the Philippines, of singing and gangsters, of trauma and titillating intrigued.

It makes me think about my family, and how would I tell my family story. I love the addition of the live band, how they add to the ambience and sound, how you can play with them, adding nuance to the scene.

My favorite scene so far was when she had a flashback to her time as a young girl, singing in a bar and harmonizing with the band. I also love how she comes off stage and interacts with the audience - dancing with them or commenting on their looks. She has an intense stare that makes me look away, but I always look back.

The scene in the car, when one of the daughters was talking about sea world, brought me back to Dragon Mama. I loved how the next play really expanded the story of the daughters, of the hard choices that happen when in a cycle of trauma.

I also love the flashbacks, when the light changes and then you are in another scene. I think about the times when I would pray rosary with my grandma, acting and a child, as her, as as adult narrator in the scene. I keep thinking how I would share my family story, so openly, so tenderly.

I think there is still lots of anger, grief and unresolved moments that make it seem overwhelming. But maybe it is a start, to begin wherever my inner child wants to start.

The second part, delved into the story of the children, of Maria, of the choices she had to make, which made her hard, made her become the dragon lady her mom knew.

The scene that I love, was when she was playing her mom, holding her as a child, while her grandmother looked on. It was a somber scene, playing all three generations, in the one moment. You could see the tears in her eyes as she did this.

To think, her grandmother sang in the clubs in Manila, to have her granddaughter make it all the way to Broadway. To take tragedy and hold it so tenderly, so rawly. To get here, she had to be open to having people witness her. She had to be okay in witnessing her own family story, and then share it, over and over again. So powerful.