Dad

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6:41 AM September 29th 1990

A sun rose its head

through a hospital window

Catching the glimmer of a fathers eye

Todd cast his gaze on his first born daughter

The bond was immediate

Not once did he hesitate

Nor withhold his devotion

This was purpose

This was his initiation into fatherhood

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As soon as she could talk

she mimicked his walk.

Stomping on

soda cans

crushing them beneath her feet

or

running over them

with tires of a jeep.

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Laying underneath

oily stained cars.

Or laying in the backyard

looking up at the stars.

From bikes to automobiles

he taught her how to navigate life.

And even stuck around

when she got lice.

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Hasn’t been easy

watching his daughter turn into a teen.

Things get confusing

when a girl turns 13.

How does one reconcile

watching their daughter

drift away from his grasp?

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Sometimes they wished

they could go back

to crushing cans with their jeep.

Instead crushed hearts

will make grown men weep.

He patiently watched her

separate from their bond

and it almost felt like she was gone.
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She had to learn

to make her own mistakes.

Oh how long this process takes.
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She would touch the stove

burn

again and again.

Although she never forgot his lessons

and was resilient like him.

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In her 20’s

she realized how much she needed her kin.

She desperately needed her dad

whenever she got sad.

Of all the lessons he taught

the biggest one she never forgot

was that no matter what

he always loved her

and that she was sure.

Nothing would ever come between them.

His wild haired girl.
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Author:

I am a 26 year old Japanese American queer cis female who is from the bay area and currently lives in Portland, Oregon with her pitbull named Yuki. She is my pride and joy. I have been sober since 2014 and started to work in the sex industry in December 2016. We moved to Portland about 4 years ago in 2013 and have been learning how to thrive in this grey, wet, yet charming environment of Portland. Three things attracted me to this magic nook on the west coast. Tree tunnels (as I like to call them) that tower over roads swallowing you into a tube of nature, people’s tendency to look you in the eye and ask how you’re doing (with expectation of a genuine answer), and tea houses/coffee shops are a past time here. They say this is the city where 20 year olds come to retire or the city of refugee weirdos who just didn’t quite fit in. My diagnosis of Portland is the city that embraces those who love to isolate and be awkward so if hiding out in your room to geek out on your blog or simply drink tea in your room all day is your thing I suggest you check out what the fuss is about in Portlandia. Although Portland is whimsical in it’s own right it has a major amends to make to it’s citizens of color. It’s been here that I’ve learned the most about activism and politics unfortunately as a result of the city’s non acknowledgement of all of their citizens. The citizens here although progressive in it’s own way participates in it’s own subtle yet powerful microaggressions daily. The city is vanilla to put it lightly. When I am not day dreaming of sunnier days you can find me in a tea shop rambling in my journal about the romantic fantasy of hopping a train or living out of a van, admiring baby doll heads and crooked picture frames, watering my indoor plants desperately trying to learn how to have a green thumb, geeking out on astrology charts, obsessing over Michael Jackson and screaming all his songs, flooding my earphones with Princess Nokia to CocoRosie to Mac Dre to name my top favorites, going to strip clubs, crying, praying, attending pole dancing class and learning a variety of ways to make my beautiful backside bounce, holding hands, blowing bubbles, dismantling the patriarchy, writing a story, a poem or working on a zine. My blog has no rhyme or reason but you may find some of those influences as themes in within my posts. What I do hope to do with my blog is expose myself vulnerably if nothing else as an act of leaving behind a documented record of my human-ness but the truest hope, dream in fact, is to help someone out there to feel less alone. I hope that through my ability to candidly share my rawest sense of self I can help build an online community of witches, activists, freedom fighters, freaks, mermaids, pretty boys, studly girls, theys, and thems.

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