"You’re only given a little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it" ~Robin Williams
We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me! O life!… of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless… of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?” Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?
I hope there’s laughter and God welcomed him with a joke.
What the hell were we watching when we were kids?
“After this I go to work at a pizza shop. My wife and I were college professors in Bangladesh. I taught accounting. But one dollar in America becomes eighty dollars when we send it back home.”
People forget, when immigrants come to this country they start from scratch. They could have been lawyers in their home country, but in the US..it means nothing. You think a HS diploma from Bangladesh means anything in this country? My mom was a top student in the country, went to all the best school and got the best of everything…but when she got here it meant squat and she was cleaning other people’s homes and scrubbing their toilets. This is why I get pissed of when people talk smack about immigrants. They at least are doing something…..heading for a goal..making sacrifices…what are you doing with your life?
Same. My dad graduated from college in Honduras. Was an accountant and eventually became the head of a big bank in his city, but he came here for a better opportunity and life for me and my bro. Just like every other Latino immigrant that comes here. He works construction doing flooring and sometimes he’ll go months without work. Right now we’re in dept and struggling. It really irks me thinking about it knowing he could’ve had an amazing life back in his home country but instead he gave it all up for us and now he’s killing himself just to provide. Most intelligent and hardest working man I know.
I’ve always wondered why my dad won’t get his architect license here in the States (he was an excellent architect in the Philippines). He told me that he had to go through a series of tests before they even consider his degree being switched. He had to work stocking merchandise in shelves and shit before he had a chance to become a medical staff for the LA Sheriff’s department. My mom was the same, she used to sell pots and pans when she came here.
So yeah, anyone who talks smack about us immigrants will get my foot shoved down their windpipe.
My mom was a university prof in the Philippines and became a support worker in a nursing home when we got to Canada. My dad was an electrical engineer and became a seasonal construction worker here. He told me once that the first winter working was so brutal cause he didn’t have/couldn’t afford proper winter gear but when he came home and saw all of us playing and laughing it would pull him through the day.
Seriously I will fuck you up if you talk shit about immigrants. As if it’s so easy to pack up your life and your family to move to a completely foreign place and start again without any job or financial security.
This is a fundamental failure of America. We need people like this doing what they were educated and train to do, not scrubbing toilets or ringing up somebody’s gas and slurpee.
Intimacy is not who you let touch your genitalia. Intimacy is who you text at 3am about your dreams and fears. Intimacy is giving someone your attention, when ten other people are asking for it. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.
first and last sentences (insp.)