kali

It all started out so innocently too.

EVE: So do you want to go to the Pirates of the Caribbean ULTIMATE FAN EVENT??? I won free tickets! We get to see the first movie on the big screen again! And then they show the trailer to the third one.

KALI: Uh...sure? Why not?

EVE: Great. It starts at 4pm Sunday.

4:00pm
KALI: Why are we still standing in line, surrounded by idiots?

4:30pm
KALI: Why are we still standing in line, surrounded by idiots?

5:15pm
KALI (shuffling slowly into the movie theater, spirit deadened): Eve, I'm going to kill you. Piratically.

5:20pm: Costume contest and raffle begins. Pirate "wenches" begin playing trivia game. Contestants attempt effort at Jack Sparrow accent.
KALI cries.

6:00pm: Movie begins.

7:20pm: Kali tries to visit bathroom, is tripped by piratical moron sitting adjacent. Jams thumb as she falls.

8:10pm: FINALLY Eve & Kali exit movie theater, ravenous and dispirited. (Though the trailer didn't actually look that bad. Not sure they needed to show it TWICE though.) Over burgers, Kali attempts to summarize Pirates 2 for Eve's benefit.

KALI: So Jack's lost his spirit. Or Will or something. And is sad. And the compass no longer works. And then there's Will's dad, who's working for Davy Jones?? who has a squidface. And Bootstrap's got a starfish face. And then there's Elizabeth who's gone very pirate-y. And she kisses Jack, but only to feed him to the Kraken, but also because he's smoking hot. Then she is sad. Will sees that, and (understandably, as he wants to keep both Jack & Elizabeth all to himself) is very pissed. And there's 235982 repetitions of the rum joke. And then there's this witch, and they have to rescue Jack from the dead, so Capt. Barbossa comes back to help them. He's eating an apple. Oh, yeah, and Norrington's been un-commodored.

EVE: ??????

8:40pm: Eve & Kali walk towards 7th Ave. Huge crowds of disgruntled teenagers walking the streets. Very unnerving. Eve and Kali approach police officer, who informs them that there's been a High School Basketball Game at MSG, and they should GET OUT OF THE AREA IMMEDIATELY.

EVE & KALI: Er??

Eve & Kali decided to walk back to 8th Ave and catch the A. Naturally Kali just misses the train. Eve gets into the downtown side, and catches her train immediately. EXIT EVE.

KALI waits about on platform. E train goes by. Kali waits some more. F train pulls into station. Kali is somewhat confused, as this is not the correct line for the F, but puts it down to more MTA whatthefuckery.

F TRAIN: (sits innocently in station, doors open. Minutes pass.)

KALI: decides to take out book. Shouting erupts from one end of the station. Kali pays it no mind, thinking it's more high school students being asshats.

Suddenly there's more shouting. Kali continues reading. Then Kali looks up as people run past. Just as Kali realises that these people are in fact police officers WITH GUNS DRAWN, running down the platform, and are yelling, "GET INTO THE TRAIN, GET INTO THE TRAIN NOW!!!!" one of the nice officers of the law, in fact, shoves her into the train. Kali falls into the subway car, and bruises entire left side of body. Police officers carry on shouting. People huddle in subway car. Shots are fired.

KALI: (cowers)

Time passes.

People start coming back into the subway station. People begin leaving the train. Kali decides that she wants out of this INCREDIBLY SCARY SUBWAY STATION, and exits back onto the street. She tries to walk up eighth Ave, but is stopped by more Police officers who tell her that people are shooting up there. Kali is now very confused. THEN ALL THE STREETLIGHTS GO OUT.

KALI (cowers)

Kali walks toward seventh ave. More mounted police officers gallop down Seventh Ave. Huge crowds of aforementioned high school students begin to incite each other to riot. Kali thinks fondly of the penance she will exact from Eve when (if) she makes it out of midtown alive.

FINALLY Kali makes it to 42nd Street, where, as it turns out ANOTHER gun battle has been occurring. After much waiting about in cordoned off area, where Kali cowers, and tries very hard not to look like a person of color, she is finally allowed into train, and gets home.

Warning: Ahead you will find, whinging, ranting, angst-which-should-be-teen-but-sadly-isn't, fury, sadness and moments of tres gothique, and also talk of racism. Approach with caution. You have been warned.

Deep Breath and traditional disclaimer: If you are white as, oddly, the majority of my flist (and indeed the majority of my friends) are - please attempt not to be offended. This is not directed at you. I am not angry at you. I am just full of rage [read: envy, fury, general distress] at the world, the universe, this country, the system - you name a large group with undefined boundaries, and I am probably hacked off at it.

So today I was chatting with a very dear friend, and she was telling me, incidentally, an airport story. As usually happens with airport stories, it involved frustration, travelling angst, and in this particular case, a misplaced ID and some tears. Luckily, the ID was found, all was well, the airport personnel were, for once, civil, and there was some talk of allowing her on the plane anyway, even without it. This was great for my friend, and is really not the point of this post at all, aside from the fact that it made me think about this stuff.

Here's the point. I am furious. And hurt. I remember the last time I freaked out at an airport - because I was hungover, and upset to be leaving a lover, and in tears, and generally a mess. I was walking through security with him - this was pre-9/11, remember, and I kept not remembering what pockets I had stuff in, where I'd put my ticket etc. Did airport personnel hand me a tissue? Did they just avoid eye-contact till I'd gotten my shit together? No. They did not. They sent me over to where they go over your bags with the drug sniffing machines, and did an extra deep search of all my luggage, while I snivelled all over myself, bewilderedly, and my lover whispered at me emphatically at me to 'get it together, damn it, before they decide to do a cavity search'. And you better believe it, that's the last time I ever freaked out at an airport. Which is good, because now they don't just search your bags for drugs - now they don't let you fly, they harass you, they hold you for indefinite periods of time, they 'misplace' your ticket, they strip search you, etc etc. You've heard all the horror stories.

Unless you're a white girl, apparently. Then it's bring out the hankies.

And yes, this has happened before. I remember being in a greyhound station where I was asked to produce three forms of ID, while my friend breezed through the same agent [who was not white herself, I might add] with a nod and smile. I know these people don't necessarily mean it. They're ignorant, possibly, or frightened possibly, or careless possibly. Or they've imbibed the same lessons of privilege we all have, possibly, and are not to be blamed. You know what, I don't give a shit. I also know that it's not always about that, right? I mean, why always pull the race card? Maybe sometimes, I'm just not as good. I mean, it wasn't racist when the guy who I was heartbreakingly in love with from seventh to eleventh grade went out with every single one of my female friends, but not me - he just thought I was ugly. And that had nothing to do with the fact that they were all Asian, or white, right? Nothing to do with colour. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. Maybe I just wasn't to his taste. That's no crime, right? I mean look at my social circles - not too many people of color there. Or maybe I've swallowed it all too; the party line, everything. Or maybe not, you like who you like, right?

I don't have any answers, I just know that I am so tired of all this. I'm tired of how it hurts, every time. It hurts to walk down the street with friends and have people look through you, like you're an alien, or less than human. It hurts when you go to a restaurant, and all your friends get served, and you don't. It hurts to sit on the bus, and realise that all your friends are white, and you are always and forever marked and different. You want to be marked maybe, you take pride in being different, but you want it to be for yourself, something you did, something you are - not just the wrapping paper you happened to come in that you can never take off. You can't take a day off, ever, and sometimes, not always, but sometimes, you just want to lay down the fucking burden, let someone else carry it for a change.

And then I feel like maybe I'm just making a big deal out of nothing, after all, other people have it so much harder, so much worse, and yet it eats away at me, like some sort of corrosive acid. To look at people and wonder, what do they see, what do they really see when they look at me, Why do they look through me, Am I imagining it, Surely I'm not that paranoid, because it happens all the time, and I ignore it and ignore it, and pretend I don't see it, and then something happens, and it all gushes out in this kind of burning, ugly burst. It's so hard to explain.

I feel like a stranger in my skin. I look down at myself and get surprised sometimes because it just doesn't seem like the colour it should. It's that ingrained. It's like a little death sometimes. I want to feel proud of my heritage. Sometimes I even do. I think other people with my background can be, and often are beautiful. It's just that it feels all wrong. I hate feeling trapped in this skin, that just fills me with envy for other people, and their ease in the world. I sit uncomfortably in the world for a lot of reasons, most of which are under my control. But this one just wells up and overpowers me. There's no defense. There's just pain. I will be the first to admit that I'm a jealous person. And this just fuels the fires. I hate the fact that it is unjust and inescapable. It gnaws at me, from underneath. I don't often admit it, but it does.

We're all guilty in this, we're all complicit. "Everyone's a little bit racist" - I accept that, Ave. Q, I do. But can't it just go away for a second? I know about pride, it's a choice. But this is nothing I chose, ever. And I don't want to make a religion out of it, just because I happened to be born this way. It doesn't define me, and yet sometimes I wish it did. I'd be surrounded by similar faces, maybe, I'd fit, maybe. And yet I can't do it. It just isn't in me. Maybe I commit the same crime that I've just spent these few paragraphs talking about. And yet it makes me so angry. It makes me want to kick and scream, and just get the fuck out. Out of where? I don't even know.

I love whom I love, I like what I like. And mostly, when you put us together, you can always do the kid's game..."which one of these is different, and does not belong" -

and it's usually me.

the fire alarm went off.
AGAIN.

that thing has gone off on the average of once a week, the whole time i've been here. the best was when it went off on the night before christmas, every 15 minutes all night. there's never a fire.

i want to kill things.

to make it worse there was an incredibly perky long island girl huddled next to me just outside the door, (well there were several people from long island, they are a majority on this campus, but thankfully only one perky being) and she giggled piercingly and tried to flirt with the firemen in shrill tones.
(the firemen, by the way, are as tired of us, as we are of them.)

i was having murder fantasies.

and why were we all huddled so close to the door, you ask? well maybe you don't ask, but i'm going to tell you anyway.

it. was. raining.
not satisfied with that, it was snowing at the same time!!!

how is that possible?
is the universe altering the laws of phsyics just to fuck with me?
only in ithaca. gods.

if that thing goes off again tonight, i can't be held responsible for my actions.

i suppose, after the wild killing spree, i'll to trudge down the hill (in the rain! in the snow!) to my Dandelion's house, and beg for shelter and comfort.

i'm going to bed now.