Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

Kana is the Glinda to my Elphaba, the Troy to my Abed. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss her.

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My best friend in the entire world is Kana. She’s more than a best friend; we’re soul sisters. When she moved from Hawaiʻi to Alaska, I started singing For Good at her going away party; she joined in with Glinda’s part and we could not finish it for the sobbing that wracked us.

In fact, I am tearing up again just listening to it.

All the great friendships of pop culture mirror ours; we are constantly comparing them. Yet none of those fictional bonds will ever top ours — we do not have manufactured drama tearing us apart.

The dramas we have are real, and few and far between, and something we are able to work through. We have almost lost each other because of severe miscommunication on one end and mental health issues on the other, but we found our way back.

She’s Glinda and I’m Elphaba. Miles away from each other, not sure if we’ll see each other again any time soon, but always the dearest and best of friends.

We called ourselves the A.N.A., because those were the three letters our names had in common with each other. (It’s still true; my first name has become my middle name.)

The last time I saw her was New Year’s Eve 2007, in Hawaiʻi. (Or perhaps a few days after, but the event I remember clearly is NYE.) We did our resolutions with our mutual friend Ryan while my first boyfriend snored through midnight. That was six years ago. I haven’t been back to Hawaiʻi since I left the place a few months into 2008; I haven’t been to Alaska, and she hasn’t been here.

Before that visit, we saw each other for 10 minutes in the Maui airport while I went to catch my flight and she got off hers — early December, 2006.

Now we keep a blog where we write letters to each other. It’s not the same being physically near to each other, but it helps staunch the wounds, keeps us from bleeding out.

What have I learned from her? What haven’t I learned from her?

I learned I wasn’t alone. She’ll always be there, no matter what. Someday we’ll be the crazy cat and dog ladies at the end of the block, with our several hundred canines, felines, and chickens. Of course chickens.

I learned the truth about soul mates, and that it has nothing to do with sappy, “romantic” Hallmark sentiment. Ogre is the lover I choose to commit my life to — Kana is my soul mate. Nothing can destroy that bond.

I learned about respecting boundaries. Kana’s always respected mine, and (I think)* I’ve always respected hers. She’s possibly the only person who hasn’t pushed at any of my boundaries; she definitely leaves my comfort zone well the fuck alone, which I appreciate. I expand at my own rate. She never asks me for more than I can give.

I have learned so much from Kana that I cannot hope to quantify the ways here in a blog post; all I can do is sing For Good as loud as I’m able, and hope she can hear me over the waves that separate us.

*I am human, with a faulty memory and other flaws besides.


ana

there is nothing to see here
nothing for acidic comments
our garden is safe
i hope
a secret
kept
even from our selves
apple trees
our island
red and rosy
black and gnarled
and a rage
that shudders our branches
in the wind
of its scream

ten years is a long fucking time
trees, no less
we age slow
for our kind
left behind by the rest
our roots entangled
and now
i know not where your branches
end
or mine begin

gods we make
beautiful
muse-ick
outside
the walls
grown over with time
tendrils of us
reach those
who question
our blossoms
snow down
and bury our enemies
words do not describe
they obtain

wind rattling
branches
cloud on sky
and
avalon

this is our glasstown
unwelcome, be careful your step.

Lost in Coquitlamfield with a drunk GPS

I just got back from driving my mom to the airport. She’s headed for Nicaragua for a month on a business trip. Okay, so there’s some personal time in there too. It’s a month-long trip to Nicaragua; she’d be crazy not to.

I should say, mom drove to the airport, and I took her car back home. This is because time was of the essence while going there and she’s more used to Vancouver streets and so knew her way to the airport, whereas I’d be flailing and shouting “AH WHERE ARE WE” every five minutes.

I just moved to Coquitlam, and while I’ve been visiting my boyfriend in Delta for two years and driving while over here, it’s never been much more than “ferry to boyfriend’s, boyfriend’s to apartment in Coquitlam, Coquitlam to boyfriend’s, boyfriend’s to ferry, sometimes Coquitlam to ferry…”. The bulk of my driving experience remains in the past places I’ve lived since I was 15: Hawaii, Powell River, and Nanaimo. Oh, and the route from San Diego to Vancouver, BC, but let’s face it — so long as you avoid cities driving on the I-5 is pretty damn straightforward. (Mind you, I did drive in L.A. itself — that trip was when I was still learning to drive. But I digress.)

There are a lot of places in Vancouver and the GVRD that I know. Vaguely. If I end up there, I’ll say “OH, I know where we are!” and then a minute or two later be completely lost again. Or if you asked me about the Front St. and Begbie St. intersection in New West, I can picture it perfectly in my head. Or the Wise Hall on Adanac St. Or Granville Island and Fountain Way. Scott Road and Nordel Way. My friends’ house and driveway in Serial Killer-ville Cloverdale.  But ask me how to get from point A to point B? Hahahahahahah I don’t have a fucking clue.

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