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EFFECTS OF CHILD ABUSE ON PERFORMANCE OF PRIMARY SCHOOL IN KAPYEMIT WARD, TURBO CONSTITUENCY, UASIN-GISHU COUNTY.





BY
ERICK NYAKUNDI
KIS/03013/14




A RESEARCH PROJECTSUBMITED TO THE SCHOOL OF ARTS AND SOCIAL SCIENCES, DEPARTMENT OF SOCIOLOGY AND PSYCHOLOGY IN THE PARTIAL FULFILMENT FOR THE AWARD OF THE DEGREE OF BACHELOR OF SOCIOLOGY



MAY, 2014

DECLARATION

I, the undersigned, declare that this project is my original work and that it has not been presented in any other university or institution for academic credit.

Signature...............................................­..... Date...................................
ERICK NYAKUNDI
KIS/03013/14






SUPERVISOR
This project has been submitted for examination with my approval as university supervisor
DR. W. O. ABUYA
Signature..................................................­.. Date....................................




DEDICATION
I dedicate this work to my Dad, Mom, my sister Lydia and my lovely brother Dun who contributed in one way or another to make this project to be successful.


















ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
I would like to thank all individuals who contributed and sacrificed their time towards completion of this project.
To my supervisor, for the guidance and support in the development of this research project, His advice and criticism made this project what it is.
Thanks to colleagues and friends for their suggestions, advice and encouragement. To all of you may God bless you abundantly for your tireless effort.

TABLE OF CONTENTS
Contents Page
DECLARATION i
DEDICATION ii
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT iii
TABLE OF CONTENTS iv
LIST OF TABLES vii
LIST OF FIGURE viii
ABSTRACT ix
CHAPTER ONE 10
STUDY OVERVIEW AND STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM 10
1.1 Background of the Study 10
1.2 Research Questions 13
1.3 Research Objectives 13
1.4 Justification of the Study 13
1.5 Significance of the Study 14
1.6 Scope of the Study 15
1.6.1Assumptions of the Study 16
CHAPTER TWO 17
LITERATURE REVIEW 17
2.1 Introduction 17
2.2 Common Forms of Child Abuse 17
2.2.1 Child ****** Abuse 17
2.2.2 Physiological or Emotional Abuse 17
2.2.3 Physical Abuse 18
2.2.4 Child Neglect or Abandonment 18
2.2.4.1 Physical Neglect 19
2.2.4.2 Educational Neglect 19
2.2.4.3 Medical Neglect 19
2.2.5 Child Fatalities 20
2.3 How Child Abuse Affects Academic Performance 20
2.3.1 Child Abuse and Academic Performance 20
2.3.2 Child Abuse and School Image 23
2.3.3 Child Abuse and Dropout Rate 25
2.4 Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 26
2.4.1 Role of Public Regulation 26
2.4.1.1 Nurturing and Attachment 27
2.4.1.2 Social Connections 27
2.5 Theoretical Framework 27
2.5.1 Learning Theory 28
2.5.1.1 Relationship with the Study 28
2.5.2 Family Dysfunction Theory 29
2.5.2.1 Relationship with the Study 29
CHAPTER THREE 30
RESEARCH DESIGN AND METHODOLOGY 30
3.0 Introduction 30
3.1 Site Description 30
3.2 Research Design 30
3.3.1 Target Population 30
3.3.2 Sample Size and Sampling Procedure 31
3.4 Description of Research Instruments 32
3.4.1 Research Instrument 32
3.4.1.1 Questionnaire 32
3.5 Data Collection Procedure 32
3.5.1 Validity and Reliability of Research Instruments 33
3.5.1.1 Reliability of Research Instruments 33
3.5.1.2 Validity 33
3.6 Data Analysis and Presentation 33
CHAPTER FOUR 35
DATA PRESENTATION AND ANALYSIS 35
4.0 Introduction 35
4.1 Background Information 35
4.1.1 Age of the Respondents 35
4.1.2 *** of the Respondents 35
4.1.3 Education Level of the Respondents 36
4.1.4 Marital Status 36
4.2 Specific Information 37
4.2.1 Effects of Child Abuse on Academic Performance 37
4.2.2 How Child Abuse Affects Dropout Rate of Students in School 38
4.2.3 Proposed Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 41
CHAPTER FIVE 43
SUMMARY, CONCLUSION AND RECOMMENDATIONS 43
5.0 Introduction 43
5.1 Summary of the findings 43
5.2 Discussion of the Findings 44
5.3 Conclusion 45
5.4 Recommendations 46
REFERENCES 47

LIST OF TABLES & FIGURES
Table 3.1 Target population 32
Table 3.1 Sample size 33
Table 4.1 Age of the Respondents 36
Table 4.2 *** of the Respondents 37
Table 4.3 Education Level of the Respondents 37
Table 4.4 Marital Status 38
Table 4.5 Effects of Child Abuse on Academic Performance 38
Table 4.6 How Child Abuse Affects Dropout Rate of Students in School 40
Figure 4.1 Views of the Pupils on Abuse 41
Table 4.7 Proposed Strategies that Schools can Employ to Curb Child Abuse 42





















ABSTRACT
Child abuse is the physical, ****** or emotional maltreatment or neglect of a child or children. The consequences of child maltreatment can be profound and may endure long after the abuse or neglect occurs. The purpose of the study was to investigate the effect of child abuse on school performance in Primary Schools in Kapyemit ward, Uasin-Gishu County. The objectives of the study were: To assess the impacts of child abuse on academic performance; to determine the effects of child abuse on schools image, to identify the impacts of child abuse on pupil drop out rate, to investigate the effects of child abuse on pupil transition rate. The study employed a survey study design. The study targeted 160 respondents which includes; 5 Head Teachers, 40 Teachers, 70 Pupils and 35 parents of which a sample size of 48 was obtained from using 30%. Purposive sampling technique was used in selecting the head teachers while simple random sampling technique will be used to select the teachers, Pupils and parents who formed the respondents of the study. Questionnaires and interview schedules were used as data collection instruments. Data was analyzed quantitatively and qualitatively and presented in form of tables, percentages and frequency. The study helped in the understanding of the effects of child abuse on the school performance, the realization of the roles parents and teachers play in the curbing of child abuse among pupils and raising awareness on the same.
 
CHAPTER ONE
STUDY OVERVIEW AND STATEMENT OF THE PROBLEM
1.1 Background of the Study
Child abuse is the physical, ****** or emotional maltreatment or neglect of a child or children. The consequences of child maltreatment can be profound and may endure long after the abuse or neglect occurs. The effects can appear in childhood, adolescence, or adulthood, and may affect various aspects of an individual's development (e.g., physical, cognitive, psychological, and behavioral). These effects range in consequence from minor physical injuries, low self-esteem, attention disorders, and poor peer relations to severe brain damage, extremely violent behavior, and death. In extreme cases, child abuse affects the performance of schools in the affected region (Daniel, 1978).
Performance refers to how students deal with their academic studies and how they cope with or accomplish different tasks given to them by their teachers. Performance is also the ability of a school to portray a good image which can influence the public (Decastro, 1978). There are several factors that influence the performance of a school at large, however, there is a critical factor that most researchers have avoided to discuss, and child abuse has been a crucial factor that has contributed to children’s dismal performance. Apart from children’s personal intelligence, child abuse is among then key factors contributing to poor performance of learners. Child abuse can lead to school dropping, emotional trauma or can even be fatal, hence destructing or even terminating the educational ambitions of a child. (Harris, 2005)
Worldwide, according to World Health Organization (WHO, 2000) approximately 40 million children are subjected to child abuse each year. According to Human Rights Watch (2001) about 30% of all severely disabled children relegated to special homes in the Ukraine died before they reached 18 years of age. UNICEF estimates that two million children died as a result of armed conflict during a recent 10-year period and that another six million were injured or disabled. In Canada, the U.S. and Mexico, over 6.5 million children annually are exposed to unwanted ****** materials over the internet; over 1.7 million of these report distress over exposure to these materials. In the United States, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and the Department for Children and Families (DCF) define child maltreatment as any act or series of acts of commission or omission by a parent or other caregiver that results in harm, potential for harm, or threat of harm to a child. Child abuse can occur in a child's home, or in the organizations, schools or communities the child interacts with. Each year, approximately one million children around the world are introduced into commercial ****** exploitation despite this problem; these developed countries have put measures to curb the vice. Rehabilitation schools have been formed and introduction of counseling centers as well. Despite the prevalence of child abuse in this developed nations they narrowly affect the academic performance since there are organizations put in place to curb the situation e.g. child associations, guidance and counseling institutions, and school based counseling programs (Giles, 2001)
Concern for victims of child abuse in Africa expressed by the African network of the International Society for The Prevention of Child Abuse and Neglect (ISPCAN) which gave five main presentations of child abuse: child labor, street wandering, ****** abuse, child battering and abandonment (Elma, 1977). Child labor according to the international labor organization (ILO), about 10 million children less than 15years in Africa are in formal employment, working long hours with poor pay and are exposed to substantial health hazards. Wandering of children refers to children, usually unkempt and with delinquent propensities, living rough in town. The reasons for children taking to the street remain poorly understood particularly in relation to factors in the child rather than parental hostility and economic (Dubowitz, 2002)
****** abuse is another. For example, arranged under-age marriages are common in some parts of the continent and doubt was often expressed as to whether a young girl fully gave consent to being betrothed (Galdsone, 1965). Prevalence rates in Africa are very difficult to ascertain because of the fear of disclosure by victims and lack of proper documentation. Most of the girls by reasons of shame fear or surprisingly respect for their usually older perpetrators. Physical battering is also eminent. Physical abuse of children is widely claimed to berate in the third world; however, there are anecdotes from east Africa skeletal frame or localized body areas of all first attendees aged 0-12 years at this hospital during the four-year period 1 January 1987 to 31 December 1990 (Garbarino, 1975). Sixty-nine of these reports reveals evidence of multiple bone fractures wither without evidence of rib or skull fracture. Abandonment of children to roam around the streets in what we call street children is also eminent in Africa, though valid and adequate information on abandonment are difficult to obtain due mainly to failure of offending parents to show up out of guilt, shame, judicial repercussions or a combination of these. However, some euro-American missionaries identified inter alia breech birth. (Erickson, 2003)
Child protection measures in Kenya are currently not implemented effectively and fully (Galdstone, 1965). Compliance with such legislation would increase if the magnitude of the problem and better knowledge about the factors that put children at risk was available. Additionally, involving stakeholders, especially agencies charged with protection, as well as involving affected children, will highlight the issues and thereby promote adherence to protection policies. Kenyan children, child activists and children organizations are pinning their hopes on the implementation of the Children’s Act to improve the lot of the nation’s youth. The Act, which came into effect on 1 March 2002, puts in place full safeguards for the rights of the child. Its passage was a giant stride in harmonizing the national laws with international agreements which Kenya has signed such as the UN Conventions on the Rights of the Child (CRC, 2002)
There is hope that the new legislation will dramatically change the inattention, neglect and abuse towards child rights. The Act outlaws any form discrimination of children, and forbids Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), child prostitution, and child labor, among other forms of abuse. The Children’s Act has immensely improved the lives of many Kenyan children plagued with high illiteracy levels, frequent **** cases and child labor since it guarantees children the right to health and medical care, provision of which is the responsibility of the parents, the extended family and the government (Erickson, 2005).
Cases of child abuse in Uasin-Gishu region have been so eminent in the recent years ((Kenya Media Report, 2004). In the year 2010 and the year 2011, there was a program started to rehabilitate this behavior. This problem is clearly evident when you first arrive in Eldoret town, it is among the towns in the country with the highest number of abandoned children who keep on moving from one Centre to another seeking help from passersby. Parents have developed behaviors of abandoning their children and deliberately sending them to the town so that they can benefit from their borrowing. So to say this has led to child labor in this region. High profile cases of school dropouts have been recorded regarding the environs of this region. Young school children from different locations in Eldoret converge in town to persuade people to offer them financial assistance. Some attend school in numbered days and decide to spend some good number of days out of school.
The communities and societies around tend to assume this situation and term it as norm. A few who might seem concerned lack cooperation from the rest. This has adversely affected the performance of most of schools, hence leading to poor living standards of the people and a poisoned future of a young citizen. The problem has affected learners in regions like many areas in Uasin-Gishu County. It has really affected child development and affected their attendance and performance in school. Little intervention measures has been taken to advocate the holistic development of the children. It was to this reason that the researcher conducted the research in the named above region
1.2 Research Questions
The study was guided by the following questions;
1) What is the effect of child abuse on the academic performance of students in Kapyemit Ward?  
2) What are some of the proposed strategies that schools can employ to curb child abuse?
1.3 Research Objectives
The study was guided by the following research objectives;
1) To identify the effect of child abuse on the academic performance of students in Kapyemit Ward.
2) To identify proposed strategies that can be employed to help curb child abuse.
1.4 Justification of the Study
It is becoming increasingly difficult to separate child abuse prevention into separate categories. For instance, strategies on the societal level include increasing the “value” of children, increasing the economic self-sufficiency of families, discouraging corporal punishment and other forms of violence, making health care more accessible and affordable, expanding and improving coordination of social services, improving the identification and treatment of psychological problems and alcohol and drug abuse, providing more affordable child care and preventing the birth of unwanted children.
Very little analysis has been done to estimate the total cost of preventing child abuse and neglect or the long-term social costs of not preventing it. There is now a move to situate child abuse and neglect within the continuum of intervention which addresses multiple aspects of family behaviors. The efficacy of tackling portions of the problem of child abuse apart from broader societal needs is not known. And, perhaps prevention can only come in tandem with efforts to reduce poverty, improve health care and make children’s issues a national priority. However, despite these constraints, evaluations of prevention programs can be improved by coming to terms with definitions of key varia

Airport

Covering my face with my hands, there is an incessant in-pouring of light. I feel like I am in a casket. My brain seems to be swelling, in tune with an invisible pendulum. Waves of nausea flood my body.  Small children thunder around in front of me, like hysterical nightmare projections.

I have never enjoyed being in Airports. They are morgues with an added buzz of visitors and commerce. The sterility of the interior design and the nervous excitability of the passengers sets me very quickly on edge. As a salesman for a major international e-commerce company, I am required to fly often.

To avoid excess stress and anxiety I prepare meticulously. Nothing must be left to chance. I am regimented and purposeful during my preparation. If the luggage allowance is 15kg, then I make sure that my suitcase is dead on that weight. I reweigh my suitcases on several sets of scales. Checking there is no error in their calibration.  I do not carry any prohibited travel items. I ring airline customer support several times to double-check. I rummage through my suitcase repeatedly. I allow no error to go unnoticed. I google articles about travel preparation, checklists, essential travel items and I read articles about anxiety related to fear of flying. Neither my emotional state nor practical matters are to take me by surprise. I am like a samurai undertaking pre-battle rituals.

Check-in is open. I funnel through to the check-in desk. There are several people before me; their movements generate a low pitch buzzing in my head. They are hyper-kinetic, speaking at unreasonably loud volumes in an indecipherable language. My arms vibrate down by my sides, my tongue thickens. I feel warmer and more vulnerable. I start to think about the first meal I’ll eat in Rekyjavik. I have panicked thoughts, recognition of myself in these thoughts is minimal. I swing around to check that nobody is standing directly behind me. The several people check in without issue. A man in all black clothing, I presume, a security guard intercepts me and asks me to go to desk 13. Although there is a sign hanging down from the ceiling with directions to check-in desks 10-15, I am unable to locate desk 13. I double back on myself, I ask the check-in assistant from desk 12 where desk 13 is. She says that it has been temporarily moved to the second floor of the terminal. Desk 13 on the second floor doesn't in the slightest resemble a check-in desk. A burly individual with an absence of ****** expressions or an officious manner mans an oak desk. There is no conveyor belt for the luggage, only a shopping trolley. ''Ermmm can I check in here?''. The man whom lacks an officious manner nods curtly without removing his eyes from the newspaper he is reading. "Documentation''. I hand him my documentation. ''Passport''. ''Going to Reykjavik?'' ''Erm yes''. ‘’Follow me’’.
The man, who lacks an officious manner, leads me a door behind the check-in desk that doesn’t in the slightest resemble a check-in desk. A young child with golden blonde hair in white robes pushes the shopping trolley behind me. We enter a room that is high like a cathedral and tiled in exquisite mosaic tiles; alternating gold and white into infinity. The ceiling is so high it seems to disappear off into a void. Sat down at a bog-standard mass manufactured desk in front of me, is a man who must be at least 13 feet tall, he has enormous ears like an elephant and is speaking in rounds of what sounds like the same phrase. I do not recognise the language. I am ceased from behind by the blonde child and the man who lacks an officious manner. The man with enormous ears like an elephant screams ‘’I hate Iceland’’, the blonde child laughs uncontrollably grabbing his stomach like he is holding his insides in. The ceiling begins to close in and a space opens in the floor. The man who lacks an officious manner says in a sinister tone says ‘’Do you think you would be forgiven”. I say ‘’I have got a ticket, I’m going to Iceland on business’’ I feel a prodding in my lower back and then darkness.

xspacexpotatox 1h
Racism is a lie, your people hate us naturally lol just look at the way you’re responding................ and us “black people” are supposed to be the ignorant ones.... whew
xspacexpotatox  1h
Look at the affliction and persecution. There’s a reason why your ancestors put chains around our necks. It’s because the Bible said it would happen ****
xspacexpotatox  1h
So do me a favor, go learn a bit more. I’m not even gonna laugh at your ignorance, I’ll pray for you. Have a nice one.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
oh so your jewish friend is the authority on this? what does he know about zionism? seems you got your mind made up man. good for you
xspacexpotatox  1h
I want to know why you feel so threatened lol
xspacexpotatox  1h
I won’t let the hate reach me man
Torin Galleshaw  1h
wow, racism is a lie then u stereotype all white people IMMEDIATELY after you say that. ignent? i really wanted to give you a chance bro. but you have been very abrasive this whole time, immature and incredibly offensive. i dont know where in the bible it says that. or, if as i remember when i went to ce williams middle school as a young kid in a poor part of charleston south carolina where i also learned a test can be racist because the only person that did well on it was me, the white kid. ive felt black racism towards me all my life. do you know the history of the celtic people. yeah, slaves were given food to eat, my people died in gutters in the cold because of no mc hiring practices. ever heard of britain, do you know who irelands neighbor is. have you heard of the potato famine, do you know why it happened? william wallace?
systematic opression for over 800 years.

most important part and key difference between us, besides the fact thta your better than me because you are black, but. you claim im so ignorant im not worth your time, essentially. i think your so misguided i would love to show you the actual way to god and heaven. brother, you need it.
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro you lose don’t message me anymore
Torin Galleshaw  1h
and dont claim im acting like im threatened, first thing, you dont know me. youre acting nearly militaristic on this ****. young malcom X wanna be. im cool tho, you robably never knew someone as chill as me.
maybe we could talk without resorting to personal attacks tho. thats a good sign you are losing an argument.
xspacexpotatox  1h
What’s your point? Mines is simple. I get what I learned from college text books and the Bible, the knowledge coincides and that indicates who my people are.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
do you know of the talmud?
do you know what it is?
do you realize that it contains the only visual description for jesus?
do me a favor, before you try to come at me with some more weak **** why dont you go and see what the talmud has to say about it
thank you brother
xspacexpotatox  1h
Was the visual description a white man? If so I’m not interested
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m a young black man that’s been taught all his life, all I know is truth.
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m not that arrogant, I offered you edification and once I edified you rejected. lol I’m not supposed to be nice and open to you.... I know who my oppressors are.
xspacexpotatox  1h
“GOD” said “and I know the blasphemies of those that say they are Jews and are not” you’re disrespecting my ancestors
Torin Galleshaw  1h
thats the thing only a truly awoken spiritual person will ever recognize. in a past life you were a tiny asian woman bro, you were a fat white guy, you were a cat fucj it. so rn your black. soul dont got color. recognize bro. i dont wanna big boy you on this, but i can. and i will if i have to. or maybe you would either A. apologize for your offensive and rude behavior, or B. and my preferred choice we could ACTUALLY converse. you say you got proof, cite it priest boy
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, fed to alligators, shot in the streets, literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, your language and books taken from you.. You’re not hearing me out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay. I’m OG. I teach people. So far I’ve learned nothing from this conversation. I’m proud of the beatings my people took to get here, and I definitely don’t agree with the whole “you were a white or Asian person in the past life” because that makes no sense. My family is “BLACK”, besides that my moms great grandmother was mixed, and were STILL predominantly “BLACK”. I come from “BLACK” people, therefore I am a HEBREW ISRAELITE, and I know this for a FACT!
Torin Galleshaw  49m
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, starved for hundreds of years, shot in the streets, forced to fight in the civil war after arriving here form ireland starving, (one of the most effective brigades, you see many of the soldiers had to fight in wars against the british already)literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, my last name is not the last name my great great great granparents had. it was too ethnic, it was changed, your language and books taken from you. do they speak celtic in ireland?.. You’re not hearing ME out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay
xspacexpotatox  42m
Oh you guys are actually mention in the battles you fought?! **** there’s no documentation of anything “African Americans” did in the wars we helped win! Atleast you guys got decent credit
Torin Galleshaw  37m
bible told me you just have to accept his love, jesus's love, but even buddahs love, and john the baptists love, and all of gods great prophets. bible taught me that without their love i can never really love any one.
xspacexpotatox  35m
If you believe in the most high, fine with me. That’s all I have to say.
Torin Galleshaw
Torin Galleshaw  33m
yes, there is documentation of both slaves ad freed black men fighting on both sides actually, believe it or not
Torin Galleshaw  32m
https://www.archives.gov/education/lessons/blacks-civil-war

"Once let the black man get upon his person the brass letter, U.S., let him get an eagle on his button, and a musket on his shoulder and bullets in his pocket, there is no power on earth that can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship."

Frederick Douglass

xspacexpotatox  28m
I never once believed the history teachers in school, I always challenged them because I know that American History is *******. Just like whatever filth you’re trying to show me will only bore me like the teachers bored me in school. I served in the US Army. I did my time for white america and I refuse to go back lol



Matthew 6:10-14 thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread, And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors,And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.

One could hardly distinguish between
the hue of the sky
and the industrial water tower jutting his head
above the horizon, the depths of the city’s
flat rooftops.
Smoking from steel grey
Rhodesians, controverting the horizon.

I do not see space travel
as an evolutionary event
I look at it as an excess
of dissociative disorder
colonialism and the making
of whiteness
whiteness
justifying the guilt
by searching
and searching
somewhere else
not somewhere better
just somewhere else
there is nothing better
than how we evolved
are place within experience
all that surrounds
us is intimately woven with
our sheer experience
that has evolved
without the possibility
of memory
or redundancy
or even a pattern or repetition
to desire somewhere else
is to leave the best
most evolved experience
of being human
organic intelligence
artificial intelligence
has patterns that are not evolution
or the experience there of
they are patterns that are also
of this desire to be some where else
where ever it may be a space
or an entity
an other
counter-transferance
aliens
colonization
product of whiteness
excess
the profit of colonization
dissociative disorder
from the experience of being human
if you teach people that evolution
is something related to a process
that is merely the documentation
of the desire to be somewhere or something else
slavery is a combination of somewhere else and something else
it is like aliens
inherently under control
of a powerful military
actually the alien extracted from
their home
all mighty whiteness
is the most powerful
dissociative power
evolution did indeed give us the possibility to dissociate
but is was designed for empathy
not as a tool to be somewhere
or something else
the experience of
the dissociative human
declaring whiteness
has other opportunity
but to experience slavery
since it is a dissociation
it is delusional
and although the human
dissociating may not be within
the structure of slavery they conceive
they are without
the original
experience
I notice them
organic intelligence resumes

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Practicality is the reality
of ignominious totality
the devices of all sizes
and the grammatical mentality
of systematic duality.

Punctuation is the *******
the ******* of every generation
the permutation and saturation
of wordsmith temptation for re-calibration
the aberration and consternation
that leads to misinformation
and condemnation and annihilation
of the constellation colloquial conversation
the abomination of language urbanization
the fermentation and ionization
of linguistic complications
the desolation of commas and semi-colons
the affirmation of their vs they're
the augmentation of amalgamation
is just the lyrical *******
of a hooded basketball top nation
the culmination of devastation
the gestation and interpolation
that leads to appreciation isolation
and justification acceleration
the modification and assimilation
of poorly-worded implementation
and the contamination of myriad exploration
alienation in illumination
punctuation is the salvation of documentation
against the tides of violation
and the extermination of regurgitation
the classification of discrimination
and last but not least
the liberation of misrepresentation.

It is rare that, outside Japan, you hear anything positive about the lot of women in the Japanese workplace. Well-meaning rankings and anecdotal articles frequently do little more than reinforce tired stereotypes. Still, change is afoot and there are many voices in the Japanese corporate world that have a nuanced story to tell—even some who dare to assert that there might be something that Japanese working women have to teach the world.

One important factor preventing progress in how women are viewed in the Japanese workplace is the ongoing prevalence of highly gendered uniforms. This is true both in the literal sense and in what is implied—from strictly structured dress codes that govern post-graduation job hunts right through to the president’s chair. These remain highly gendered for both men and women, a visual reminder of the very different roles played by the “salarymen” and “office ladies” of years gone by, but a stumbling block now, considering how much has changed.

Representative of this change is fashion brand Kay Me, from entrepreneur Junko Kemi. Not just an oddity in the Japanese fashion world, Kemi is an unassuming revolutionary who has dispensed with the establishment path to the racks by forgoing trade shows and industry-only runways. Instead, she builds on her own experience in the Japanese corporate world to fashion the clothes she would wear to the office. In the process, she has managed to chalk up a Ginza flagship store, key retail positions at Japan’s top department stores—including Odakyu in Shinjuku, Mitsukoshi in Nihombashi, Breeze Breeze Umeda in Osaka, and Isetan at Haneda International Airport — and even a presence in London. She’s accomplished this in just over five years — less time than it takes the average brand that plays by the fashion industry’s rules to get their first round of scattered stockists.

Kemi sat down with The Journal to talk about why she moved from marketing to fashion, how she sees women in the workplace, and what she aims to achieve with her designs.

Japanese fashion is a notoriously saturated field. With no background in fashion, why did you choose to enter it?

My background is in marketing and consulting, but I was always aware that, at the root of all market analysis, is the Japanese phrase ishokuju, meaning the necessities of life: food, clothing, and shelter. When you look at Tokyo, there may be a lot of fashion, but that is the way it should be. It is as important and necessary as food and shelter. After the Lehman shock and the March 11 earthquake, this idea of necessity came to have greater meaning for me. I wanted to make something that was really required by people in their lives.

Of course, my background in marketing helped, and I knew that the bigger companies would be scared to compete with me if I chose a niche that wasn’t a proven quantity yet. That niche was professional women; women with the drive to go beyond what society expects of them and who want to express themselves on their own terms in the workplace. There is also part of me that likes to be the rebel, and to a certain extent I just wanted to prove people wrong when they said the market was oversaturated.

One of the most important Japanese fashion designers of our time, Yohji Yamamoto, famously started his eponymous brand in rejection of Japanese “office lady” attire and how working women, as a whole, dressed. Is this a shared source of inspiration?

Perhaps. Although, ironically, given that Yohji Yamamoto mainly uses black, I feel that women’s clothes are too dark! Fundamentally, I feel that historically it made sense that for women to enter the male-dominated workplace they first started dressing like men; but that can’t be where it ends. Far more interesting is for women to be unapologetically feminine and be accepted for it. Women should not have to cast off their own culture to enter the workplace, nor deny their own nature between 9:00 and 5:00. Why shouldn’t there be flowers in an office? In that sense, I am the opposite of Yohji Yamamoto — he wanted his clothes to protect women from men, but I don’t think women need protecting.

My real inspiration is surprisingly conventional. My grandmother ran a kimono shop, so I am always attracted to traditional themes in my work. The Japanese motifs I use, in particular, have been key to reaching people abroad. It is not necessarily targeted like “Cool Japan,” just a lucky coincidence. For Japanese customers, they are a way of building elements of kimono into their working wardrobe instead of wearing full kimono, which is hard in daily life—never mind the workplace.

As an entrepreneur, what do you look for in your employees? Do you actively create a female-friendly work environment?

I have been all around the world meeting entrepreneurs — especially in the UK and East Asian countries — and I am frequently the only Japanese person, and nearly always the only Japanese female entrepreneur. Therefore, similarly minded people with an international mindset are my key assets. With that comes an ability to communicate in English, and the confidence that your ideas will resonate not only in your own country but globally. That is rarer than you think, and a big issue over the course of a career is that only high-ranking members of Japanese companies ever go abroad on business. That locks women out of having experience abroad and stops them thinking more globally.

In terms of workplace, I would like a 50-50 split in my workforce; but right now we are still at the early stage of growing, so it has been vital that everyone understands the shared goal. As I am dressing working women, I have far more women than men working for me for now; unfortunate, but it will change. Also, I insist on flexible working hours for my staff with children. It creates some small issues with timing group meetings, but it is easy to work through and worth it for the talent they bring.

What could institutions like the Japanese government and universities do to change the status quo?

Universities are taking the lead in thinking globally, but that is only half the battle — they need to create more competition among students — female in particular — so they have confidence to go abroad. That needs to be the spark that starts a movement.

As for the government, there are lots of programs out there to support companies like mine, but to be honest we just don’t have the time to apply for them — they require so much documentation. So far, the programs feel like lip service from an older generation who doesn’t understand mine; time will change that.

In the meantime, I am focused on thinking globally. We haven’t targeted the inbound phenomenon as such because they are not necessarily our customers. Instead, I am focused on online expansion and taking my brand to Europe, and hopefully to America via New York in the near future. Of course, I want quick expansion; but ultimately we have been quality- and service-driven in Japan, so we can’t forget that as we look abroad.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses

Many artists create for approval, to translate the beauty they find in the world so that others can feel what they feel (which is second hand at best), or to try to better understand the world that they are in and communicate their findings with the rest of the world. I would stand here today and say that is all meaningless to me. If one cannot find their own truths, then they do not deserve the truths that they find. Everyone can see 'the beauty of the world' that surrounds them, and far too many people try to turn their senses into tangible words on a page. What difference does it make, better yet, what difference should it make to a person if others view the world in the same light that they do? It is for this purpose that I do not view the world in any light. When I create I view the world without light. Feeling my way through the darkness trying to find something that I can hold on to. I am a horrible and pitiful creature when I search for ideas, but when I can wrap my hands around these ideas with no light shed from an outside source there is no greater sense of accomplishment. I write not about the beauty of the world, not about fantastic imageries that could be on an inspirational poster, nothing of the heavens and angels, because when I write my demons take over. Every doubt that sits in the back of my mind unanswered. Every amount of corruption that I have seen in the world. Every hope that has been shot down to crash as a fallen spaceship. Every desire that I will never see fulfilled. These are the things that give me the passion and inspiration to create. Perhaps it is for the balance of the world that I write with such things in mind. As I watch so many writers fail to create what it is that they pictured in their creative vision simply because their minds are cluttered with preconceived notions of love, of good, and of this great being that will provide them with their every desire (deliverable on death, as I have been told); I know that most will surely continue to fail. The world does not have a perfect clockwork structure that they would have everyone else see. I hope that in controlling my demons I will be able to create something that is more authentic. More pure.

Art is struggle.
Creations are covered with our sacrifices.
Without the grotesque, beauty cannot truly be seen.
Without darkness, we cannot understand light.
My cup runneth over.

Seven great inspirations
I remember being young and thinking that there was no greater goal to seek than the goal of love. I had told myself countless times that my greatest goal in life was to find someone and make them the happiest person in the world. I know now that the naivety of that statement is enough to make even the most romantic shake their heads. It was from this naivety and hope that a young man fell in love. As all things that are destined to horribly fail, it failed horribly. The joy in this young man's eyes dissipated and he was left horribly confused. How could my greatest inspiration and the goals that I had set for myself fall apart so swiftly? It was around this time that I slowly started seeing the world for what it truly was. There was great sorrow in this time, but it was a time of more beauty than I had ever known. Years that I thought were wasted were resurrected as emotions and perceptions that slowly found their way from my hand to paper. I learned from a very young age that it was proper to hide emotion, and so many of these creations were destroyed after I had pushed them from my mind. It was not until I let a few close friends read some of what I had written that I realized the value that words held. I used these words to bring happiness to others and evoke emotion where there was none before. All of the ideals and emotions that I held in high regard for so long slowly withered away. It was in this time that I slowly learned that because there was so much good that came from something so devastating, that those things I once thought were so evil may have something good to be found in them. There were great inspirations to be found in those things I had once discarded as sinful and without worth. I found beauty and inspiration in what most would call corruption and imperfect. These things, which were taught to me as sins, gave me more inspiration than any rules or restriction would ever be able to. For the first time in my life I actually felt free. It was with this newfound freedom that I was finally able to express what I truly felt without fear of guilt or punishment. My outward appearance stayed approximately the same (as I was taught that appearances were always important and some habits were hard to break), but I realized that I was a completely different person. It is these differentiations from what I considered to be the norm that allowed me to grow as a person instead of as a machine that was built by those around me. It is this facade of normality that I will forever wear as a defense mechanism to keep those as closed minded as I once was from prying. It is the sins that I once fought so hard against that would help me realize the person that I truly was. This is not merely a documentation of the things that inspire me, this is a tribute to the realizations that allowed me to grow as a person. A great deal of my writing tends to come out as metaphors, but in what will follow I will do my best to write clearly and without riddles. These are the thoughts that bring my creations to life. This is the fuel that drives a man down a road comfortably, no longer worried about speed limits or street signs. Now I will explain how these seven deadly sins breathed life into an otherwise lonely and discarded man.

Pride
Are we all not more important than everyone else in our own universe? Is there some secret kept within the recesses of our mind that perverts this self preservation into something that is frowned upon? Are we not supposed to be proud of our accomplishments? Where are the lines between what is appropriate and a horrid vanity drawn? Would we not become Lucifer if the feeble minds trapped in these mortal shells were placed in a shell more beautiful and eternal than anything we have ever seen? Are we so quick to judge those guilty of our same crimes? Tell me that if you were given the chance you would not change places with a god, and I will never believe another word that pushes its way past your lips. We are wired to attempt to gain higher standing wherever we are. When I have created something that I believe holds truth I am proud, and I am proud that I am proud. If it were not for pride where would that sense of accomplishment come from? Should I allow my pride to turn to shame, and **** a driving force to create something even better next time? I think not. In the universe of our art, we are the gods. We manipulate every word, every pixel, every stroke of the brush. We have ultimate control of the characters, the situations, the emotions, the outcomes, and do not have to provide an explanation to anyone unless we decide to. When we are done with our creations we stand back and say that they are good. A faulty attempt to turn the artist into a god, but the intentions are thinly veiled. To create and to have others look upon your creation with wonder and awe, is that not the intentions of almost all artists? What purpose does this serve other than the creation of pride? I would say that there are none. My writing is the universe where I am god, and there are none other as powerful or that have as much say as I do.

Sloth
Call me cynical for not seeing the absolute beauty of the world around me. Sloth, the great sin of sadness and despair. I look at the world and am dissatisfied with what I see. I have always been fond of Poe, because he wrote about this more than anything else. Why should I be any different than this? The only love I have ever known was ripped from my hands, and I was left with nothing but a feeling of wanting. I watch people walk by with their masks of happiness and content, and when the day is done I see these same people left shaking and world weary. How much rain should fall from my eyes before they become as black as the clouds they do their best impressions of? With every attempt to better the world thwarted on each turn, it seems as if things are not going to change. The problem with writing on the subject of sorrow is that many view it as unhealthy or look down upon it. It is only after putting words to the things that bother me that I have control over them, and can manipulate them as I wish. Sorrow and pain are less of a threat when they can be controlled. Where is it that this sorrow and despair comes from? Perhaps I read too many fairy tales as a child. Perhaps I have yet to get to the end of the story of life where the moral will be revealed to me. Perhaps it is this surreal world that I could never persuade myself to live in. A world where I am to put on a mask of happiness and pretend that everything is going just the way that it should. A world full of everything that I could ever desire. It is because I cannot alter my senses that give my perception of the world that this demon resides within me. My writing is the realization that the world is not what I was led to believe it to be. My creations are the sorrow and despair of living in an imperfect world, and wishing that it was perfect.

Gluttony
Do not overindulge in anything, not even those things which bring pleasure and have no consequence. I think this is a flawed statement at best. In my writing I discuss extraordinary circumstances or situations that I have been involved in. Many of these situations happened only in my own mind, but a number of them occurred when I overindulged in certain things and saw the world in a completely different perspective. If we all lived in perfect moderation, would the world not be boring and uninspiring? I choose to do those things that bring pleasure, and if I do them too often then the result is simply more pleasure. Gluttony is the cause of many interesting nights that allowed me to step outside of my protective shell and experience things that I would have never experienced otherwise. How could I not pay homage to such a thing? How could I desire to cease doing something that only opened my eyes? Gluttons will be looked down upon and called drunkards and addicts, but I have never met a being that has not committed gluttony at one point or another. I was once told to overindulge in moderation. Where does the line between an altered state of mind that we can learn from and a sin stand? In my creations there is no line, because there is no sin. My writings are guilt-free and full of overindulgence of thought. My words are my minds altered vision grasping for truth.

Wrath
These **** words will not flow from my mind, through my hand, and onto this god forsaken medium. What is it that I need to do to express my emotions so that others can understand them? If my words are too abstract it is only because of the thoughts and emotions that they follow. If people cannot follow my metaphors and hidden meanings then it is of no concern to me. The fact that they will not try to stimulate their intellectual ***** in order to understand something more complex than they are used to drives me insane. My pulse quickens with each thought of the issue. It is impossible that I left my metaphors too veiled or did not give enough surrounding exposition. These creations make perfect sense. Then I step back and look at the gibberish that I have created and hurl it across the room as harshly as possible. The thoughts and ideas are all here, it all makes sense in my mind, so WHY WILL THE WORDS NOT COME OUT RIGHT? The inability to explain senses or perceptions in a concrete manner that the audience will understand creates more anger in me than I will ever understand. An anger that refuses to subside. With a clenched fist the pens and pencils are broken, the keyboard is shattered, and the words are broken down into the letters that sit in a pile on my floor. My creations inspire nothing more than they inspire my hatred for ignorance. My creations are an angry conglomeration of letters wishing that they could show the emotions that inspired them. My words are children beaten for insubordination.

Greed
Greed is the greatest inspiration that most will ever know. To bathe in golden bullion and never have another care in the world. Greed not for the sake of greed, but for the sake of freedom. I am inspired by greed of a different sort. The desire to gather every idea that I can find and horde it as my own. The greed of knowledge and experience. When I was younger it was interesting to be the most mature person my age, and now that I am older it is not knowledge that is sought, but wisdom. I horde this knowledge and wisdom in my own personal compressor and squeeze them until they are in the purest possible form. It is this ink that I dip my quill into hoping that my faulty hands can transfer such a perfect concoction onto the parchment without ruining it. Without poking a hole through the parchment. Without deciding after I am finished that the words do not hold the meaning that they carry, and having to destroy everything and start over. I would gladly give all the wealth that I have to be able to sate my greed for the expression of perceptions and knowledge. These are the pains that I have endured, and they are mine and mine alone to claim. There is no greater value on this Earth in my eyes. People can have their tubs of golden bullion, and I will help them with generous contributions when able, but if they ever decide they want my words there will be war. A war of greed. A war of necessity. My creations are my glorious mansion that holds the treasures of experience and knowledge. My words are the golden bullion that so many men have fought and died for, and I will horde them until some greater force can pry them from the hands that created them.

Lust
Love is an illusion that was created for your confusion. Those that speak of love are disillusioned into believing in some extrasensory emotion that they allow to consume them. Love is the most abstract emotion or idea that anyone could ever base a creation on. I tire of reading of love at first sight, love found upon a spring morning, or love that has been discarded. These things are boring, and as long as people persist in writing on these things I will always have kindling for my fires. Tell me about something that I know. Lust is the most pure form of the idea of love that is kept in circulation for no apparent purpose, besides creating sorrow for those that cannot find something so perfect as it has been described. Lust does not mislead and has no ulterior motives. The warmth of another being pressed tightly against you in a shared ecstasy. That is all. There are no complications, there is no confusion, there are no forced rituals that you have to fake your way through to get to another goal. Has the world become so confused that it forgets its instincts. They tell me that lust is a sin, but I know very well that it has created more pleasure than any restriction I will ever be given. I have heard many times to wait for love and it will come in time, but never have I heard anyone told to wait for lust. There is something unexplainable about finding oneself in a passionate situation that they had never even thought about before the moment that it happened. It is the same way with my writing. My writing is the beautiful girl whose name I do not know, as she is leading me across the house to a more secluded place.

Envy
I was taught never to keep up with the Joneses, and I will never attempt to. I had planned to accomplish such great deeds that the Joneses would be found as a wreck of green helplessness. In my great plan I had no intention of ever envying another person. It was not until I fell in love with words that my great plan fell apart. It was these words that would be my downfall. Writers, publishers, artists, and editors all held titles that I wanted for my own. Those that were far more lucky whose works were published. We use the same letters and words, but I could never convince people to see the appeal in truth. It was when I realized this fact that I became envious. I was not envious of the titles, or of the money

Mind. Body. Both are transfixed among one another. They attract a certain multitude of how both permeates the other with constant activations among it’s greater whole. Two sides to the same coin. Something remotely without judgemental issues to be weary of. Mind and body servitude one another on the grand scale of themes. Monitoring what it’s like to function without one another in the best-case scenarios. One would like to think they both do have separate parts among being each others counterpart. It’s more finite then one would think at first. The difference between finite and separate existence comes with its own separate finite pieces without the other to perturb it’s operations. Finite is a judgmental classification among something to do with how each permeates the other. Yet have many finite pieces among one another who they deem isn’t worthy of there time. There’s an operation going beyond both connections between mind and body can foresee. The skeleton key of mind and body! This key is able to permeate both situational events at one singular time. A simultaneous rate without virtue to uphold it’s investigations. Investigations being something without equal ownership to who’s to be the most separate among each other. And having their own finite pieces among mixed connections one is deemed worthy to uphold among differences entirely. Does mind and body disagree with one another? Or do they simply don’t understand what they are among one another? If they did, then why the hustle from one another? A simple documentation among desirable functions on instinct to never get along. Yet why be brought together to permeate among connections across many of their pieces they already deemed worthy? Is it because they have no choice, but are fixed to get along? A forced operation which localizes their own behaviours across mind and body’s actions. Systematically removing respect among one another. All the above are equilateral. But the skeleton key of mind and body isn’t equilateral by any means. It’s the warden of both mind and body. It’s the warded succession that binds these permeated systems together for peace, and agreement. Desires without conquest isn’t deserving among one another. It’s only deserving among two sides of the same coin, when the key hiding in-between all separate pieces of finite details which takes the entire cake! Why does natures evolution want to keep these visuals under wraps? It’s only the in-between operations without separate pieces of finite details to rhythm the constant of all processes. The skeleton key is the proper picture hiding in plain sight for (non being the wiser) to evoke upon. (A reason being obvious among other reasons without closure among each other.) A testament to become stuck apart, if not for the skeleton key to fill in the gaps. Constantly pushing the desires from urges which are constantly giving practice toward mind and bodies believe in one another. Believe equals sacrifice. Both giving a well-known awareness that they aren’t truly at conflict with one another. There aware of another which binds their desires from urges over and over again. Unlocking one’s own processes among believe which equals sacrifice on a huge scale! Trying to process a path of deservance between how life is truly instructed upon. Natures evolution trying to permeate the true picture from the original design back into another’s claim. Its skeleton key is the object to truly finding progress with the original design. Mind and body being just pawns in a greater horizon. Evolution is the shenanigans of natures ploy. A thing helps pertain the connection between mind and body. Subjecting a skeleton key to react over and over again. Why? Simply so it isn’t disowned by the original designer. Evolution being natures shenanigans is a crafty finite detailed version onto natures spectrum indeed. Evolution being the key to mind and bodies success. A deceiving skeleton key hidden in plain sight for non to equally see!

A disappointment can make one sad
It can also raise emotions on one becoming mad
It becomes apparent in holding to someone’s promise
But let’s be honest
A person’s promise means nothing in the voice with no documentation behind it
But on the same level, one shouldn’t make a promise they know they can’t keep
Friendship becomes a clean sweep
However, a disappointment becomes an understanding of the mind and soul having a reason for the disappointment having a connection
No it was said right without needing correction
Disappointment is a happening that must be
Again, it will understanding for you to see
In order to get through a disappointment, there is a waiting period
This is all part of God’s plan
Now I am sure you are going to think otherwise
But what’s being said is no surprise
It’s time for all to realize
Disappointments will come
I know everyone wants disappointments to be next to none
But disappointments are part of life
Sometimes you will look for encouragement being advice
Keeping up being inspired is always nice
Don’t even think twice
Preparation is only the beginning
It’s God’s plan that will be fulfilling
I disappoint you not
I don’t have a plot
In fact, I have tied my own disappointment into a knot
Now it will be time for the waiting period having a plan to take effect.

Every one in this house
is always sleeping soundly
at this hour
but me

I shovel drugs and drinks
inside my now dry mouth
and they poke at my brain
who says
“spit it all out”

I close my eyes and mimic
the dark and the quiet
at this hour
but I

Can suddenly hear a party
that exists five cities over
and the people
they’re real
but they sound
like a radio
and I open my eyes
and the party is over
and the static is gone

Then I start to hum a song
to soothe my mind with
a familiar sound
something real
controllable

Everyone in this house
is always sleeping soundly
at this hour
but me

By now I’m out
of drugs and drinks
and I’m left with
thoughts and thinks
and I hear footsteps

Blue like whites in the laundry
That have been bled on
By a stray sock
Behind an oak like veins
Arteries bending and rebounding
To their original form
Flecked with rusty marigold bleach stains
Like those on the black sweater I wore
today.

Incense used to cover up
a marijuana trail,
purls out the slightly
cracked window
and flows through the pixel
apartment window screen as
clouds crawl across the sky
like the white feline flecked with
basement dust as he
yawns.

I sometimes wish I was more like J. The whole world helps support her, feels sorry for her. She can cry. She can convince people to think what she wants them to think. She holds an enormous amount of power. She convinces people that she is delicate and they do things for her- like D helping her with the FBI job and her professor practically re-writing her Fulbright essay in an intellectual way. Her writing just isn't as organized, but she seeks help and people want to help her.

Me on the other hand-- I do more for people. When I ask them for help, they aren't really useful. I don't know how to talk to the right type of people or how to get ahead. I always knew that J would thrive with just the right opportunities- because she is highly capable.

I just don't do things well enough. Grades ******. Professors don't know and don't care about me. People think I am intense and pushy and controlling. She is all these things to me, and she sometimes makes me intense, but then to the outside world she is sweet and delicate.

Men are attracted because of the way I look, which is pretty but not stunning or gorgeous. In the end, they always leave me for someone more attractive and more chill.

J's ex however thought she was the ideal woman even after they broke up. He wanted to get back with her but did not. It kind of hurt me to hear that because now I know why he kept emailing her after they broke up- he actually was in love with her. She mattered. She was sweet and cultured and delicate.

The guys who left me, left in a heartbeat. They stayed for a while, chasing my tail. Then suddenly found something better and left. Never returned an email, and I was the one with the broken heart who felt dumb and foolish. If you are not going to be stunning like Angelina Jolie, or really attractive, then it's just not enough to be pretty enough and have a high ****** appeal. You need to be calm, ooze positivity and radiate happiness and good energy. You need to be organized and successful at little things. You need to be calm. For those like me in pain, we gotta work harder.

I hate telling J anything about myself, either positive or negative. When I tell her anything that I am sad about or hurts me, she dismisses it so easily. She also doesn't take criticism well. She immediately points to the fact that I have a lot of flaws too.

C was good to J. An intellectual who wished to impress her, he assisted her with her papers, talked to her professors, visited her at E.

I never meant enough to the men I loved. I thought I was lucky to have experienced love three times, but what does it mean when you make sacrifices repeatedly, where you try to change yourself into the way you think a man wants you to be, to love earnestly and madly- and for it not to be reciprocated at all? J is a very lucky girl. She thinks her life was ruined because G chose me over her for my looks. He left me so easily in the end. If I was prettier and my life was more put together- he'd have stayed.

She easily hurts me with her words, they cut daggers into me. They leave me perplexed. She has an insurmountable amount of power over people.

I have confided in a couple people about her, K and S. I hope it's okay. She drives me crazy. Lo thinks I am a mad-woman. I don't want to be a mad-woman.

I have so much pain and anguish inside me, that it just seeps over. Cup of pain is too much to bear. All the intensity I permeate is because of the pain. I want to become less intense. This is my first week of trying to become less intense.

Step 1: I will not tell anyone about my problems with J.
I will only write about them and talk to R, Ch or a therapist about it.

Step 2: This week, I will work on obtaining a therapist.
I need to apply for medicaid properly with all documentation.

Step 3: Study for Algebra 2!
Test on Wednesday- if you get this tutoring gig, more will open up to you.

Step 4: Wake up early so I can sleep early.

Step 5: Apply for jobs.
I gave up on it because I expected the P.O. job. I did horrible on the interview, so chances for a second interview would be a miracle. Getting a job will help me become happier.

Step 6: Talk to priest at English church for spiritual guidance & for help to control vices and add calmness.

Step 7: Meditate at the gym and stretch for 30 minutes before running.

Step 8: Get a mentor, join groups, attend the right kinds of events, make new friends.
Your whole life and issues cannot center around J. She has moved on, she lives with two roommates. She has Lo & the Asians, two close roommates who are a lot of fun and smart, and she has a good relationship with her dad, and she has D and her co-workers.  She has moved out of her house and moving on with her life. She comes back and accuses me of things and hurts me. I on the other hand, have befriended people who are "stuck" like me at home: Ro who is a struggling alcoholic, Ch who repeatedly -after I pleaded with him to stop- asks me what I am wearing and talks to me about us making out, Ka who is smart but a friend of J's ex C. I was formerly also friends with two Indian guys, one who ended up leaving me because he was in love with me, and another who I called the police on for stalking & harassment. I don't judge any of these guys, instead they talk to me because I am pretty-- but I talk to them because deep down they are also intelligent people who are socially or psychologically struggling like me. Still, the right opportunities only come in the right situations- so it's important that I place myself in them.

Step 9: Keep exercising.
Building up your endurance for running is awesome because it will be good for your lifestyle, but also help you train for future jobs like P.O. & F.B.I. Keep doing 5Ks and then build your way up.

Step 10: Dare to show weakness.**
Allow people to see your weakness so they can help you, without being depressed or whiny. Be yourself. Be fierce. Work hard. No man is an island. Even though my pain makes me want to be completely independant, I need a lot of help. Be humble. A lot of people have helped my family. Show gratitude for what you have.

Not your name
Not your nationality
Below all the fame
Below the unreality
Deep down
Who are you?

Forget your license
Forget your authorization
Forget your conveyance
Forget every legal documentation
Now tell me
Who are you?

Deep down in the dark room of your empty soul
Deep down below your average conscience
There are only the things you put there yourself  
All your unused options
And the unanswered questions
like 'Who are you?'


Deep down below
There are only feelings
All your feelings
That you chose to confine
But it really doesn't matter who you are deep down
Because nobody carries around a shovel all the time.

Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I speak to a poem that ends in a direction, not initially considered...

I've attended Church services for more than 3.5 decades; as a youth, I was raised in a Baptist Church (in southern Maine). For those unfamiliar with this division of Christianity, there's nothing more important than studying "The Word of God". And hear me - there is nothing inherently wrong with studying the Bible; it's one of those necessities as a Christian. And for me personally, it just wasn't enough. As much as I love The Word, having a real and personal relationship with Jehovah became more obvious and critical for my spiritual growth. Eventually, I found my way into the Pentecostal Church, got filled with the Holy Spirit and learned to speak in tongues. Accepting this gift (of tongues) raised my ability to build my relationship with Christ. In effect, it significantly improved the way I'm able to give praises to God and to talk with Him. I share this background information to give a flavor of my thought process (that influences my spiritual writings) - and not as a criticism for those who have not accepted this gift from God. (People who have read my poetry should readily agree that it's fairly evident that my writing is based on the Scriptures and does not contradict the basic tenets of the Christian faith.)

In order to remain within my profession of I.T. (Information Technology), I've had to relocate to different U.S. states on the east coast. So I found myself living in southern Connecticut for about a decade. For more than three years, I attended this popular Church in Milford. Despite my own "baggage", I was a productive Christian, giving my time, talent, tithe and offerings to the Church freely and whole-heartedly. As a result, I started to dream of how I could give more of myself to Him - to be able to give my entire life for God's purposes (as He intends for everyone). My poetry manuscript was completed and blindly rejected by the Church - the clergy was not interested or curious about the "Christian poetry" I had written. Undeterred, I had already started working on additional poetry manuscripts. Wanting more of Christ in my life, fascination with Enoch began to grow at this time; very little about him is shared in the Bible and I never thought to research him on the Internet. The pages of my Bible are written upon with notes, concepts and ideas as I studied The Word and listened to sermons throughout the years. And yet, I noticed how little commentary about Enoch was known to me in my notes. What did Enoch know that the rest of us fail to understand? At the beginning of the Wednesday evening service, parishoners are allowed to submit questions - to be addressed directly by the bishop, prior to the evening service. I had begun assembling my poem fragments and phrases, but had not started the construction of the poem itself. So one night I submitted a simple question: "Why don't we know more about Enoch's life?"

I've come to learn that preachers are fickle creatures; they claim to be "dead men" - people who are unoffendable when interacting with less knowledgeable individuals in spiritual matters. And yet, with my analytical brain and decades of Church experience, I naturally rub minsters against their grain. After all, "iron sharpens iron" and my words catch on their spiritual burrs - which is something that ministers typically don't fully appreciate when dealing with me. My innocent submission uncovered an overly sensitive nerve, quickly made apparent by the bishop's unrighteous reaction to my inquiry. Instead of answering my question in a positive and forthright manner, he exploded into a contrite diatribe "of how I suffered from an escapist's mentality". Naturally I was unimpressed with his carnal response and came to the immediate conclusion that he didn't have a viable response. I'm fairly sure that this event wasn't lost on the congregation either; for when someone avoids answering a direct question, people can easily draw their own conclusions. When the time came for me to compose this poem, the minister's words were still grinding on my spirit - thus setting the tone of this work. Although different from my other poems, I can't say that I'm disappointed with the ending of my poem, given the actions of Christ's dealings with the Pharisees and Saducees. If anything, I've followed His earthly example. This poem is my reaction to the bishop's inability to provide me with a solution that I had sought.　



P.S. Although there are other people who never experienced death, such as Elijah, who was taken to heaven in a fiery chariot, Enoch was essentially snatched away by the "Hand of God", so that "he was no more". No other documentation exists, that details those who prevented their physical death in this particular way.

Reasons why I love you:

1. I could say that you are my sky but that would be cliché

2. The reflection of the sky beamed back at you.
Tiny, abundant crystals each produced
millions of portraits of the sun.
Fleeting angles scintillating champagne powder.
And it,
was beautiful.

Stomach full of liquid.

Black eyed peas

And obsession with relish

Finally paying off.

Trees

Collages

Dancing

Seductress.

Knowledge

Healing

­Three small boys dressed as their fathers

Playing checkers

Giggling

Marimba chops

Echoing

Twice stolen earphones

Volume control

Old south

1933

Shallow grave

Shallow sleep

Fresh cars

First to drive

Survive.

Sonic

Pescetarianism.

Cherry Lime-ade

Walking on the

Green grass

REM interrupted

Curious hands

Laced between

Fingers

Three sizes smaller

Sinking

unbiased truth

peeking an ugly face

around her corner.

Talk of mustaches and

****** orientation

The price of documentation.

Embrace

certainty within confusion.

Tuesday.

the humiliation
attempting multiplication
is a discrimination
filling all emotions with frustration
trying to send help of communication
to a genius
showing no blood relation
in a habitation where Ax and Bx showing a result of Cx
introducing a collaboration
with letters sends a illustration
to the mind causing hallucination
just a pigment of imagination
slight vibration
desperately needing a detoxification
of education
to wrap your thoughts around this generation
seeking the need for popularization
but the mind is in a mental restriction
start a petition
to conquer the satan of calculation
but so far no documentation
of the closed corporation
of the mad minded mathematician
so you're living in devastation
suffering while you work at a gas station
from no graduation
or thoughtful congratulations
all because you forgot the capitalization
for a math symbol
on a test
because of the lack of specification

Make a reservation
for the realization
that math
does not
always make
sense.

You, you are a
Thermodynamic
Buoyant
Force
******* like the
single-minded
Octopus
that takes and takes
Strong energy,
mild energy
Inhales the organically-grown
Petals
of all flowers, regardless
Good intentions.
that sure is nice
What humility,
Artificial
Plastic
Egotistical
Manufactured
Trademarked
Birthed  
Regurgitated
and
too thoughtfully acted by
You.
But I see it.
You have
not landed.
The world needs your
footprint but
it does not need your self-indulged
hunger.
Be humble.
Your success is not
marked if
You are not humble.
Keep your tentacles
in your depths and
Be
Poised
Poised you seem to be and success is your process but
Humility is my truth.
We float on
neighboring clouds of
public service
that have not the same hue.
Take a step back.
I see you mean
No harm
like a dinosaur with no arms
Good intentions.
Take a step back.
You desire to envelop others yet
You do so
so
mindlessly
I see it.
Let your brain rest from the throne.
the world does not serve you
It serves nothing
and no one as
We are all lucky.
You say that you’re lucky
For all
to hear
just to endear
And that is the problem
My dear, be poised.
Publicize your life for
documentation?
No
Take a step back.
We need your
love
compassion
independence
ambition
Real
not fake.
Transform this and
Good intentions.
The world is not yours
You walk on its leaf
and repeated, recycled
identities
Take a step back.
The world is not yours.


Cameron Bell, Copyright © 2019

Everyone was saying it'd hit 40°C tomorrow, a truer marker of summer’s arrival than a pinch and a punch on the 1st December. But I was leaving today. Bags packed, ready. A last smoke on the balcony before the taxi would pull up below. Right now on Scott Base somebody was probably typing my name into all the necessary [NAME HERE] gaps in the arrivals documentation, but by the time I’d be in a position to sign along the final dotted line it'd be too late to back out. Flights out of NZ’s base in Antarctica leave every second Tuesday morning and book up more than a month in advance. There are no flights at all from February through to August.

I had nowhere else to go anyway, the spare key to her apartment kicked under her door three weeks ago.  


---
Within just a handful of days of each other, we’d somehow both of us slept with other people. "Slept with." What a frigid way to put it. Of course I do mean ****** – the sleeping part simply an awkward optional accompaniment to the consequentials. So, we’d both of us ****** other people, and although nothing was said the weight of the truth buzzed between us, unsettling and persistent.  

I’m unsure which of us had gone first. I imagine it was ladies before gentlemen.


---
It was six years ago that I‘d followed her over to Australia, six years ago that she'd looked up over some textbook and said with a smirk that she'd never dreamed she’d let a man with such "offensive paws" anywhere near her, let alone fall for him.

It's true that within a few weeks of starting my apprenticeship my hands were stained black, with slow-healing sores opening up between the fingers, and the crusts of tired eczema aggravated by the incessant and optimistically futile scrub of soap. I was known for leaving behind dark smudges around light switches. But she hadn't seemed to mind my leaving soft fingerprints on her.

“D’you think there’s any language that's got sufficient words for all the different kinds of love? Like the Inuit and all their words for snow?”

I took a tray of ice cubes from the freezer, held her wrists behind her back with my right hand, and tipped the frozen cubes down the front of her warm and crumpled shirt.


---
And then? And then.

I won't detail the cruel and gradual tilt apart, increasing degree by degree up over the years, sliding us into roles and positions neither could recognise ourselves in. Mutually check-mated. What better way to tip the chessboard than start playing with somebody else.


---
The day she left her computer on and Gmail logged in the first grass fires of the season were reported in the north of Victoria, and the Bureau of Meteorology was predicting yet another “hottest summer on record.” I could only read the top three messages from him and her responses before logging off.

I hadn't even thought to ask for any somebody else's email address.

I grabbed my own laptop and opened a new browser. Google: jobs antarctica.


---
My best mate and I had dropped out of high school together to be taken on as plumbing apprentices: petrol and beer money in exchange for bubonic hands. At some point during those early days of drain and dame laying I came across a profile piece in the NZ Plumber about a guy who'd done a 12 month stint at Scott Base. Back then I’d doubted that I'd ever become the kind of man who could survive the snow and ice and dawnless darkness of a polar night.

Butterfly globe make light in a passion pit.
My beach house is surreal, is a high water mark,
is the heart of all the radio left in this world.

But I am here writing technical reports
about environmental beasts in Massachusetts,
in New York in Connecticut where I think

people stuff air, drive slow and waste everything.
I can tell by the aerial maps that geography is
tethered by our parceled teeth of desire.

In the office I whisper, love is urban
a little too loud but no one decides to hear
and so I scribble it on the FOIL and send it

to municipalities in search of property records
in search of environmental concerns,
old pre-industrial gas stations with nameless owners.

I like to zoom in and out real neurotic  
When I should be looking for the Site,
with the – Conditionally Exempt Small Quantity Generator.

Instead, I’d like to live between every green space on GoogleEarth,
an ubiquitous witch fevering undulating land,
thighs straddling the seasons between documentation and myth.

Release. Repeat the Response Action Outcome.
Instead, I envy the road – all wide open
yawn stripe and ticking yellow. I’d write,

"Tank Status: Removed," in purple chalk across
the brick and vinyl siding of all the buildings on Columbus Avenue.
This morning I am impossible.

This morning I believe I am Earth and I can’t say no
to the height of caffeine in subterranean climates
and the reflection my mouth makes swallowing navy blue,

waves like falsity, waves like any nation flag
under screen.  I often think an office is not a space,
there would be less sighing, there would be love in action.

Do you remember the apple cider?
Your house was always cold, every-
thing was always apples. I never
did get the matching triforce tattoo
with you and that is okay because I
don't like tattoos anyway. You didn't
ruin the Legend of Zelda for me, I
just said that. Remember to drink water.
Remember that everyone you ever meet
is responsible for their own feelings and
their own problems. Remember that lots
of things provide temporary fixes but
never solace.  

How about those frogs? Never a silent moment
until I yelled out your window and you lamented
over the amphibious life you stole with the lawn
mower. (I noted that I had caught frogs at my
grandfather's funeral).

Here's to your earliest memory. Standing in a hamper looking out
the window until your mom picked you up. Was there a bucket
involved? Here's to your scars, your split finger, right next to your pinky the red
on your cheeks, the rough texture of your triceps. That other chris in
kindergarten, Mercer? Did he steal your first love? Haven't smelled
your stomach for a year but I am pretty sure it still smells like
leather. Your hair, soft in the middle, rough around the edges.

Will I ever have enough documentation?

You taught me that tap water doesn't **** and that
all you have to do to make anything perfect is add
an egg or two.

Deep breath
Deep breath
Deep breath
Deep breath
Deep Breath

Though the chemical gas was a fable,
rebel terror we’ll arm and enable;
we will kick their Assad
with some help from Mossad
and create something TRULY unstable.

Little victims, all Syrian-bred
look pathetic: so small, nearly dead.
Lack of documentation
won’t dampen our nation;
from YouTube to bombing we’re led.

War-hawks pause for no burden of proof.
Show a whimpering child and then— **** !
They, rush in, like a fool
using Trump as their tool.
He’s been militarized. What a goof.

Automotive retailer software is actually a tool developed to nearly speed up the majority of publique duties in the automobile fix working area.

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Ones store office operate can indeed possibly be tedious and also unexciting, but efficient auto shop keeper, that they become simple and easy , quite interesting.

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White noise internally
Incessant cacophonous sound
Brown, violet, violent, vile
The phrasing of inner dementia
Stroking the crevasse ahead
Frolicking inkstained sheets
It is coming
Cram, cram, cram
Blue, black, block, blight
Curious apparatus
Tell me your ways when I slumber
It escapes in the light
Blank, blink, black, bright
Cease
I do not know
What I am doing
What am I seeing
I
Do
Not

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