city of God

As flawed and emotionally inexpressive as my dad can be, I really am in awe of his wholehearted, unshakable faith in God.

My dad first accepted Christ when he moved to New York. Living in the gritty slums of Queens & Brooklyn (back before the areas were gentrified and hipsterrific), my parents left their comfortable homes and friends back in Korea to be confronted with the harsh reality of urban life. It wasn't exactly the American dream that they had in mind. As they tried to adjust living in this foreign place, they saw the ugliest of humanity... my mom getting beat up and punked around by scary Puerto-Rican women, both parents getting held up at gun-point numerous times, and their store getting burned down by gangsters. They had nowhere else to turn but to God.

It's hard to appreciate God when things are good. Not that I'm exactly living the "hard-knock life" out here, but it is different from living in lazy, sunshine-filled California. Something about that place makes one feel a bit too complacent. I lost my will and urgency to pray. I was spiritually stagnant. As reluctant as my parents were in sending me 'cross country, the only thing that really compelled them to letting me go was this underlying hope. Their hope for me to find God in a dirty city of despair and desolation.

maintenance

I remember back when I was living with my aunt's family in Seoul, I was about to go out to meet a (guy) friend, and right when I was about to step out the door, my cousin looked at me and said incredulously, "You're gona go out like that? And you're going to go see a guy?"

She dragged me back into the house, applied a heavy layer of cosmetic products, and dressed up my ears with some danglies. Afterward, she looked at me with a sense of satisfaction, and told me, rather matter-of-factly, that I need to take better care of myself. I'll let you know that this guy I was meeting was not anyone that I had any interest in or wanted to impress in any way. But regardless, she said that it made no difference and that as a girl, I should always be "presentable."

Fast-forward 3 years later, and here I am living with (another) girl cousin who constantly rebukes me for my lack of physical upkeeping. She claims she has never seen a girl like me: a girl who doesn't brush her hair or curl her lashes or is so completely clueless about skincare. (I might as well be a man.) I didn't realize how "low-maintenance" I was until I realized that it only took me 10 minutes to get ready for a night out on the town and then would find myself waiting hours upon hours for my fellow gal pals to get all pretty and primped. I just don't care as much, I guess. Or find it hopeless. Either/or.

Living with my cousin, I feel like I'm learning about all the hard truths of the real world. She tells me daily how men are all dogs. (Maybe except for that rare .0001%, which we will probably never find anyway, so why try?) And she tells me how crucially important physical beauty is for girls... basically it's all we have (or at least 90% of what we can offer). As females, our tastes for guys change as our ideal man evolves from a dreamboat Johnny-Depp-look-a-like to someone who is charming with a warm personality to someone who is financially stable and can be a good father. But for guys, the preferences will always stay the same: the girl needs to be pretty. My cousin tells me how it's just an animal instinct for guys to look at other, beautiful girls, even for the guys who seem so nice, faithful, and committed. Men are voyeuristic creatures... I knew that. So we, as girls, need to do our best to curb this type of behavior by presenting ourselves as meticulously beautiful as we possibly can. So we need to pluck, tweeze, dye, paint, tan, diet, surgerize (?)... basically do anything to maintain our youth and beauty.

So as she paints my nails for the umpteenth time and instructs me on how to lather on anti-cellulite body cream, I find myself whining about how I hate being a girl.

But then she assures me and tells me to stop my complaining, because guys have it much worse: they have to worry about money, prestige, and personality.

Personally, I still think we have it harder.

my my metrocard

Adrian Tomine's Missed Connections

There is something inherently romantic about taking public transit. As I sit there, stealing glances at the slightly attractive guy sitting across the aisle from me, my (problematically) active imagination goes into overdrive as I start to wonder:

What is this stranger's name?
What music is he listening to, so intently, on his ipod?
Where is he going with his duffle bag?
Why does he have that scar on his elbow?

But unfortunately, not all bus/subway rides are like pretty, subtle little scenes painted from the latest romantic arthouse film.

In fact, this past week, I had to witness some extremely crass and annoying conversations conducted by wildly pubescent teenage boys. I know a friend of mine who hates babies. I know another person who can't stand loud ajuhmas. I realized that my most hated sub-class (?) of people would be teenage boys. Don't get me wrong- I do not hate all teenage boys. Some are really adorable. But at their worst, they are the most despicable type of human being.

These boys, that I encountered this week, would speak in unnecessarily loud voices about the girls they banged (excuse my lang) the other night- how good she was, how fat she was, etc. etc. And they used the most vulgar language that they could possibly use. (You know all those phrases/slangs that you look up on urban dictionary... and you want to throw up after finding out what it really means?) Okay- all right. I know guys out there in the mad, mad world hold conversations like this... I'm not completely naive. But still- spare the details for the locker room or your slumber parties or something. I'm sure I could speak for everyone on the train when I say that I do not want to hear about your guys' one-night-stands. And all the dudes were butt-ugly too, which only added to the level of disgust. I looked around and observed the other innocent bystanders on the train (especially the women) and saw some of them with patronizing smirks ("oh, boys will be boys") while some just had bemused expressions (a very common mien for subway-riders, I've observed). I don't think my look of revulsion could have been suppressed. I just sat there quietly as I shoved my headphones in my ears and let my mellow jams drown out their obnoxious voices, as I thought to myself, "This is why I never want to have daughters."

Suicides.

After having a drought of television-watching back in LA, I have watched more of the boob tube in the past few weeks here in Jersey than I have in the past year. And I have been mostly watching Korean television programming, since my cousin has five channels of it. Feels like Korea all over again. Then again, Palisades Park in general feels like Korea... like the quieter, suburban outskirts of Seoul.

Anyway, this past week or so, they have been showing a lot of coverage on Park Yong Ha (Korean actor who recently committed suicide) and his funeral ceremony. Needless to say, it's been quite a downer. Also, seeing mobs of Japanese middle-aged women wailing miserably about this younger star has been a bit disturbing. Would they cry this much for their own family? I guess the passing of PYH would be like their equivalent of our John Lennon or Kurt Cobain. There has been a rising tide in the suicide culture in South Korea... it kinda scares me. I remember when I first heard Daul Kim committed suicide last year. I was interning at the library, and I think a friend texted me. I dropped my pen.

Two recent articles:
"Exit Strategies"- The Economist
"Suicide Is No.3 Cause of Death for Korean Women"'- The Chosun Ilbo

retirement

I know that when I'm too old to work (at least a serious 9-5 kinda job) and have an active social life, I want to retreat to the beautiful countryside of Switzerland.


Maybe it's because I'm such a neutral person (??), but I have always had an affinity towards that place ever since I visited it ever-so-briefly for my crazy whirlwind tour of Europe during my sophomore year in high school. Yes, I went to England, France, Germany, etc., but for some reason, Switzerland always comes up in my thoughts and held a special place in my heart. The Louvre and the Palace of Versailles do not rival the pristine beauty of the Swiss Alps. And though I actually had the worst experience there (getting food poisoning and rashes all over my body), I can't help but to think of the place with the fondest of memories.

I remember the streets in the towns being immaculately clean and the country having the most beautiful landscapes. I remember taking the cable cars up the Alps with my buddies and engraving our own little swiss army pocket knives (mine had "snatch bag" written on it- a term of endearment among us girls... funny when years later, I saw it dangling amongst my dad's key chains). Oh, and we stayed at the coolest (and kinda creepy) jailhouse-turned-hotel.

I just want to go back someday, build my quaint little estate, and live there with my husband & lots of animals. All day, I'll just read, write, garden, bake cookies, listen to soothing music, and eat Toblerones. Ahh~ that would be the life.

**a little tidbit: Audrey Hepburn went to Tolochenaz, Switzerland during her film-making hiatus to raise her family and lived there for the latter part of her life.


Her grave is still there today.

i want to go here before i die

The Magritte Museum in Brussels.

Ahh it would be a dream.

what kdramas teach us...

For girls:
Don't want anything. Don't like a guy. Don't have a dream. Well at least if you do, make sure there is another girl who wants the guy more and wants the dream more. The more you want something, the less likely you'll get it. The more you want something and the more you try, you'll just end up getting fatally wounded (and end up looking like a b*tch). So just sit there passively (maybe cry a bit), and things will happen for you!

For guys:
The guy who pulls the girl harder, gets the girl. Yank her arm, drag her in your car. Works like a charm!

(oh, but you have to be good-looking. otherwise, its just a bust)

promises, promises

The chicken scratch on McDonalds napkins is actually a list of goals I need to accomplish while I'm out here. Will I be able to do it all?!?

That we shall see.

(Good thing you can't zoom in on the pic.)