몸에 좋은 까만콩~

My favoritest drink in Korea. Not even kidding, I would rave about this drink (black bean iced tea) and always buy it even though it was a tad bit pricier than the others. I've searched for it at every Korean mart and market there is in the West & East coast, yet it is nowhere to be found. There was also this amazing commercial that they always played with the most catchy song, but it is also nowhere to be found (yes, I've searched extensively in youtube and naver). Was it all just a figment of my imagination? I want it... right now...

Other noteworthy discontinued items:
Sure, you can just crush up rice krispies treats and pour them in a bowl of milk, but who would really go out of their way and do that?

I didn't even realize that this cereal was discontinued until my old roomie would have it delivered to our apt. through online orders. So delish.

epicness to come.

can't wait for the weekend.

Pakistan's bloody dynasty

While I was getting my hair did at the salon the other day, my hair stylist passed me along a recent issue of Vogue to keep me entertained. I was excited because it was the one with Carey Mulligan (love her!) on the cover.

As I was perusing through the issue, I noticed an article on Fatima Bhutto (niece of Pakistan's former prime minister Benazir Bhutto). I think she is my new role model (begone Nat Portman, Sofia Coppola, Aimee Bender, and the likes!). Journalist, author, and poet- this beauty was even the object of affection of the debonair Mr. Clooney. Anywho, she apparently came out with a book titled Songs of Blood and Sword : A Daughter's Memoir, which recounts the tale of politics and corruption of the powerful Bhutto family.

A family of beautiful people and all too frequent assassinations, the Bhutto family is to Pakistan as the Kennedy clan was to the U.S. I read up on Benazir Bhutto last year when I was in my famous female leaders phase, and I was fascinated by the family politics and her role in the Pakistan Peoples Party. Apparently, there was a rivalry between Benazir and Fatima's father, Murtaza Bhutto, and the book sheds light on his political life and his death in '96, which she suspects that her own aunt took part in.

This story almost plays out as a melodramatic Korean family drama and totally puts the Benazir in a new (negative) light, though I believe there always has been strong suspicions that Benazir's husband, Asif Ali Zardari, was the one who instigated the murder.

I really want to read it, but unfortunately I'll be on a reading (for pleasure) hiatus until the semester's over. Boooo radley.

home away from home

Having my parents visit made me realize how much I've missed them... but at the same time, reaffirmed why I moved out in the first place.

It felt surreal having them here... my two worlds (New York life + Cali life) colliding. When they were here, my dad kept commenting about their old life in NY... how certain establishments were still standing, how things have changed. Like how there was this amazing pizza joint somewhere on this block, and I would shake my head frustratedly and say "appa, there are millions of pizza places..." While I was working, they'd conquer the city on their own, traveling seamlessly from Queens to Brooklyn to Manhattan to Jersey in the course of a day. As they stepped into our humble studio home, they commented on how we need to tidy up after ourselves; our week-long cleaning session was in vain.

I couldn't help but feel half-embarrassed as my dad stormed into quiet wine bars in East Village asking them (in his rowdy, half-drunken state) what time they were closing and what other good spots were in the area. And while there are a million awesome eateries in town, they just wanted some ssuh-lung-tang & soju. (Boy, was my dad in for a rude awakening when he found a soju bottle was thrice the cost!) Before they arrived, I was so ecstatic about their coming that I told myself there was no way that I would let the little things get to me. Oh, but how I was wrong. I saw myself quickly reverting to the irritable daughter with the short temper that I thought I got rid of when I left home.

For some reason, my dad was adamant on finding the landmark residence of O. Henry (the poet). In fact, we were searching every nook and alley of Greenwich Village on three separate occasions trying to find this freakin' house. We would go into random boutiques and stores, harassing store-owners for directions (of course, none of them had a clue). I was completely annoyed, unaware of why the heck this place was so important to my dad. Eventually, I found out that my parents discovered on the first day of their trip that their dear friends (another married couple) who they planned to visit, passed away this past year. Apparently, it was an extremely tragic incident that had to do with a suicide. 20+ years ago, my parents went on a double date with this couple at a pub nearby the O. Henry site, explaining my dad's relentless need of wanting to revisit this place. I wanted to kick myself afterward.

As they departed with hugs and kisses, I felt a little heaviness in my heart. Them being here reminded me of their beginnings, their sacrifices, and my own beginnings. Wow, that was very Amy Tan of me, but something about it made me feel a bit sad and strangely hopeful all the same.

i feel loved.

r: is it as busy or fast pace as people say it is

me: yeah

me: i feel like im getting like that too

r: nice jules.

me: like i get sooo impatient with tourists

r: lol

me: when im walking near times square area

i just wana push them out of my way

r: damn... so basically... ur became....uh...more easily annoyed

me: HAHAHA

r: so now...u know how we felt...when you kept asking us for rides or coming late cuz u kept getting lost...hahaha wow...how we come to a full circle

me: HAHAHA SHUTTUP.
r: jules mahn he khut neh...Bal E Ghul Eun Hae Rah

me: whats ghul eun hae

gyul luhn?

nuh nah jahl hae

r: LOL

Jin Jah Mahn E Khut Neh

Excuse my friend... he needs to freshen up on grammar rules & his Korean.

barbara kruger @ highline park

love this one.

not part of the exhibit... but just a random plea of desperation:

さようなら

It's kind of bittersweet (definitely more sweet than bitter) leaving my first NY job.

I've accomplished a lot during my extremely brief duration there:

1. the expertise of hoarding all kinds of free bagels, cereal, and juice (really good juice that cost $4 a bottle at overpriced NY convenience stores).

2. the mastery of amNY crossword puzzles. I can finish those things like nobody's business. I still fail at Metro ones though.

Yeah... and that's about it.

Sayonara, japanese businessmen (esp. you... the kawaii one). On to bigger & brighter things...

oh, but it's so true.

If God was a typical boyfriend, he would be pretty fed-up with me and say, "You only come to me when you need/want something!!"

And I would weakly retaliate saying, "Pft! Not true!"

this bleach is infecting my brain and making me uber-sentimental.

Being away from home makes me cherish my friendships back at home. The other day I was being all whiny and feeling sorry for myself about how I have no one to go to book readings (and other fun events) to and I get emails and texts from friends saying how they would've so gone with me if they weren't millions of miles away. That made me feel all kinds of warm fuzzies.

I miss them too:


I remember when we first started leading small groups, my buddy roy would say, "man if we lead small groups, all our kids are going to hell."

But as God would have it, my girls turned out more than all right. I initially had many reservations about leading a small group... I think my whole life I was conditioned to being taken care of... not being the caretaker. I'm the baby of the family, my close friends are extremely nurturing & protective, and even in my relationships, I was usually the one at the receiving end. But after leading a s.g., I realized the joy of giving (even with the rather limited resources that I have). It's so easy to fall back into that trap of being completely self-centered, always asking yourself, "what can this person do for you?" And I saw myself, especially after graduating college and going into young adulthood, totally going in that direction- only concerned about being fed, but I need to snap out of it.

I'm the least maternal person that I know, but I feel like a proud mama when I think of my girls. It's funny, because they now have their own small group underlings, so in a sense, I'm like a KCM s.g. grandma (yuck~ kind of gross on second thought).

Also, I miss my yellow star flats.

egg-cited

I'm gona see my favorite poet tomorrow!


Five U.S. poets laureate—Billy Collins, Rita Dove, Daniel Hoffman, Kay Ryan, and Charles Simic—will mark the Poetry Society of America’s centennial. There will also be live music by Natalie Merchant and a Robert Frost monologue read by Maria Tucci.
The Great Hall, Cooper Union
7 East 7th St., New York, NY 10003 40.729092 -73.990592
at Third Ave.

I told my cousin about how I was excited about this, and she gave me a deadpan expression and said that sounds like the boringest thing she's ever heard.

I miss my kindred spirits. =(

dreams

I remember someone saying that our dreams come from:
1. God
2. Devil
3. Our own subconscious (i.e. if we really want/desire pizza, we will dream about pizza)

Recently, I've been having dreams that circle around this central theme, which I will not divulge here in this all-too-public blogosphere. If you want details, you can try to come steal my personal journal.

But every morning when I wake up, I find myself a lil' confused and very perturbed. I wonder why I keep having these recurring dreams. And what to make of them. I feel as though these dreams are sourced from #2 & #3.

It's interesting to me how some people don't have dreams or can never remember them. I feel as though I'm one of those people who get deeply affected by my dreams in some way or another. Well, first of all the dreams I've been having lately are very vivid and in-touch with my reality. So throughout these particular dreams, I'm never thinking "oh no biggie... this is just a dream." (Though I've had ones like those too in the past.) In fact, right when I wake up, in my dazed state, I question if these things actually happened.

Regardless, it needs to stop before I'm driven mad.

words of wisdom from (not so) negative nancy:

"you're doing just fine. new york's just a hard town, and it doesn't get you yet. you've been there for like an hour. once it realizes who you are, it'll take you more seriously and apologize profusely for putting you at an eastern bank branch. new york isn't a city for dreamers. it's a city for urban outfitters dreamers that can't get over themselves so they end up in fashion or at a magazine and start acting like they're better than everyone else. you're in a town where everyone is trying to one up everyone else. that's the only reason you feel this way. focus on you. screw everyone else. screw new york. just keep doing it until it steps back and apologizes. sometimes, you gotta put on your rain boots and slosh through a demeaning bank job to put your nice pumps on again. also, don't try to out negative me! i'm the gd queen! i'm offering positivity right now! i'm trying to bolster your sense of self-worth. you know this is hard for me!!! but at the end of the day you're the smartest person i know and if you can't figure it out, god help us all. seriously jules, you're gonna be alright. this is the part where i lean in and hug you. you recoil; maybe throw up a little on my shoulder and everything is still okay, because you're julie hong. you're like ferris bueller, but not old and married to that girl that looks like a horse."

fam-bam.

if my dad saw the state of my living quarters, he would faint.

if my gramma saw how i ate everyday, she would faint.

if my brother knew what kinda shenanigans i had been up to, he would faint.

and my mom... she would just laugh and shake her head.

i just noticed in my textbook...

"Dedicated to you:
The intrepid and skill-seeking librarian of the twenty-first century."


pfffft.