on writing

When I speak,
My words seem to escape me;
They roll clumsily off my tongue
like a ball fumbling aimlessly off-court.

Either my voice is too soft or too harsh,
Having to clear my throat time and time again
As if the syllables get caught there
Entangled with my messy insides.

Did you say fury or theory?
How do we pronounce route again?
The room for error only expands
As I rush to squeeze in words into the polluted air.

But when I write,
I am able to trap my wandering ponderings
And wrap them in pretty packages
Sent and delivered with metered timing.

Writing betrays the test of superficial judgment
Where as one can be deceived by a speaker’s warm tone
Or the melodic intonations of one’s speech;
The written word can only offer its content, its bared soul.

Unlike the forceful intrusion of spoken words,
Written text never imposes itself upon someone tastelessly
But awaits patiently like a coy lover
For someone who is worthy of her readership.

The paper sets the morning
Like breakfast for the hungry mind
I’m ready to take on the day
With stains of grey, soddy imprints on my fingers.

Scripture is what grounds my faith
"In the Beginning was The Word"
These thin, wispy pages give us a fair chance
To believe in the unfathomable.

Spoken language is accident-prone
-Distorted, miscommunicated, forgotten.
You blink and you’ll miss it;
So many misplaced words, just free-floating in space.

Yet the living written word,
Playing dead on tombstones,
Will be ready to pounce
At the mere glimpse of a passerbyer.

i love.

Now is the winter of our discontent, Made glorious summer by this sun of (New)York

The other day, I passed through the Port Authority Bus Terminal in Times Square as I was waiting for some friends. It made me feel oddly nostalgic; I used to take buses there all the time, back when I used to be a bridge-and-tunnel girl living in Jersey (though I'm technically still a bridge girl, since I'm in Queens). Ahhh~ I remember those days... wearing breezy sundresses and running in humid weather, trying to catch the last 11pm express bus. With frantic (or so it seemed) classical music setting my panicked mood, I would haphazardly run up the escalators of the empty station. Funny thing is that it was only a few month ago, but it feels like years have passed since those Jersey days.

That's the thing about New York; the seasons go by in exponential speed, each one being so distinct from the prior. When people here find out I'm from Cali, they always ask in bewilderment, "How could you leave Cali?! The beautiful weather?!" I swear, that is like 9 out of the 10 reactions I get. But seriously- how could you appreciate beautiful weather if it's beautiful all the time? There is no bad to make you appreciate the good. And I think that's also why everything feels so slow and lazy in SoCal: everything is lumped together in one indistinguishable mass of time. While here, different months call for different clothing, different moods, different food, different work ethics, different outlooks, different activities, a different culture & lifestyle altogether. Though the weather here is testy, I like the variety of spells and seasons. When the sun unexpectedly decides to shine its face on a Tuesday, I can't help but to bask in the sunlight and walk around with a huge smile on my face. When there is a hail/sleet storm on a Wednesday, I splash around in my rainboots, sharing giant umbrellas with my well-prepared friends.

With that said, when is it going to be Spring?

jules et jim

i laugh hard.

the weight of glory

¹⁶So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. ¹⁷For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, ¹⁸ as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
-2 corinthians 4

日本を守る神

The news of the tsunami & quakes in Japan has laid heavy on my heart since I found out the news Friday morning.

I remember visiting Tokyo on a weekend trip back in 2007. I remember thinking everything about the city was extremely clean, almost sterile. But from the short time I've spent there, I got the impression that something about Japan just seemed cold, grey, and bleak. I couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but there was a dismal emptiness that clung heavily in the smoggy air. And now that I think back on it, I think it's because it is a nation that is devoid of God. Everyone seems so bright and chipper, but under it all- it is a country that is tarnished with loneliness and corruption.

Even with the rocky past of Korea-Japan relations (being constantly reminded of it from my grandma), I have always had a soft spot for the nation that introduced the world to Hello Kitty, anime, and Ichiban Ramen. In fact, I've been very involved in a Japanese-American community during my childhood when I attended a Japanese church. They were the ones who introduced me to the phrase Praise God- "Kansha-nae!" Though it seems like forever ago, they were such a huge part of my life back then, and I still think about them often.

---------------

When a monumental disaster strikes, we often find ourselves questioning God and His divine purpose. Was that really necessary? At least when an individual tragedy hits us (whether it is a loved one dying from cancer or getting in a fatal car accident), we try our very best (though it might be painstakingly difficult) to make some sense of the situation. Perhaps, the death of one person could've brought another family member to God. Also, it offers us some consolation to know that the victims will get the proper recognition and honor that they deserve from their passing. But when such disaster takes place in such colossal proportions, there is no way to make sense of it at all. And there are no personalized gravestones or obituaries, no hours upon hours of mourning from loved ones- people's deaths merely become a number/statistic... a part of detached history like the giant floods and plagues that occurred in the Old Testament. As we find ourselves getting frustrated, angry or confused about everything, I also find myself having no other satisfying option than turning to God. If I believed there was no God, there would be no redemption to these situations; a natural disaster strikes, thousands of people die, and that's it. End of story. But since I believe there is a God who saves and reverses all the hurt & suffering in this world, hope can be found even in the most desolate situations. So though we might not know what is the meaning behind this all, I find comfort in knowing that at least there is a meaning rather than no meaning... that there is some crazy purpose behind it all that our little human minds cannot yet grasp or understand. After all, it's better to have hope for something than for nothing.

mind vs. body

When I was younger and did not yet know the sensation of one's foot falling asleep, I used to think the devil or some other sort of evil, invisible figure was poking me with millions of teeny-tiny needles. I would get terrified, thinking someone was attacking me and I couldn't do anything about it but helplessly wait until they stopped. And then when grew older & wiser, I realized it's something that happens to everyone and that it was a physiological phenomenon- not a spiritual attack.

I still remember the first time I threw up. Well, not the first time (obviously), because I was just a wee baby then, but the first time I was old enough to remember throwing up. I believe I was 4 or 5 years old and I scarfed down a whole Sam's Club (the equivalent of Costco in California) size box of Kit-Kats. I felt really queasy and felt something rising up in my throat. I thought my own being was trying to escape from my own body- like my soul was trying to get away. It was the strangest feeling.

Now that I think about it... it must be completely horrifying for kids when they first encounter these kinds of experiences- simply because (aside from being painful), it is an unknown territory. I worry about the day when my kids first become aware of these things and experience them for the first time. That's why when I have kids, I'll have to explain to them beforehand that these are just biological processes that everyone goes through and that they will be okay. But then again- maybe not everyone's imagination is as overactive as mine is.

I am currently training with my fellow church members for the Brooklyn half-marathon in May. I actually enjoy jogging over all other kinds of exercise, but I don't think I've ever run more than 5 miles at one time. Which makes me ask myself- what the heck did I sign up for? But so far, the training has been a lot better than I had expected- mostly because I love running at Central Park and it's nice motivation when running with others (whether it be friends or random strangers). There's this warm camaraderie among runners.

I guess people have been a bit surprised about my ability to keep up my pace during our runs. But really it's more of a mental thing than a physical thing. In fact, I have my own little strategy when I run. This might come off a little morbid, but I just convince myself that I'm at a concentration camp, and the Nazi guards are behind me carrying whips & rods, waiting to beat those who are falling behind. So even whenever I feel a little winded, I remind myself that the little cramp on my side and my growing fatigue is really not worth slowing down for... my life/survival is far more important than catching my breath. And that's what keeps me going.

Pietà

one of my faves. i want to travel to italy.