"not only do we have to be good at waiting, we have to love it. because waiting is not waiting, it is life. too many of us live without fully engaging our minds, waiting for that moment when our real lives begin. years pass in boredom, but that is okay because when our true loves comes around, or we discover our real calling, we will begin. of course the sad truth is that if we are not present at the moment, our true love could come and go and we wouldn't even notice. and we will have become someone other than the you or i who would be able to embrace it. i believe an appreciation for simplicity, the everyday - the ability to dive deeply into the banal and discover life's hidden richness - is where success, let alone happiness, emerges." -the art of learning, josh waitzkin
(so this is kind of overdue) but my best friend is married!
she was the most elegant & beautiful bride. j & d looked picture-perfect! and i couldn't stop bawling during the ceremony (so unattractive).
it was nice being reunited with family, old friends, current friends, church folks - all in one place.
and it was inevitable that i was flooded with comments like "when are you getting married?!" "you'll be the next to go!" (only from the older crowd, of course) and i just stood there, grinning uneasily saying "oh no no no..." unfortunately there isn't an emoticon that expresses uneasy, slightly perturbed fake smiling.
can we please focus on the bride? it's the bride's day! but i know it's the token thing for korean grown-ups to say to single young adults. that time has come apparently... (i need to get a clever, canned answer of how to reply to such questions about my singlehood)
but yes it feels weird one of my besties is going on to the next stage - living the "real, grown-up" life, while i'm still somewhat living the college dorm-life with roommates & instant noodles. not that i don't enjoy my life, it's just that i still feel like i'm not fully "adult" yet (i guess carrying around a hello kitty debit card doesn't really help).
the weird thing is even if i were to be married + kids, i have a feeling that i still won't feel that way. i guess i will always be "young @ heart" though i paradoxically also consider myself an "old soul" or a "young fogie."
i'll be sad if there comes a day where i won't be able to see the boa constrictor anymore though.
"in the corporate world, every major company formulates a mission statement. that, in turn, is invoked when measuring achievements & failures. if a company does not know why it exists, then it will never know if it is failing or succeeding. how indicting, then, it is to all of us who will labor for hours to establish a mission statement for a company to sell toothpicks or tombstones but never pause long enough to write one out for our individual lives."
"just think of the alternatives our cultures have given us. pleasure, wealth, power, fame, fate, charity, peace, education, ethnicity - the list goes on endlessly. and when none of these work, some amalgam of spirituality and pragmatism is embraced. but these pursuits do not tell us why we are here in the first place. these may be ways of ordering one's life, but is life to be defined by what i pursue, or must pursuit be defined by what life was meant to be?"
"somewhere in the midst of all this turmoil, the Hound of Heaven was on my trail. his footprints are everywhere as i look over my shoulder now. he was indeed, nearer than i thought. i can see now, in hindsight, the trail that is evident, even in the grimmest moments. when you live in a small, two-bedroom home with four siblings and two parents, you cannot run for a hiding place. yet it is utterly amazing how one can hide within oneself."
-from the first few chapters of ravi's book jesus among other gods
"Sadly, they have all but accepted that only stupid people actually believe in Christianity, and that the few intelligent people left in the churches are there only for the music or believe it all in some symbolic or contorted way which, when examined, turns out not to be belief after all.
As a matter of fact, I am sure the opposite is the case and that materialist atheism is not merely an arid creed, but totally irrational.
Materialist atheism says we are just a collection of chemicals. It has no answer whatsoever to the question of how we should be capable of love or heroism or poetry if we are simply animated pieces of meat.
The Resurrection, which proclaims that matter and spirit are mysteriously conjoined, is the ultimate key to who we are. It confronts us with an extraordinarily haunting story.
J. S. Bach believed the story, and set it to music. Most of the greatest writers and thinkers of the past 1,500 years have believed it.
But an even stronger argument is the way that Christian faith transforms individual lives - the lives of the men and women with whom you mingle on a daily basis, the man, woman or child next to you in church tomorrow morning."
-a. n. wilson, English writer & columnist, public atheist-turned-Christian, and my latest obsession
well, let me clarify - i can discuss death in the abstract. i can write about the impact of death, the mysteries of death. how death is portrayed in books and films.
but i find it nearly impossible to write about it on a personal level.
i don't think i have exactly figured myself out on this, but i think it comes down to a mixture of things. one would be that i just can't seem to wrap all the events, the emotions, and the effects of it into words. the way i can just kind of think and ponder about certain inconsequential or lighthearted topics (food, korean-ness, the la vs ny dichotomy, relationships, etc) and pump out some vain opinion or another, i can't do the same about this topic. not necessarily because it's a "sensitive" issue, but because it's that much harder to form a more singular, packaged idea/thesis about the whole thing.
they say words/stories can breathe people back to life. i still remember one of my favorite books we had to read back in school was tim o'brien's the things they carried. in the book, there was a poignant chapter on the narrator losing his childhood love (linda) to cancer and how he dealt with it (years later) by writing her into his stories. i remember i loved this particular story so much, i cried when reading it. i even remember reading it to my boyfriend (at the time) on the phone - though i'm pretty sure he couldn't have cared less. however in this chapter, i realized that through the craft of storytelling, tim wasn't saving linda's life, but saving his own.
and then it dawned on me that writing about it would ultimately just be a selfish move on my part (at his expense). i don't have the "right" or the authority to write about it. i don't want that person's life (or the memories of his life) to be made immortal through my words (especially since i wouldn't know if it would be against his will). all these words would probably be for my own benefit or my own need for "closure" and/or self-expression - a means of coping.
so that is why (or at least partially why) i can't write.
i was re-reading excerpts of joan didion's the year of magical thinking. she is so spot-on that she has a way of making me short of breath and drown in her grief.
So I've been meaning to write in a diary for quite some time now... no, not a blog (like the one you're reading) that's filtered and packaged for the larger interweb community, but a real private diary that captures my uninhibited thoughts at any giving moment.
The problem with writing in a diary is that I get lazy and I only write in spurts when something exciting is going on (usually surrounding a boy) - which obviously is not a true reflection of my day-to-day life. Another issue is that I've always associated writing in a diary with actual writing by hand. As most my schoolwork and work-work have involved typing on a computer for the past decade or so, it's become harder for me to really sit there and write out anything substantial with pen & paper (I've become extremely reliant on the backspace button). The most i can do is transcribe during lectures/meetings or sermons, but it's hard for me to jot down any original thoughts.
So, what made the most sense to me was to create a personal online blog... pretty much a blog like this, but with a privacy lock on it (that reminds me of the old-school sanrio diaries i had growing up that had a lock & key, but all the diaries they sold had the same locks & keys, which made them utterly useless). Of course, there were some reservations about doing it, since I couldn't fully trust that it's truly "private." For instance, even with facebook, you think you set something as private, and the next day facebook will change it's privacy settings on you (without warning, might I add), and all your stuff is out there for the world to see.
But after going on different browsers and different computers to see if I could have access to this top-secret blog, I realized it was safe. So I decided to let my guard down and start writing.
To be honest, I still found it hard to write. I felt like my words still felt contrived, and the tone sounded a little too... not me. I found myself omitting things and second-guessing everything I wrote. This is not what I wanted. I wanted something raw. Something that "bared my soul."
Thats when I realized this inability to be "naked" wasn't because of other people. It was ultimately because of me. Not only did I want to keep certain things from others, but I realized these things were also hard for me admit to myself as well. And writing them down (whether they be on written on paper or electronically) would mean that they were true and I couldn't swallow that. I didn't want the ugly thoughts swimming in my head to become hard, cold truth's that I would have to face again and again. I'd rather not.
But I realized that I can no longer be in denial and that I'd have to candidly face these shortcomings, the disappointments, and my secret longings.
After all if i'm not true to myself, really what's the point?
As much as I love my NY life, there have definitely been some serious sacrifices I had to make while living here.
But more than the insanely high rent and brutal winters, I think the biggest drawback would be not being around my closest loved ones.
Seems obvious right? But it recently crept on me as a slowly realized understanding that things are just not quite the same no matter how much I keep in touch. Throughout the 2-year duration that I've been living here, I have rarely felt strong pangs of homesickness (except for some random moments when I start to really miss my grandma), especially since I still talk to my family and my best friend back at home on a fairly regular basis.
But I realized that you can't deny the power of proximity. No matter how much effort both parties put in, you feel an inevitably growing distance. When you talk to them, you find yourself omitting those stupid, little details of your life that you normally would share with someone you see on a daily basis (i.e. current roommates, coworkers). And it's not that you literally can't share those things, but you just don't see any point in it... who really wants to hear that stuff right? So you try to package all the happenings of your life into more readily digestible forms - the quick highlights or the overarching theme of the season. But what we fail to see is that those silly, petty details (those complaints about the train traffic, that crazy scene you might've seen on the streets, that "special little moment" you might've shared with someone) are actually the tiny propellers that help sustain relationships.
That's why I value my roommates (j & e) so much - they're my home away from home. As "introverted" as I am, I enjoy having roommates and I think I would drive myself up the wall if I lived alone. Sometimes you just need that person that you need to rant to or in my case, listen to (haha). Yes, some of the stuff we may talk about may be inconsequential, but hey- it's the glue to our bond. Their companionship is truly priceless, and it'll be a strangely happy/sad day when we all find possibly more significant other's to move in with.
Something that I never really experienced until I came to NY was this interaction/relationship you have with your doormen. These doormen you see day in & day out; they probably know about your patterns more than you do by the way you scramble out the apt every morning, the packages you receive once in a blue moon, the visitors you get late at night. We have three doormen (now four I believe) at my apt. building. They all greet me very pleasantly in the mornings with their distinct "good morning ma'am!", "why hello Juuulie!" or "how youuu doin?"
So it kind of broke my heart when last week, I heard that the oldest doorman is terminally ill in the hospital. Yes - he was kind of a strange one. The one that looked pretty disheveled (I admit, I judged him) and would be a bit "overly" friendly as he jibber-jabbered comments to himself.
But all those past feelings of annoyance and irritation at the old guy seemed so petty and mean-spirited when I found out the disheartening news.
I actually asked the younger doorman if this older man had any family & kids, and the guy said he doesn't think so and that he possibly might have a sister somewhere, but is not even sure if she's aware of his condition. This made me even sadder.
These people you see and talk to everyday of your life (even if it's a quick salutation) - you can strangely feel their absence.
6.17.2012
my best friend (since the 4th grade) is engaged! throughout 18(?) years of friendship, we managed to stay by each other's side (both literally & figuratively)...
still remember the first time i yelled "hey! hey YOU!" on the streets of clay hill ave.
the first visit to the fun-house with the sesame street dolls and the curly-cue straws.
being on the opposite end of the country now, i miss her & couldn't be happier for her.
“It is in the middle that human choices are made; the beginning and the end remain with God. The decrees of God are birth and death, and in between those limits man makes his own distress or joy." — Oswald Chambers, Shade of His Hand, 1223
great film by Mike Mills. i feel inclined to doodle and listen to piano-heavy jazz tunes.
*****
Hal: Well, let's say that since you were little, you always dreamed of getting a lion. And you wait, and you wait, and you wait, and you wait but the lion doesn't come. And along comes a giraffe. You can be alone, or you can be with the giraffe.
I saw Jersey Boys the other day. I really enjoyed it- the music (mo-town <3), the story, even the silly/awkward dancing. But after watching the musical, I couldn't seem to shake off a strange feeling pitted deep in my stomach.
After digesting it all, I realized that the show's themes of changing seasons, people falling away, and an inevitable loneliness really struck a chord with me and where my life's at right now.
The thing about New York (and I bring this up a lot) is that it's this place where everything is transitory. People are changing, situations are always evolving. There is no state of permanence or stability.
And it doesn't help that I work in a marketing agency- an industry that is in a constant state of flux. Employees are coming in and out like the place is a revolving door. People who have stayed at my company for longer than two years (our "veterans") are few and far between.Every time, I start developing a real sense of camaraderie with one of my co-workers, they always end up leaving. It's gotten to a point that when a co-worker leaves somewhere in the middle of the day or comes in a bit late, I ask him/her (with alarm in my eyes, I'm sure), "You're not interviewing are you?!" Yes, I've become a needy, paranoid co-worker.
And things are definitely changing at church. As the new TLC (our small groups) season starts, I can't help but remember last year with the warmest regard. Back then, we seemed so young and optimistic about the year to come: the things that we'll do together, the ways that God will work. And this year already feels different (for obvious reasons)... And my heart and my outlook on life in general feel tougher- that life isn't butterflies and rainbows, that people (including myself) don't have the best intentions all the time. And I will miss our old group, each of them individually and our dynamic as a whole.
But you know what's the saddest/weirdest thing about all this? Even when we feel shaky about things and people fall away from our lives, it all passes and we recover and/or things "normalize" again. It's a life phenomenon.
I remember when I was leaving my old LA office and even breaking up with a past boyfriend, I realized that the saddest part of leaving people behind, is not necessarily leaving them behind, but its the fact that we'll eventually be okay without them. The human heart is so forgetful, so fickle. Just like how Frankie Valli was able to go on without the rest of the Four Seasons, its in my capacity to let go of things- that makes me the saddest.
Tonight you're mine completely You give your love so sweetly Tonight the light of love is in your eyes But will you love me tomorrow?
Is this a lasting treasure Or just a moment's pleasure? Can I believe the magic of your sighs? Will you still love me tomorrow?
"une femme est une femme"- my first jean luc godard film. it was so light, cute, and silly. and anna karina is just gorgeous. i thoroughly enjoyed it~!
While we were walking to the bus terminal on 41st st. the other day, my friend looked around and exclaimed how we pass by this area everyday as if it's any ol' block in town, yet Times Square is considered the #1 destination for people all over the world.
I remember a little over a year ago when I visited NYC, all chipper and starry-eyed... Right when I stepped into this glitzy strip of lights, I couldn't contain my simple, unaffected vigor for life. But now, I've officially become the numbed, jaded New Yorker as I irritably pass straight through people's pictures and shove my way through the masses. I keep my strained eyes to the ground to avoid the bright lights (as well as eye contact with rowdy, homeless folks).
It's almost like being in a relationship with someone. In the beginning, you're just giddy with excitement and you notice the great, unique qualities that sets this person (or in this case, this city) apart. But after a while, seeing him day-to-day, you just become desensitized and forget the initial charm of his quick wit or his manly gait. His singularity becomes a normality, and you wonder to yourself how things have gotten so... (for lack of a better word) blah. I guess that's the flaw of man: we just get used to everything where we end up appreciating nothing.
So New York, I will promise not to take you for granted. I will be in awe of the flatiron building every morning when I pass it. I will fall in love with Central Park like it's the first time. I will take joy in riding your subways and passing through your busy streets. I will not forget why I left deadbeat Cali for you. You will always be numero uno.
I remember after I used to have late-night workout sessions with some of my GNC brothers, I would come home and ask them if I really had to shower. I hated showering so late at night, especially after being so worn-out from exercising. Plus, I didn't even sweat that much. They thought I was disgusting and rebuked me for this.
I know this is going to sound gross, but I'm not a big showering kind of person in general. I mean I shower daily out of obligation and because it's a cultural norm, but I don't understand those people who can take 30+ minute showers... I get so antsy in there. I remember when I used to dorm with Joyce at Yonsei, and after every time I'd come back from showering in our communal showers, she would be a lil' taken aback and say "that was fast." EVERY time. I sometimes purposely tried to stay in a little longer, conditioning my hair an extra 2 minutes or so just to get her to stop saying that.
I guess the reasoning behind not wanting to shower (unless its really hot, humid subtropic weather and I'm sweating buckets) is that the feeling is so temporal. We shower daily just so we can get dirty and shower again. And the same thing goes for food. I think the main reason why I'm not a hardcore foodie is that the joy one gets from eating food is so fleeting that sometimes it doesn't feel like it's worth it. 10 minutes of pleasure... for what? A hole in your wallet and possibly a stomach-ache or bad indigestion.
That's why I think I enjoy books so much. Reading a book is something that is a long, time-consuming process (a labor of love) where you feel emotionally attached and invested. Also, once you're done with a book, you don't just forget about it. The feelings, emotions, ideas, and application of a good story could resonate with you permanently.
I think that's one of the characteristics that I love about God. That He's timeless and the promise that He offers is an eternal one.
Quote from Dostoevsky from Tim Keller's The Reason for God (I just have to say how happy I am that he quoted Dostoevsky- Kudos to Tim!): "I believe like a child that suffering will be healed and made up for, that all the humiliating absurdity of human contradictions will vanish like a pitiful mirage, like the despicable fabrication of the impotent and infinitely small Euclidean mind of man, that in the world's finale, at the moment of eternal harmony, something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all the crimes of humanity, for all the blood that they've shed; that it will make it not only possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened."
And C.S. Lewis: "They say of some temporal suffering,'No future bliss can make up for it,' not knowing that Heaven, once attained will work backwards and turn even that agony into glory."
Funny incident today at work: A pretty blonde lady strolls into our office. "Oh I'm looking for Scott Randall."* I look up Scott Randall in our directory and see a photo of a frumpy, curly-haired dude (kind of like the grown-up version of those Superbad guys). "Oh, are you a vendor or a client?" I ask. She smiles sheepishly and replies, "Neither. A girlfriend."
And right then before my jaw dropped, Scott Randall comes out and they greet each other with a kiss and walk into the office together.
Diva coworker next to me says, "Ooh. That Scott Randall is one lucky mofo."
I laughed, but I couldn't help thinking he must have a lot of money, which he probably does since most of the employees (at least the males) at my office do. (That's a very cruel thought to have, isn't it?)
But its a weird thing I noticed while living and people-watching in New York. There are extremely mis-matched couples, especially the homely (plain, at best) men with their gorgeous girlfriends. Either the women in this city are really not superficial (with looks) or extremely superficial (with money).
But I always thought if I was extremely beautiful and modelesque, I think I would care less about my beau being physically attractive. It's like since I'm so good-looking, I'd get sick of seeing too many good-looking people all the time. Does that make any sense?
Then I thought maybe I need to lower my standards a bit when it comes to outer beauty. Maybe the only path to happiness (apparently from the New York girls I've been observing) is that girls just need to be with guys that are 3-4 notches less attractive than them. That's the only way a girl can be truly adored and secure in a relationship. But then again, how could you be with someone without being even a little bit physically attracted to him? How would you wake up to their face EVERY morning of your whole life if you didn't like that face? But then again, sometimes even a good-looking face could get tiring to look at if you had to look at it every morning.
My cousin said her standards have been changing as she gets older. First, she says she was all about the face (very handsome with good features and structure)... then she realized she can't be that picky anymore and just asked for good height (5'10"+)... but then she realized the pool is too small, so then she just settled for a decent body (not fat and not too skinny). I realized that more than being strictly handsome, it's all about having a good (warning: gona turn a lil fobby here) 인상, which basically means "impression/vibe." Yep... and everything else is just a bonus.
I've lived my life thus far with the motto "es muss sein." (Even to the point where I permanently marked it on my body.) I have always been a fatalist with no regrets, because what happened was what was supposed to happen, right? Life is so much more livable if we just believe that it's all part of "the big plan" by the man upstairs that we cannot control.
But as I peruse through the photos of the GNC India team, I can't help but wonder "Did I make the right choice by coming here? Was it all just a fluke? Was this decision made on a whim that required more forethought?"
I know that these thoughts are just going to drive me crazy, so there's no real point of thinking of them... but at this point- I can't help but think "muss es sein?"
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.
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.
