beginners

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.

Oliver: I'd wait for the lion.

Hal: That's why I worry about you.

family matters

"Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."

That is how one of my favorite books ("Anna Karenina") starts. And I find it very true. All the dysfunctional families I know (mine included) are all so uniquely dysfunctional, but happy families are all like the Brady Bunch. When I used to get angry/distressed by my family when I lived at home, I didn't feel like even my closest friends truuuly understood what I was going through (not that it was that horrible or anything, but it's just one of those things - you don't know unless you're a Hong). I remember my aunt would say "you can choose your friends, you can choose your job, you can choose your spouse, but you can't choose your family". And I would wonder what it'd be like (or what I would've been like) if I grew up in a different family. But then when I see the loving gentleness of my mom, the spunky warmth of my grandma, the silly playfulness of my brother, and the God-fearing dedication of my dad, I can't really see how things could be otherwise.

I attended a funeral today. As you get older, year by year, the number of weddings and funerals you attend seems to grow at an exponential rate. I think that's the scariest part about growing up... no it's not the wrinkles or the graying hair. Not even the fear of never getting married. But facing the fact that that people around you will die... and that death will no longer be some, faraway concept or idea, but it becomes a reality. People who you love, who took care of you, who loved you unconditionally, people who you cannot imagine life without - will probably die before you.

I noticed that when I attend weddings, I can only find myself thinking and focusing on the couple that is getting married- my mind never drifting off from the spectacle before me. But funerals are a different story... I find myself thinking not only about that particular family, but other families, other deaths.

I don't know why today I started thinking about my friends back home. There are the most beautiful and wonderful pair of sisters that I used to be closer with back when I lived in California. Their mother passed away several years ago, and I remember one day- a few of us girls were hanging out late one night in the parking lot of our usual bubble tea hangout (yes, how SoCal asian of us)... and I remember they were just laughing and talking about how their mom used to get so angry and pissed at them when they stayed out late... and as they were impersonating her and mocking her (in a loving way of course), one of the sisters got really quiet and said "i miss mom". I don't know why, but that scene just came back to me- so fresh as if I was there in that parking lot again. And I just couldn't contain myself.

harmony~

my grandma is the most adorable person i know. i miss her so much.

that is all.

hand-holding

So this past weekend, with much fear and anxiety, I attended my first girl's football practice. And of course, I ended up hurting my finger while catching (or not catching) the ball:


Even though it's a tiny injury, it's kind of amazing what kind of toll this itty bitty finger can take on a person. Though it's on my left hand (and I'm a right-handed person), it's been a bit of an annoyance to type (since that's all I do both at work and at home). I realized being right or left handed really doesn't make that much of a difference anymore in this keyboard-prone age.

Anyway, when I went to go see the doctor the following Monday, he just shook his head at me like a disapproving parent, completely baffled that I didn't come in to a hospital or doctor's office right when the injury occurred. I ended up having to run across town in the rain to get x-rays (which showed that there was no fracture to the dismay of my doctor), and with a little bit of p.t., my finger will be supposedly back to normal.

But aside from all of that, this all made me realize how sheltered and even babied I've been my whole life. Every sickness, every stomachache, every minor injury- my family has been there for me. Even when I sprained my ankle in Korea, my aunt took me to get acupuncture with my cousin's insurance. I guess there is some hint of truth to what Alexandra Wallace said about Asian children not being able to fend for themselves because their parents are cooking food and doing laundry for them every weekend. To be honest, my parents did this for me every weekend during my UCLA years, and I never thought there was anything wrong or unusual about it. And though I was a bit of a brat at times, I think there's some sense of filial duty and a deeper joy for Korean parents to do these things for their kids. It's the labor of love, and I just hope I can practice the same type of selflessness for my kids (though that just means they have to give me massages at my beck and call...muhaha).

Oh, and I actually texted the above pic of my finger to my brother.
His reply-> Broham: "Stupon 걸. You were meant to read books not do sports!"

Oh, you are so right.

two girls w/ larger-than-life dreams

This past weekend as I was moving my stuff from Jersey to Long Island City, it really hit me that my cousin will be leaving to Korea in less than a month. Ever since arriving in the east coast, she has been my cornerstone and mentor, teaching me all the know-hows and the whereabouts of this crazy place.

We've been through such extreme highs and lows together. Oh, I'll never forget our own personal "great depression"- our period of unemployment with no foreseeable end in sight. Those days we would get bummed out being in our little basement we called a home and snuck out to the local mart to get some mahk-guh-lee (white rice wine). But we had our good times too... the all-night escapades with strangers we met only the night before. She was my Sigourney Weaver to my Jennifer Love Hewitt (à la Heartbreakers).

We were never very close growing up though she would always send me beautifully crafted, handmade birthday gifts from Korea and I would send her the newest Backstreet Boys and Britney Spears CD's, which she loved. Funny how she claims when we were young, she thought I was the most coy and sneaky little girl. Like the time she claims she asked me for a certain toy, and after willfully saying she could have it, I would go behind her back and quietly whimper to my older brother. She said I was quite the "yuh-woo" (trans: fox). However, as we grew up, I think our roles reversed. She is now one of the most cunning people I know, and somehow I've turned into a naive, oblivious little thing. She was always so good at taking care of me whether it was making sure she got an extra yogurt for me from a restaurant or protecting/wingmanning for me whenever I needed it. I remember one of our new guy friends would exclaim how I became so mean all of a sudden after his first impression of me being a sweet, nice girl. My cousin would butt in and say "it's because I taught her well."

God, I'm gona miss her.

the young & elderly

One thing about being in NY is that all the people I come in contact with on a daily basis is in the age range of 21-35. In fact, I sometimes wonder if there are any kids/teens in NY since I barely even see them outside in public. At my work, my director/boss is one year shy of being 30, and I don't think there's anyone in the office in their 40's and above. Even the oldest married couples at church are in their early 30's (and it's not like we have a KM with older parents either). You would think it would be fun and exciting to be constantly around people your own age (which it is), but sometimes, I feel as though a part of my life feels empty.

I didn't realize how much this took a toll on me until today when I found myself playing with the babies at church (ah~ they're so cute) and gravitating towards these korean grandparents in the bus. A few weeks ago, after seeing some pictures of my nephew back at home, I realized how much I missed him and my niece. It was so strange... it wasn't like the kind of extremely temporal and sporadic hollowness I feel from missing friends at home (where I would think about them briefly and possibly end up texting or fb messaging them), but it was an almost painful, longing kind of heartache. I ended up calling their house and talking to them. I know they could care less about talking to me (I think their mom literally forced them on the phone while they were watching t.v.), but it warmed my little heart to hear their extremely high-pitched voices. I also called my grandma, and though she can't hear anything I'm saying due to her poor hearing, it was nice to be greeted by her screaming about how much she misses me. I can't wait to see them all for Christmas.

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.

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.

to the loveliest person i know

Mother’s Hands

The smartest girl in class. In the entire district.

Basketball player, ballerina, artist, nerd.

The girl who ran away from her family

to marry a handsome man they despised.

The girl who got beat up by Puerto Rican cholitas

when she first came to New York.

Big dreams, big city met with a slap in the face.

The girl with book smarts

and no street smarts

-Seems to be a running theme.

When I was younger

I told myself I’d be different from her.

They say kindness kills

And she was always feeding others,

While she was weak and malnourished

From her overly full heart.

But it’s strange

How I can see her identity slowly seeping in me.

Like a punch stain making its way

Through the intricate DNA of a sweater.

Though it’s not an obvious red

But a less evident flavor

Like clear white grape cranberry.

And I find her in my hands and feet

with veins that swell with the sunlight.

I find her in my “thank you”s

And the little nervous tremor in my laugh

When I’m speaking to strangers.

I feel her panicked politeness

when I dig for exact change in my wallet

at the checkout counter.

Her profile, a graceful neck and coiffed hair

Etched in the coins.

Those 63 cents. I cannot let it go.

its the end of all strain, its the joy in your ♥

So I tutor my little niece Natalie and she writes journal entries for me every week.
This week, the topic was: "What are you scared of? When were you the most scared in your life?"

She's a little bugger. I went the Skinner's "operant conditioning" route and tried to bribe her into doing her homework by giving her stickers and candy, but I realized that punishments in the form of public humiliation are much more effective. I make her do the "abra cadabra" dance in front of her whole family. I'm so evil.


My friend jane made me this delightful origami version of the Little Prince. She said she had a bunch of leftover origami from her origami-crazed days (which is so very believable), and I'm the only person who would appreciate this kind of stuff. I <3 it!

and to commemorate the beginning of the best month of the year:

a new version of me.

2010. It looks like an alien, futuristic year that we never thought we would reach. In the year 2010, we should be living like the Jetsons riding flying cars and living in outer space, right? But instead we have our iphones and blackberries... whatta letdown~

Many people say new years resolutions are cheesy and pointless, but people who say that are usually the lazy & dispirited.

Whereas I still hold onto this little, underrated thing called hope.

This year, I will really actively try to better myself. I will become Julie 3.0.

But I realize that with these resolutions, I have to start off small... can't make those lofty, idealistic goals that wont humor anyone and are just doomed for failure.

As I look at my January 2009 goals, I listed:

1. I'm going to get something published. (hmm well that didn't happen... even with 6 months of unemployment... though I did work on some pieces that I'm now too embarrassed to look at.)

2. I'm going to learn the trick of the trades. (wow... way to be overly general. I should've just written "BE GOOD.")

3. I'm going to be shameless. (hm more vagueness. Well I did, for the first time ever in my life, confess my adoration for a guy I had a crush on... that was pretty shameless.)

Well for the big 2010,

1st resolution:
I will make a better, more specific set of resolutions. Is this kind of like asking for three more wishes?

2nd resolution:
I will become a yoga/pilates queen. I realized I'm probably the most inflexible Asian woman I know. It's actually kind of embarrassing. How is it that Asian (especially Chinese) women are so limber and acrobatic? Even the older ladies can hit all the poses while I'm struggling like a behemoth. Even during football practices, I'd hate the stretching exercises, because I would be the only person straining to touch my toes. But just you wait- by the end of this year, I'll be as lithe and limber as a cat.

3rd resolution: I will learn how to cook. Or at least become more comfortable with cooking. I told my fam that I'll start off by cooking a meal per week. Even if it's a really simple one. I'm not sure if they're more excited or worried. My first meal was goat cheese & spinach omelette with french toast. (this reminds me... while I was grocery shopping, I was struck with the dilemma of choosing between organic and regular eggs, and I confess I did go with the regular ones- the organic ones were 3x the price~) which leads me to my

4th resolution: I will be a flexitarian. This one's kind of cheating, because it's still kind of vague. But for those of you who don't know... flexitarianism: a semi-vegetarian diet focusing on vegetarian food with occasional meat consumption. People will say this is like "copping out" but read the chapter "All or Nothing or Something Else" of JSF's Eating Animals. Actually don't know if I should make this into a resolution since it's practically what I already do anyway. Fine... this one will just be a filler until I can think of something better.

5th resolution: I will answer the phone nicely. Whenever my family calls, I tend to get very exasperated and automatically switch to this annoyed tone... and in a strange way, this kind of sets the tone for the rest of the conversation and just the relationship as a whole. I realized that I was being very bratty & irritable and that it's unfair that I turn on this sweet, pleasant persona when I'm at work to people who are way more undeserving of such treatment in comparison to my family.

That is it for now. Well there's more, but I'm too embarrassed to post those up publicly.

kids say the darndest things

I spent all day with my 7-year old niece Natalie.

(while tutoring)
J: So Election is when we vote for someone or something.
N: Oh... we had a pretend election in our class once and we had to vote for Obama or the other guy.
J: Oh who'd you vote for?
N: the other guy.
J: Why?
N: Because he's white.
J: Oh dear. Did you tell your teacher that?
N: No. because my friend already did and he got a time-out.


N: When are you going to get married?
J: Umm...I don't know... why?
N: I want you to marry G-Dragon.
J: Why?
N: So I can see him everyday... at like church and stuff.
J: Then why don't YOU marry him?
N: Because when I'm a mom, he'll be a grandpa.
J: Why not TOP?
N: Because he's scary and killed that Chinese girl.

some days

don't you just wake up and feel good about yourself and the world?

And others, you just wake up filled with nausea, self-loathing, and just overall "ickiness"?<-(really can't think of a better word to encapsulate this feeling). These past few days, I've been feeling the latter. I think it partially has to do with bad dreams. I hate not remembering my bad dreams because I feel so disoriented and vulnerable. Another part, I believe, is the effects of living at home. I know I've been living at home for nearly 8 months now, but I still feel like I'm transitioning. It's hard when you're used to living with friends and being fairly independent for 5.5 years and then coming home to a household packed with family members that like to ask you where you've been, who you were with, what you ate, etc. etc. etc.

Buuuut I should be grateful that I have a family that cares about my whereabouts and are genuinely concerned for my well-being. And I just need to stop complaining... or I'll turn into this guy:

(well, 'cept the $$$ part).

happy chuseok

Some people just like talking for the sake of talking or because they like to hear the sound of their own voice.

My theory is that:
1. they are extremely needy for attention.
2. they are uncomfortable with silence.
3. they need some type of validation.

I find people like this pretty annoying (instead of talking, I write/blog... which I guess doesn't make me any better).

Anyway, the other day, I was taking a stroll at our local park. I love going to the park in the mornings- the cool weather, the dog-walking, this sense of "community". I noticed that I go often enough to identify "the regulars." The old German couple, the bearded Japanese man with the lab, the younger gentleman who jogs and always asks what lap I'm on (so competitive~). So the other day, the old German grandpa starts walking next to me and starts chatting me up. He tells me about his old home in Germany, the war, his son, his exercise regiment, etc. I barely shared anything about myself as I just politely nodded and asked the obligatory question here and there. I think I have this intuitive "journalist" mindset where I've grown accustomed to these one-sided convos and knowing which probing questions will allow the "interviewee" to disclose more information. Usually I can feign interest in the other person through good eye contact and frequent "mm-hmm"ing, but this German guy was actually pretty interesting. Then, I came to realize that I enjoy the company of old people and hearing their stories (much more than people in my own age range), possibly just because they lived fuller (usu. hard-knock) lives, thus having cooler stories.

I should probably listen to my grandma more; She's a needy, sometimes demanding lady, but I don't blame her (plus she's quite delightful and lovable most of the time). Not only my grandma- but all of our grandparents- need some good lovin'. I don't mean to preach, but our generation of spoiled brats need to realize how good we have it compared to our forefathers. I was watching the Korean news yesterday, and I caught the segment of the Korean families that were separated during the Korean War. For Chuseok (a Korean traditional holiday), these families will finally be reunited for a day; there were clips of families embracing each other and just bawling on the floor together. They weren't really saying anything, but just wailing each other names over and over again... "Jinwoo-yah!!!" "Mi-sook-ahh!" Ironically, I guess there isn't much to say after being separated for decades... All you can do is hug and cry. According to my mom, not all the families were so fortunate, and these reunited families were picked through an exclusive lottery system. One South Korean man who wasn't chosen, was so disappointed that he committed suicide. This made me die a little inside.

nom nom nom

I've been surviving off a diet of pain-killers & ice cream. how loverly!

On Saturday, while I was writhing in pain over pulling out my wisdom tooth, I started to dangerously flirt with the idea that death might be a better alternative than suffering like this. I haven't had thoughts like that since... climbing the half-dome. As I tossed & turned, gurgling blood from my mouth, my family was busily preparing for dinner (we had invited the next-door neighbors over). When I was starting to feel a little bit better and less suicidal/delusional, I asked if anyone could buy me some yogurt. A simple request from a beloved sister/daughter in agony, no? Well, everyone was too busy or had their hands full or whatnot, and I just sat there- uncared for and neglected. I couldn't help but to think silly thoughts like"well, if i had a boyfriend, he would be willing to buy me yogurt from the market!" But, alas, I have none.

Things I have been craving:
1. Strawberry Yan Yan's (yes still, but some days it's chocolate... i'm a fickle one)
2. Re-reading Kundera
3. Swimming in an indoor pool (too many ashes!)
4. Listening to 2ne1's reggae remix of "I Don't Care" (forgot to input it in my ipod... dagnabbit!)
5. Dim sum

I think it's the Rob Fleming in me, but I like to make lists in fives. Sometimes it'll only get to four, and I have to force one out just to make it complete (dim sum was the late add).

oh~ which reminds me, I'll be seeing Nick Hornby @ the Skirball next month! Anyone interested-> http://www.skirball.org/index.php?option=com_ccevents&scope=prgm&task=detail&oid=635

sibling rivalry

If I had to pick just one (yes, just one) especially unfair thing in the world, it would have to be the unbalanced distribution of good genes amongst siblings (especially amongst siblings of the same gender where the comparisons are the most blatantly evident).

You see, I don't pity people who have prettier/richer/smarter friends, because that is their choice. You can choose to have uglier/poorer/dumber friends if you really wanted to boost your self esteem. But those people who have such "blessed" siblings, it is rather unfortunate, because it could have easily been you instead of your sister. You do share the same mother and father, but how come she's a beauty queen or the valedictorian? It was just an unlucky draw in the sad lottery of life.


I remember reading "Jacob Have I Loved" when I was in elementary school and feeling all kinds of pity, anger, frustration for Louise "Wheeze" Bradshaw who pretty much gets gypped in every way possible by her beautiful twin sister Caroline. Heck- Caroline even ends up marrying Call, Wheeze's childhood best friend.

I also remember reading "East of Eden" and empathizing with Cal, who yearns for his father's love and attention. Even after working hard and presenting his hard-earned money to give to his father, Cal still remains in the shadows of his perfect, angelic brother, Aron (I honestly couldn't stand Aron and his pious prissiness). I felt so bad for Cal that I wanted to name my first-born son after him. Pretty ridiculous, huh?

Good thing I'm the better-looking and brighter one in my family (just kidding... we're both equally unfortunate). I guess our roles are pretty balanced though. He's the oldest boy (which in a Korean family, means A LOT), and I'm the baby girl. Though our roles are kind of reversed, because I'm the more responsible one and he's more of the 부니기 maker (or in plain english, he livens up the atmosphere).

I notice that even at my work, I do play favorites. I unintentionally give more attention and affection towards the cuter, livelier, more sociable kids. I promised myself that when/if I have children (that means more than one), I will treat and love my kids equally even if its against my natural instinct. But I think that's one of the wonders of having children... to see what they will look/act like. I do hope they are smart, decent-looking, and agreeable though I won't hold it against them if they aren't.

m.i.a.

q: where in the world is carmen sandiego?

a: being a shameless fob tourist.

me loves me some harrison.

still in my awkward stages

'twas snowing that day

bart

homey!

love- sputnik sweet <3