skeletors in the closet

I remember a long, long time ago (was it three years ago?), my friends and I were going around trying think of the ultimate adjective that encapsulated each person's identity.

One of my friends was "respectable," another was a "introspective", another was "whimsical." When it came to my turn, my friend said I was "innocent." I didn't know what to make of this.

Then, my friend clarified, "Not because you haven't had your share of doing 'bad' things, because who knows what kind of sins you've committed... but you just carry the essence of innocence."

What is this 'essence of innocence'? And do I still possess it?

Another friend equated this air of innocence with "lightheartedness." A type of carefree-ness where I don't let things get to me as much. Then, we started categorizing people (because bucketing people is our favorite past-time) as heavy or light. In one of my favorite books, "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" (I swear I should be this book's personal publicist), Kundera compares polarities such as fineness vs. coarseness, cold vs. warmth, being vs. nonbeing, and points out how in each- there is always a clear positive and negative. But such is not the case with lightness & heaviness:

"The absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant." With lightness, there comes a sense of freedom which might ultimately result into insignificance; with heaviness, there is a weight of burden/responsibility, but then again- "the heaviest of burdens is simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment". So which is better?

I think a part of my "light-ness" comes from being really skilled at forgetting unpleasant things and not being weighed down by my past. Our Pastor talked about the necessity of inner healing this past Sunday and that when we are untreated from our emotional pain, these hurts will surface later on in our lives in strange, unexpected ways (e.g. King David from the Bible*). Pastor D. went all psychoanalytical on the bible story in 1 Samuel 16, explaining how David wasn't loved/highly regarded by his father Jesse, which could have possibly led to his excessive need for women and his dysfunctional relationship with his sons. Of course, our Pastor said all this with a disclaimer that this conclusion might a bit presumptuous on his part, but these are his thoughts (as well as the thoughts of other biblical scholars). Anyway, he explained how we need to first address our pain in order to be healed. For me, I always thought forgetting was the perfect remedy for pain... that was just my coping method. But I realize now that's just like sweeping dust under a rug; when you lift the rug later, who knows what kind of hairballs and weird particles you'll find.

*By the way I actually read a Joseph Heller book few years ago titled "God Knows" which tells a comical, modern (and a bit blasphemous) account of King David's life. It made me realize how screwed up he really was, which surprisingly made me like him more.

styska se mi po tobe

It was a short, but sweet trip to Cali. It was definitely nice to see old faces... and it's reassuring to know that if things go wayward in the east coast, I'll always have somewhere to turn to. But I have to say- there is a bit of awkwardness when I see people again... not that people are necessarily awkward towards me, but more on my part. I think it has to do with knowing that things have changed (or at least that I have changed somewhat) and not really knowing how to carry on. I guess I just feel uncertain of how I should act... the last thing I wanted was to give off an air of a snooty New Yorker.

Milan Kundera, my favoritest author of all time (as I mentioned time and time again), encapsulates these concepts of "nostalgia" and "homecoming" so perfectly in his short novel, Ignorance. The main character, a Czech expatriate named Irena, returns home after living in France for 20 years. After years of being away, she feels strangely displaced as everyone still perceives her as if she was the same person she was when she left:

"Earlier, by their total uninterest in her experience abroad, they amputated twenty years from her life. Now, with this interrogation, they were trying to stitch her old past onto her present life. As if they were amputating her forearm and attaching the hand directly to the elbow; as if they were amputating her calves and joining her feet to her knees...Twenty years of her life spent abroad would go up in smoke, in a sacrificial ceremony. And the women would sing and dance with her around the fire, with beer mugs raised high in their hands. That's the price she'd have to pay to be pardoned. To be accepted. To become one of them again."

I'm not necessarily saying that people were trying to discount my experiences or my time away... in fact, it was quite the contrary. But I do understand the feeling of disconnect... and the necessity to let go of, or at least stifle, those experiences and my NY self in order to fully fit in back in cali again.

But one thing I realized as I was basking in the warmth from missed loved ones and the sunshiney weather was that my wandering heart really did find its place in NY. It's strange because as I was talking to people, I actually caught myself referring to NY as "home." And when people ask me when I'll be returning, I find myself answering "indefinitely" or "when I'm old... like 40+". But who knows, maybe one day I'll be stuffed like a sardine in a stinky subway listening to "I love L.A." on my ipod, and my heart will just be overwhelmed with an unbearable yearning for my hometown. But until that day- you know where to find me.

kunderaisms

"We all need someone to look at us. we can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under. the first category longs for the look of an infinite number of anonymous eyes, in other words, for the look of the public. the second category is made up of people who have a vital need to be looked at by many known eyes. they are the tireless hosts of cocktail parties and dinners. they are happier than the people in the first category, who, when they lose their public, have the feeling that the lights have gone out in the room of their lives. this happens to nearly all of them sooner or later. people in the second category, on the other hand, can always come up with the eyes they need. then there is the third category, the category of people who need to be constantly before the eyes of the person they love. their situation is as dangerous as the situation of people in the first category. one day the eyes of their beloved will close, and the room will go dark. and finally there is the fourth category, the rarest, the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. they are the dreamers."
- the unbearable lightness of being

"Love is by definition an unmerited gift; being loved without meriting it is the very proof of real love. If a woman tells me: I love you because you're intelligent, because you're decent, because you buy me gifts, because you don't chase women, because you do the dishes, then I'm disappointed; such love seems a rather self-interested business. How much finer it is to hear: I'm crazy about you even though you're neither intelligent nor decent, even though you're a liar, an egotist, a bastard." - slowness

"The stupidity of people comes from having an answer for everything. The wisdom of the novel comes from having a question for everything....The novelist teaches the reader to comprehend the world as a question. There is wisdom and tolerance in that attitude. In a world built on sacrosanct certainties the novel is dead. The totalitarian world, whether founded on Marx, Islam, or anything else, is a world of answers rather than questions. There, the novel has no place." - the book of laughter & forgetting

"I think, therefore I am is the statement of an intellectual who underrates toothaches. I feel, therefore I am is a truth much more universally valid, and it applies to everything that's alive. My self does not differ substantially from yours in terms of its thought. Many people, few ideas: we all think more or less the same, and we exchange, borrow, steal thoughts from one another. However, when someone steps on my foot, only I feel the pain. The basis of the self is not thought but suffering, which is the most fundamental of all feelings. While it suffers, not even a cat can doubt its unique and uninterchangeable self. In intense suffering the world disappears and each of us is alone with his self. Suffering is the university of egocentrism." - immortality

"I think a man and woman love each other all the more when they don't live together and when they know about each other only that they exist, and when they are grateful to each other for the fact that they exist and that they know they exist. And that alone is enough for their happiness. I thank you dear ____, I thank you for existing." - laughable loves

street art

I love walking thru Chelsea/the Meatpacking District, because of all the random street art... it's like a happenstance outdoor exhibit- for free! I have a thing for low-brow art (though I hate the graffiti on the way to Queens taking the 7 train... something about it is just overwhelmingly garish...reminds me of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air logo).

I'd have to say David Choe was the one who first piqued my interest for this genre. After watching his documentary Dirty Hands, I was very wow-ed by his wayward path, rebelling against his very normal Korean-American upbringing. Also, his first solo show was called "Double Rainbow," way before the youtube clip made it popular... what a trend-setter. I also met him in person a few years ago at the Giant Robot meet & greet and he was unexpectedly sweet... even to my male friend who hit on him.

(I remember I thought he was so cool and would lie to my old co-workers saying he was my cousin...)

And ever since watching Exit Through the Giftshop, I was completely enthralled by this secret inner circle of street artists. I think what really appeals me to when it comes to Banksy's art is his ability to balance the light and heavy. He is able to convey deep, dark, and often political/social messages in a whimsical way. This bit of playfulness is what I appreciate when it comes to art whether its Magritte's surrealistic paintings, Billy Collin's poetry or Kundera/Vonnegut's unconventional narrative voices.

With my bowler hat, I should've been THIS guy for Halloween.

My goal in NY is to become a street artist. Of course, announcing it here on my blog already takes away my street cred (I'm supposed to be as anonymous and elusive as possible). Nevertheless, I'm already working on my trademark designs and a catchy pseudonym.

evolution of bowler hats

chaplin made it iconic.

magritte made it surreal

then kundera had to sex it up...

inspired by sabine?

oh... tres chic...

is it bad that i want one?

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