made me smile

had to share this. acoustic is the best.

merry unchristmas!
i've been occupied with disoriented chocolate chip cookies, thoughts of me slowly aging, many, MANY hours of sleep, instantly prepared foods such as ramen, and more thin, unattractive, yet surprisingly delicious cookies.
a few days ago, i spent approximately 23 minutes trying to fit a thread through a needle. literally.
and i decided to confirm that the efficiency of my vision is slowly waning.
it took so long that my eyes stayed crossed for a few minutes after i gave up on the needle.
christmas is over. its ridiculous that i felt warm with a short sleeve shirt on this morning.

been a while
got nothing to say...
what's been on my mind?
a song playing over and over for about 3 days now,
and brittany murphy. it seems wrong that i'm paying more attention to her after she's dead.
but i've always admired her. anyways, rest in peace.

countdown

the worst to do on your academic list is when you're forced to read massive amounts of pages. and note the word forced. it's obviously not of my favorite topics. but i will try to bear it through tonight. reminding myself that the last day of the week is to come. it's to bring that peace in mind that school seems to plunder away from me. 1 day down, 4 more to go

currently.
traces of caffeine dwell on my tongue
and thats it.

mrs. who?

blocks of concrete filled with people looking to spend money isn't the ideal place to be.
but a building occupied by young men and women cramming before a test is.
this is where i try to camouflage. this is what i want to be labeled as: the ambitious student.
i've forced myself to patch the name on before and at times i had to rip it off the left side of my chest.. where the heart belongs
where we used to place our hands upon to say the pledge of allegiance
the label patched on this part is all the youth works for
to avoid that blue collar job. to get that emblem with the great title to precede your last name
honestly, the only title i want someday is a simple mrs.

i've been playing with the idea of making radical change.
out of nowhere. no warning signs. no quotation marks.
but fear stops me
fear says can you handle it?
fear asks if i'm strong enough and if it's worth it
though i'm dealing with something so trivial that its worth a giggle
i am shameful that fear can still be so vocal
i have moved seats in my mind
and i have walked far... in my mind.
but these mere thoughts transcending outwards.
this is still in question.
i may never really make this radical change
only think about it and fantasize
that feeling of standing on a clean slate
and that is the end.

this caught my eye cause it's so different from korean music right now. actually in the song they're complaining about the lack of creativity and individuality in the korean youth today. i totally agree with them. she calls on the youth to not fear the world and to not be stuck in the same type of cycle that all koreans go through. i think i'm just happy that i know that at least some minority is speaking against the bland uniformity in korean culture right now

lets talk tangible AGAIN

there is something so empowering in making furniture.

well.. more like assembling assorted pieces of wood (pre-made for your hands) accompanied with a handy manual decorated with stick figures and exclamation marks.
nevertheless i am proud of my work. i am thankful that IKEA gave me the chance to see what my hands, what my frail short (hairy) fingers can do.
the "assembly" requires only a screwdriver and some occasional hammerings.
the best part of this assembling process is when the one that wields the tool slowly becomes frustrated... the holes do not match up, the screw for some reason refuses to be subservient, and the right palm turns red from excessive friction. and i guess the bestest part is when the process comes to the end. the "builder"/ "assembler" will ALWAYS take a moment to stand 4 feet away from the product to absorb the sense of accomplishment AHHHH
don't you think we all lack that visual evidence of our accomplishments... the TANGIBLE proof of our abilities?


thank you ikea youre genius

random thought

i've been feeling the need to blog even without a topic to expand upon i keep finding myself wanting to record the most trivial events so i decided to keep a giant journal/ scrapbook. it'll be the epitome of my entire however many years to come AND it can serve as a self-reflection tool. this counts as a type of journal too actually. don't you think we're relying on intangible sources of memory nowadays? everypicture can simply be a file on your computer, and these convenient devices are prone to destruction or harmful things that can obliterate everything they contain. same with music... if i just lose one object that rids of thousands of songs collected with massive consideration.
maybe i should purchase a cd player and invest in cd collection..

i'm in the midst of deafening noise.
sounds of rapid running water on the right of my ear
a young voice mimicking the fluid notes of a jazzy tune in the back of my head
sounds of laughter, brush brush brush
more laughter more running water. more notes at legato flowing down my spine
it's almost irritating
but today i refrain
these are sounds resonant off the walls i have built with my own dusty hands
these are sounds... that ricochet towards the destructible part in me
running water with its tone changing with the touch of our palms
in the midst of deafening, irritating noise
i am content

my mother came today.

it is quite strange you would aquire such intensity in

mushrooms explosion
string and hazy seaside at the seatides
dooooooooooong, the clock hits 2:30
"how come it only went dong?!"
"it's 2:30, isn't that random?" "it;s so weird." " whats wrong with the clock?" "omg"
dashing, dashing dashing for the finish line
through the snow, lovely love love love
I don't do it for love
crocodiles resting in the mud
like sun and moon
even time is tripping in the presence of mushroom explosions set in passing time
so, seaside and seatides
goes doooooong
It's almost time

right now

i'm in my own city
with boxed towers standing high
surrounding me sitting with indian legs
this place smells of old raw memories
they have collected dust making me sneeze
making me inhale and exhale
the blatant truth that we are nothing but nomads
we roam inches and miles
with stumbles and fumbles merely to leave our residues
marking the path with our footprints
we dare to think one may want to follow
still i sit with boxes holding me ransom
clutching my shoulders
their dust making me sneeze
and i dare deny
that they are the only ones trailing behind me.

san francisco muni bus.
this video overwhelmed me with varied emotions.
at first i laughed at the things they said to each other more so at the words of the man in the back.
then i felt a tiny pinch of anger when everyone ganged up
someone should've stopped it. but if i were there i probably would have been another bystander.
and whoever put in captions pushed me further when he wrote"who's off the bus now"
now i'm just filled with ambivalence..someday it won't be about sides, but respect.

for me

there are too many words and too little thoughts.
i find myself unconsciously motivated to inflate simple things.
attempting to put even the smallest idea into words will prove futile
though it seems so effortless when it dwells in my own mind
if only i can cut and paste onto my walls
make them visible before my own eyes
for i myself am clueless when it comes to decoding my ingredients
or maybe i have no ingredient at all
just convincing myself that i do

looks like we've all been busy. busy's good.
the weather has been so perfect and delicious. i dont know if this has any correlation, but my work efficiency drastically climbed. thats good news. more time in the day for me!
couldn't help but reflect on the conversation with zeph yesterday.
cause i endured through a video of a woman who consumes 32000 calories per day.
she says food represents so many emotions for her. guilt, satisfaction, loneliness, comfort...
and the cameraman would not keep that plate holding the mountain of cookies out of the frame.
anyways she says she only yields to her temptation when people leave the room... i wonder why.
well i think she fills herself with tangible objects to feel life. the physical part of life that is

so sleepy

wonderful night tonight. i never knew i could jam with a ukulele.
but no the art of playing instruments with mere experimentation... that was just the glimpse of my wonderful night. i watched beyond the sea of heads. his extremely small figure accurately matched the frame set by the sea of heads... sat with a body so languished yet we all watched. damn he was good. he said he wrote the song onnly a few weeks ago and that made me repeat: damn hes good
i heard it twice before but still the way he tapped his leather brown shoes made every single word so fresh so crisp making me mold my irrational ideas onto what his words may mean. i stared, not blinking for a second, through the calm sea of heads. i swam through clutching at anything i can grab, kicked my legs so just maybe it'll propel me through the aisle of his mind full of dark images and words only he can decipher. but no i sat chained to my seat still devoured by the sinking melodies and wrinkled eyebrows accompanied by the strings that shook without cease..ahh wonderful night isnt it?

then later i in turn devoured a giant burger with homemade guacamole. i played the uke trying to beat reality speaking to me: honey wake up you got work to do. pick up that pen... but no i defied the rules by jammin and thinkin bout the man sitting beyond the sea of heads..and made a song bout guacamole. wonderful night tonight isnt it

found a quote today by oscar wilde:
"all women become like their mothers. that is their tragedy. no man does. that's his"
thought hard about it. there will always be exceptions. hopefully.

and last entry was not written by me. but by jean toomer.
hmm i'm too laidback nowadays. i sleep like a baby every night. even when i don't want to.
weathers awesome

jean toomer

Evening Song

Full moon rising on the waters of my heart,
Lakes and moon and fires,
Cloine tires,
Holding her lips apart.

Promises of slumber leaving shore to charm the moon,
Miracle made vesper-keeps,
Cloine sleeps,
And I'll be sleeping soon.

Cloine, curled like the sleepy waters whtere the moonwaves start,
Radiant, resplendently she gleams,
Cloine dreams,
Lips pressed against my heart.

Cloine is an interesting name
but beautful
i was lonely at church today. held study session alone. weather was perfect though.
hope yals had a good sunday. time for a new week

they?

i feel disgusting today. i have layers and layers upon my face.
i have been overeating. and i have a load of work waiting in my hands.
i'm in denial.

they told me, "They are pigs"
i was little and i believed them
few years later they told me, "They are dumb as fish"
i was confused but i drew Them as their words instructed
and everyday my father warned of his own kind,
"They are wolves. stay away from Them"
and i did what i do best by building walls in obedience
now i peek through that small hole i left open
thinking "They must be so horrible
to have all the unseemly metaphors"
and that hole perfectly encircles my pupil

q&a

hello
been a while.
it's 630 in the morning. i woke up cause it was so cold today.
as much as i hate waking up in the morning, i love what it looks like.
it's still dark and the crows are still crying .. it's beautiful.

i was real sad a few days ago cuz someone asked me:
what do you look forward to everyday?

i could not think of an answer.hmm .. i thought real hard too. so it got me sad. so i ate more..
i said before being sad makes me thinner.. cancel that. i like to eat my feelings. maybe people do that so they can attempt to fill their void up with something. but i don't wanna analyze that too much. i'm just glad it's friday.

ouch

tryna write in this everyday.. for myself
nothing good today. i just watched an episode of grey's anatomy about how just an average day turns out to be your big day. and your "big day" no matter how big you want it to be often becomes just an average day...
melodrama is thee remedy for confusing days. confusion best describes me right now.
and laundry helps too. so i'm doing laundry. mostly out of obligation.

dear diary

i want to regress to the days when the date did not matter
monday and sunday had barely any difference
i want lazy mornings again. no alarms. no hasty breakfast meals that serve as mere sources of energy.
i remember writing that i wanted routines. i wanted work.
just joking.
maybe i'm just never satisfied. like all the other creatures of this world.
i learned about salt and light today. again. he's getting better though.

our house has been full of excitement lately.
we are just eager to move.
yes we are getting ready to migrate to a (slightly) bigger place in the same complex. just one more room.
that will make everything better.
but i think i'm just ready for a change of perspective.
we all grew up as nomads. i'm not used to being in the same place for more than 2 years.
maybe thats why we want to move so bad.

it sucks to play music with no emotion. i felt that last night.
i need to compensate for it.
let the light attach to the broken hue
but dont let it reach my broken skin
the sound of my blood flowing
so audible next to the invisible silence
i say my own heart is the fountain
i say my own head is the book
and they say thats your demise
i say i see no sun rise
i say i smell no flowers
and they say what is wrong
what is wrong?

tired

pp0000

woah iger stepped on laptop and typed that. she's meant to be a writer.. or a typer(or a sitter).
just listenin to denizen kane. im starting to hear words more easily now. i've been really good at eavesdropping too. people talk about the weirdest things.
anyways,, im studying the renaissance and i love it

ah, we are shadows crying for a sign!
ah, sick and sigtless stares the human will!
ah, hope is a mirage that cheats us still!

Petrarch wrote this in the 14th century...
some things in life are so timeless. but usually, they're unwanted things. depression. suffering. hopelessness. oh well, at the least they produce good words.

how was your day?

sunday

i feel like a bat. i've been awake since three, in an hour i will leave for church.
we've all got lists with activities and miscellaneous to do's .. but i realized the "sleep" we never put on our list... apparently i did not. i love staying awake now, camouflaging along with the night, unseen by the eyes still closed. this probably isnt healthy, but there is so much to absorb when no one wants to do so. i'm like the crow that comes to binge on leftover human food.
i witnessed a dead crow stuck underneath a black tire the other day.
it was simultaneously depressing and relieving. it wasnt squashed like it should have been. it looked peaceful in its blackness and wholesome body and its death. at least it received a meaningful funeral. he (i dont want to call the crow 'it' anymore) was scooped up gently by a professional cleaner, adequate to replace a mortician, and thrown into a giant garbage box. and i extracted a valuable lesson from his death drenched in humility ... stuck underneath a tire..
woah that was a long flashback.
it is time for the daylight to strike my eyes ewww

peace

yay taking a moment of recess. oh this moments so sweet.
listening to grace's cd... its sometimes nice to listen to songs you dont know..
it's like meeting a new person, you have nothing to expect
this temperatures perfect too. and i'm so content with all the curry i stuffed in my tummy
a delicious nap would fit so well ...
i like my teacher. he bikes to school everyday. he wears rubbery shoes that remind me of crocs, but a hiking version of those trendy shoes. the ones that don't need shoe laces. all you gotta do is pull on a string and it will fasten onto your feet. so i spend my mornings staring at those queer sandal slash shoes. thinking of a story with the teacher as the main character.
man i dont want this to end
but i dont have anymore words to squeeze out.

i wish you peace

2:50

i'm supposed to be working. but this doesnt account as wasted time.
i've been seeing too many bugs lately. they crawl in through the wide crack under my screen door.
its weird how people adapt so well. i am so comfortable with these little creatures that i watch it enjoy its walk for a while before i kill it with effortless ease. and i secretly like the fact that i have insects that long to be sheltered under my roof. i feel like the vampire that invites a lady for dinner.
ohno im supposed to be working

longtime no see

yes finally. i am here. when i logged on my heart literally skipped a beat.
this feels like home, ready to embrace me and my words.
grammar errors stand as they are here
no numbers exist here, and no letters await to watch me look foolish and tumble down the everdeep furrow.
the thought of school exhausts me, but simultaneously, im contented knowing that i have a routine.
things in front of me are set in stone. wake up. go to school. come back. eat. sleep.
i love stability. i love things i dont have.

lukewarm

today was a full day. i call it full, because i have this image in my head where i personify my 9.9.09 day to be physically full with a giant belly. but yes, today was satisfying. a day spent with good food, good music, good friends, and good "me".
a book taught me today that i'm lukewarm. nobody likes lukewarm.
we all prefer extremities. or we think that way, because moderation is invisible.
i see fat people, or skinny people. overly nice or demonic people. black or white.
things in the middle just don't attract my eyes.
but yes. i officially call me lukewarm, and surprisingly i am comforted. i know which post-it i am filed under in his big office. sounds pathetic, but i admit, i am more complacent with a label.

i am anxious for the first time in months. last day of summer. last twenty three minutes before i dive back into the cycle, the routine.
but one of the many things i am happy about today, is that i bought my first ever cd with my OWN money. technology has made purchasing cds and records unnecessary. and also writing letters and postcards. it was nice to soak myself in the refreshing authenticity.

2:42

yes another sleepless night. but tonight is an artificially sleepless night. caffeine has done its job. and for some reason, i am content in my deprived self.
we all stayed up til 1 to make a nice birthday dinner for ira. but sadly, all the food, because of our tendency to let our hands take control instead of our minds, turned out to be overly bathed in salt. this is probably why my family has a history of diabetes. so now the scent of miyukgook and fish overflow through the uncovered cracks under our door and windows. a smell i am proud to release from my home.

i thrive when my eyelids long to fall on its knees. i feel joy in the midst of the flood of indescribable emotions, ebbing thoughts that recede without boundaries.. i am dancing so freely at this moment and no regulations, ticking clocks, or walls can trip me. this is me drenched in the symptoms of insanity. this is my high.
all is still. my own bones are transfixed in the presence of my latent ego. a slight twist on the joint of my neck make these young bones creak, (and i can literally hear this) groaning in response to the sudden movement. these bones are so spoiled, accustomed to being cuddled in my mothers arms.
suck it up! i have so much more to do.
they have so much more to carry, to endure through.
and this is their training session.

another moment to myself.
i keep fantasizing about being on my own these days.
living at an old place like this in downtown la.
making food for myself.
being lazy. people watching.listening to records. reading. hopefully all this can come true

cant sleep

looks like this is the remedy

sleepless night
clings onto me with all its might
moments of darkness test my endurance
i give in and turn on a lamp
my eyes cringe in the sudden brightness
but slowly adapt to the once blinding light
silence hesitantly invites nostalgia to my door
and i let it wait, afraid of its power
afraid of its ability to awake my dormant weakness
the memories that i struggled to put to sleep
the memories that now refuse to be put to sleep
my neighbor's crying son nudges nostalgia to knock on
and i remain seated, afraid that she's so ready
prepared to witness my home reeking of tasteless novelties
and heaps of her stale remaining memories.
i am afraid to let her embrace me,
to let her allow me to indulge in the sweet past,
to let her peel each layer to reach my puny core.

fortunately, my pride is more vocal tonight
and warns me to keep the door locked.

today

today was too hot. woke up earlier than usual.
had a hard time trying to "peel the onion," which is the method used to allow a person to shed his layers and to get to the core... in a conversation
too technical for me.

this time i'm not in the dark. i have a dim light to guide my fingers onto these worn out keys.
this time i'm not alone. i have two people sitting on a table beside me
but this time i'm stuck. i shouldnt force myself to write.
i keep thinking once i start trying to let words flow out of me, it will evoke this latent source of ideas to write about to vent about, to release.
but today i have none. so i stop. period. but i dont want to....
hmmm

so i'll talk about today
i finished an inNout double double in record time. and i felt like a man. or a hungry growing girl.
ok nomore.

went to school yesterday for registering. it only reminded me how young i still am, and how much more i still have to learn. but simultaneously hit me that time flies. i realized that i am an introvert.
i like to avoid people and convince myself that they don't know i try to do so.

morning starts late in this house for majority of this family. so i'm typing in a dark room even though it's california sunny outside. comparisons kill me. i realized i juxtapose everything: from my bowl of rice to another, a building to a house, and the most damaging, myself to my friends.
the standard is too high for these overachieving, upperclass, (asian) folks and it's time i embrace that and let it go. but i like to keep that ruler next to me, and measure myself next to them... persuading myself that it is only an instrument that motivates me.
achievements weigh more than many things, and i let that drive me.

through the eyes of a fly

wow i've been posting everyday ... just proves how bored i am. but this is healthy



Through the Eyes of a Fly

I shamelessly watch the mother with two children. Beyond the thick glass with posters patched, the man immersed in his rectangular object, and the small plants resting in their oversized pots.

From the front they looked like the "ideal" family, the "american dream"
the children with beautiful, blindingly bright curls. The woman with the bulky plastic bags. and the man, most likely at work in his perfect suit.

The view from the back, just a 180 degree change portrayed the unseemly:
spiderveins taking refuge below the crease that marked her artificially darkened thigh.
frustration caused by the heat i was foreign to. the kids' cries for a drink from the machine, i was still deaf to.

She hands the unfolded bill to the older boy. the son, hesitated to make sure the president faced the right direction. She nods, now loosening her grip on the burdensome bags. his small hand slaps onto the lifesized bottle of water protruding from the machine.
You would think that the distressed family now walks away with the Aquafina, but it is time for the younger daughter to speak. I molded my own words to her mouth:
i want mine to mommy -- she hands another green bill to her.

i continue my disturbingly close observation of the family, as the unusually fattened boy struggles to reach for the bottle, still dwelling in the cold provided by the rectangular cube hooked to the wall. but all it needed was a bigger, bonier, older hand to fix the door.

They finally leave, marking the end of my means of escaping boredom.
and i wait, drenched in complacency of my narrations
eager for another image to appear beyond the thick glass patched with posters.

interesting

from a Natural History of Love

The purpose of ritual for men is to learn the rules of power and competition.... The purpose of ritual for women... is to learn how to make human connections. They are often more intimate and vulnerable with one another than they are with their men, and taking care of other women teaches them to take care of themselves. In these formal ways, men and women domesticate their emotional lives. But their strategies are different, their biological itineraries are different. His sperm needs to travel, her egg needs to settle down. It's astonishing that they survive happily at all.

Diane Ackerman

dont know if i agree

untitled

trying to stop myself from indulging in lazy mornings

a man said to the universe

A man said to the universe:
“Sir, I exist!”
“However,” replied the universe,
“The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation.”

stephen crane

naturalism

untitled

i'm confused
lets see what this looks like