Family Tree

MERRY CHRISTMAS. is this large enough? found this at the Getty and fell in love.

Existential Christianity

Existentialists believe that people look outside to find meaning in life when in reality, existence precedes essence. Existentialists think meaning can only be found in self, not in the actions done by others or the in the patterns of society. Existentialists assert that people can live their entire lives not making one decision on their own. They think man finds comfort in finding meaning and having purpose. Man is afraid to confront the fact that life is meaningless. Non-existentialists fear silence or anything that reminds them that there is no significance in life.
Though many think of these thinkers as atheists, they actually seem to hold onto some type of faith. In other words, there can be an existential Christian, or Muslim, or Buddhist. Now, how can that be possible if they criticize those who seek meaning in places other than self?
This has been in my mind for about a week now since my English class started a unit on existentialism and absurdist drama. It's very interesting, all this philosophy and delving to the core of life and the human thought. But, I'm the type that gets sick of it eventually and ask what the point of all this is.

My answer is, at least as a daughter of God, the relationship between God and man is not solely dependent on the solutions to the afterlife. Following God involves constant self-reflection, and recognizing that one's life is "nothing but vapor." Life "means" something when God comes into the equation. However, He is not some outside force, but One that dwells within the believer. Therefore, his or her existence justifies the belief in God. Skeptics may think God is man's device to comfort himself, but in actuality, following God is giving up comfort. It is a constant struggle. If there is one thing I learned this year, it's that complacency and inactivity means something is wrong. There really shouldn't be such thing as a "spiritual plateau" where we wait for God to work in us. We (i tend to use "we" but this all applies to me) often forget all we need to do is "ask, seek, and knock," for more of Him, because He is waiting to "give, find, and open" for us.

i think this was more of a journal entry for myself. i went off tangent slightly.
Ask
Seek
Knock (isn't that cool?)

Forehead to chin,

Her finger traces

Down hills and slopes of

Recounted tales and

Still raw wounds –

Red like the cherry blossoms

Her mothers sang and spoke to.

She stands before the mirror,

Longing to hear the silent rebuke.

It pleads her not to stand still,

Not to sit down,

Not to let those scars heal.

She, herself, will walk

Down hills and slopes

Her daughters will trace

Forehead to chin.

Mirror

I want to share this with you. I read this too many times, and i still love every word of it. Sylvia Plath is ... talented.

Mirror

I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions.
Whatever I see I swallow immediately
Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike.
I am not cruel, only truthful-
The eye of a little god, four-cornered.
Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall.
It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long
I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers.
Faces and darkness separate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me.
Searching my reaches for what she really is.
Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon.
I see her back, and reflect it faithfully.

She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands.

I am important to her. She comes and goes.
Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness.
In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman
Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish.

After reading jacky's post about loneliness, this poem almost narrates loneliness itself. I noticed while i was typing this up. Loneliness is, in essence, a mirror. A time for self-reflection. A time for the raw flesh to be revealed with all its red, no matter how ugly it is. The "liars" she speaks of, are the outlets that keep us busy. We look to the liars to avoid this mirror, although, we are only delaying the fated encounter as we know it. Wow, I never read it this way until now.

snip snip

I've been eating too much leftover thanksgiving food lately. I can feel my muscles deteriorating to fat, yet i refuse to work out. We'll see how long this lasts.

I've just been thinking for awhile, the image of a woman cutting her hair. It's seen many times in the media (let me point you to Mulan, and the countless music videos about women going through difficult times) as a symbol of- at least for me- independence, a new slate, a new identity. There's something so thrilling about watching a girl spy dye and cut half her hair off in a gas station bathroom.
That image means something quite different to me nowadays after I started looking at it in a new perspective. Perhaps, the woman is exercising the only power she has left, or thinks she has left. She alters what she has control over. She finds she is not so independent, so powerful, so... her own, that she tries to catch just a glimpse of what's left of her by clutching the pair of scissors (this reminds me of Britney Spears' notorious behavior). And i believe there's the same principle behind suicide.
Cutting your own hair as a mini suicide. Did i go too far?

love this

confession

this will make you laugh,
i find myself really wanting a relationship nowadays.
to keep it clear, i want a boyfriend.
.. a teenage dream.
.. a time i can think back later and laugh at.

to my... pt2

lips stay rough against your teeth,
you foolish girl lost in self-justification,
you lost yourself in a sea of murmured words.

every syllable falls crisp to your toes,
you foolish girl you kept your head to low.
you thought not seeing things meant not knowing things.

now i watch you wading through the waist deep waters,
you foolish girl you have kept your head to low.

to my ...

sometimes, my love, sometimes it is not always the black or white crayon.
at times, my love, it will be the color you have never imagined in your hand.
i know right now it seems as though they hand you black in one hand, and white in the other,
you must always remember, every color has its potency.
and you must always remember that no matter which color you choose,
that one is tight between your fingers
and you must never let go.

ophelia

she drowns, or lets the waters drown her

she succumbs to a muddy death
after heartbreaks,
after long gazes to the ones who scripted her,
she, now alone, decides to do something:
she dies.

she drowns, or lets the waters drown her
her clothes spread wide
they drink and drink til they submerge in her tears
her hair aligned with flowers that float
she is now ready:
and she dies.

Job 22

Submission and peace.
Knees bent. Speak to me.
Submission.
Passivity.
I, the receiver of all actions.
I, the blessed
the loved
the humbled
the broken
the fed
the weakened
the led
the forgiven.
Negativity.
Submission.
Knees bent, face down. Speak to me.
Give to me
bless me
love me
humble me
break me
feed me
weaken me
lead me
forgive me.
Peace

FIND X!!!!!!

Finding X, the answer, the purpose that seems to remain forever a variable, is ultimately everyone’s mission. It’s not just an essay prompt.

X is what I fear.
X haunts me at night.
X is what I want to be.
X connotes negative emotions. X often means expunction, elimination, and “cross-outs.” When one writes the letter X, it is done in an obstinate manner, there is not an inkling of hesitation. X is the unknown, the mysterious. It is not part of our knowledge. It makes us feel weak. I fear the image of X. It tells me not to get closer. It tells me it’s taboo to get between its widespread legs. I fear X.
Take X by its legs. Pull them apart. What you have in your fingers are two of the same. Two of the letter “I.” I find X at nights when I’m alone with my sanity. When I question the very ground I stand on. When I look not in the mirror for my reflection, but my very entrails. X becomes less lucid as I face my weaknesses, passions, my losses and gains. X comes when I face myself. X haunts me when the sun creeps low.
X itself took two I’s and crossed them to be something different. X, to be that alphabet, to be used as the symbol for the countless ideas it stands for, had to come from a common descent. I am asked to see what’s in my hands and make greatness. I’ve been x before. Once I saw a fly on the window and was compelled to write what I consider greatness. I saw two sticks and learned to produce greatness in sound. I saw bricks, and made a bookshelf. I saw garlic and mushroom this morning, and cooked up a cuisine. I, however, am not satisfied. I want to be a bigger X.
If you ask me tomorrow the same question you ask today, I might say, “I love X.” I might answer, “X stopped haunting me,” or, “I am X.” Who knows, I might retort, “X is just an alphabet. It is nothing!” After all, X is the ultimate variable.


Please, just tell me you get it. What a challenging prompt

Stanford Short Essay #1

Virtually all of Stanford's undergraduates live on campus. Write a note to your future roommate that reveals something about you or that will help your roommate - and us - know you better.

Dear friend,
Yes, we're friends now. I must warn you, I snore, but the intensity varies so you will be at luck once in awhile. Aside from that, I know you'll like me. I'm a cat and dog person. I'm a drama and action film girl. I can eat kettle and butter popcorn. I can play golf and basketball. I go out to Veggie Grill for lunch and Mongolian barbecue for dinner. I've cried to Rachmaninoff and nodded to Tupac Shakur. I study with index cards and with friends. I love talks over coffee and chats while jogging (...and panting). I've read Marx and Hegel. I might bring in kimchi and fried chicken, but I’ll be sure to keep the room ventilated. I can't wait to share the awkward and the laugh-until-you-hurt moments with you. I can’t wait to meet you, friend.

Sincerely, Irene

P.S. I hope you don't mind a guitar in the room.

I had never struggled so much with finding motivation.

what ive been staring at

i'm sick :(
but the cd player's been helping me. it contains that one cd that zephyr burnt me LONG time ago. ahah felt like being nostalgic.

i found the perfect way to dress my coffee. a packet of splenda and half and half.
mmmm

essay #2

what is one thing you would change about your community?




I remember it either rained or drizzled every day of that week. I remember waking up sore every morning of that week. I also remember craving kimchi every night of that week. I remember finding awkward tan lines above my ankle bones from my brand new (now dirt brown with specks of white paint) red hi-top sneakers. Whenever I decide to wear my red sneakers today, I recall that week of July in New Mexico.

My mission team of seven students and two adults from our church youth group volunteered build a skate park at the Navajo Indian Reservation that week. Prior to that week, we trained by ingraining in ourselves the concept of stewardship and the art of sawing woodboards. We were told stories of alcoholic parents, abusive uncles, and abandoned children.

The first day of that week when we stumbled out of the van after a ten-hour drive, I could not help but contrast the immaculate streets of Irvine to Smith Lake’s unevenly paved streets and bullet-marked signs. Most of that week, I was a weed exterminator and painter. However, every now and then I glimpsed at what these children live through everyday.

Boys and girls aged ten to eighteen eagerly came to use the facility. Most of them did not even know how to ride skateboards and resorted to sitting on them and using the ramps as slides. I chatted – well, mostly listened - to a girl talk about the day she had before. She wore tattered, grass stained jeans and her long, straight hair down. She looked around eleven or twelve. Before I could even ask for her name she broke into a story about her brother. He had gotten so drunk the night before that he had done something which put him into jail. Her sister, now the mother of the family, "went crazy" upon hearing the news, probably worried about bailing him out. This little girl of around eleven or twelve delivered this story in such a stoic manner that I did not know how to respond. I simply nodded and added occasional "Oh-my-God’s” until she was picked up by a purple Oldsmobile.

My sixty-four year old aunt still thinks I went to Mexico. I gave up trying to correct her (No, it’s NEW Mexico, imo). When I tell my friends about my mission trip they assume I went to Africa or Haiti. My community thinks doing good can only start somewhere off this continent. My community thinks doing good is building houses or raising money. I want more people to join in this cause in New Mexico. Ultimately, it’s not building a skate park, it’s building the children and keeping them sane. I want my community to be receptive to opportunities in places near us that don’t get attention because they did not suffer a natural disaster. The purple Oldsmobile girl only needed me to listen.

Sorry, a non-recoverable error has occurred.

considering that my last post was a rough draft to my personal statement, i can say everything's been exactly the same. read, reread, edit, reread.
but today, today is different. today is the day i submit everything online.
due 11:59 pm tonight.
the downside to everything being done online is that there is traffic.
in bold red letters, my screen has shown me "sorry, a non-recoverable error has occurred" and now i'm playing with thoughts induced my panic, quietly in my own mind.
been trying to refresh for about 2hours now. wish me luck that i'll finally get access to this application so i can get it over with.

thanks for all the help with my essay, it's been pretty well polished since you last saw it.

VERY rough draft of college essay #1

wrote it all on one day. I need feedback. I can write exactly 98 more words, but what do I need to write more? Keep in mind that this application goes to an organization that looks for students from low-income backgrounds. Oh and is it answering the prompt?

Please describe the factors and challenges that have most shaped your personal life and aspirations.

My bare feet lean against the cold pedals. I plan on my next step as I ride the rhythm with the hi-hat. I decide to “come in fully” with the cymbal and bass struck simultaneously. A premature beat develops along with the guitar and vocals. As a friend once observed, “drummer irene” resembles an octopus with its tentacles spreading to all corners of its body. Not the most attractive sight. And when my feet do touch the cold feet of the drum set every Friday and Saturday night, I remember the first time when they touched.
This is where I flashback to sixth grade and tell you about what I have been through. I can tell you that I have attended five different elementary schools in two different countries. I can tell you how hard it was adjusting to my environment as a 1.5 generation Korean American. I can tell you about the times when my family walked out of the grocery store leaving our full shopping cart at the cashier or how I never put that candy bar on the register because I know that deep furrowed forehead on my mom when she writes the check. I might want to soften your heart by recounting that morning when our car got taken away. And maybe, I can surprise you by saying that’s not the end of the story. I’m not here to tell you that I’m needy.
When I play drums, I’m singing out of slavery. I am slave to financial worries. I am slave to the thought that my parents abandoned me. I am captive to the role of a daughter and a younger sister to my older siblings. I am enslaved to the idea that my younger sister could not exercise her potentials because of the environment we are growing up in. When the snare strikes crisp against my ears I am reminded that time has no mercy. I need to keep the rhythm. I’m not going to tell you that despite these adversities, I endured. I am still climbing an obstacle, and I don’t enjoy it. But you see, I play drums.
When I first saw a drum set, it was not just a new instrument. It was a concept, an image so different from what I have been instilled with in Korea. It was not the black and white keys that could only be touched according to what my music sheets direct me to. My love for drums never ceased since then. My father tried to stop it. He did not comprehend women hitting objects with sticks and labeling it music. He could not stop me, and that is one of the pros of having parents overseas. Because of drums, I can sing out of slavery.
My friends still don’t know that when I punch in my ID number to buy lunch, I am charged zero dollars. They are unaware of the fact that I have taken my AP exams and SATs free of charge. I am thankful everyday when I walk onto my campus. I am amazed that I receive such quality education in a city like Irvine. And so when I finish playing drums at the end of each week, my heart is swollen with thanks. I know I am taken care of when it comes to money. I know my parents love me and torture themselves every night because they can’t be by our sides. I know I am blessed to have sisters who sacrifice so much for me to grow the right way. And I know my younger sister can do the same or more than I have done.
I want kids like me to find their “drums.” I don’t want them to dwell on their pity stories. I want them to take advantage of what is around them and if there isn’t an advantage near, I want to find it for them.
This Friday, you will find me at church sitting on the black stool with my feet against the pedals. I will look like an octopus with tentacles stretched to all corners. You will, however, know that I am singing out of slavery.

i've been typing words and deleting them, typing, deleting. for what? i'm just on here to speak out loud. school hasnt been hard on me yet. its just the constant thought of college apps waiting for my hands. ahhh, college. i'm so little.
but this is the one decision that i am making that'll really change my future. all ive been doing right now is putting them off for another time when i can think clearly, but i know i wont be thinking clearly for a while. COLLEGE!

weekend update

i kept myself in bed for 12 hours
... and i don't feel bad about it

i had a very satisfying friday at church
gooksu for dinner, my favorite.

i'm so happy i get to have a lazy saturday with the house to myself. its hard to be alone now adays.

emails please

zephyr i cant go to your blog put me on your reader list: irene_lee510@yahoo.com

and i need your emails so i can keep this to just you guys.

i was glad to read new posts
school started and i just got hit by a wave of academia. as always i'm trying to stand firm against the current . sounds cliche but so true

biology is ...
i dont even know how to finish that sentence. i hate it.
i just read over my old posts from a year ago. i am never happy! jeez

Ouch, my tummy hurts.

drowning

wanted to share this photo by toni frissell. saw this one on this month's vogue issue. i started to really appreciate their writing.

at a borders

my pages are perforated
made and ready to be ripped out
requiring the mere strength of a thumb
blank lines yearn to be decorated
to be burdened with words scribbled down
to be tainted, painted, used, til they succumb
to the sheer force of .5mm leads
pointed, dulled and pointed again
still they sit cross-legged
at a borders outlined with red
waiting to be tainted, painted, and tainted again

Update please

Every morning I wwake up . And then I check my facebook. Gross.
Then after I check blog. And I know you all have busy summers,but how much more fun will this be if you guys updated!
I miss your carefully chosen words and commas.

Sincerely

something for your brain to chew upon

"to influence a person is to give him one's own soul. He does not think his natural thoughts, or burn with his natural passions. His virtues are not real to him. His sins, if there are such things as sins, are borrowed. He becomes an echo of someone else's music, an actor of a part that has not been written for him. The aim of life is self-development. To realise one's nature perfectly - that is what each of us is here for. People are afraid of themselves, nowadays. They have forgotten the highest of all duties, the duty that one owes to one's self. Of course they are charitable. They feed the hungry, and clothe the beggar. But their own souls starve, and are naked. Courage has gone out of our race. Perhaps we never really had it. The terror of society, which is the basis of morals, the terror of God, which is the secret of religion - these are the two things that govern us. "

Mr. Wilde says.

Can't sleep

Covered tightly in sheets still cold from lack of someone sleeping in them I try to let my mind drift on its own.
Picturing thousands of sheep that never worked for me. Replacing them with stars didn't either.
Now I'm thinking about whispers on mountaintops ,
quaking earth . To fiery winds clutching my shoulders telling me I'm microscopic.
Counting sheep never worked for me.
Waking up to bread by my side that's all I asked for but bread calls for butter and later a cup of water and soon enough a plate of medium rare steak. Countin sheep....

almost been a month. i'm so glad starbucks has free wifi now.
the weather's getting warmer !
i'm just loving watching dramatic daytime shows these days.
it'll hit me soon i need to use my time wisely. but as of now, daytime shows. with cheap commercials directed to jobless highschool dropouts. yeah, i like summer.

written in a room of whispers

piercing whispers.
they manage to reach my ears
acidic words.
shoot out of tongues, ricochet off the walls of a small room
they do nothing but hone the weapon we are all armed with.
making ruffles out of lines,
jagged edges out of circles.

these vowels and consonants molded,
between teeth and tongue,
they penetrate through skin and bone
through Now and Then.

we are prisoners of war.
trapped between lines,
trapped only with this weapon to fidget with.

forever young

seems like you all are too busy to check in on blog to update. since i am blessed with a bit more amount of time, i am going to take advantage of it.
ira graduated today, and we had dinner with her friends and our extended family which consists of aunts and uncles that are all well over their 60s. and i learned a new thing about myself today: i do not want to age. i saw it so clean cut in front of me, the juxtaposition of youth and ... old, agedness, (i cannot think of a word that is of equal connotation to youth though it means the opposite) the two tables one with ira and friends, and the other. it was not the physical, visible effects of old (or non-youth) that made this juxtaposition so clear in contrast. it was the conversation they employed or the way they ate, or even the way they perceived every action... i don't want to spend hours talking about how to marinate my beef, or be observant of each flaw in the dishes that come out of kitchen, or point out the niece that did not give the water to the elder first (that niece was me). i may be generalizing all aged people with my own relatives, but now i am caught on the question of "how one can grow old well?"

4 day weekend

been awhile, ...
did you know that we've been having 4 day weekends because our school district cannot afford it?
i'm happy as a student, but wow we must be really short.

anyways, we recently washed our bedsheets, so mine smell lovely.
finals this week. its almost over....
i guess i'm just rambling on this post.. i randomized the playlist, and celine dion came on.
hmm lady gaga's new video? very explicit. its supposed to be about gay rights. i don't get it.

good morning

20piece chicken mcnuggets are sitting on my table. it's too late for them to be out, but it's tomorrow now, so i'm starting on a clean slate right?

i just want to appreciate, the amount of joy and growth i receive from reading all your posts. reading both your streams of consciousness, flowing like water, sometimes with more force and sometimes with hesitance, but nevertheless, i appreciate the truth. thank you.

now, i will resume my appointment with those deceivingly harmless bitesize chickens. good night.

tuesday rambles

i am a suffering hypersomniac.
it's almost inevitable for these eyelids to fall and cover my pupils
let's not call this sloth. let's glorify this image of being still for hours.
i have found so much in moments of nothingness.
all stimuli simply dwell in the air around me, waiting to drown me when i awake
it's amazing how we are aware of only a fraction of every little process that takes place in our periphery. just amazing.

i find myself enjoying too much of what i already have. yes, that sounds like a good thing, but i should be working for things that i don't always have so i have newfound joy. for instance, it's weird that i would much rather spend time with my sisters than my friends from school. i guess to reiterate it, i think i refuse to invest parts of me to better my friendships. and "invest" fits perfectly. just a thought in my head i wanted to share

fail

one of the many reminders that i am still in high school - that i am a mere fledgling, that i spend more than 6 hours with teenagers trying to find their own skin (which also applies to myself)- is words in "trend".
one commonly used now among highschoolers is "FAIL." this can often be used in a sentence like: "you FAIL at life" or a favorite phrase that incorporates this word is "epic fail" which doubles the irritation in my ears. the previous phrase that occupied many of our conversations before the advent of this f-word was "that's what she said."at least this reminded me of something so obvious and inherent in every generation of the youth , that we are still kids, curious about things that were so taboo before.
but this fail word. worries me. maybe i'm analyzing too much. but does everything for us bifurcate into pass or fail? are we so concerned about the standard way of evaluation? the number or the letter that generalizes so much, that overlooks too much? maybe this is me ventilating as a student, a student fairly diligent, a student that strives for the numbers that label me, set me above or below average, the 2400, the A, the 5, the 4.0

may forth

it seems like my body is considering the idea of getting ill. that little ache in my throat when i swallow is signaling me to be cautious. uh oh. this is a very wrong time to let my body groan and whine. we'll see what it decides to do. wanna share something interesting:

That is their problem. They cannot live without religion, and they start out on the search for one when they are little girls. Each has the deep feminine passion for goodness, which makes the place where she stands in aspiration and agony the heart of the book - still and cloistered like a place of worship, but that she no longer knows to whom to pray. In learning they seek their goal; in the ordinary tasks of womanhood; in the wider service of their kind. They do not find what they seek, and we cannot wonder.
written in 1919

OH and HAPPY STAR WARS DAY!
MAY the FOURTH be with you!

feelin good

i feel good.
we are ready to grill &eat some meat that samonim brought for us
i had lunch with some old friends of mine, the ones that make me feel less confident than usual, but at the same time so happy that i can still connect with people i havent talked to for years.
i am happy to see zephyr and jacky's photos
i am happy that my summer looks full of life though i know i have to make some choices.
my college classes conflict with church.. hmmm what to do.
well the point is, i feel good!

i tend to carry more books than i actually need. or even worse, i just carry books when all i do is simply hold them in my hands. i think this helps me convince myself that maybe, just maybe, the words, the knowledge, the thick 1083 pages of the history of modern europe will enter through my pores and find home in my brain. and this habit of mine is not the only problem. right now i'm sitting at a borders, drinking some sweet coffee with an insufficient amount of milk. with the excuse of finding a quiet spot where all its inhabitants are very very study-minded. hmm the best solution to all this would be finding joy in the words i read, joy in absorbing the details.. finding joy ..
that's been very hard to do. in fact, this search for joy would be applicable to all other facets of my life.

blahh

i'm hoping, when you sit before me,
arms folded,
eyes scanning,
that you will see the words that brew in me,
not those written across my forehead.
that you will see me shrink,
before the reflection i catch on your pupils.

i'm hoping, when the Night enters,
through the crevices,
through the weathered down walls,
that she will escort me, swallow me, coddle me
as i stay awake,
as i watch every particle of light shed itself against my jagged edges.

arggh

wow my weeklong break is almost coming to a close. it was very unproductive. i have a mix of emotions right now. i just finished talking to kimberly via skype. i was told to read the bible. so elementary, but so necessary. and missing... in me right now. so many analogies and metaphors float in my head, and i just want to think simply sometimes. simple. one worded. statements. blah. i feel , i cant describe it. i feel like i have weights on my eyebrows.

almost end of march.

i like the feeling of clicking on "new post" like setting new dirt on my field. i feel ready to translate what i have inside and evaluate with what i see outside, and reap its fruits. i do have to say, i intentionally avoided coming to blog though my curious side kept urging me to see how everyone's been doing. i did not want to admit that i've been seeing my own reflection grow dimmer and blend to my walls. i blame the ticking clock for dessicating the oil it me that used to run so smoothly through my veins now it's too viscous like honey it's taking its time. i want to just sit down without worrying about my posture and my imbalance of thought. my mind has been so occupied, not with new enlightening thoughts, but of old. flashbacks that abduct me without noise. i think it's because i've been reading sylvia plath's the Bell Jar. recounting recounting and recounting every action and word that leads to another tale and another event...

power!

even in the midst of a lent on 'secular music' i've been finding myself so attracted to the voice of cat power lately. she's beautiful. i want to see her live someday... i remember when i first was exposed to her then seemingly lethargic voice i found it pretty repulsive now it's almost awakening new senses i never thought were a part of me.

pathetic

i'm at a point where i can see myself so transfixed by the image of my water losing heat.
and it irritates me that i am simply watching myself.
and it is even more irritating that i'm typing about it.

hello to all

every morning at about 5 am, i've been waking up to turn off my sister's alarm.
i wait for the blaring noise to continue for about two to three minutes just to see if this time, only this time, if she can wake up to her own alarm that is of no use to my routines. andd..... no... she doesn't wake up and she is still sleeping as if there are absolutely no stimuli around her senses. and now i will get out of my comfy position and abandon these keys to turn off the alarm.

the college question

i've been filling out this application for a summer program, mainly for the experience of completing a series of forms that should epitomize Irene Lee. This is hard. I had no problems telling them about the classes i've taken, the grades i've gotten, and the activities i've done, but when i got to that inevitable question, all of a sudden i questioned my motives and went to abstract thinking , dissolving myself to fragments that i'd love to put under my microscope. questions like: what experience, challenge or risk that you've taken made you who you are?

what? i don't believe in sudden growth spurts. mainly because i've never had them before. i believe in gradual change. i don't believe in one moment changing the fabric of me. i believe in the long process of slowly sewing my fabric adding piece onto piece, being molded into the shape that i know will not stay constant. the question has caught me clueless, and i don't know what to say. AND i have a 100word limit.

eggs

lately all i've been eating are pineapples,cheez-its(the tabasco flavor), and eggs.
try this at home! i dunno the direct eng. translation of it, but yalls know gueranjjim?
we have discovered fast and easy way of fixing up a nice meal when all you have in the fridge are eggs. you just pop some eggs in a bowl, add an amount of sesame seed oil, some shrimp salt thing ( you'd know this if you've watched any korean cook) , fish oil, add water and stir til it has a nice light yellowish color and you put it in the microwave for 5 or 6 minutes.. haha i'm in love with this simple recipe. well yeah thats all ive been eating..

all nighter

i am typing this with moist hands. and i am very heavily caffeinated.
free write at 4 am:

outlining, the verge of insanity, i stand.
so satiated with what my eyes can hold, i try
to silence the incessant taps that remind me
to look at its source.
i know now what i am capable of
and simultaneously i realize myself so incapable.
so weak, too fragile
to hold the weight my head stacks upon me.
My shoulders can crumble to ashes, yet
my feet stay intact to my Roots,
the Roots feed me, keep me thirsty,
keep me awake to the world behind its visage
and these Roots tell me to remain intact.

break

hello. i am supposed to be writing a report on marxism. and women's movement. and Freudianism. they're all very interesting topics i would love to delve into on my own will, but since it is labeled as "schoolwork" i just dread it. and this is one way i avoid schoolwork.
i miss you guys dearly especially this week. i say we arrange a video meeting! what doya say??

going loco

stomach discomfort caused by an awkward el pollo loco dinner...
to add more details, i have witnessed the clash between man and woman.
with tortilla in my left hand i listened through a frustrating backtoback verbal conflict that i knew will not resolve. what happens if one presents a joke that offends the other? the offended should not keep quiet, should refuse to keep quiet, because even jokes have lines. joker did not understand ofcourse. and here we see a classic case of communication played at different levels.
food is meant to be consumed in a positive atmosphere.

you learn the most when pride dies a little
you learn to transcend past your hackneyed visions
now rusted with brown smudging your fingers
when you realize your hands are just hands
they cant hold cold water slipping through for long
we all need to die a little sometimes

confession

i deactivated my facebook account.
not that its crippling my goals of being productive.
half was driven by impulse, the other... haha i'm shamed to admit that
i am sick of looking at pictures of my own friends (aka: the family) entertaining themselves without me... ahhh that felt good.
so highschool, but so real of an issue.

happy valentines day

for those who are bitter call it commercialism but for me im just glad i can eat sweets with a reason behind it. i just came back from the movie "valentine's day" just another movie packed with countless characters that get tangled up with each other and somehow all find their partners at the end. but i do have to say, i take pleasure in these kinds of stories, because this is when my cynicism rests despite their implicit attempts to send so many messages i would love to rack up.
actually, i really loved this movie, (and i say this after at least 5 minutes of rerunning the whole plot in my head after typing the last statement) because it challenged so many stereotypical views of couples molded to fit the movie screen. i witnessed my own intolerance against some of these couples, especially when the cute little white boy got paired up with an indian girl... my eyes were so accustomed to cute little white boy and cute little white girl that when i saw this pair, i felt something missing. wow, and now i'm wanting to put the industry at fault, for showing me postcards of little white couples kissing holding roses, for always pairing up barbie and ken, mulan and shane, fiona and shrek... noits me though. i've always paired me with a korean man. korean, then a god-fearing man. nahh. korean, goodlookin, maybe THEN a god-fearing man. yeah i need to do some rethinking, but happy valentines day to you all. you can learn so much from discomfort.

mmm

my house smells of curry (the korean kind of course) and i automatically think of some nice kimchi that's just sour enough to make me salivate...
what do you think is more important in a meal, the perfect rice or the perfect kimchi??? hmmm
yes its way too late for me to be hungry

storytime

did you see the clouds yesterday morning? giant cumulonimbus clouds were making their own set of mountains and gray, wispy ones were resting under them..
my aunt is back from korea, and that means weekly trips to los angeles are back on. (woohoo--sarcasm) but i appreciated the visit yesterday. my uncle and two of my oldest aunts were there, and all three of them probably sum up to the age of at least 200.
i was never attentive to their stories until yesterday...
how my aunts couldnt go to school before their younger brothers, how they don't even have their names on the family genealogy because of their inability to further the family line.
and then my uncle went on saying that men are just creatures of lies. and that we cannot trust them. and the first question to ask them when we are considering them as longterm partners is how much they own. this made me laugh a little. still, valuable lessons learned from elders right?

i miss you guys mucho, hope yalls have a good week

alright. i've been finding myself reminiscing on the summer i spent in korea.
i keep picturing the cemented streets occasionally marked by the tree roots too big to stay subservient to the heavy blocks. and my feet walking on them, i can feel them.
and i can smell the underground market. smells of red pepper seeds freshly ground that morning it makin me sneeze and sights of beheaded pigs that oddly look peaceful..
oh man i miss korea a little.

rambles

second day of another semester. so many goals made. and so many already broken. (like falling asleep in class! i just cant help it anymore).
i realized on sunday that i completely relied on going to a good school, studying hard in foreign relations, and working towards the UN without even thinking if it pleases Him. it pleases my parents even when im still in the process of planning towards my future. it keeps hitting me this week that i gotta ask the question.

oh and i HAVE TO SHARE this vid. its amazing

i'm just glad to realize everyday that i am a learning creature

i hope youre doing well and i'm praying for you

bye bye finals!!

its over now, and it seemed there was only one thing to do after the end of finals, so i indulged in a record time four hour nap after some sushi and vanilla ice cream. i feel pathetic with nothing else to do but simultaneously it consoles me that i have no school to worry about for now....
i had to write about the extent to which schools should promote individuality or conformity. these are two conflicting ideas that everyone struggles with and schools supposedly are meant to aid students in the "betterment of the individual" and also the "betterment of society"
haha i got carried away writing about it

i believe He has allowed me to swim,
from the coast of complete self-reliance
all the way to complete self-devotion
many, countless times
so that i can look back and
laugh at my foolishness
for thinking the possibility of drowning
when my feet were touching water.

bored in class..

instinct. this is not instinct.
the flight or fight is not my option, i freeze.
fully aware that there isnt time to thaw me out.
like frozen meat, ice red with streaks of white,
i sit with perspiration resting on the cellophane,
reminding me that i am confined before my own reflection.
i need to thaw me out.
i need to fight my deceptive layer, thinner than paper,
thick enough to hold me transfixed.
i need to fight it, by instinct.

written in during a psychology lecture.
what a coincidence that jacky talked about this

the city of irvine was officially under a tornado warning today.
weather is the universal topic of conversation.
you can bring up the weather with a stranger: "its pouring isn't it?" short yes or no. maybe an anecdote or two. Bye.
or even with a mother in awkward phone calls... the topic we rest on is .. weather: "keep warm, love you" Bye.
and here too, i talk of the weather.. we were under a tornado warning! Bye.

the nutritional value of a rainy day

bowl of rice
2 servings of shin ramen
1 bag of hot cheetos
1 can of diet coke
1 cob of corn
fifth of a muffin
1 cup of coffee.

.. not so good.

aspertame

malleable words and thoughts dwell on my tongue
toes found a temporary refuge on the balls of my feet
and i know soon enough they will forget where they came from
all im capable of now is watch me ebbing down to the last sip of diet coke

hi

allow me to introduce my friend Onus.
yesterday he was titled "word of the week"
and he refuses to leave my sight.
Onus's only purpose is to live on my shoulders,
that parasite!
he finds delight in destroying my bubbles with his trailing fingers.
the bubbles i've made after hours of repetition.
blow in, blow out. blow out. exhale. exhale... out
Onus's favorite time of day is
when he sees me and my heavy pair of eyes
Onus likes to scream into my ears
though he can only reach the volume of a whisper,
his silent shriek ebbs endlessly, resonating and reclining on my eardrums
oh Onus that parasite!

ms plath

this constant reminder (like the rectangular bubbles that pop up on your computer screen) gives me hope. that if i put Him first everything will fall in order. i can't tolerate labeling it a new year's resolution for no reason, but it is something that i strive for almost every hour.
wish me luck.
i've been keeping sylvia plath in my bedside drawer for awhile collecting microscopic filth from my room.. i didnt realize how delicious her words are:

jilted

my thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
my tears like vinegar,
or the bitter blinking yellow
of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
gossips late and soon,
And i wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny,green, and tart,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.

right now i'm ashamed that i swallowed up a whole redvelvet cupcake. forgive me.

in denial

been a while since last update.
zephyr compelled me to type up some words even if they dont seem so significant. i don't want her to be all alone talking to no one but herself. haha
my stomach is going through some issues and i am just on the verge of complaining..
i bet it's because of the nutritious (not really i like to convince myself it was) meal i had.
our entire house smells of burnt corn. it's almost aroma therapy.
i've been waking up with a very heavy heart. and this is literally heavy heart because i don't know how else to describe my condition. occasional sighs help me feel a little lighter, but i don't know the cause of it. it's just the burden of knowing that you have an agenda to fulfill for the day, and the week, and the month... yess i'll say it: i'm dreading school.