06.01.16

It's already June...good god. Are we already halfway through 2016?

- Summer came at us fast. Literally overnight, I was sweating in my sleep because my apartment traps heat and I didn't have an a/c unit. It's so hot. Even in the middle of the night. I'd wake up sweating and throw all my blankets and shirt to the ground and lay there as still as I could. Nope, didn't help. Special shoutout to all the generations that made it through life without the a/c.

- I turned 26 a few weeks ago. I celebrated it by eating through New York City with my sister and switching jobs and then taking some days off to go on an epic GoT marathon. I'm so emotionally exhausted. This show just loves to hurt you.

- We found 2 cockroaches in our apartment so far. Coco and Roro. Pretty sure all of their extended families are already nesting somewhere within these walls.

Quick break for happy thoughts, because f roaches.

- I've been obsessed with The 1975's new album and particularly with this song, at first because it's got some sick jazz gospel vibe but also because of the piercing lyrics. "If I believe you" is basically written from a perspective of a nonbeliever, or maybe an atheist, who is struggling with the notion of religion and spirituality, challenged with seeking higher power and purpose in life. As someone who grew up Christian, I can't say that I haven't had my doubts and struggles in believing in all the religious customs that are obvious to religious church-goers. For me, it wasn't so much about believing in God as it was about feeling accepted in the church. There was always a standard to maintain, a way I was expected to be as a church-going Christian Korean-American girl, and I disagreed with a lot of the things that were preached to me because it didn't feel like some of it was about God anymore. But of course, that's just one of many experiences people sometimes have with religious institutions, and churches are not perfect because no one is perfect. But the struggle is real, and I thought Matthew Healy did a great job of capturing that struggle.

- Photo: somewhere in the East Village, Dec 2015. Fujifilm 400 + Nikon FM10.

The anatomy of a sunset

The truth is, I don't really see sunsets anymore. But that's what you get for living in a concrete jungle, deprived of actual sunlight and an open sky. My favorite thing about living in Texas used to be seeing the enormous sky burn until it faded out purple and pink then dark blue when I'd be out driving in flatland. It was absolutely gorgeous and I still believe to this day that Texas has the best sunset out of all places I've ever lived. This weekend though, I got to discover the southern tip of Manhattan and the breathtaking view from Battery Park. I don't think I've just sat there and watched the sunset in a really long time...and there's not a moment it's not gorgeous.

It's okay to hang out with yourself

CUZ YOU'RE WORTH IT.


Number one lesson you learn in New York City is that you don't make pointless eye contact with strangers, no matter where you are / what time of the day it is. Again, I might be super jaded at this point, but no one warned me about eye contact when I first moved here and I can tell you from personal experience that it has done more harm than good. Maybe I'm just extra paranoid and assume that all strangers who smile at me are super creepy but trust me, you don't want to send even the faintest signal that you're chill with this weird, random, often slightly sensual nonverbal exchange unless they are actually David Beckham. Or Chris Pratt. Anyway, one other major reason I started wearing headphones even if I'm not listening to music and avoiding eye contact at all cost is because some people actually try to make a move while trying to convince me that I'm Asian when in fact that is literally the last thing I need convincing of. But super offensive and racist street harassment aside, it's just unpleasant to be bothered when you've had a long day at work or at the gym dying on the stairmaster.

Anyway, I'm saying all this because I find myself alone a lot since I moved in September. Big city can really teach you a lot about yourself and others.









But of course, nothing beats good company. I'm just learning to be a confident human being who is completely comfortable with herself, because I believe that a lot of our fears in being "alone" comes from our own insecurities. But that's just my opinion.




Hope you had a good weekend.

Currently listening: blossom dearie - manhattan

WDED #1

Hi.

So believe it or not, I write a lot. I have a lot of pointless notes on my phone (hey, did you know you can now password-protect them with the new iOS update? Welcome to 2016!) but before that I used to be that chick at a coffee shop with a Moleskine knockoff (because let's be real when will I ever be able to afford a $16 notebook) furiously writing down my thoughts and life goals. But now I just have my phone and type furiously as if I'm texting someone and not look like a total loser. So everybody wins. I also write a lot on the subway now because I have no LTE, like, 90% of the time (thanks AT&T) so I write while I have Taylor Swift on loop (because that's the only thing I can listen to offline). It's a lot of unpleasant stuff, as you can imagine.

Anyway, on some weeknights, I like to drink a glass or two of wine and write about stuff that comes to mind at the moment - life, relationships, job sitch, life, food, that cute dog I met on the street, rants, dreams, etc. Like tonight. Since two weeks ago I swore off eating heavy dinners since I'm apparently preparing for a half-marathon so I'm pretty much tipsy after one glass of wine...and why not take advantage of yourself?

WDED stands for write drunk edit drunk. Any time I decide to feed myself wine on a weeknight while I'm roasting sweet potatoes for lunch the next day and looking up House of Cards spoilers, I will also make some time going through stuff I wrote when I was tipsy and edit and share them. This is going to be really weird because I rant/obsess over the most random things: stuff ranging from a two-page rant about stupid Americans protesting Syrian refugees to how I should appreciate sunsets more (??? yeah i don't know...)

Anyway, maybe I'll make this a regular. Maybe I won't. Whatever. But treat this like my raw, unpolished thoughts that were floating around in my head, or more like swimming around way too fast from the bottle of 2014 Perlita Malbec-Syrah blend from Argentina.

Winter 2014:
Maybe it’s not about making a name for yourself or about trying to leave a meaningful legacy behind. I think I do what I do because I’m pursuing to find out my limits and what I’m really good at. I want to know what it is that I would be insanely love with and serve “my purpose” in life or whatever. I want to continue my journey to "find" myself, but I also want to be able to love others selflessly... Do those things go hand in hand? Would my future children hate me if I go back to work right after I pop them out? Or would I be happy being one of those childless, forever alone but super ambitious, important hotshit married to my career? I literally have no idea. For now, I'm doing what I know and can. But a lot of times it scares me, because I should know what I want -- exactly -- but I don't. And these decisions you make in your 20s are so incredibly important, sets a tone for the rest of your life, but nobody warns you so. Or maybe they did and I missed the lecture. But I guess what I do know is to ask yourself this question: What do you love the most, and what gets you going? What makes you feel like a human, like make your heart do its work? And also, who cares what everyone else thinks. It's your life at the end of the day.

springtime blues

^ friday night mooooood. h/t my sis

I remember when I was in Korea this time last year, I hung out with one of my many cousins who took me hiking around Seoul. I feel like Seoul can be sort of comparable to New York, where any hint of 'nature' you find is backdropped with the city. Still, we saw little beautiful signs of spring popping up here and there. While I was gawking at flowers and blooming trees, my cousin told me something that's got me thinking for awhile: she said she always gets most depressed in the spring. Why? Because she feels excluded, left out, lonelier when everything seems to be finding life and moving on and doing great, basically. Damn. At first I didn't say much because I couldn't quite understand, but a year later, here in New York, I'm beginning to understand what she could have meant. Because like I said, Seoul is kind of comparable to New York in a sense where you feel like you can't catch a break. Ever. You're always surrounded by people, you find yourself exchanging unpleasantaries with strangers for no good reason and everyone is always going somewhere at full speed - literally and figuratively. Winter was a time I didn't feel like a complete loser if I stayed home and did nothing on weeknights. But now that the sidewalk traffic has quadrupled and I'm always side by side with strangers and tourists having the time of their lives, enjoying the city to the core, all that giddiness of spring kind of gnaws at me. Anyway. It doesn't hurt to set your own pace and live your life the way you're comfortable with. I needed some time and space and peace to actually enjoy spring...and just to chew on stuff, so I've been going to Central Park a lot. Sometimes I run, sometimes I just go there with my camera (and creep on strangers).






Of course I miss DC in springtime. It's really the best. Nothing beats it. It didn't even have to be near the tidal basin - around my apartment in Arlington, at the bus stop, on random streets in the city - the cherry flurries were everywhere and it smelled good. All of its beauty was so heartwrenching because who knew you could love a specific time and place so much?




In the past 25 years of my life, I've moved fiiive times. Five. That's not even including me moving from Philly to Korea when I was 7 months old. I'm starting to realize there hasn't been a time it didn't hurt. But it's also been really exciting. It's definitely painful every time but you eventually find a way to make yourself a new home. At least I did. Anyway, I'm missing the dmv a lot tonight - or more like this week, with the onset of spring and glimpses of cherry blossoms. I miss Arlington and all the memories and the way they made me feel. But it's not too shabby here either. After all, it's only the beginning of the season...(yes yes it was 35 degrees yesterday)

dia beacon: fall 2015

Throwback to jeju, in black and white

There are days when I randomly crave Familiar Things from my childhood, like the kind of food I grew up on, sound of the aggressive rain during the monsoon season in Korea, walking around the tiny narrow streets of Korea with my hand in my mother's, or just simpler things like the sound of my own language and what it meant to have family nearby. I miss and crave all of those things even when nothing triggers them. For awhile I couldn't wait to get back. All I knew, at 12 years of age, was that I had just temporarily moved to North America until I could go home, and I never imagined I would never move back ever again. This was a huge deal for me. I had such a strong identity rooted in my country and language that until I finally accepted the fact that I am supposedly something called a 1.5 generation Korean-American, a new, awkward breed of species that all of my peers and I were still struggling to figure out, I wasn't quite sure what I was supposed to be. My tiny little brain couldn't quite grasp the complexity of my identity because I had never once considered what it meant to be a minority somewhere or what it would mean to feel like I don't truly belong. I'm sure this is a similar struggle across generations of immigrants and everyone deals with it differently.

So when I finally decided to visit the motherland for the first time in 10 years last March, I was anxious to find out if I'd fit back in the country at all. On the surface level, I've managed to retain most of my Korean vocabulary so people would say stuff like "Wow, you don't sound like you ever left!" and not treat me like a foreigner, which was great. I instantly belonged to the sea of people everywhere I went, because I obviously looked like everyone.

Nothing significantly life-changing happened during or after those 3 weeks, besides the awkward moments of meeting younger cousins who absolutely had no idea who I was (or could care less). Like the sky didn't open up with a thundering voice that told me who I'm exactly supposed to be and told me the answer to the burning question and frustration I've carried for half of my life.




The most precious thing that happened though, was just hanging out with family and learning deeper about my roots. My grandparents spent hours telling me how my dad was blue when he came out of my grandma's womb and she, being a nurse, basically brought him back to life and they believe he's a miracle child. I learned that my uncle, who's a talented TV producer, has a library filled with literally all the classic literature and music you can think of. I watched another pair of aunt and uncle argue from the backseat of their car. I literally visited all of my families' homes (my mother's side of the family is huuuge), spent hours looking at photographs that are at least 40 years old. I hold my family dear to my heart, and maybe that's supposed to be more powerful to me than having a strong tie to a country or a culture or a language when it comes to the whole identity thing. After all, every person's identity is unique and ultimately more complicated than we'd like it to be.

Anyway, the motherland will always be incredibly precious to me and I will miss it indefinitely, no matter where I am. I'm still unsure of how to categorize the Familiar Things - but I think I'm okay with not assigning it a country, or a group of people, or a specific sound or smell and accepting that it's an infinitely growing list of everything I associate myself to be. Or whatever my long-term memory decides to hold onto.



Okay, anyway, woah, that was a long rant. I'm sorry if you accidentally stumbled in here from that one Russian spam site (which, wildly enough, is the main driver of traffic to this blog according to Google. I have so many questions.) and was attacked by this aggressive rant on a 21st century Asian American identity crisis. Anyway, I've been wanting to upload these film photos from my trip to Jeju last year - they had light leaks so I deemed them ruined but they don't look so horrible in black and white. I was listening to a collection of sound from Jeju (literally just like, sounds of the earth) and was inspired to edit and post these.