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Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving. I really thought we’d be together this year

I miss you

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I don’t know if you knew this. I don’t think I had total awareness of it either. I’m only now able to put it into words. 

I was struggling with a lot of depression and anxiety in my last semester. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to see anybody. I just wanted to stay home, and talk to you. You made me feel safe. But with all the problems we were having... you were both my safe-haven and the one who could hurt me the most.

I know that it’s always been hard to wake me up. But this was different. You weren’t with me, but in the previous semester, even when I found it hard to wake, I did - and I’d want to start my day and be in class and all of this. I worked really hard. During finals season, I’d get myself up at 6:30 or 7 EVERY morning and go to Bobst, stay to really late hours of the night. You didn’t know that either, did you? This semester...I stayed in bed for hours after I’d woken up, not wanting, or maybe not able to, start my day. And because I woke up so late, I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. I don’t think I ever realized just how little we were communicating about our days. Some days, I wouldn’t eat. Some days, I just couldn’t. Other days, I was so hungry and ate a lot for both meals.

Did it every occur to you to wonder why things had changed this way? Maybe because you weren’t here for the first semester, you couldn’t see the small ways in which things were different. Maybe you just thought it was my normal difficulty of waking up, or just that I’d gotten more lazy. But it wasn’t.

I think it occurred to me a couple times, that what I was going through may not have been trivial hardships. But happy girls are pretty, and I know you wanted me to be happy, and I didn’t want to become more unattractive to you. I thought if I became someone more vulnerable, more needy, more “weak”, more of a burden, you’d want me less. So maybe I pushed it down, and tried my hardest just to be my bubbly self. I’d chastise myself for not being able to be stronger for you, better for you.

But the bottom line is, you couldn’t be there for me. You couldn’t stay with me. Sometimes I really can’t blame you. You were going through hardships of your own. I’m not your responsibility, you didn’t know any of this, and people shouldn’t have to bear more than they want to. 

But still, I really wish you’d stayed, even if it was hard.

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Sometimes you love someone for all the ways they’re not like you.

Sometimes you love someone because they feel like home.

And sometimes you love someone because they are the person who made you think that magic really exists.

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I’m just happy when I’m with you. There’s nothing else to it. It’s a feeling that I can get with only you. You are my home. 

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I miss you so

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last nights

It’s my last night here in Korea. It’s 2:45 AM, and everyone else is asleep. I went outside to make myself tea just now. There’s something about looking out of those windows in the living room in the middle of the night- everything is silent - there’s a blueish tinge to the street lamps that shine outside - every once in a while you can hear a car driving past - it’s peaceful. It’s beautiful. I tried to capture the room apartment in my mind’s eye, tried to memorize every detail that I possibly could. When I’m 80, I want to be able close my eyes and transport myself back here, to this space I shared with people I love. I want to remember the happiness I’ve had here with my family.

It’s hard to say this was the best trip to Korea I’ve ever had. In fact, I know there will come a time when I’ll regret the way I spent every minute here. This was probably my last chance to be here for so long, to spend weeks with my grandfather and my uncle in this house. So much of it I spent by myself in this room, hoping the TV and my computer would drown out my heartbreak and sorrow. I regretted it even as I was living it - each day that I chose to spend by myself, snapping at every one around me, I knew I was making mistakes that I could never take back. I couldn’t help it, though. This is the kind of heartbreak that just...never leaves. It made me not want to be around people. I was irritable. I was miserable. And I couldn’t bear not to be by myself as much as I possibly could. I hated myself for every second of it. I wish I was better. I wish I was stronger. Strong enough to love my family, to appreciate what I have while I have it.

I know there will be a day when I will want to die for having wasted these precious days with my grandpa. For not going out with him because I was tired, because I couldn’t get out of bed, because I wanted to be alone. As I spoke the words, “아니요, 전 안가요,” I already hated myself. I will regret it forever, I know. This was my chance to make my grandpa happy, to share in a part of his life, and I refused because of my own sadness. I’ve wanted to say this to you since the day I got here - I’m sorry. I love you. Please forgive me for being so weak. I hope you’ll understand.

What if I never have the chance again? 

I can’t let this keep me from living.

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I love you. I just love you and I want to see you.

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I feel so alone and scared. I don’t know who to talk to. All I know is that the one person I want to go to is you. But I can’t do that, can I?

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relentless

Haven’t you hurt me enough?

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i wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life

I keep trying to pinpoint why The Dead Poets Society touches me. I don’t have a specific dream, a specific career, that it spurs me towards. I don’t suddenly know what I want to do. Sad, isn’t it? But I still feel this rush inside me to do something. Anything. 

That’s it. Mr. Keating wasn’t exceptional because he managed to inspire a student most certainly going to med school to pursue his real dream in acting. His inspiration wasn’t just about careers. It’s not only the dreamers he touched. He was exceptional because he pushed people to dare to dream. He pushed them to dare to do, dare to try. Something. 

YAWP.

“Did you do it, did you read it to her?” “Yeah!” “Well what’d she say?!” “Nothing!! --- But I did it.”

Why, Neil? Why did you do it? You shouldn’t have done it. You should’ve kept fighting. There was always a way.

This movie makes me so angry. NO. The world is so full of cowards.

It makes me very happy too, though. I hope there are more people like John Keating, somewhere.

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this is why I don’t believe the things you say

i knew you’d feel this way

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is there no part of you that feels the same way i do?

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I hope you don’t take me for granted. I can’t be second priority forever.

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myself

I think I’m afraid to show others who I am. What I’m really like. The parts that I show to others are still a part of me too, but that’s as far as I’ll ever let them get. I’m too afraid.

Maybe they won’t like who I am

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photo albums

I went through all of the photo albums in my house tonight. I’m filled with a lot thoughts - can’t seem to verbalize everything.

I saw a lot of my grandma in the albums. Looks like the first picture we ever took together was on December 19th, 1995. As I always am when I think of my grandma, I was filled with a deep sadness. It’s now 22 years, 1 week, and 2 days later, and I miss her dearly.

My grandpa was in there a lot too. He looked so different ---- *left this post to spend a really nice hour of talking and reminiscing with my parents* ---- - I used to think he was the world’s tallest man, as big as a mountain. He looked so strong and healthy back then! But he’s still the same strong man inside, and he’s strong in a much different and perhaps greater way now. When I woke up yesterday, he was watching 가요무대. 우리 할머니가 참 좋아하셧던 쇼. I wonder if he feels her absence, and I wonder if there’s anything anyone could do to make it go away. I’ve learned so much more about my grandpa during this past week. The things he tells us about his childhood and his life are so interesting. I used to think maybe he didn’t have a lot of stories he wanted to share with me, but now I see - it’s because I never really asked. 

It’s funny, I’ve seen all of these pictures before, but something was different in the way I saw them tonight. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I think it has to do with where I was looking. I used to only look at my own face and think what a cute baby I was. I still did that, but somehow this time my focus was drawn to those around me. I looked at the expressions of the people holding me and trying to make me laugh, and I realized how happy and full of love, and maybe even full of wonder, they were. I looked at my parents’ faces, and I was constantly struck by the love in their eyes, and struck by the fact that I’d never noticed the strength of that love before. Even their college pictures: I’ve seen them before, and I’d think to myself, “cute” or “fun”. Now... somehow I think about it differently. I noticed their friends, I thought about what this trip or that trip must have been like. I wondered what their friends thought about them, and what it was like to hang out with them then. I wondered what my family thought of them. I wondered what their relationship was like, when it was just them and I hadn’t yet come along. I wondered what kind of stuff they talked about. Maybe it’s because I’m the same age now that they were then. It now hits me that they were in their youth, just as I am now; that this was a time for them when life’s hardships hadn’t quite arrived, and their days were filled with the laughter and joy of their own friends and family, and they didn’t yet have a duty to this little person. It’s hard to remember that our parents were their own people before they were “mom” and “dad”. Before you became the center of their universe, they were their own centers. Somehow as people become parents, their own kids dehumanize them, and don’t give them the right to their own emotions and their own self. We dismiss the fact that they are their own person, at least for some time, until we are able to realize that their parents are more than just parents. They’re 정미 and 헌재.

I grew up so loved. It’s so easy to forget when I remember all the terrible fights I’ve had with my parents, and even easier to forget sometimes now, when my parents and I disagree about something, or they do something that’s not my way, or I feel that they can’t understand me. So I write this now, in case my immaturity makes me forget all the things I’ve thought tonight:

You are so loved. You had a really beautiful, warm, and loving childhood because of your family. Your parents always have and always love you more than anything in this world. It’s so damn obvious, I don’t know why you never saw it. It was in the look in their eyes as they held you when you were a child. It’s in the way your dad silently puts food into your bowl, puts a piece of meat from his pho into your soup. It’s in the way your mom goes out to the garage, get’s the ingredients for 카래, and makes it for you at 1PM after everyone else has already eaten, just because you’ve complained that there’s no food and you asked if there was any 카래. And it’s in every second of every day, every second that they both toil away in their own way to make and save money just so you can buy one more cup of Starbucks. 

[to-myyouth-blog]

Merry Christmas!

Rigatoni with Sausage and Fennel

Prep: - 3 tablespoons good olive oil - chop 3 cups (1 large bulb) of fennel - chop 1 1/2 cups yellow onion - remove sweet Italian sausages from casings - mince 3 cloves garlic - crush fennel seeds (1/2 teaspoon) - chop parsely - 1/2 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes - salt and ground black pepper - 1 cup dry white wine - 1 cup heavy cream - 2/3 cup half-and-half - 2 tablespoons tomato paste - 1 pound rigatoni - parmesan cheese Cook: - heat olive oil over medium heat - add fennel and onion, saute for 7 minutes until tender (stir occasionally) - add sausage and cook 7-8 minutes, crumbling with fork, until browned - add minced garlic, red pepper flakes, 2 teaspoons salt, 1 teaspoon black pepper and cook for 1 minute - pour in wine and bring to boil - add heavy cream, half-and half, and tomato paste - bring back to boil, lower heat, simmer for 20 minutes until sauce has thickened while sauce thickens: - boil one pot of water, add 2 tablespoons salt, cook pasta - stir in parsley and 1/2 cup parmesan in sauce

Tomato Bruschetta

Prep: - preheat oven to 350 deg F - dice 5 plum tomatoes, small - chop 1 clove garlic - 4 tablespoons good extra-virgin olive oil - red pepper flakes - 1/4 cup basil leaves slice into ribbons - 1 tablespoon balsamic - slice baguette Cook: - add everything to bowl - season with salt and pepper - let sit at room temp while toasting bread - slice bread, add to baking sheet in single layer - toast in oven until golden brown (~5 min) - rub garlic clove all over bread as soon as it is taken out 

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Merry Christmas Eve!

I always wished that my grandparents would tell me more about their lives. I think it’s so interesting to take a little trip back in time through and hear about what life was like for them, what kind of experiences people have had. 

My grandpa did used to tell me a little bit about his hometown when we’d drove through it on taxi rides - that area is where they used to live, this is where my mom went to elementary school. But I’d never really heard stories: stories of their childhoods, how they grew up, what they were like when they were kids. 

There might be a little bit of a cultural gap, it’s true. Tonight, my grandpa actually opened up quite a bit more and began to tell us about his childhood and his family. I was so frustrated because I couldn’t really understand some of it. You know hearing about your parents’ or grandparents’ childhoods and hearing about their lives - those are pretty special memories that you can’t recreate if you tried. I guess I’ve become a little more sensitive to these kinds of feelings lately, after my grandma passed and after getting a little bit older. I wanted to remember these moments with my grandpa. I want to be able to look back and remember how my parents, my grandpa, and I sat around the dinner table, eating 부대찌개 and talked. 

There is one story that I did understand fully that I thought was really cute and funny. When my grandpa was little, his father had a rice farm. In these times, it was a little harder to live and food was harder to come by. One day, my grandpa tried stealing some of that rice from his farm for his friend. The details of how he did it are a little lost on me, but essentially he didn’t quite cover his tracks well enough, and his father caught him. He was so angry that he tied him to a pole in the barn next to the cows, because “니는 소새끼보다 못하는놈이다". My grandpa described how his brother could have helped him, but he wasn’t on good terms with their father so he didn’t really try. My mom said his older brother was 눈치없어 like that. In the end, my grandpa ended up being tied up in that barn for an entire day because no one came to get him - his father apparently felt a little embarrassed to come untie him himself after having been the one to tie him to the thing. In my grandpa’s words, “해놓고선 뒷감당을 못하는거지ㅋㅋㅋㅋ". We all laughed and marveled.

It was just a really nice dinner. I hope I have more chances to hear about his life again.