Category Archives: Inspiring

September 3, 2009 · 7:00 pm

An ill-timed comment and my rebuttal

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Most ill-timed comment, ever: I ran into a professor from my MFA program on the eve of my departure to a writing residency at Hedgebrook several years ago.

We were both browsing through shoes at REI–I needed “needed” a pair of shoes for Hedgebrook (hey, any reason to buy a pair of shoes, right?)…and she ironically, was also headed to Whidbey Island, where Hedgebrook is located, and needed a pair of shoes for her trip as well. Not that Whidbey Island is a volcanic island with special footwear needs or anything, it was just coincidence that brought us there. (And again, any reason to buy a pair of shoes…)

I had never taken her writing class, but I recognized her from my program and so I said hello. I told her where I was headed in a few days. She mentioned that she knew she’d recognized me from somewhere (i.e., the halls of the English building on campus).

“Ah, Hedgebrook!” she smiled her space-cadet smile, her eyes focused at infinity, even though her face was pointed at me, standing a mere three feet away, that weird polite zone of space, not too far, not too close. “It’s where I went and learned I wasn’t cut out to be a fiction writer.”

What? A nightmare started forming in my head.

“Oh yes, I was writing a novel, and I had a tough time writing while there. I really struggled. I ended up throwing the novel away, and realizing that I should be a journalist!” She was still smiling. Why was she smiling?

“Didn’t that devastate you?” I asked, thinking…I would be FUCKING DEVASTATED. Nightmare definitely forming in my head.

“At the time, yes!” She waved her hands, as if to emphasize the point that it was in the painless, anesthetized, past.

Oh, I said. Oh.

“But have a great time!” she said, pointing at a pair of Keene shoes. “Did you like the pair you just tried on?”

The Keenes were comfortable, but I felt like they looked like Smurf shoes. “I love them,” I lied.

“Oh well then great! I’m going to try a pair!”

And off she went ambling towards a salesperson. Leaving me with a thundercloud over my head.

At Hedgebrook, I struggled with loneliness (a good thing in the long run), until I met a friend for life while there that then blushed the whole experience pink and golden so that now my memories of Hedgebrook are mostly blissful (like birthing a baby, maybe?).

But mostly, I struggled with my writing. My struggle could have been like any other day writing, just staring at the laptop screen, waiting for the Muse to arrive, keeping vigil. But her statement made every one of my struggles with writing larger than they were: Was I a fiction writer? Should I throw this novel away? Should I just…blog? I must just totally suck. Should I just totally give up writing?

She cursed my residency, in some ways, with that extra pound of self-doubt, a pound I did not need to bear. And I still question myself as a fiction writer to this day. Even today, her words resound in my head on my worst writing days, or when I open the mailbox to find another rejection. To be truthful, I find myself wondering if I should still write the day after I’ve received an acceptance letter.

There are many hardships in life that do enlighten us, lead us to self-improvement. But I think self-doubt planted by others…is something we can do without. And for that reason, when people are off to a residency or an MFA program, I only give my blessing.

So…Good luck to all of you beginning your Fall semesters everywhere. 🙂 Have a great Fall learning, or teaching, or writing, or living, whatever it might be that you begin this season.

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Filed under Inspiring, Life, Memories, Writing

July 24, 2009 · 12:09 pm

My Berkeley

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I know I write a lot about other places–about my love for London, my deep connection to/personality fit with New York City and my flirtation with San Francisco. And wanting to live in Seoul for a year to feed my psyche. Then there are all my vacations to places I want to visit again: Barcelona, Rio de Janeiro, Tokyo. And all the places I want to visit, like Greece. The world the world the world!

I thought I’d share a little bit of My Berkeley. Not all of it because I could go on and on as to why I choose to live here…but some if it.

I live in Berkeley and this has been my home more or less (I lived in Palo Alto for 6 months, and lived in Kensington for awhile, a little tiny town bordering Berkeley) for the last eighteen years. I have lived half my life to date, here. I met the love of my life, here. I learned to become an adult, here. I learned to be happy, here.

Some people might be surprised that I like Berkeley–I am no hippie. I am a moderate in a town of left wing activists who don’t believe in prisons (free the prisoners!), and protest at the drop of a hat.

(Though in college, I did participate in protests–my mom calling me frantically, “Don’t get arrested!”). I protested 187. I remember ruining a perfectly good suede coat protesting in the rain.

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( And if you drive by campus often enough, you’ll run into a student protest every so often).

This town is good for me, and I hope I am good in return. I grew up with many many rules in a conservative town and Berkeley is like the good mate who is in many ways the opposite of me, helping me to move out of my comfort zone and embrace more of life. I love that the town keeps me in my place, that I cannot get groceries without running into a homeless person-when I give my change or dollar, I am paying my tithe to society, and I am consciously taking note of my own privilege.

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June 23, 2009 · 10:14 pm

Seven things I love

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(the above is my untouched, un-photoshopped, picture of Mammoth Hot Springs in Yellowstone)

wmc listed seven things she loves. Here are seven of mine:

  • A bowl of white milk against a green lawn at dusk. So white, so green.
  • I love watching the fog roll in from San Francisco in the summertime–watching it tear through the Golden Gate Bridge and over hills like cotton over a pine cone. So violent and yet no pain.
  • Friends who make me laugh so hard I forget where I am and who I am, there’s only that feeling of unbridled joy for that moment. And friends who don’t freak out when I cry either–because as hard as I laugh, I weep.
  • I love rainy days–the trees and grass look greener, the damp air feels good on my skin. The world seems quieter. Because of that and more, I also love London.
  • I love fingers running through my hair. I could spend an entire blue sky afternoon with my head on the lap of someone running their fingers through my hair. I wonder if I can pay someone to do this, I love it so much.
  • Autumn. The trees with leaves so red they look like they’ve gone up in flames.
  • Snow in the Sierra Nevadas. I could watch the snow fall down for hours, the world growing silent with rounded corners.

More things I love:
New York City * Wyoming landscape, Yellowstone, Big Sky Country–large landscapes: big white clouds deep blue sky, emerald green grass and various browns with distant gray of mountains, scintillating conversation * writer friends who really truly support me * marc jacobs * good hair days * mac fluidline eyeliner * a jog on a crisp day * the Tate Modern * reading a book i love from beginning to end * chilly days * cool wind * a warm jacket * dachshunds * long car drives * foie gras * open spaces, crowded streets * open air markets * a good deep tissue massage * rivers, oceans, lakes * blue * chocolate * Cheese Board brioche * afternoon naps * floating face up in a pool * hugs from husband * my college years at UC Berkeley * long quiet moments with my husband * golden sunlight of Autumn evenings * bookstores * Barcelona * eating street food, walking in a city with a good treat in hand * farmers markets * watermelon, prune plums, persimmons * vegetable gardens * “A+” * people, mysterious people * tidal pools with life teeming in habitats changing throughout the day and tide levels * wedding ceremonies watching a couple totally in love make a leap of faith and gargantuan promises, two strangers finding each other and being bound by soul and heart forever * peonies * saying “fuck it” * tulips * the smell of tuberose * lavender * finding a beach full of shells after a storm * the smell of my smelly dachshund’s body odor and breath their familiar smell providing me comfort, their licking feeling like consolation * walking through an old city * rainy days spent indoors * my husband * sleeping in especially in a large king bed with a firm mattress on wonderful beautiful sheets soft light just filtering through curtains prodding me awake ever so gently the room scented with lavender or tuberose a beautiful world lingering out the window maybe a beautiful city or a spectacular rural landscape * The Great Gatsby for its prose, for its perfect capture of the 1920s, for how it reminds me of my own late 1990s and pre-crash 2000s, for Jay Gatsby, for Nick Carraway… * Mom, Dad * A tall woman with perfect skin and a serene face * Callebaut chocolate * the smell of bread baking * perfect moments choreographed by a song * praise

…i tag Randa, Nova, Alexander, Eve, Blog Lily, Medeasin, and Cindy.

but i also tag YOU. 🙂 i want to know what you love, what you find beautiful, what makes you happy!

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April 15, 2009 · 3:52 pm

audience of a dream

I am not much of a cryer–but I do weep when I see people achieve their dreams. I cry during Olympics medal ceremonies, and I wept watching this youtube video of Susan Boyle, who surprised the judges of Britain’s Got Talent (the UK “America’s Got Talent”–or rather to be more accurate, “America’s Got Talent” is the US version of Britain’s Got Talent).

She’s not Hollywood (she’s frumpy), she’s cheeky (loved it–she bantered with the judges), and she’s got big ambitions (she said she wants to be like Elaine Paige). Usually these things do not line up on television.

On TV, there are only a few molds that say “winner” and it usually involves being a size 2 (or smaller), being well coiffed, and being young, for starters. And usually, producers set it up so that the people who are frank with their ambition fail. There have been so many contestants before her who have claimed a talent rivaling Whitney Houston’s, only to belt out something that sounds…nowhere near Whitney Houston. So you see the audience members roll their eyes awaiting a horrendous performance from Susan Boyle. We have been trained to have very standardized expectations.

But oh man. What a performance. It’s amazing. The judges said it was the biggest surprise ever. They said it was a wake up call from their cynicism. Simon Cowell’s facial expression, upon discovery of this talent, is unforgettable. We should all have someone look at our work in that way in our lifetime. I could die if someone (perhaps an agent) read my novel and made such a face.

Well I’ve watched the video of the performance over and over now, it’s so inspiring. Others are inspired too, even as they wonder why.

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March 22, 2009 · 12:36 pm

in which I march (haha, get it? March…) forward

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* Yes, that’s a hippie mobile parked in our neighborhood.

I have had my full dose of the blues and erratic mood swings the last few weeks, including my moment of panic and self-flagellation over lost things. I lost another thing since the folder incident, and I had another moment of melancholy during which I questioned myself. Ugh.

But nevermind! I am so sick of the blues (even though that is one of my favorite colors) that I’ve got to get my mind on more positive things and trudge onward. Things I am doing to lift my mood…

  • I’ve started my garden, and am making plans to expand this year–I’ve got me a black krim, an early girl, a siberia (yes I know the siberiaN is superior but that’s what I could find), and two little momotaro tomato plant seedlings. I’ve got my herb pots all full (I’m growing fines herbes this year–and it will finally HAPPEN because I am growing the chervil indoors), I’ve got potato seedlings in the ground (yay! and I saw a sprout this morning), garlic in the ground (they’re definitely sprouting), radishes, lettuces, carrots…!

    We are making plans to make another tier (my vegetable garden is on a steep patch of hill and so far, I’ve only terraced one level)…and in that next tier, I may plant adzuki red beans and a triamble squash. I am also obsessively looking up companion planting, which make it appear that some plants just physically FIGHT each other and will fight to the DEATH so I am trying to, like a good hostess, seat friends together and far away from enemies.

    As I garden, I am of course, coming up with the ever-infinite gardening and writing analogies. The most recent one occurred while I was thinning out radishes and realizing that it pertained to the revision and editing process. I was thinning out radishes because you can’t have them growing close to each other–otherwise you won’t actually GET radish roots. You won’t GET to harvest anything. You have to make sacrifices.

    Of course you say this is easy…but I was taking out perfectly healthy looking seedlings. Sometimes I had to choose between two very very good looking thriving seedlings way too close to each other. In a perfect world, I’d let both of them thrive and in a super-natural world, both would produce radishes. I’d hesitate–which do I pull out, and I regretted pulling perfectly healthy seedlings. But I had to do so.

    Like writing. Sometimes you have to cut out perfectly good paragraphs. Because they don’t contribute to the whole narrative, because they will weigh your story down and because then your story won’t blossom and get to harvest.

    I realize this is very obvious but I love that my gardening helps me with my writing; two seemingly disparate things converging always delights me.

    Also: there are reports that seed sales are up something like 300% this year. I suspect that with the Obama’s vegetable garden as potential inspiration, seed sales will continue to increase. (Now if only people would buy BOOKS too–I hear book sales have increased in Europe this year–fingers crossed?).

  • I am putting myself out there and meeting new people and friends. I have a second job, through which I have met countless new people. This second job is draining and results in my sleeping many many hours on the weekends (naps!) but perhaps it’s also pushing my brain to another level.

    I met Blog Lily the other day in real life–she and I live remarkably close to each other! And we talked about flash fiction and Famous Writers and bonded over personal items.

    They say you can tell someone is depressed by the way you feel after meeting with them (i.e., if you feel depressed after spending time (even 15 minutes) with someone, then they are depressed). I think the opposite of that is true, too: if you spend time with someone who is happy and joyful and smart, then that will rub off on you, too. Thank you Lily.

  • We are going to Disneyland! (Seriously). We’ll be at Disneyland later this week. That should help, no?
  • Keep reading.
  • Keep writing.

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February 26, 2009 · 1:57 pm

bright spot

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Well right after I wrote the post about sinking into depression and needing a few bright spots…

A turkey came walking along the sidewalk. As casual as could be, as if he belonged there, as if a turkey walking along the sidewalk past my window were No Biggie.

My writing desk is on the 2nd floor right in front a window that faces the sidewalk, so I get to see the neighborhood cat and a squirrel and a few other happenings. (The cat made it into my novel today). I didn’t expect see Mr Turkey.

We have a family of wild turkeys in our neighborhood–I love them dearly and I blogged about them here before. Every winter I worry about whether they’ll make it through to the next year. And so their first appearance is always a hallmark event for me. This is Mr. Turkey’s first appearance this year.

I ran outside with the camera, and took a picture of him, strutting down the sidewalk and emitting his loud and alto soprano “gobble gobble gobble” sounds. I also took a video but that’s not here.

Okay that’s one bright spot. Please send more.

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February 4, 2009 · 7:28 pm

some of the best days of life

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I had one of the best days of my life in New York this past weekend. It contained no sex, no winning of the lottery, and no awards. It did involve three terrific meals (not all of them expensive and the best one was the cheapest meal of all), friends, the kind of hard-rocking, perpetual laughter that makes me surprised that it did not result in washboard abs (*sigh*), New York City (pretty much the ENTIRE island), and lots and lots of synchronicity/serendipity/magic/whatever you want to call it.

I met a friend for the first time “irl” with Randa that day, a Saturday, for brunch in Greenwich Village. We probably astounded C with our boisterous laughter but hey, when we talk hysterically about urinal cakes (“Is that like…a CARROT CAKE?!”) on our first meet, it can’t be all bad, right? I hope the magic from our day transferred onto her person and that she is forever blessed, as much as I feel I was blessed from that day.

After we looked at costume jewelry for like an hour (I gave in and bought a little rhinestone hairclip and now I wonder if it’s a magical clip and so I shall wear it), Randa and I then took a train uptown, in search of Topshop but instead we found her wedding dress (or maybe it found us) from a baffled sweetheart of a Persian Jewish shopkeeper who asked, “If she is Palestinian, how does she know Hebrew?” and then asked me, “You are Jewish?” and after asking about my husband’s family (they’re Israeli but ethnically Polish and Iraqi) he asked Randa who she’s marrying (someone of Irish descent). Wobbedy wobbedy wobbedy–you could see the look on his face! It was supersweet.

We never found Topshop. It didn’t exist.

We ambled on uptown and she murmured, “Yaddo.” Wuh? Dude, Yaddo is in UPSTATE New York. “Yaddo,” she said, now pointing at the sign saying “YADDO” on the side of a building portico with multiple columns that reminded me of the scene in “Sex and the City” where Carrie runs down the stairs in her wedding dress. Um. Because it was the New York Public Library.

And now come to think of it, there’s now a wedding theme going on in this story, too.

Oh. Daaaamn. “That’s the Yaddo exhibit!” I squealed. Yes, the exhibit with all the artifacts from Yaddo (including letters (Flannery O’Connor, Henry Roth, Clyfford Still, etc.) and original applications from James Baldwin (poor dude didn’t pay his phone bill and also partied so hard they never let him come back) and Truman Capote, etc., etc.)…I wanted to take so many pictures! But I didn’t. Because it wasn’t allowed. And because the guards kept a close eye on us. (Why is it wherever we went, security guards would smile and say, “Uh OH!”).

We’d just seen Clyfford Still’s work in the MoMA the day previous. And talked about Henry Roth at breakfast. Magic. Oh come on, there were more coincidences too, not just those two, in the entire day. It was MAGIC, I tell you.

Having obsessed over Junot Diaz’s Gourmet magazine article from two years past (I emailed him from my crackberry to let him know–like he would even CARE!), we continued uptown, towards Dominican food at Margot Restaurant. Or rather, we continued towards where we THOUGHT it was, and ended up at 125th and Lex wondering, “Where the fuck is the Dominican food?!”

And took a cab. Crosstown.

The wrong cab.

But not so wrong that we weren’t entertained by the self-pitying newbie taxi driver whose first day on the job was…that very day. We were the last customers on his 12 hour shift. He had NO IDEA where 159th and Broadway was. He had NO IDEA where Washington Heights was (dude! get a MAP!).

We got lost, we got a great tour of Upper Manhattan and of Dyckman, and finally navigated him (the slightly less blind leading the blind) to our destination. Where we had AMAZING Dominican food at Margot’s. And laughed our asses off for a couple more hours, hogging a table at a crowded restaurant, and eating up all the res guisado and beans and fried plantains and morir sonando. I would call it ‘da shit…but I feel awkward commending food by calling it shit. But it was amazing, and we were on a high.

The wind was coming in freezing cold, and even I, the person who LOVES the cold found it “kind of chilly,” and so we made our way quickly to the subway which we took to 80th and Broadway to Zabar’s (where we got mugs) and then we walked to a liquor store (where I greeted the old Korean shopkeeper with a smile and a Korean greeting and he looked at me like, “Why don’t you speak ENGLISH”–so funny because earlier that week, I asked for a map of the MoMA and the docent asked, “What language?” And I said ENGLISH!) and then we walked along the park, and we never stopped talking or laughing until we got back to the apartment in which I was staying (the pipes that play morse code!)–and then we went out again and had sushi in SoHo and I drank water (yes water, because I am so afraid of hangovers) in a bar at last call and then oh so reluctantly, I fell asleep, afraid to end the blessed and magical day.

The rest of the trip was so sweet too–I hung out with my fairy g*dmother, loudw who has blessed me with such goodness and opportunity and met her little doggie and of course chowed down on Korean food (tofu dolsot bibimbap!) with Nova who also makes me feel like goodness exists everywhere. I saw an old high school buddy for lunch, and met Alex for drinks with Randa (the day of 7 meals!), and went to Queens and soaked up everything I could for my novel. The only thing I forgot to do was go visit a synagogue.

Oh well–I guess like after a good date with a hot person, sometimes you leave something behind so that they’ll call you back…I told New York to gimme a call.

It was one of the best trips of my life. Those days were pitch perfect and I will cherish them and all the people and events in them forever.

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January 20, 2009 · 9:54 am

this shit has me in tears

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Watching the inauguration of Barack Obama. I was a Hillary Clinton supporter and so he was my second choice…but shit, I am broken down in tears and filled with inspiration right now. This is historic. HISTORIC, people.

I never thought in my entire lifetime, that we would elect a person of color as President in America. NEVER.

And my father, who arrived on the shores of America in 1969 and faced racism that he still hasn’t been able to detail to me…but the kind of racism that made him take me as an infant to a school and ask, “How can I raise my daughter so she doesn’t have an accent like I do?” The administrator, in a quandary over such a request in 1974 said, “Don’t teach her a word of English, I will teach her English.”

Such that English, despite my birth in the U.S., is my second language, taught to me by an African American preschool teacher who had no trouble with her “r’s” and “l’s” and “b’s” and “v’s.” So my English is not my parents’ English but the English from a surrogate parent of language. And perhaps from another teacher, I got my peculiar country pronunciation of words like “produce” (praw doos) and “guitar” (geeed tar) and “insurance” (IN surance). (Wait. Those are pretty big words for a four year old. Maybe I picked that shit up later when I moved to California! Eeee). So I was despite all efforts, ironically, not immune to accents. So that at least on the phone, no one could tell I was Asian.

He didn’t think, he said to me, that America would elect a person of color as President of America in his lifetime.

This is the same man who firmly believes that North and South Korea will reunite. And a man who thought that that would happen before today.

I am crumpled in tears, thinking about the long road–and even if you didn’t vote for Barack Obama, even if you preferred John McCain who I highly respect and someone who could have had my vote, you have to concede that this is day of great history, and you have to sense the inspiration and imagination of children broadening EVERYWHERE. They will have a different life than I did growing up, and I cannot wait to see the long road ahead.

I am so proud of our nation.

And here are a few words from Margaret Cho on today’s inauguration. Margaret Cho is a fellow Korean American woman whose parents also told her this could not really be her country because she was not white (my father told me the exact same thing with bitter strength, bracing me for his experience of America) and who was also a former Hillary Clinton supporter.

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January 11, 2009 · 1:57 pm

now getting back up

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Before the hammer fell, I was in emotional pain. Afterwards, I licked my wounds. Now, I’m peering around, getting back up with really no clear idea of what to do next and no clear vision of my trajectory go forward.

Meanwhile the weather is amazing and beautiful–the sky is blue blue BLUE and so clear that you can see the windows on the office buildings in San Francisco from where I live in Berkeley across the bay. The last of the gingko leaves are falling, and so there are piles of what look like golden origami on the sidewalks. The last few remaining leaves on trees flutter against this blue and clear and sunny backdrop. Last night, there was an amazing moonrise–a large white full moon floating slowly above the Berkeley Hills.

It’s hard to fall into too much despair when the surroundings are so picturesque–to the point where a brilliant Oscar winning cinematographer couldn’t make this shit up.

This is the setting in which things crumble. It’s so odd.

I’m going to New York in a couple of weeks–purposely scheduled for after the work calamity, so that I could take a break on the cheap, meet friends, have a change in scenery, get my head together, research my novel.

I’m determined to have good come out of this. I’m writing. I’ve made more progress on my novel in the last few days than I have in the last few months. Desperation is a great motivator, and everything feels incredibly urgent these days.

To all the friends who have offered me comfort I thank you. To my husband who has stuck by me and given me support, I thank him. To all who encourage me I thank you. Let’s make this year a great one. Change is coming, and it isn’t just in the form of a new president.

Update: And oh oh oh! And as of January 26, 2009 it’s going to be the year of the Ox. Finally–MY year has COME. Things are lining up…in fact, I made some Korean rice cake soup (dduk gook) today and I am kicking things off RIGHT.

Update 2: Oops. Oh no, I misunderstood. “According to Chinese Zodiac, if the zodiac sign of birth year is same to the zodiac sign of yearly cycle, then that’s an unlucky year to the person. Many troubles will come to bother the person. The person needs to manage events with caution at work, at home or traveling to avoid argument, lawsuit, accident, libel, blooding and money loss.” Okay time to eat the soup and hunker down and keep moving forward–the last year of the Ox (1997) was a horrible year for me.

But there’s this: “Career: The Unlucky Year Star and Fighting Stars move to your career area in year 2009. People relationship in your business or job circle will be poor. Business development has the difficulty to expand. You will face strong competition with coworkers in the company. Unfortunately, you are the underdog in the competition. You might keep losing your spirit, cannot focus on your task and then impact your job performance. The good news is that a Knowledge Star appears this year. If your job is related to art, writing, publishing, entertainment, creativity, acting or speech, then you have the chance to show your talent to people and open the door for your better job opportunity.”

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December 31, 2008 · 7:23 pm

Happy New Year

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Quel Year! (not that last year didn’t deserve an even louder “QUEL YEAR!” for me)…but quel year. People have lost fortunes, homes, and bigger losses loom in the distance–it is in, some ways, like seeing the Orcs on the horizon and waiting for them to make it to Helm’s Deep where they will then attack and do battle. And for those who have not lost money, there are those who have experienced heartbreak and unbelievable painful loss this year.

But I hope you count your blessings and keep them close to your heart throughout the new year. I hope that regardless of where you are, that you see beauty in life and hope perpetually lingering around the corner. Because if I am to use yet another Lord of the Rings metaphor–may the light of erindian light your way when you think all hope is lost.

Shit. I’m going to stop writing this post before I geek out too much. Happy New Year, everyone. Keep hope alive, keep on keeping on, and keep your eyes on the dream. 🙂

I am not for resolutions because a lot can happen in a year. And I may gain a few pounds eating chocolate to survive the year ahead. But–I have set one goal in 2009. I am going to finish my novel.

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December 4, 2008 · 10:02 pm

The Fun List: A Promise To Myself

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Okay.  Continuing with my obsession with lists…I fell in love with Tea’s idea of making a list of fun things to do, which she then calls “a promise to myself.” What a great promise to make.

And as you know the whole idea of a LIST fills me with greedy delight. The key to this list is that it’s not a “to do” list but a “FUN to do” list…

  • Learn to knit. And knit something. (resulting in resurgence of cubital tunnel syndrome).
  • Learn to do ballroom dancing! Any dance! Take a lesson!
  • Make good on my desire to take a trip to New York City! (And the ideal would be to sublet an apartment in Manhattan and stay for more than a couple weeks). Update: Looking for friends to open their homes to me!
  • Make good on my desire to take a trip to Korea! (And the ideal would be to sublet an apartment in Seoul and stay for a few months).
  • Ride the ferry across the bay.
  • Hang out in Tahoe for a long weekend in the snow.
  • Cook a meal together with my husband.
  • Eat at The French Laundry.
  • Go backpacking again. At least once.
  • Play hooky from work and spend the entire day doing FUN things.
  • Cook more Korean food at home! Go through an entire Korean cookbook of my choice!
  • Get a massage.
  • Celebrate our 10th marriage anniversary bigtime!
  • Get a new hairstyle!
  • Kiss the love of my life on New Year’s.
  • Bake my favorite cake!
  • Go visit my friend in A2–and giggle for 48 hours straight. Oh yah, that’s definitely fun. Rendezvousing in New York!
  • Eat a perfect persimmon

Note how writing isn’t on this list…because it’s not always “fun,” even though I LOVE it.

Update: the list above is to accomplish within the next year…list of things to do in my lifetime?  That’s another list!  (Yay. 🙂  )

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November 30, 2008 · 6:20 pm

What is the question you ask yourself

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A writing mentor once asked, “What is the question you struggle with in life?”

I hesitated, puttered and stalled. I am not used to probing questions–in my hours everyday in my HR career, my focus is to smooth things over, continuously, creating a perfect frosting on cake. Keep everyone happy.  Energized.  Synchronized towards a singular goal.   Ask questions of others, not myself. Keep things moving, keep things pleasant. I am good at that job, both to my benefit and detriment. It also makes me a good Korean girl (the real reason I’m good at the HR job), good under crisis…not so good to myself, not great for my relationships.

When I got sick almost two years ago, I quickly learned that many of my friends did not know how to care for me, because they did not know who I was/am. I could rack it up to them not giving enough of a shit about me to try to get to know me (for a few cases this was clearly very true)…but part of reality is that I don’t make it easy for people to get to know me, either.

What IS it that I ask myself?

It took me a little while to switch my mind to the dark place, where my daylight distractions do not enter, to the place deep inside myself. To where I have hidden the parts of myself that I feel aren’t safe or don’t belong in the world, at least in my everyday.

After the stroke and then my mother-in-law’s untimely death…I have often asked and wondered how I will die.

Death is not a new topic for me–I have spent a number of years wishing for death, and have more than once done more than wish for an early exit from life. I have wondered what if I had died on all those occasions. I have turned my back on death more than once, and finally embraced life.

My parents, having survived war, made it abundantly clear to us as children that life was not permanent, that death always hovered nearby and could make a surprise appearance (this still did not prepare me for my mother-in-law’s death, something that broke my heart and will leave it broken forever). We grew up knowing that mom and dad could die anyday, and to brace ourselves for–death. It was nearby. Don’t be surprised.

But I do wonder now, as to HOW I will die. With dignity? With great fear? With peace? With panic? With anger? Will it be quick? Will it be slow? Painful? Will I have time to prepare? Will I have time to hug my husband goodbye? Who will I leave behind? Will I be alone? Or surrounded by those who love me? Will I disappear? Will it be bloody? Be full of sleep and tenderness? Will I fight? Or will I resign? Will it be a heart attack? Another stroke? Cancer? A car accident? A plane crash?

For death is a certainty.

Will I be the first one to go, abandoning my husband? Or will I be last? If I never have children, who will bury me? Who will hold my hand? Who will claim my body? Who will pray for me?

I have many more questions over which I obsess. But that is the newest addition. And when I provided “I wonder how I will die,” as an answer. My mentor said, “That explains a lot about your writing.”

What are the questions that can inform an entire novel, an entire life?

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Filed under Abstract Thoughts, Inspiring, Life, Writing