I just finished watching the Korean movie, "Shiri," for the first time tonight. The only thing I liked about the movie was the theme song, "When I Dream," by Carol Kidd. My mom loves that song, so I got her the CD for her birthday present this past July. She tells me that that song is the best song on the CD.

My thoughts on the movie:
1. The beginning scene(s) of the movie were too laughably gory and "G.I. Jane"-like for me to appreciate.
2. Couldn't they have picked a prettier girl to play "Hee?" After all, the heroine in such a 'blockbuster' hit movie should represent.
3. Couldn't Ryu's partner have been someone cuter?
4. The whole 'CTX' plot reminded me too much of a Sean Connery movie involving Alcatraz island and some liquid bombs. What was the name of that movie?
5. What's the deal with the teams of South Korean forces being unable to take out five North Korean special agents? The shooting scenes were utterly pathetic and unbelievable. C'mon, what's wrong with the South Korean soldiers and policemen? Why are they depicted as being so terribly trained? Maybe they were all using their bad eye to shoot.

That's something I learned at the shooting range, after attempting for the umpteenth time to get my 9mm proficiency qualification. One of the gunner's mates finally saw, and correctly analyzed, what I was doing wrong: I was focusing on the target with my weak eye, and not with my dominant eye. Once I realized it and switched my focusing eye, I got enough shots on target and got qualified. Something as simple as switching from using my weak eye to my dominant eye made a profound difference in how well I got my shots to hit their mark.

Hmmm. Maybe I've been looking at my life with my weak eye and need to switch off to my dominant eye to get my shots in better... Or maybe I've been focusing with the right eye but on the wrong targets? Alas, it is past 1am and I am babbling with a dull and sleep-filled head. Good night!

12/19/02

These days, I look around and realize that I am part of the dwindling numbers still wearing the "collar" of singlehood. I still have a hard time really accepting the fact that some of my friends are married. It's all still so weird for me to digest. Ew.

Most adults who know me say that I am mature beyond my years. Most "kids" my age or younger say that I am childish beneath my years. Perhaps the "kids" are seeing something in me that the adults do not, something that keeps me allergic to the whole idea of marriage at this time in my life. My feelings are a contradiction in and of themselves because, at the same time I do not wish to lose the unleashed freedom of my singlehood, I hate experiencing this sinking feeling that I am being left behind.

I went to the video store this weekend to rent a video, to reward myself for abstaining from cable tv. To rent a video for one night cost $3.79, whereas there were special clearance videos on sale for $7.99 each. The "special" in the clearance sale referred to a "buy two, get one free" deal. I did the math. After some deliberating, I made my choice and grabbed three videos for purchase: Bridget Jones's Diary, Kate & Leopold, and Life is Beautiful. The story of Bridget Jones cracked me up because I could oh-so-very-much relate to her. Fortunately, I still have some years before I turn 33 to learn how to cook. =P I actually felt motivated to try out a new recipe yesterday. Coincidentally, the recipe called for leeks. As I was chopping the leeks, I thought of Bridget's blue soup and gave myself a mental pat on my back - at least I'm not as bad as Bridget. Or so I hope.

My boss told me at work today that I'm "what you call, an independent woman." He told me about his 36 year-old female cousin who, too, is an independent woman - a successful doctor in El Salvador - who, too, remains single. He told me that I'm smart to be taking my time because I'm more mature and wise now at my age than women who marry young, but then confused me with what he said next. He explained to me that men do not feel comfortable around women who are too independent because men need to feel needed. He asked if he could set me up and when I shook my head in a vigorous "no!" he then suggested, with a teasing smirk on his face, that I land one of the single pilots who train at the squadron. Ooh! Even though I knew he was joking, that suggestion sure riled me up. Ew.

I have a female cousin who, like my boss's cousin, is an independent woman - a well-educated lawyer - also in her thirties, also single. She warns me not to speak my mind as much as I do. She tells me that it'll scare the guys away and that she sees me dangerously close to walking in her footsteps. Oh well. I hope some dashing knight will rescue me from this demise. If not, I tell my cousin, I'll live with her someday and the two of us will raise a bunch of cats while we live life mentally unfettered, discussing our thoughts on a wide range of topics.

I'd rather follow her imprints on the ground
than walk with my mind's feet broken and bound,
restricting the range to which it can roam,
narrowing life to the husband and home.

Back to my story on my "War with the Weeds." Long story short, my boss made several comments to me hinting at me to groom my front yard. The comments included: (1) "You're bringing down the price of the neighborhood," and (2) "Someone asked if anyone even lived there." So I declared war on my frontyard weeds yesterday, and spent three hours uprooting several species of weeds using a long, flathead screwdriver to help my efforts. At the end of three hours and one trash bin full of weeds, I could barely see a marked difference in the appearance of the front yard. That was okay. I resolved to continue the attack this weekend. That is, until I woke up this morning with terribly sore back muscles. I guess I'd pulled and yanked one too many stubborn root. I am literally on my back in momentary surrender. The weeds may have won this battle, but I WILL win the war. I'll just have to bring in some reinforcements: Professional mercenaries (i.e. my parents. keke.).

Palau

Speaking of my parents, they are going to Palau for a few days of R&R this weekend. A super typhoon recently struck Guam two Sundays ago, leaving most of the island in a state of destruction, without electricity and water. It took about a week for the water to flow again in my parents' village, but their village is usually one of the firsts to regain sewage and utility services following a direct typhoon hit, due to the village's location in a central business district. My parents are still eating dinner by candlelight, not by romantic choice. Direct hits by typhoons are nice like that. The silver lining in the cloud when they leave the majority of the island without electricity is that people are forced to spend quality time at home with their family for lack of places to go. It's a time of bonding by candlelight dinners prepared on portable gas stoves. I remember how my sister and I used to pluck strands of our long hair and hold them in the candlelight. We watched in fascination as our straight, black hair frizzed, crackled and disintegrated rapidly in the fire. We tired of this quickly and moved onto other candlelight games, including the 'daredevil' game of quickly passing one's finger through the blue center of the candlelight. I was always a bit too chicken to try it more than once or twice. My sister passed her finger back and forth across the candlelight numerous times, taunting me and my cowardice. I simply did not care to fight for the pyromaniac title. I still hate playing that game.

12/15/02
Today I declared as Day One in my "War with the Weeds."

It all started with several, not-so-subtle comments from my boss who helped advise me through my first home-buying experience. He first had a look at my new house when he helped me transport my new washer/dryer/refrigerator from the warehouse to my garage. His truck bed couldn't fit all three at once, so we had to make two runs. The first run went smoothly. The second run was another story. The dryer wasn't strapped down tightly, and with the truck going at approximately 55 mph with gusts of wind to boot, you can imagine what happened next. I led the way, with my boss following behind me with the dryer. At one glance in the rearview mirror, he was right behind me, then at another glance in the mirror, he was gone. In puzzlement I turned my car around on the two-lane road and drove back in the opposite direction. It wasn't long before I saw a traffic hold-up, saw his truck stopped by the side of the road with its emergency lights flashing, and saw several people helping my boss pick up a very banged-up dryer from the dirt road and reload it onto his truck bed. I saw the mortified and terribly apologetic look on my boss' face which left me more bemused than belligerent. I was concerned as to whether or not anyone got injured by the dryer flying off the truck bed. That would have been a serious injury, not to mention lawsuit. Luckily, there were no injuries other than those sustained by my dryer, so I assured my boss that everything was alright. Afterall, I could always get another dryer. When we arrived at my house, my boss was apprehensive about meeting my parents and having to explain what happened. I assured him that they'd be cool about it, but that didn't seem to erase the look of dread on his face. Looking back, I think I may have had a chance to be a little bit upset if my boss hadn't been so apologetic. His terrible discomfort and ceaseless apologies kept me too busy trying to get him to feel at ease that I didn't get a chance to feel upset. (Note to self: When having wronged someone, apologize profusely and ceaselessly to distract the person from getting upset.) My parents reacted the same way to the banged up dryer as I did, asking first if anyone got hurt, and then doing their best to put my boss at ease. My mom thanked my boss for his efforts in helping me get all the appliances home and stressed that a dryer can always be bought but not so a good friend. My dad stayed up in the garage that night, pounding out the bent and dented parts of the dryer, reconnecting wires, and creating makeshift knobs. The morning came and the dryer, although in a very fragile state, was pieced back together again in a working order. Such is the range of my dad's handyman skills.

I did not mention the dryer incident at work to avoid causing my boss any further embarrassment but word had gotten around somehow. The next thing I knew, people were popping into my office to greet me as "Maytag."

I started this entry to talk about my war with the weeds but, true to my character, I've digressed to reminiscing about my dryer's long journey home. This is why I have the hardest time writing a focused essay.

It's late, so I'll continue with my weed story tomorrow. Adieu.

On Board A Sailing Ship by Caspar David Friedrich (German, 1774-1840)

This is one of my favorite paintings. I'm intrigued by paintings that do not show the facial expressions of its subject(s). They leave so much more for the imagination. Paintings like this one make me wonder: Are the subjects running away from something or running toward something? Or both? Are they gripping each other's hand in joy or in apprehension? In hope or in sorrow? I discovered this painting at the Art Institute of Chicago in the spring of 1991, and have yet to tire of gazing at it.

12/12/02

It's getting really foggy around here. Early in the morning and late in the evening, when the morning light is not yet at its peak or when darkness falls, I find myself driving through a dense fog. I'm careful, but I'm not scared. I appreciate the fog because it reminds me of my life and of who is my Light. It reminds me that only when that Light is able to shine at its peak in my life will the fog that often surrounds me in my daily thoughts and decisions be dried away, showing me a clear path on which to proceed. As when I am driving, I can also see others more clearly when the Light shines bright and strong, and chases the fog away.

Without the Light, it gets cold. When I am cold I like to burrow in isolation at home and bite my thumb at anything that tries to force me out of my hibernation. This convinces me that America's idea of isolationism can only have been hatched in the minds of hibernating reptiles slithering in the east coast during an extremely bitter winter. I must be at least partly correct with this theory since isolationism had to have emerged from the heated forums of Congress.

I recently read an article that labeled the current war on terrorism as World War IV, World War III having been the Cold War. The article predicted that this war would last several decades, perhaps even as long as 50 years. I think that speculation has some merit. I read a separate news clip that reported bombings in Megiddo, a place in Northern Israel. I found that very interesting. I scan the news when I can in both excitement and remorse. The reasons for this sentiment are many, so I'll reserve them for an explanation in person.

Now for a bit of humor. My co-worker and workout partner's description of how bad it gets when he takes a #2: "The paint fights to get off the walls." For some reason, I find that one of the funniest expressions I've ever heard. I can visualize the personified Paint growing a set of arms and pushing off the walls in an effort to flee from the fetid room. I'm still laughing, and it's been almost two hours since the comment.

I ask myself, even as I write this posting, who is my audience? No one specific, really. I'm just "strutting and fretting my hour upon my stage" in the hopes that I may hear the clinking of someone's two cents getting thrown into my tin can. I just took an AOL "nerd test" and scored a 5. Apparently, I am neither a nerd nor am I cool. I am just plain "weird," according to the test. hmmm.

Something I learned yesterday: E.B. White not only wrote "Charlotte's Web," but he also authored "Stuart Little" and "The Trumpet of the Swan." He is such a beautiful storyteller.

Goodnight.

It's my best friend's birthday today. I was thinking about her all day today at work, and thinking back on the times we shared in college. I recently took some leave and went back to the east coast for about a week. Ran and her hubby, Chris, drove me back to the place we'd called home for four years. As we walked around, the memories came flooding back in torrents. We passed by the open square where Ran and I had first sown the seeds of our friendship in conversation over some lunch from a Korean food-truck, and I chuckled in remembrance of the impudent gray squirrel that had thrown down an acorn from the tree leaning over us. It seemed that the squirrel had deliberately, in it's rodent-minded jealousy, tried to break up the tight bond that was starting to weave around her and me.

I remember days when our friendship alone gave me all the assurance I ever needed to face whatever came my way. Ours was the best friendship in the world and none other could come close to a comparison. Our friendship was built from nights we witnessed transform into days, as we pushed aside slumber and chatted from midnight until dawn. It was watered by our tears as we held each other during moments when life's confusions wracked our bodies with great sobs. She listened to my childish rantings and romantic imaginations while I learned about Pavarotti and neurosensory perception from her. I think of her whenever I see something yellow or catch a scent of freesia. For some reason, I always remember her in her yellow, flower-print Gap dress, her long, curly locks caught up half-way in a yellow ribbon clip, and her sweet smile.

Ehhh. This is too difficult. I cannot squeeze our four years into this one page, nor can I express the sudden sad pang I feel in my heart. It's been over a year since she's found someone to be her 'half,' but I am still having a hard time letting go. I wonder if this is how parents feel when they marry off a child. The feeling that they no longer fully have all the rights to the relationship as they once did. I think I subconsciously aided the gap that started to form when she found her 'other' half, nevermind the fact that I moved to a different country. I must have deliberately distanced myself for fear of disappointment. Yet I look now and find that the disappointment I feel is at my own self. I know it is childish and futile to hope for things past, and I know that the chapter has closed on one era of our friendship. There's another chapter that's opening, one that beckons me to fill it, but I must first grow up and accept the changes that have come about with each turn of a page. I'm struggling with this part of growing up, with this phase of friendship. I've been such a coward. I've tucked my tail and run from these "growing pains" of friendship, only to feel the pangs of "growing pains" in my heart.

I suppose this is both an apology and a recommitment. I've learned so much from our friendship, and I'm still learning. That's what true friendships do, I guess. It makes us grow even when we don't want to. I'm just fortunate to have a best friend who is patient enough to wait for me as I battle with my ineptitudes.

Saranghae, Ran. Jinshil lo.

11/17/02
Got back from L.A. ok. Didn't get a ticket this time, UNLIKE last weekend. I know better now... to tag along and follow the lead of another Speedy Gonzales, rather than take the lead myself. The right side of my jaw's been giving me a slight, uncomfortable pain for the past week. What could it be? Can't be my wisdom teeth since the Navy put me under and yanked out all four at one time, back at Groton, CT in 2000. (I heard I was lucky to be put out, and that most guys just get novocain... *shudder*) Didn't know ice cream and jello qualified as a meal until that point.

I came home tonight and it was 65F. COLD! I wasted no time turning on the heater, temperature set at 75F. Ahhh... it's feeling better already.

Learned something new today. "Pukka" is a pukka English word. Comes from the Hindi word pakka. Cool. Only thing is, I might get some weird looks if I try and use this term at work. People might think I'm saying something else, with a strong Asian accent. =P

Unni, if you're out there reading this, give me a call or drop me an email. I've been trying to get in touch with you.

Here's a great poem I came across on a website belonging to a friend of a friend. (heh) It accurately depicts the feelings of impatience and frustration I directed towards God earlier this year and up until just a couple months ago. I'm glad to say that, although it took me a long time to understand, I finally see that the answers to my questions did not come as quickly or as easily as I had begged God in order that many aspects of my walk with the Lord may be strengthened. The poem is by an unknown author and is entitled, "WAIT."

We close our eyes and wonder how much longer
the earth can hold the tears of all its children.
We wonder what became of Eden
while we live in the garden we have grown.
But there will be hope when we finally understand
we were never meant to make it on our own.

We look ahead, try to face the future,
but find we have no heart for this tomorrow.
There is a vision that is brighter,
if we will believe it's not too late.
For every decision becomes a destination,
and today we face a choice that cannot wait.

The time is now to hear the call,
from the Father of creation comes an answer for us all.
The time is here, the time for you.
If you seek then you will find Him
and the moment that you do,
seal your heart with a sacred vow.

NOW is the time and TODAY is the day.
NOW is the time and we CANNOT DELAY.
This is the moment and this is the place...

--excerpts from "The Time Is Now" by Twila Paris

"And ye shall seek me, and find me, when ye shall search for me
with all your heart." (Jeremiah 29:13)

"For he saith, I have heard thee in a time accepted, and in the day of salvation have I succoured thee:
Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." (2 Corinthians 6:2)

I'm afraid to speak with you.
Afraid of the irritaiton that might ooze out
from this ailing relationship of ours.
Wary of the anger that might erupt.
Tired of the sorrow in the heart.
My tongue is dried up and stuck
to the roof of my mouth.
I have no more to say;
I've abandoned my voice with you.
I am afraid and tired, so I run into hiding.
Silence and the distance it creates
are my nepenthe for the confusion I feel.
God help me.

Thanks to what I learned at the traffic school, I've consciously broken my habit of tailgating other drivers. I'm pretty pleased with the turn-around in my 'aggressive driving' behavior, although I can't say that the school did anything to change my penchance for speeding. Perhaps that particular change in driving behavior will come with time, when my eyes grow dimmer and I sit a bit more shrunken and timid in my driving seat. Until then, I might find myself at traffic school every 18 months. I highly recommend traffic school to anyone who's never attended AND can afford to spend 8-10 hours in a classroom for a day.

Finally, my deep thought for Columbus Day: The more you have, the more insurance you need, so travel light on life's road. I've learned that the more I rid my heart of its expectations, the less I need to insure it against disappointment and bitterness, both of which ultimately lead to a cynical, hardened heart. A heart that travels light will soar to higher joys than one that is weighed down and drags itself through the mire of its misery. (I've also learned the meaning of "traveling light," literally, after living out of my suitcases for the past seven months.) One more thought for Columbus Day: It sure is good to be a government employee on a national holiday. hehe.

There's a Korean sitcom called "Orange" which I've been watching lately. I feel like I most identify with the goofy character, "Han Eun-Jung," but there's a bit of the naivete and nostalgia of "Ahn Sun-Young" in me as well. Not that it really means much. I think people watch sitcoms, and enjoy them so much, because they seem to present characters with who we can relate. I, at least, usually pick a character with whom I most identify and experiment with placing myself in her shoes during certains situations she encounters. I watch her actions/reactions and wonder if I would have acted in the same. Yes, it's a vicarious way of experiencing 'situations,' but it's interesting nevertheless.

Venturi Effect

In this land abloom in white,
plucked cotton, in bales, astrewn,
pungent smells pierce through the light--
may your handiwork be known.

At this job and at this post,
may I tread the narrow way,
keep me from my prideful boasts--
may you circumvent my stray.

On the road of Christian life,
my heart racing to you, Lord,
drawing nearer to your side--
may you pull me closer, Lord.

Nearer, still nearer, close to Thy heart,
Draw me, my Savior so precious Thou art;
Fold me O fold me close to Thy breast,
Shelter me safe in that "Haven of Rest,"
Shelter me safe in that "Haven of Rest."

Nearer, still nearer, nothing I bring,
Naught as an off'ring to Jesus my King;
Only my sinful now contrite heart,
Grant me the cleansing Thy blood doth impart,
Grant me the cleansing Thy blood doth impart.

Nearer, still nearer, Lord, to be Thine,
Sin with its follies I gladly resign;
All of its pleasures, pomp and its pride,
Give me but Jesus, my Lord crucified,
Give me but Jesus, my Lord crucified.

Nearer, still nearer, while life shall last,
'Till safe in glory my anchor is cast;
Thro' endless ages, ever to be,
Nearer, my Savior, still nearer to Thee,
Nearer, my Savior, still nearer to Thee.

(And this is now...)
Three years later... Nancy Park becomes Mrs. Ben Sung.
As for Charles? Still the single philanderer.
As for me? Still stealing pictures off Charles' homepage.
As for Ran? Almost an ahjumma with over 1-year of marriage under her belt.
As for Hans? Studying to be a lawyer (pronounced "li-er") in Virginia.
As for Jin and Jason? Your guess is as good as mine.

"I cried like a swift or thrush,
I moaned like a mourning dove.
My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens.
I am troubled; O Lord, come to my aid!"

"But what can I say?
He has spoken to me, and he himself has done this.
I will walk humbly all my years
because of this anguish of my soul.
Lord, by such things men live;
and my spirit finds life in them too.
You restored me to health
and let me live.
Surely it was for my benefit
that I suffered such anguish.
In your love you kept me
from the pit of destruction;
you have put all my sins
behind your back."

"The living, the living--they praise you,
as I am doing today..."

(Isaiah 38:14-17, 19 (NIV))

_{Shinah, Eun-Young, Ilsun & me at Garden Grove. August 2002.}

Jimmy, John, & Bill at Bethel. August 2002.

Terry, Jimmy, Shannie & me at Bethel. August 2002.

Me, Shannie & Kevin Nha at Bethel. August 2002.

Semin and her mystery friend. August 2002.

The newly weds, Jeenie & Phooney, all smiles at Highland. July 2002.

Andrew Yoon disguised in a suit at Highland. Notice Hyuckie laughing in the background. July 2002.

With Sizzlin' Sabina at Highland. Ah-sssssss~. July 2002.

Toronto sisters, Marian & Michelle, caught unawares during the baptism ceremony. July 2002.

Cecile, Ilsun & me at Highland. July 2002.

On the road again,
northbound on CA-99,
passing by emerald fields
as the bugs splat against my windshield,
as country music fights for air space
against christian music
on the only station i can get
on my portable radio.

On to 50-East to South Lake Tahoe.
This drive isn't three hours, it's almost four.
Darkness falls, and my eyes sting
from staring at all the lights--I cringe
from the glare of the car tailgating me
even as I am doing 90 mph on the leftmost lane.
Jerk. But then again, that was me
on the country road about an hour ago.
So I slide over one lane to the right
and let the jerk pass,
remembering how relieved i felt
in receipt of a similar action
when i had been the impatient jerk
on the country road.

But I'm back on track now,
and not so impatient
driving down this country road.
And the rewards of the three-plus hour drive
beckon me to repeat this every weekend.

07/13/02--
Proverbial Woman

She walks in beauty though, and because,
she is unaware of it.
She is the Proverbial Woman I long to be.
I read a book today and the boat
was taken from underneath me.
I realized I've got a long way to go
but more importantly, I understood why.
So until I am become as she, I will go
about my business each day and go
out to the well each night;
I will draw my share and strengthen my arms
to draw for another and another's others
until my appointed time.

The News:
Ran has graduated from PT,
Susan is finishing her 1st year at Med School,
Nancy and Benny are getting married,
Charles is back in Philly,
Tonio is getting married (not to me! hehe),
Michelle is patrolling in the Gulf,
Vince is in Hong Kong,
Heidi is in Okinawa,
Dan has released a rap album,
Mia is in Korea,
Jenny Lin is in San Diego,
Mary is at Georgetown Law,
Francis is out of touch,
Sandra is going for a Chem Ph.D. at U of I,
Kate and John Bidstrup are married and in San Diego,
Kathleen Crinklaw is married and at USNH Balboa,
Beth Kotora is at USNH Balboa,
Betsy is getting married in Korea this summer,
Chloe is in Korea,
and I am moving to California.

These dreams that go on
like water for chocolate
leave me in longing
for a richness, a sweetness,
a taste so sumptuous;
though living water quenches
the thirstiest soul,
it leaves hungry the lean flesh.
Yet I wait on Him.