i've been having really vivid dreams lately. this afternoon, i was suspended in this space where i wasn't entirely sure whether i was awake or not, but it felt real, and it could've been real, i think, and i'm still not entirely sure if i was awake and thinking those things or sleeping and dreaming those things. i've been sleeping a lot - rather, lying around a lot, which bella loves. it took over 24 hours for me to realize that i was actually sick, as opposed to being just overtired, and i guess that's a sign that i need to get more sleep regardless.
anyway, dreams. i keep dreaming about my personal statement. it's intense. and while i've written a couple variations, most of the writing has been imagined. and the words have taken me to unexpected places, which means that i don't really love anything i've written, in my head or otherwise, because what i was expecting was something clean and smooth, with an overarching abstract theme. you know, me stroking the egos of legal academics and their various institutions.
turns out, the words have been of me, rather than about me, and i'm not sure what to do about my vulnerability on the page. and i haven't been writing as much as i should because i'm a little bit scared of where it's going to take me.
a friend of mine has been writing on why she writes, and this is part of what she came up with: "During my journey in Jordan, I realized why we all wrote: we were on a path to master our own narrative, our own story, in our own language. We were activists and embraced the written word as our weapon, each word a vehicle of liberation."
when i read that for the first time, i thought, exactly. that's exactly it. and as i look at all the words i've written, i'm trying to piece together even a jalopy of liberation, but even that can't be mustered up. and as crazy as it is, there's a part of me that knows how lucky i am that i can have this space to define myself on my own terms, that i am being forced to define myself, but i've been wondering how to do that when so much of my life has been based on other-definition. and i wonder if words will allow me to go everywhere i want to go, and i wonder if readers will allow themselves to go with me. but lately, i've just been wondering if i know where i want to go.
and then, there's the nagging problem that all i've been able to come up with are fragments anyway, and if the words are going to insist we do it this way, then i'm going to insist that it's whole and true. and it's just not, and i'm not sure how to put it all together. what does it look like, what does it feel like, this mastering of one's own narrative?
and i wonder if a lifetime of words will get me there.
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Thursday, September 22, 2005
disappearance.
where did i go? what happened this past month? it's hard to say, really. sometimes i think time catches me and wrestles me to some other reality that has very little resemblance to the life that i like living, to the life that i feel comfortable living, into a harried mess of responsibilities and dramas, such that i have found myself wondering too many times lately where i went. i get so caught up in chasing butterflies that it's kind of a convulated mess trying to get back to where i started.
these days, it's a big accomplishment fighting off the urge to sleep during the day and being able to fall asleep at a reasonable hour, while remembering to smile and nod at appropriate times because people generally are a bit put off by my contracted eyebrows that indicate that i'm thinking (or not) intensely about something, which usually involves trying to remember what i forgot to do during the day or what i can have for dinner since i haven't been able to make a real trip to the grocery store in a few weeks now or wondering how to make something that's ostensibly about me not be annoyingly narcissistic and/or egomaniacal - how i can write something like that and still like myself in the end. it's embarassing, really. everytime i see myself in the mirror lately, i just notice over-tiredness - the eyes will give it away every time. so, now, i try to avoid the mirror, which actually isn't all that difficult all things considered, but man, it's sad.
but it's not all that bad, now, is it? not really. i dodder around like i always do, flip-flop-ing around the city, but it's mainly for necessary things, like getting home or something like that, as opposed to near-necessities like wandering with junior wherever it takes me. focus has never really been my strong suit, but i've given up for now on any pretensions of controlling where my mind goes these days, which is actually pretty amusing. at least to myself. which is all to say, i'm rummaging through, trying to put myself back together. but i'm slow because i get distracted a lot. and i have a lot of things on my mind. and i have a lot of things to do, actually, which i never like, but there's very little that can be done about that at the moment.
anyway, i have a date with myself on sunday. i'm pumped about it because it's been much too long. i hope i don't get stood up.
these days, it's a big accomplishment fighting off the urge to sleep during the day and being able to fall asleep at a reasonable hour, while remembering to smile and nod at appropriate times because people generally are a bit put off by my contracted eyebrows that indicate that i'm thinking (or not) intensely about something, which usually involves trying to remember what i forgot to do during the day or what i can have for dinner since i haven't been able to make a real trip to the grocery store in a few weeks now or wondering how to make something that's ostensibly about me not be annoyingly narcissistic and/or egomaniacal - how i can write something like that and still like myself in the end. it's embarassing, really. everytime i see myself in the mirror lately, i just notice over-tiredness - the eyes will give it away every time. so, now, i try to avoid the mirror, which actually isn't all that difficult all things considered, but man, it's sad.
but it's not all that bad, now, is it? not really. i dodder around like i always do, flip-flop-ing around the city, but it's mainly for necessary things, like getting home or something like that, as opposed to near-necessities like wandering with junior wherever it takes me. focus has never really been my strong suit, but i've given up for now on any pretensions of controlling where my mind goes these days, which is actually pretty amusing. at least to myself. which is all to say, i'm rummaging through, trying to put myself back together. but i'm slow because i get distracted a lot. and i have a lot of things on my mind. and i have a lot of things to do, actually, which i never like, but there's very little that can be done about that at the moment.
anyway, i have a date with myself on sunday. i'm pumped about it because it's been much too long. i hope i don't get stood up.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
taxed.
what if, instead of saying some people get taxed too much, we asked what people got paid too much for what they actually do? seems that would take care of the tax question. instead, we have politicians of the right and the left fighting over how to make government smaller and even more inefficient, while increasing their pay scales for doing what would seem to be proportionally less work, no? meanwhile, the uber-rich get more in tax breaks than the rest of the population combined, but somehow, that's still not fair, and what we really care about is the 1-2 percent of the national budget we're spending on social welfare, which includes, by the way, paying for the unemployment that is a result of the excesses of those who own capital in squeezing more and more production out of fewer and fewer workers. interesting. these are no longer just u.s. questions - the social democratic countries lefty americans love are succumbing to the forces of the eu, the forces of globalization, the forces of multinational, transnational corporations, revealing a less than stellar commitment to the actual people who comprise labor parties who ostensibly are represented in parliaments amongst some of the largest european countries. progress keeps trucking along, leaving hordes of people in its wake.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
damn the man.
save the empire. i'm pissed that my sister is wondering if she's another notch in some white man's belt who claims he may be white on the outside, but he's brown on the inside. but really, we both know that we have all been reduced to notches on some man's belt, knowing that without us, their pants would fall down and everyone would know that the emperor has no clothes. so props, sister, for walking away with grace and wit and exposing his tight grip on his white male ass.
of course, she gently reminds me that things aren't quite that simple - since when does the phrase "walking away" really encapsulate the complications involved? so, perhaps more appropriately, here's to your honesty sister warrior, and while we may never be able to get rid of the fear of living in the contradictions, poking at them, staring at them, trying to understand them, i love that you are more afraid of not recognizing, acknowledging and exploring the paradoxes. "walking away" is really an imprecise phrasing since i know that to walk away doesn't mean to let go necessarily. and maybe you're not built to be able to completely walk away from things, but it seems i've spent much time lately trying to develop or listen to inclinations to stick around, rather than walk away, because maybe i am built like that. and maybe that's why i love you, sister. because we both know that how we're built isn't an excuse for how we live.
such is life, indeed.
of course, she gently reminds me that things aren't quite that simple - since when does the phrase "walking away" really encapsulate the complications involved? so, perhaps more appropriately, here's to your honesty sister warrior, and while we may never be able to get rid of the fear of living in the contradictions, poking at them, staring at them, trying to understand them, i love that you are more afraid of not recognizing, acknowledging and exploring the paradoxes. "walking away" is really an imprecise phrasing since i know that to walk away doesn't mean to let go necessarily. and maybe you're not built to be able to completely walk away from things, but it seems i've spent much time lately trying to develop or listen to inclinations to stick around, rather than walk away, because maybe i am built like that. and maybe that's why i love you, sister. because we both know that how we're built isn't an excuse for how we live.
such is life, indeed.
Friday, September 09, 2005
sirens.
we sit in silence as we stare at the lights flashing so hard, i am convinced that they are the source of the loud whining sirens that causes us to reflexively tense. as they fade, you ask what i was thinking about, so i tell you that i was wondering what would happen if we really saw people we looked at in our day to day. whether we would see the lights signaling emergency, and whether we would do anything if we did, and what difference that would make.
this isn't a lie, but what i really want is to tell you a story. it would begin with me telling you that there are things we all carry around with us, accumulated from past experiences that, for whatever reason, we can't let go. sometimes, we can't let go because we've never found a place where we could set it down that isn't already occupied or someone else's. but the weight of accumulation makes us immobile, sometimes imperceptively. what i want to tell you is the story of this woman sitting next to you, who doesn't like to set things down, even when they no longer have use, even though she likes to pretend otherwise. partly because you never can tell when something is no longer useful. but mainly because setting something down means occupying space that she's not convinced is hers to occupy.
the funny thing about setting something down that you've carried so long, it's really become a part of you, whether it started that way or not, is that when you become so tired that you know you have to risk what it means to finally let go, is that this weight has left a conspicuous imprint that stays, no matter how far away you get. and you're so used to carrying it around, that the psychic weight replaces the actual weight, and it's hard to say for sure which is heavier. and i'm still doubled over.
this is true - it isn't just not a lie. it's honest. but it's not much of a story, is it? there's no clear anything, let alone a beginning, middle and end with a definable plot, the leading up to the bold moment of self discovery or other discovery. i've never been much of a storyteller, actually, and your eyes contain expectation that i am sure i can't fulfill. maybe what i'm really thinking about is a collection of desires of how i long to be seen in this world, coalescing in this moment, but there is very little poetry to be found in such blatant honesty of self-involvement. so i lean forward in my chair, placing my hand on the table, and i open my mouth in hopes of telling you this or something similar, but instead, i put another cigarette in and reach for the lighter, letting the tar and nicotine seep in over the rough formations of a story that i know is there to tell somewhere, burying it, lost forever in that moment.
this isn't a lie, but what i really want is to tell you a story. it would begin with me telling you that there are things we all carry around with us, accumulated from past experiences that, for whatever reason, we can't let go. sometimes, we can't let go because we've never found a place where we could set it down that isn't already occupied or someone else's. but the weight of accumulation makes us immobile, sometimes imperceptively. what i want to tell you is the story of this woman sitting next to you, who doesn't like to set things down, even when they no longer have use, even though she likes to pretend otherwise. partly because you never can tell when something is no longer useful. but mainly because setting something down means occupying space that she's not convinced is hers to occupy.
the funny thing about setting something down that you've carried so long, it's really become a part of you, whether it started that way or not, is that when you become so tired that you know you have to risk what it means to finally let go, is that this weight has left a conspicuous imprint that stays, no matter how far away you get. and you're so used to carrying it around, that the psychic weight replaces the actual weight, and it's hard to say for sure which is heavier. and i'm still doubled over.
this is true - it isn't just not a lie. it's honest. but it's not much of a story, is it? there's no clear anything, let alone a beginning, middle and end with a definable plot, the leading up to the bold moment of self discovery or other discovery. i've never been much of a storyteller, actually, and your eyes contain expectation that i am sure i can't fulfill. maybe what i'm really thinking about is a collection of desires of how i long to be seen in this world, coalescing in this moment, but there is very little poetry to be found in such blatant honesty of self-involvement. so i lean forward in my chair, placing my hand on the table, and i open my mouth in hopes of telling you this or something similar, but instead, i put another cigarette in and reach for the lighter, letting the tar and nicotine seep in over the rough formations of a story that i know is there to tell somewhere, burying it, lost forever in that moment.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
newsbreak.
BUSH CURRENTLY ENGAGED IN STRATEGERY TO STOP NATURAL DISASTERS
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Bush is warning that he will not stand for this sort of devastation inflicted on American soil. Political insiders are wondering what plans are being formulated in the notoriously secretive Bush administration, but so far, true to form, White House staff members are being noncommittal. According to Scott McClellan, “We’re not ruling things out. We’re looking at what needs to be done to address problems.”
Bush has commented that there needs to be careful consideration of the collective American response to Katrina and others like her, because fighting natural disasters is a difficult task that requires coordination and sacrifice. Pointing to the Iraq war, Bush disdainfully noted the plummeting American support with every billion dollars that disappears from accounting spreadsheets into the pockets of this or that Halliburton official, and said that while his administration was being cautious because of the fickleness of the American people generally, he retained faith in the goodness of common Americans to come together and respond forcefully to the wreckage of Katrina and insisted that he had a mandate to engage in whatever means necessary to prevent another such occurrence from happening. Bush stated, “New Orleans is more devastated than New York was.” The seriousness of the situation is underscored by Bush’s cutting short his “working vacation” by coming back to DC one day before he was scheduled to return.
For a brief moment at the press conference earlier today, environmentalists were excited at Bush’s comments, noting that perhaps he was implicating the role of humans on increasingly devastating weather conditions across the globe. However, after some deliberation, many environmentalists have had a shocking change of heart, being amongst the first to organize protests and other such campaigns before Bush has even gone public with his plan. After interviewing some of these environmentalists, one gets the sense that the rapid mobilization of protest is being propelled by a sense of fear of what pre-emptive tactics Bush is going to use this time.
One thing is for sure, though. With Bush’s public support dropping in every poll, even those put out by the Heritage Foundation, he is in dire need of a popularity boost if he is to fulfill his dream of being a historical figure on terms separate from former father-son presidents John Adams and John Q. Adams.
According to a senior official who insists on anonymity, Bush is currently consulting with the heads of states of Poland and Britain, among others, to form a coalition of the willing. If Bush declares a War on Natural Disasters as many political insiders are anticipating, he would be the first President to start a war, while engaged in another one, during his lame duck period.
President Bush, the American people are looking to you for forceful leadership in these uneasy times where the enemy is just waiting to attack, coming from every direction, from extreme heat to extreme cold, from extreme drought to extreme precipitation. Now is the time for steady hearts and strength of will. It is in times like these that we can take some small modicum of comfort in Bush’s maxim, “If you’re not with us, you’re against us”.
In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, Bush is warning that he will not stand for this sort of devastation inflicted on American soil. Political insiders are wondering what plans are being formulated in the notoriously secretive Bush administration, but so far, true to form, White House staff members are being noncommittal. According to Scott McClellan, “We’re not ruling things out. We’re looking at what needs to be done to address problems.”
Bush has commented that there needs to be careful consideration of the collective American response to Katrina and others like her, because fighting natural disasters is a difficult task that requires coordination and sacrifice. Pointing to the Iraq war, Bush disdainfully noted the plummeting American support with every billion dollars that disappears from accounting spreadsheets into the pockets of this or that Halliburton official, and said that while his administration was being cautious because of the fickleness of the American people generally, he retained faith in the goodness of common Americans to come together and respond forcefully to the wreckage of Katrina and insisted that he had a mandate to engage in whatever means necessary to prevent another such occurrence from happening. Bush stated, “New Orleans is more devastated than New York was.” The seriousness of the situation is underscored by Bush’s cutting short his “working vacation” by coming back to DC one day before he was scheduled to return.
For a brief moment at the press conference earlier today, environmentalists were excited at Bush’s comments, noting that perhaps he was implicating the role of humans on increasingly devastating weather conditions across the globe. However, after some deliberation, many environmentalists have had a shocking change of heart, being amongst the first to organize protests and other such campaigns before Bush has even gone public with his plan. After interviewing some of these environmentalists, one gets the sense that the rapid mobilization of protest is being propelled by a sense of fear of what pre-emptive tactics Bush is going to use this time.
One thing is for sure, though. With Bush’s public support dropping in every poll, even those put out by the Heritage Foundation, he is in dire need of a popularity boost if he is to fulfill his dream of being a historical figure on terms separate from former father-son presidents John Adams and John Q. Adams.
According to a senior official who insists on anonymity, Bush is currently consulting with the heads of states of Poland and Britain, among others, to form a coalition of the willing. If Bush declares a War on Natural Disasters as many political insiders are anticipating, he would be the first President to start a war, while engaged in another one, during his lame duck period.
President Bush, the American people are looking to you for forceful leadership in these uneasy times where the enemy is just waiting to attack, coming from every direction, from extreme heat to extreme cold, from extreme drought to extreme precipitation. Now is the time for steady hearts and strength of will. It is in times like these that we can take some small modicum of comfort in Bush’s maxim, “If you’re not with us, you’re against us”.
beginning.
My head is filled with clichés about knowing where one comes from, knowing and honoring one's roots, along with constant reminders, real and imagined, to remember, both literally and figuratively – the kind of remembrance that is visceral and beyond words, even for a woman who spends the better part of each day engaging in wordplay, sliding unsuspecting words together, gently or otherwise, hoping that the mere existence of words together on a page will create the illusion of solidity. This is, I think, what it means to be a New American. It is about re-connecting, re-creating and re-collecting.
Memories are many things, but I find memories to be, more often than not, betrayals. Or more accurately, the absence of memories with real shape and substance betray me. This absence defies my yearnings and struggles to place myself within the context of my own life. Born in South Korea, adopted when I was nearly five years old with my biological brother who was seven, into a white family in the rural Midwest, giving me another older brother and an older sister, the pattern of my life thus far has been a search for an identity that I can claim as my own. I know that my history is something that I cannot escape, even if I cannot remember.
One of the major disappointments of my childhood was finding out that I could not become the President of the United States, contrary to what my parents had been telling me for several years. This is my first memory of being denied access to something based on a technicality that I did not control, rather than my substance, and perhaps I have yet to fully recover. What I remember most vividly from my childhood is what I know I have been told over and over. I know that I entered kindergarten knowing enough English to say the primary and secondary colors and to tell people I loved them, though I have my doubts about whether or not I meant it. By Christmas break, I was well on my way to English fluency, with my grasp of Korean quickly fading. It wasn't until I was in high school that I realized that my brother and I constituted half of the Asian population in the Three Rivers school system.
Memories are many things, but I find memories to be, more often than not, betrayals. Or more accurately, the absence of memories with real shape and substance betray me. This absence defies my yearnings and struggles to place myself within the context of my own life. Born in South Korea, adopted when I was nearly five years old with my biological brother who was seven, into a white family in the rural Midwest, giving me another older brother and an older sister, the pattern of my life thus far has been a search for an identity that I can claim as my own. I know that my history is something that I cannot escape, even if I cannot remember.
One of the major disappointments of my childhood was finding out that I could not become the President of the United States, contrary to what my parents had been telling me for several years. This is my first memory of being denied access to something based on a technicality that I did not control, rather than my substance, and perhaps I have yet to fully recover. What I remember most vividly from my childhood is what I know I have been told over and over. I know that I entered kindergarten knowing enough English to say the primary and secondary colors and to tell people I loved them, though I have my doubts about whether or not I meant it. By Christmas break, I was well on my way to English fluency, with my grasp of Korean quickly fading. It wasn't until I was in high school that I realized that my brother and I constituted half of the Asian population in the Three Rivers school system.
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