Saturday, December 17, 2011

윤동주의 자화상/ Self-portrait by Dong-Joo Yoon






산모퉁이를 돌아 논가 외딴 우물을 홀로 찾아가선 가만히 들여다봅니다.

우물 속에는 달이 밝고 구름이 흐르고 하늘이 펼치고 파아란 바람이 불고 가을이 있습니다.

그리고 한 사나이가 있습니다.
어쩐지 그 사나이가 미워져 돌아갑니다.

돌아가다 생각하니 그 사나이가 가엾어집니다.
도로 가 들여다보니 사나이는 그대로 있습니다.

다시 그 사나이가 미워져 돌아갑니다.
돌아가다 생각하니 그 사나이가 그리워집니다.

우물 속에는 달이 밝고 구름이 흐르고 하늘이 펼치고 파아란 바람이 불고 가을이 있고 추억처럼 사나이가 있습니다.


(시집 {하늘과 바람과 별과 시}, 1948, 1939년 9월 작)


Mom's diary - 12/17/2011, "why do I have to go to Korean school?"





   Every member of our family woke up late this Saturday morning; 10:30 a.m. Wow.. I don't remember when was the last time we slept that late. Although I have good idea why. First, we have insane schedule during the week; play-date on every mornings, your preschool in the afternoon, and then dinner time, bath time, story time. When I finally breathe deeply after saying night-night, getting out of your room, I often get shock by how late the time is, and how fast time goes. There, I get mixed feelings while my eyes are fixed on tick-tock clock.

   I try to live my life without regret, every single moment. I've carved this motto since I was thirteen, which is "내가 헛되이 보낸 오늘은, 어제 죽은이가 그토록 살고 싶어하던 내일이었다./ The day I spent in vain was the tomorrow for whom died yesterday, who would pay anything to live."

   First thing I ask to myself is 1) is there anything I regret for today?, 2) did I do my best today?, 3) will I able to sleep peacefully without any burden on me?
   Having regret is the worst thing in general life. Whenever we need to decide to do something or anything, we should remind ourselves if this decision would stain us any potential regret? From early on, I tried my best to live without any regret. I needed to be extremely conscious of what I do, what I say. Making mistakes is inevitable, but we could try to learn from earlier mistakes, including other's mistakes. Being aware of the past, of the present and the future is main key in terms of making decisions in our lives.

*   *   * 

   You came to our bed with happy and restful smile, and reached out my warm belly with your tiny hand.
   "Mommy, flat, flat your belly! I love touching your warm, squishy belly!" said while lifting the comfy blanket. Your little finger but strong enough to make me yell, "Ooouch! don't hurt mommy!" I squinted my half-awake eyes, and went on grumble. "Sou Lynn, you shouldn't pinch my belly like that, it really hurts!"
   This became our routine every time me being defenseless state, you rush into my abdomen and squeeze it with passionate strength. You're proud to say "I'm obsessed on my mom's belly." You squeal with the most triumphant smile. Looking at you being happy with this simple thing, I let myself be a voluntary victim. On the other hand, I know it won't last that long. You're growing so fast and will be gone to school in most of your life. Sometimes I ask myself, why just can't I enjoy time with you, instead of arguing and fussing and being dramatic with stupid disciplines..

   Our Saturday is one more extension of weekdays, since you go to Korean school for three and half hours. It might sound long for the language school, but I think it's good duration for the proper education and practice. There are lots of great things about Korean school, but I want you to feel that you belong this community. Last few weeks, I have sensed there are certain things bother you. You've been complaining about going to Korean school. "I don't like going to Korean school. It's too long, it's like hundred hours!"

   Unlike other complaints, this sentence has snapped on my heart sharply. Before I answered, I needed to think what do I need to tell you, what message do I need to convey to you, how would I make you understand. Obviously I couldn't explain things complicated, I needed to make it sound simple. And that is very hard task; to make things simple and clear, to narrow down the core, to the main point.

   "Honey, I understand that hours seem to be a bit long. You want to play with your friends, run outside, talk to your friend during the class.. I understand these. But this is very important. When you grow up like mommy, and if you can't speak mommy's language, you will feel bad for yourself. You can't talk to Halmoni and Halaboji, and you wouldn't understand them. That will make mommy really sad. I want you to learn where I come from, and that's part of who you are, too. It takes long years to learn these things, but starting early is your great opportunity. Do you understand?" I said sincerely, with low voice, slow pace. Our eyes met together and you seemed to understand how I was serious.

   Then I headed shower. Under the hot streaming water, I replayed our earlier conversations if anything could be added or differently explained. Talking to 4-year-old in sincere attitude doesn't seem to be easy, because there's no guarantee that they would understand me what I meant. I'm just hoping that my words are not like sweet bonbon or chocolate to persuade them temporarily. I hope you understood that I meant every single words.

   When I got out of shower, you knocked the bathroom door. Gently pushing it, with shy smile, you spoke up. "Mom, I wanna go to Korean school now. I won't hide under the table. I'll listen well to the teacher."
   I didn't speak, but gave you a big hug and huge smile. My heart was smiling at you, and I knew that words also came from your sincere heart.

   People used to say, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. My mom used to repeat this sentence a lot while I grew up. She understood there are many ways to persuade her children to do things, but she never forgot the bottom line rules. She never forced me to do anything, but patiently waited.

 
   


Tuesday, November 29, 2011

When I am hungry



   Hungry belly, started to grumble.
   On the edge of crabby mood, I'm looking for something to eat.
   My body, my brain, every single cell of them wants any type of nutrition,
   but I don't know what to eat.
   Extremely annoying whenever I don't know what to eat, especially when I'm insanely hungry.

   Spicy! That's what I need.
   My body wants it, my taste buds want it, my "soon-to-be" angry temper desires it.
   I search for anything spicy in my fridge, more like violently.
   Don't talk to me when I'm hungry, I'm a wild beast!

   Oh! I found a package of spicy noodle soup.
   Well, it's inconvenient to prepare all that, but maybe it's worth cooking.
   Boiling water, steamy pots, gently laying noodles in the medium pot, spicy red paste goes in small sauce pot.
   It's written to cook for three minutes and a half, but who cares?
   I know by looking when the noodles are ready.

   Yes! It's done. Noodles are soft, the sauce is ready, put them in a soup bowl together and here it is.
   I'm picking the white noodle strand with silver chopstick.
   It goes in my hungry mouth, and it tastes just right spicy.
   Not too hot, not too steamy, just perfect.

   All day I didn't have any appetite, but this spicy noodle brought my lost appetite back.
   Ha....It feels good after filling empty stomach.
   I'm glad I cooked and satisfied my hunger.
   Slowly my brain started to be activated in normal speed and started to wonder-
   why do I feel crabby when I'm hungry?
   And whenever I'm desperately hungry, why do I choose to eat spicy food?

   I don't know, but I guess that's beyond my control.
   I don't know if I can figure it out why, but at least I know how to soothe when my belly is hungry.
   In the end, that's all matter.
  
 

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

In search of Self and Happiness


In Search of Self and Happiness

Sun Hee Yoon

 "Hi, I'm Sun Hee. You can call me 'Sunny.' " 
   I speak with medium tone of voice with smile. This is how I start the conversation whenever I encounter new acquaintance. Introducing my original name would be the little hint for others that I'm non-native English speaker. If anybody notices my two syllable name is common for Koreans, I'm very glad. But of course, I don't mind if anybody, who is not certain about my name or curious about it, asks my origin or nationality. I prefer when people asks questions, and verifies the truth with me rather than assuming from my appearance or predicting from their personal background.

  Less than a minute, I hesitate how I should continue going on the conversations. No one likes the uncomfortable silence after introducing each other. I try to render many sentences in my head, but the safest and easiest questions seem to be a weather recognition. As long as I stay in the boundaries of the mutual communication ground, I don't feel so awkward. 
 
  However, I have a desire to be asked certain questions in order to deepen the overall conversations. Among many others, my favorites are; 'How long have you been in Chicago?', 'How did you meet your husband?', 'What do you like to do when you have a free time?', and 'Is there any meaning behind your name?' 
 
  With eight years of practicing my English in total immersing situation, I've had enough experience to answer those questions without hesitation. Finally I'm willing to share these stories with others. 

*   *   * 

  It's been four years living in Chicago. I can't say it was an easy road from the beginning, but now I can say I'm truly enjoy living in Chicago. What a journey! What an agony! What a drama! What a roller-coaster ride of life! If there's a God, s/he knows how I survived during these four years. No matter how well trying to explain these time, I still don't think it's illustrated enough. 
 
  In 2007, late September I arrived at O'hare airport with new-born baby in my arm. My husband's recent job then was very promising and considered a great opportunity for the long run. Previous four years of living in Montreal, Canada was just about to settle, now my life seemed to have other plans for me. Having delivered a new-born in Lasalle Hospital in Montreal was just a month and half ago. Leaving family and friends behind who were my primary support was torture. Not being able to drive while my work-devoted husband's staying late in his office was surely a life obstacle. All the stores, all the products, even language that commonly people speak seemed real foreign, although I spoke English good enough to communicate in general life. From A to Z, nothing comforted me in this time. It's said once we experience the time of difficulty, we finally get comfortable in ourselves. I guess that was the reason why I suffered the ultimate isolation, depression and desperation. It's always hard to imagine to put ourselves unless we went through same situation, but I'm in a mission to describe what it was like, being a mom in a foreign land without any comfort or support, building something from nothing. 
 
  During my little one’s first year, I was like a hostage in my own home. Not to mention that I'm much of outgoing person, very social, a magnet to people, but no one was available. No one visited me, no one reached out their hands. The only person that I could interact was my fast growing child. She was the only human being that I shared my feelings, my life at that moment. In a retrospect, maybe this extreme isolation for a long period made me strong at the same time, made me being able to be flexible regardless the situation.  
 
  It also came down to a confidence issue. First, I was afraid of talking in English, because I didn't want to make mistakes in front of others. Majoring English Literature in Chosun University in Korea was not helpful when it came to the real conversation in the Jewel-Osco or in the neighborhood playground. I had hard time to understand what the grocery clerk was telling me, so instead of asking him to repeat the questions, I just nodded and pretended to understand. I wanted to avoid further embarrassment. With thousands of times practicing, trying, promising myself not to get embarrassed even if the others don't understand me, finally now I can go to any stores without worries. Furthermore I have an abundance to make jokes with clerks. 
 
  The other part of overcoming lack of confidence was learning how to drive. I don't know how many times I cursed myself not learning driving earlier. I never knew not being able to drive was the greatest drawback in Chicago life. Whenever I saw a mom who was entering in my daughter's music class with a dangling car key in her finger, there was a loud voice echoed in my head. 'I wish I could dangle my car key just like her..', 'I wish I could take my daughter in a warm car, instead of waiting for a bus in a cold weather and riding with crowds.'
 
  I tolerated all the inconvenience without complaining, I hesitated enough, but it was time to change. At the beginning of 2010, I decided to take driving lessons. But, I needed to find the confidence in me before driving in the city. I never had any experience in driving what-so-ever, besides I never had any interest or desire to drive a car. But it was time to act, I needed to brainwash myself with this simple sentence, 'I can do it! I can do it!'
  After five months of practicing driving a car with a compassionate driving instructor from the driving school, I finally got the driver license. The day I got the rectangle shape of plastic driver license with my shy smile on was the best triumphal moment of my life. However, life was never easy on me. Since our car was stick shift, I needed to practice few more months to drive on my own. By mid-September 2010, I was finally able to drive alone.

 Now, the year of 2011, mid-November, I'm sitting on the driver seat, shifting engine gears smoothly, taking my daughter to her preschool comfortably. While she's in her school, I often do the errands such as grocery shopping, picking up books from the local library, and if I still have a time I go to the neighborhood cafe. I like to sit next to the big window. I bring my homework from Memoir workshop or sometimes I just take out my small purple notebook to scribble. Often I get teary eyes because I'm writing my memories from the past mainly. Sometimes my words can't describe all of my feelings so I choose certain phrases and forms them into an impromptu verse. I drink alternately Mocha coffee and Hot chocolate. These aroma and the heat warm me up to create a certain mood to write. I often watch people walking by on the Roscoe street. I often gaze long time to the fallen leaves and dried flowers. I look up the sky and look for clearing spot between grey, dark clouds. Then, my alarm says it's time to pick up my daughter. While waiting in the hall way for my daughter comes out from her classroom, I often get to talk with other parents. Luckily I already developed good relationship with few moms and had joyful play dates with kids together. Building a new social network is something I put into priority after learning a hard lesson. But also I'm constantly reminding myself that the relationship always changes so I shouldn't expect too much from others, just let it be. There are things that we can't control, people are unpredictable, situations are tricky but good friends will stay until the end; I believe in this.    
 
  On my way home, driving my stick shift car in the city of Chicago, listening to my 4-year-old daughter's preschool adventures are like my dream come true. Whenever people talk about their dream, it's mostly extravagant. But I've learned the real dream or paradise of his/her own doesn't have to be far away. It's only a matter of finding it in a mundane life.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Relativity in Time




   When we are given the endless time,
   albeit the fact we do NOT have the endless time,
   but still we have the illusion that our time is infinite,
   we often make huge mistake, which is wasting the time.

   Let's face the reality.
   We were born, and we will die.
   We are doomed with mortality. 
   Our time is limited and we have very little time to do anything we'd like to do.
 
   Time flies, yes, that's what you hear almost every day.
   But how about your time? Does it fly, too? Or does it seem to stop?

   I have to confess, too. I used to complain about my time that it seemed to be forever.
   Nothing excited me, nothing enthused me. 
   My life seemed to arrive full stop; no action, no pure joy, just mingling and wandering.

   Now, in a retrospect, I regret myself for wasting those days.
   Youth is such a gift, but I only spent it for the perishable entertainment.
   Those years will never come back, and I feel bitter about it.

   In 2011, November 9, 4:00 p.m.
   During 2 1/2 hours of day break,
   I went to the library to select the next stories for my daughter's bed time,
   I went to grocery to buy ingredients for tonight's dinner; Lasagna,
   And, I think, I write and I reflect on myself and sketch my ideas with words.

   I appreciate that I can have day break. I really appreciate that I can drive here and there.
   I thank for the things I have in my life.
   At last, I thank for the times that I could use for better cause.

   
   

 

My Inner Disturbance



  Study hard, learn with great zeal!
  You know nothing about this world,  you young soul!
  So don't waste your time, your life,
  go back to your books and learn from them.

  Countless times of lecture after lecture,
  gotten sick of listening their empty sermon.
  My ears were coated and glazed by their 'oh-I-do-care!' attitude,
  but it only made me contemplate, 'do you really care?'

  'If you think learning is so important, why don't you read first? 
   All you do is watching television and chatting with your friends over the phone.
   Do I really see any role model?' 

   Of course, I didn't speak up.
   I wouldn't risk disturbing my zen any further by doing something stupid.
   I pretended to listen to them although I could answer back hundreds of words with bullet speed.

   Anger, frustration, devastation and isolation-
   in fact,- brought me to the world of books, literature.

   I wanted to know why this world is full of misery.
   I wanted to know why do people live with hypocrisy.
   I need to hear the answer why there are so many gaps between the knowledge and the reality.
   What is going on in this world?

   My ongoing questions will never be calm,
   I'm just taming these inner disturbance with inner strength.
   And I write, what else can I do, huh?



 

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Unwritten





"Unwritten"

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten


I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins

The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Monday, November 7, 2011

The Sun vs.The Wind





   {This story continues from the earlier short essay The contest between the Sun and the Wind.}

The Wind bragged to the Sun, "I'm the strongest one! I'm much stronger than you!"

"Really?" said the Sun. "Then I challenge you to a contest of strength. Let us see who can take the coat off that man on the road."

  "Oh, that's too easy!" howled the Wind.
"I'll huff and I'll puff, I'll blow to the brim. I'll RIP his coat off of him! I'll SMASH him against the trees! I'll take his coat off with ease!"

So... The Wind blew harshly down the road. The man clutched tightly to his coat. The Wind grew loud. The Wind grew cold. The shivering man buttoned up his coat. The birds clung to the trees. The world was dust and leaves. But the harder the Wind blew down the road, the tighter the man held onto his coat.
Discouraged, the Wind blustered off with a gust and a swirl.

Then... The Sun peeked out from behind a cloud, warming the air and the frosty ground. The man on the road unbuttoned his coat. He lifted his voice and sang out loud. 
The Sun grew even brighter, and brighter, and brighter, and brighter.

The man began to feel so hot, he took off his coat and sat down in a shady spot. The Wind returned and said to the Sun, 
"I huffed and I puffed and I blew to the brim but I could not force the man's coat from him.. I can't imagine that you were able to either!"

The Wind stopped howling long enough to look down. There was the man, sitting under a tree. Lo and behold! His coat was folded up like a pillow under his head.

"How did you FORCE him to take off his coat!?" the Wind asked in amazement.
The Sun replied, "I did not force him at all. I lit the day! Through gentleness I won my way." 

"There MUST have been a TRICK!" grumbled the Wind.

"It's not a trick," said the Sun. "It's a choice and a skill. Would you like me to show you?" 
The Sun just smiled...


*   *   *
 I love Aesop's fable. Among so many of his stories, my favorite is still the contest between the Sun and the Wind. Since the moment I became a mom, this story has shown me quite different aspects and very clear messages in terms of parenting. 

The moment of waiting has arrived to the final on last Friday. I brought the electric fan, I also brought my Halloween witch wig, and I managed to draw grumpy, boastful, wind face on the hardboard. I did my best to create the mood of the Wind. Kids were excited to see me dressed up as a Wind, and my partner, the Sun, which was acted out by other mom from the class. She and I did our best to dress up as similar to the characters that we were going to play. Her big, bright yellow sun which made from the construction paper, and matching hair band and even sunshine socks were amazingly well prepared.

The main reason that I chose this book for the dramatic play during my daughter's class was that I wanted to observe how kids would react to these two characters. Obviously, these two are strongly contrasted, so it would be easy for them to distinguish. Regardless my name is -in fact- Sun Hee, mostly pronounced Sunny, I chose to play the Wind. It was my chance to play the BAD guy in the play, which I wanted to express the mean side of me without reluctance. However, I had to tone down a little during the act, because I could see the kids' eyes and they sent me a message they aren't fond of bad guy even in a story.

   "So, kids!! I'd like to hear any comments of this story. Who's gonna start?" my daughter's teacher asked questions excitedly after our act was over.
   "I liked when the Sun was brighter and brighter!" the first one answered with shy smile. 
   "I also liked when the Sun peeked out from the clouds!" the second one added with raising hand. 
   "I liked to see when the Wind was bragging!" this comment was made by my daughter. I tried to think positively that my daughter wanted to praise my act, not because she reflected herself into the Wind. 
   "So, who do you think won this contest?" the teacher asked once more. 
   "The SUN!!! The SUN!" every kids were yelling out loud as if they have been waiting to answer this question.

   After acting out this little piece of play in front of 3 to 4-year-old children, it made me think deeply but also it confirmed me certain things that I knew it was right.
  All people -regardless the age, gender or race- gravitate the warmth of others and kindness from others. We are merely a child in eyes of God, and we need to be loved unconditionally. Sadly, the society that we live in isn't the warm place. There are more the Wind than the Sun. And we are taught that we need to endure the Wind and accept its nature.

   Now, here's my question. What kind of person would I like to be? Would I be more like the Wind or the Sun? Well, who said the name is virtue? I need to follow what my name points me to follow, Sun Hee, Sunny.
  
   
  




Sunday, November 6, 2011

An Excerpt from GreatSchool - How Emotional Issues Change as Kids Grow

How Emotional Issues Change as Kids Grow
 An expert talks about the different emotional issues which can affect the way children learn in school.

  In this article, Priscilla Vail, M.A.T. describes how emotional issues differ at various stages of development, and what parents should look for with elementary, middle, and high school students.

 Although emotional hungers remain constant throughout human life, particular needs intensify at different periods. Let's look first at pre-school and elementary school, then at middle school which encompasses pre-and early adolescence, and finally at high school and beyond, the kingdoms of later adolescence and early adulthood.

 Young children progress from learning to love to loving to learn. Their first teachers are, of course, their parents. When that relationship is warm, abundant and trusting, children draw from it deeply, freely, and often. They respond to parental love with new growth, they respond to parental pride with new daring, and they respond to parental trust with new faith in themselves. They also respond to parental disappointment with curdled self-concept, they respond to parental rejection with withered embrace of life, and they respond to parental loss with a subtle or overt death of the heart.
From the lessons of daily life, each child builds an armamentarium of attitudes and assembles a wardrobe of costumes and disguises. Above all, young children fear the loss of parental love. Since they believe "I am what I can make work," their introduction to formal learning, with its first successes or failures, dictates their feelings of worthiness or unworthiness to hold that great and irreplaceable prize, parental love.
Practically, this means parents must exercise extreme caution in starting the child's formal schooling. This decision should not be based on the timetable of the socially correct carpool but on the child's developmental readiness for the tasks presented. Once your child is in school, you as parents must be vigilant about progress or problems in early reading and writing. A tragic casualty of the recent reading wars between whole language and phonics has been that some children have never been shown the method(s) that would help them succeed. Consequently, they feel stupid, unworthy, or both, and often try to hide the extent of their difficulty from their parents, fearing banishment, or withdrawal of love and approval should the truth be known. Consider the added distress when the child has siblings for whom academic tasks are a snap.
If your child has trouble in the early levels of school, get help immediately! Do not wait to see if the child will grow out of it. Prevention is always easier than remediation. Learning differences don't disappear spontaneously, and talent doesn't bloom in a vacuum. If you worry that receiving extra help will make Johnny/Sue feel different, forget it. A child already feels different by virtue of what he can and cannot do. Encourage the discovery of the big message: different can be successful. The child who has learned to love deserves to love to learn.

 Middle schoolers need parents and teachers who reach to the heart, then teach to the head. The pre- or early adolescent has shed a mouthful of baby teeth, acquired big choppers, and wears enormous sneakers. In addition, many of today's middle schoolers have a large vocabulary of sexually explicit terms they fling around with noisy glee. Cumulatively, these milestones may create an incorrect impression of overall maturity and semi-adulthood. But underneath the appearance of sophistication, these kids are still young, unformed, longing for leadership, aching for behavioral guidelines and social limits, and profoundly grateful when a parent has the courage to say "No."
In school, as pediatrician Mel Levine tells us, kids in this age group are guided by one governing agenda: the avoidance of humiliation at all costs. This may mean that a student with weak handwriting or poor spelling, whose written assignments come back covered with red slash marks, may prefer not to hand in written work. The child whose contributions to classroom discussions are greeted with hoots or jeers (or quiet snickers from the power points of the class) will clam up. The kid who reads poorly may disrupt discussion of last night's reading by burping or other wind-driven activities. The kid who understands the hardest math intuitively or who remembers Juliet's speech by heart may conceal intellectual power in order to blend in with the group.
Reach to the heart, teach to the head. One thirteen year old's three favorite Christmas presents were a book of logic puzzles, a nightgown for her American Girl doll, and a blue fur telephone. In the words of the poet Anon:
I ride a yo-yo
In your presence
Thirteen's a year of
Addled essence.
  
 In high school and beyond, kids reach for two simultaneous and contradictory goals: anonymity and fame. Beyond native intelligence, academic success requires a ready supply of basic skills, organization, the ability to juggle facts and vocabulary from many disciplines, a relatively quiet place to do homework, enough food and sleep, and some free time to ruminate on new information, concepts, and connections. In today's culture many of these are missing before the student even enters ninth grade. Parents need to be aware of these needs and supply them as fully as reality allows.
After-school jobs, athletic practices, and play rehearsals (not to mention learning arcane hobbies for the college application process) teach kids that there isn't enough time. The corollary of this is to reward them for skimming the surface of their work in order to check it off the list. The emotional price tag of skimming is the discounting of deep enjoyment and immersion. Kids who pay this price feel hurried and inadequate.
If average kids fall into these traps, what about those who struggle? Some drop out physically, emotionally, or intellectually. Others, preferring wickedness to invisibility, who hang around to see the action but won't risk competing, are particularly vulnerable to drugs and booze. Still others, fearful and lonely, craving closeness and intimacy, gravitate to sex and gangs. The English poet Stevie Smith says, "I was too far out all my life and not waving but drowning."
Parents of this age group, you need spine, humor, a clear sense of your own values, and a willingness to be temporarily unpopular. You also need to build into family time ample opportunities to enjoy your kid and let that contagion do its benevolent job.
In the words of the poet ee cummings, "I would rather learn from one bird how to sing than teach ten thousand stars how not to dance."
Hold fast to what you know and believe. Be of joyful voice.


Saturday, November 5, 2011

Happy Anniversary!



  I'm a married woman. It's been exactly 6 years since my marital status has shown "married".  The man I stood by on the Palais de Justice, and made a vow to the eternal union 6 years ago, now he's sitting right in front of me in a cafe, sketching on his drawing pad while I'm writing this story.

   When we talk about the general anniversary, it's easy to assume for the extravagant event, such as fancy cruise trip, having ultra fancy dinner, or super special outing with your partner. In fact, I have done that. I thought celebrating our anniversary in an unusual base was the right thing to do. After all, it's our THE special day. And it's only once a year event, so why not?

   Having done special event on a special date didn't make me feel special, if I have to tell the truth. It often generated unnecessary stress and financial burden. It seemed to me we needed to show off somehow by doing something special.
   I often get the random questions like, "so, what are you guys planning for the anniversary?" Then, automatically I needed to render the idea something sounds cool. I guess I didn't need to, but I don't know why I felt pressure answering. In the end, it's just random questions. It must have come from pure curiosity, or something close. Then, why did I feel like explaining something cool?

   It happened last year. I answered frankly, "oh! We're going to have a cruise dinner for this year. We decided to do something special." I answered with smile. I really thought we deserved to celebrate with something very special.  
   However, the whole event went the opposite direction than the way I had expected to be. My husband didn't like dancing in the crowds, especially on the floating cruise on Lake Michigan. I knew it beforehand, and I should've known better. But I hoped he would make one special exception for that day, for ME. I teased him, I persuaded him, in the end I threatened him for not cooperating this event. At the end of the date, we had a big argument and I felt triple miserable.

   'This is worse than just regular day. For god's sake, it's freaking anniversary and I need to feel something special. What the hell is this? Do I deserve this kind f abandonment?'

   On the way home, I was extremely sulky, I didn't talk to him. I didn't feel like faking, I didn't want to force myself being a gentle, mellow wife. I needed to send him a message that I was ultimately pissed off. I remember we didn't communicate each other for few day afterwards. There was negative vibe flowing between us. I was mad, and so he was.

   Then few more days later, I realized this whole thing was as ridiculous as it can be. I felt really childish and immature. I realized I was mad just because I didn't get what I wanted. That kind of behavior was easily seen by my 3-year-old daughter then. There was no point of being mean, and grumpy to my faithful husband. I needed to reach out first.

   "Honey, I'm really sorry screwing up our anniversary. I really wanted to feel extra special that day, but seeing you being stubborn in your chair instead of dancing with me on the floor made me explode. I only blamed on you because I thought you didn't care what I wanted. But now I realize I didn't care what you didn't want to, either. Being angry at you on that day was the last thing I wanted, but I still ended up being angry at you. Sorry..." I apologized sincerely that night.
   " I'm sorry, too. I really didn't expect you would be mad like a bull. But you know I'd rather swimming in the freezing lake than dancing on the floor with bunch of people, don't you?" He talked to me seriously while sitting right next to me, holding my hands tightly.

   I realized instantly, and I promised myself to not to forget this next time- all I need in our anniversary is the man I married and the man I love so much, who is right sitting next to me and holding my hands tightly. That was all I needed.


   This year, we decided to do something simple. Of course, after learning hard lesson, we didn't want to screw it up twice. We chose simple restaurant for lunch, went to cafe for a dessert. We also included our daughter for the ice-cream treat, and we went out for the quality date at night. We didn't want to spread fliers that are said "we've been married for 6 years." Instead, we sat down in a small cafe, me writing this story on his iPad, him expressing the ideas of creepy creatures on his sketch book.


   Sharing same moments, meeting our eyes together from time to time, making jokes like old couple, sending text messages while the other is focused, and making our memories together -these are the most precious things to look back when we grow older, and talk about over and over again. We will grow old together and he's going to be always with me, and I will be with him for better or worse.
 





Friday, November 4, 2011

My addiction to quotes



   I have to admit that I'm deeply addicted to quotes. They make me realize, they make me think twice, they help me understand my life and guide me to the right direction. All I need is to practice what they have told.


"Don't ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." 
--  Howard Thurman 

 " Let no feeling of discouragement prey upon you, and in the end you are sure to succeed." 
- Abraham Lincoln






Thursday, November 3, 2011

The contest between the Sun and the Wind.





When I was a little girl, I loved reading picture books. Some of books became pretty bad shape because I carried it everywhere and as a result, the edges got worn out, few pages torn apart. Specifically I remember when my favorite book, 백설공주와 일곱 난장이/ Snow White and seven dwarfs got destroyed, I burst out into tears. My favorite page was worn out and I couldn't see the face of Snow White any more. I could imagine it anyway but the book wasn't the same any more.

Since my daughter was born, I decided to read to her everyday and take her to library every week so that naturally she could learn the importance of reading books. As I grew up in a book friendly environment, I strongly believed she also deserves to be surrounded in same ambiance.

Reading books is the best way to introduce the world to the little ones in my opinion. I still remember the lines from the text book in the middle school, which was there are two major experiences in life; direct and indirect. Direct experiences might seem to be effective to learn the lesson but there are potential dangers and obstacles might be waiting for you. If you weren't notified these similar issues beforehand, you might be puzzled and confused, frustrated and depressed, you might declare giving up.
  
Indirect experiences, however, such as reading books will offer the opportunity to simulate the same situation and make us realize what it would be like. Readers will have better understanding of the situation, possibly able to see the bigger picture and empathize the characters in the story, by using our imagination.
Our imagination is such a gift. Often we don't value much of this huge gift, and sadly we have tendency of taking it for granted.

In my childhood, I used to read lots of fables. Among millions, I always loved reading Aesop's fable. The story was very easy to understand, the character was clearly contrasted, and there were moral lessons underneath. Luckily, my daughter's school topic of the month has been a fairy tale. And I wanted to use this opportunity to enhance her background knowledge. We went to the neighborhood library and filled tons of fairy tale books tightly in the grocery bag. Even librarian was surprised by our one angled selection choice.
I started to read one episode every night to my 4-year-old daughter. Reading a book before going to bed is our ritual. Sometimes when she doesn't behave during the day, I give her serious warning, " If you don't listen to mommy, I'm not going to read a book tonight." Then, she understands.

Tomorrow, I decided to act out the story of The Contest between the Sun and the Wind during her class. Fortunately, one of my daughter's class mom could participate in acting out in front of kids and we planned out for the little entertainment for the little ones. Will they guess that I also acted out a Lady Macbeth in my freshman year? I chose the Wind. I like to play the bad ones, I don't know why. They are interesting characters in a story, in regular life too.

I just finished preparation; a wig, a fan, a wind drawing on a hardboard and my mean looking. I practiced in front of the mirror, reciting my lines in a story. I feel like becoming a child! This feels GREAT! I'll write about the follow-up story tomorrow. I am so excited!
  


Strength



"Strength does not come from winning
Your struggles develop your strength.
When you go through hardship
and decide not to surrender,
that is strength." 

Monday, October 24, 2011

Maybe I'm really CRAZY.



   "So.. do you work?"
   "Umm.. no, I'm staying home mom."

   And there comes an unsatisfied, yet shy to reveal her voice swirls around my tongue. I constantly look for the right timing to say this sentence; "I also write."
   When I finally made the chance, my surprised opponent shows her fresh interest. And then she goes, "Oh, so are you a journalist?"

   "Umm.. no, I'm not. I'm on the process of writing a memoir and hoping to publish a book in the future." There, I said it! I said it!! My words left from my mouth, and it's in the air. Should I gather them up and put them back in my heart? Well, it's too late anyway. No matter how others will take this, I know I don't want to fool around with it. I said it because I meant it.

   Everybody knows by now that I'm not a native English speaker. They know I have different accents in my English, I have strange expression that it doesn't fit in English usage. Whenever my conversational partner is leaning toward me and approaching her/his ear close to me or raising her/his eyebrow, I know she/he didn't get what I just said.
   I used to have a red face whenever I didn't succeed continuing conversations. I felt like stopping everything and go home and cry. It was already hard effort to speak and start a conversation, and then I ended up being blocked by their puzzled reaction, possibly it must be my wrong English.
   (Wait a minute! Did I take it too serious? Then why did I take it too serious? Why didn't I just let it go? Why did I have to put so much pressure on my shoulder? Hmm.. I'm still figuring out. I know I will find the answer one day.)

   I love talking to people. I love knowing about people; their interest, their personalities, and their visions and dreams. I just love sharing words with people. Sometimes it's hard to explain how I feel about having conversation with people. I feel excited, happy, joyful, content. As much they share their stories with me, I share mine. When they get interested in my story, I share some more. I share my experiences and my thoughts. I try to be subtle and neutral because there's no point of making others uncomfortable by expressing my intense ideas and feelings. Anyway, people have their own way of seeing the world, and it doesn't have to be same as mine. In the end, having diversity of ideas and thoughts will prosper this world. This is my bottom line in terms of having conversations and I believe this is the mutual respect; 'I respect you as much as you respect me.'

   "Wow.. So, you are writing in English?"
   "Yes. I am." I answer firmly but still hesitating how to add it up,
   "I think being able to express ideas with two languages are great advantages for me. There are some expressions don't exist in English when I want to translate from Korean. Then I create my own and invent it. It's actually quite fun." I answer with smile and hoping that she understood how sincere I was.
 
  On my way home, I replay the previous conversations. Couldn't I explain better? Or did I explain too much? It doesn't matter now. I already said it, and it's out there. Some might think I'm really crazy doing this, writing a book in English. But that's what I like to do. Maybe I am really crazy.





  

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Artists



  I'm very far from being an artist as far as I'm concerned. But one day I would like to be called "Yoon Sun Hee is the greatest artist of all time." Being called an artist must be a such an honor. I'm glad to smash up my long time prejudice finally.

  To tell the truth, I didn't respect their profession correctly, until recently. Somehow in my head, it was registered ; artists = financially troubled, highly frustrated in general life, socially awkward, in a nutshell they're not welcomed genius. For a long time, I didn't perceive them as they should be deserved.
  Partially because the people whose from my own background didn't appreciate the true value of art and influenced on me their crooked point of view. People openly mocked and ridiculed artist's passion, just because the most self-proclaimed artists were not wealthy. Generally, it was considered if you are an artist, you will die from hunger.

  Now I'm questioning if they even understood the word of "art." If they didn't know the real meaning of art, then why would they judge things so wrongly. How come they thought they knew better and believed they were better than these purely creative people. I'm really confused by all. It seems like I need to educate myself all over from the beginning.

  Here, sitting on the corner of State st. and 16 st., a cafe called "overflow", surrounded by full of imaginative artists and musicians, I truly feel indescribable comfort. I don't know why. Is it because of the creative vibe? Is it because they know what they're doing instead of looking around, wandering, wondering? Is it because I feel they have their own motivation and destination? But how would I know? Would it be my own narrow-minded interpretation? One way or another, I love sitting on the corner of the cafe, hearing all these minor chatter noises, which they blend lovely with live music.

  Every humans are born with two hands. With two hands, some can play beautiful acoustic music, some can create an incredible drawings, or some can write an insightful prose.
  In the end, it's all matter of how they express their feelings, passion, ideas, and their unique view of the world. I guess I love their strong will, not being afraid of being criticized by others and willing to share despite of possible further harsh judgements.
  In a way, they are true leaders. They suggest the different way of lives, and sometimes they explore and develop the world that hasn't arrived yet.
  I believe that's why I want to be called an "artist."

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Cursed or Blessed

My dad was always busy. He had to run his business, he had to make money like every fathers do in those time, he never had a time for his children.

Now I'm thinking, perhaps he didn't know how to spend time with his kids.
Children's need was taken care of mom's resources and her limit. She had to gather up her courage and gut, even she wasn't confident to stand still in front of others. Her lack of academic education was constantly bringing her down and down.

General people were hostile. They constantly judged from appearances. They compared themselves with others all the time. If they caught an outsider whom don't see like them, don't talk like them, don't dress up like them, without any remorse they chewed her/him up. They looked like simply they just couldn't handle the differences in people.

They gathered up, but only for the gossip. They only pretended to be nice, only when my dad's business was going well.

I'm really sick of those fake people. I started to hate them since I was little. Their hypocrisy made me lose my appetite. How do I all know this? Because they said everything, showed everything in my child's ears and eyes. They didn't consider a child is capable to process their doing. They often said, "You're too young. What do you know anyway?"

In general, I'm very disappointed at older generations. Their snob face, grease flowing down on their wrinkle, faded focal point, still believes their time was way better than ours. They only talk about their ol' good times, still avoid to admit their social responsibilities. Is it because they are too old now? I don't know.

Having these clear memories from the past drives me crazy. I wish I can let it go, but somehow it returns back. What should I do?


All I do is just write.


















Tuesday, October 18, 2011

To Angry Folks.


You might think being angry makes you powerful.
You might think being snappy at others will intimidate them.
You might think shouting your uncensored words without considering others will give you a sense of being superior.
You might feel good about yourself if you keep scoring hurting others and you let it become a habit.

Well, guess what?
I pity you.
You never understood what real care is. You never try to understand what really hurts you. You are hurting others, merely because you are hurt. And you believe that gives you a right to spread your frustration.
You are angry and you just spray your stinky steam around you, so that others can smell how stinky it is.
I guess that's why you keep venting your anger toward people around you.

You might be pissed on something or a certain people. Some people in your past might curse you and made you feel miserable. You might be desperate and depressed. Whatever your reason is it doesn't allow you to dump your shit all over around. Do you think you are the only one who gets pissed in this world?
Be realistic, and realize it! Gather your dump shit and clean them up! And try to meditate what you really need to do. As you said, "I think I'm a nice person, no matter what others will think of me."

Well, it's time to show us how nice you really are. Show us who you really are instead of wasting our time and energy. If you have so much experience and if you know so well about everything, then prove it.
Until then, I'm not giving you my trust and love.




Saturday, October 15, 2011

Because of you



   I don't blame you, because you gave me a birth, you gave me a life.
   After all, you gave me the biggest gift in me.

   I don't hate you, no I can't hate you, how can I?
   But you gave me an eternal scar, I hope you should have known. I was very young.

   I am holding on our happy memories but I can't escape from the creeping dark stories.
   I want to fly away and feel free from the past,
   but I still hear your misery coated with screaming and yelling.
   And I also hear my unspoken whisper.

   I hope you should have known. I wish you could have seen my eyes.
   I was scared you know, I was trembling from the fear.
   I wished I grow up fast, so I could intervene in your both horror.

   Now I have grown up. I have my own family, but why? why can't I just ignore?
   What have you done to me and my little brother? Creating the fear and terror in children's mind?

   But you are still my mother who gave me a birth and be there for me all the time,
   you are still my father who raised me strong regardless the hostile environment for you.

   Being a mom myself, I can understand a little more.
   Life must have been torturing for you both. But does it give you right to torture other lives, too?
   I don't know, I really don't know. I'm still figuring out.  
 
 
 
    

 

Friday, October 14, 2011

My unfinished thoughts on Money.



   I'm a curious soul. I'm interested in many things. I love to explore and meet new people. Also I ask a lot of questions just like my 4-year-old daughter. I can't help, and this is who I am.

   There are few major questions that I still can't get a grip and one of them is why do we have to use the numbers to measure the value of everything? Don't we love numbers? Sure, it's easy to identify, it's convenient. Perhaps that's why ancient people invented the money.

   Convenience, price adjustment, inflation, booming economy, materials, greed, wrong desire.
   No time to ask; do I really need this?

   Expensive, cheap, can't afford, then use credit card, then interest, and debt, and if you can't pay back, your life is in their hand. Your life is in their hand... Money is the artificial creation which don't have organic form like human, don't give a damn about who you really are. They only care about how much you make money, how much assets you have, how expensive place you own, how fancy automobile you drive, how much you can afford in materials...(Why, I can go on continuously with the addition to solid examples.)

   I've observed this ugly side of society since I was little, partially because my dad owned his little business and I've seen how business works. As a consequence I opened my eyes early on the dark side of the hideous invention: money.

   But don't get me wrong. Money itself doesn't do anything harm. I know this very well. With good money, you can afford healthy food than junk, you can live in a decent place in a safe neighborhood, you can educate your children in a good school. Money does good things so that your life can be prosper. It can make you rich and bring enormous joy to you.

   However, when his/her owner made wrong decision, it's going down turn, and sometimes you can't get a second chance unfortunately. But how do we know our decision is right or wrong in terms of investing our money? This is my dilemma. How can we spend our money wisely? Obviously, you don't want to waste them in a wrong place, you don't want to be a slave for money, then what's the best way of spending it?

   I foresee there will be various, individual preference on spending money criteria. I respect their opinion but it doesn't mean I agree with them all. As much they have their own priority, I have mine. And as long as I'm conscious about what I do, and willing to take responsibilities, my money will not harm me and my family.
  

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

The beauty of dried leaves.

Leaves falling, producing crunching, crisping sound.
It's the time to prepare for the winter.
No matter hot summer it has got, it can't escape the withdrawal of the power of nature.

Now, sitting next to the dried plants and fallen leaves, I started to wonder, aren't we the same? Aren't we getting old and wrinkled with hunched back?

The fight against of maturity is vain. If we can't escape getting older, and aged, I prefer to age gracefully. Yes, that's my wish.


Monday, October 10, 2011

Mom's diary - Monologue



   Life is not easy, my daughter.
   And I can't make it easier for you.

   Let's face it- we are given hard task since we are born.
   I have mine and you have yours. As much as I can't live your life, you can't live mine.
   We need to adjust ourselves constantly, we need to learn endlessly.
   Sometimes it bleeds our heart, it empties all the tears, and left nothing but focus-less vacant look. 
   The answer only relies on your gut and your will to survive and will to change yourself.

   As much I've been searching for my own identity,
   you will also go through these lonely journey.

   The same question that I asked thousands and millions of time-
   who am I? where do I belong?

   To tell you the truth, I'm still searching for it.
   I'm hoping to find it before I end my life and to be satisfied to leave this world.
   I still believe there's reason why we are born, and I'm convincing myself that we breathe for the good cause to the world. At least that made me think I'm worth living in this world.

   I'm living my life, not wasting.
   I'm challenging myself, not compromising.
   I've got some well-known gut, but I don't brag about.
   I value high the knowledge but it can't compete with wisdom.
   Sincerity, honesty, and being myself no matter where I am, no matter whom I'm with.

   Your heart knows if you are telling the truth or lie.
   And I'm on the truth side.
    

  

Saturday, October 8, 2011

When You Believe

Many nights we've prayed
With no proof anyone could hear
In our hearts a hopeful song
We barely understood

Now we are not afraid
Although we know there's much to fear
We were moving mountains long
Before we knew we could


There can be miracles, when you believe
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe


In this time of fear
When prayers so often prove(s) in vain
Hope seems like the summer birds
Too swiftly flown away

Yet now I'm standing here
My heart's so full I can't explain
Seeking faith and speaking words
I never thought I'd say

There can be miracles, when you believe
Though hope is frail, it's hard to kill
Who knows what miracles you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
You will when you believe


They don't (always happen) when you ask
And it's easy to give in to your fears
But when you're blinded by your pain
Can't see your way straight throught the rain
(A small but )still resilient voice
Says (hope is very near)


There can be miracles

When you believe

Though hope is frail

It's hard to kill

Who knows what miracles,you can achieve
When you believe, somehow you will
somehow you will
You will when you believe

You will when you
You will when you believe
Just believe...in your heart
Just believe
You will when you believe~







Mr. Beneteau



   How should I describe my feelings?
   It's not so easy to pull out into words of what I feel.
   I talk about what I know, but it's never easy to say what makes my heart thump.

   In the BookCellar at Lincoln Square,
   sitting on the corner of the place, setting up with my small Netbook and Café Mocha on my right,
   listening Mariah Carry's A Hero Lies In You through iPod,
   and gazing my passionate artist who's totally into his world.

   We are sitting on a same table, sharing same moments,
   but he and I are creating different world.

   His well-sharpened pencils skating on a piece of sketch book,
   his delicate hands busy to form the shapes of creatures,
   his clamped mouth, his sparkling eyes, even reflections on his glasses-
   are the sign of the passion.

   I never understood, or I never tried to understand what the passion is.
   What made him to stick to draw his self-portrait over three years without skipping a single day?
   What made him to throw himself into traditional art education although his profession is digital graphic?

   I was angry whenever he chose to go drawing classes on Sunday morning instead of staying and spending time with me. I was deserted and felt lonely whenever he chose to improve himself and build his art level to a strong professional foundation. His work and I became the enemy, because he always chose to spend time with it. But now I see it differently. I can confess all these because now I know better, I came to realize and understand better of his will and passion.

   Being a couple seemed easy at the beginning, but working together to establish healthy and happy family needed a great deal of sacrifice and understanding.
   I was unaware of these, I didn't know what to do. As a result, it came to close to a disaster. By meaning Disaster might not be enough to explain what I had to go through. But I'm glad the worst time is over now.
 
   Now, I talk to him differently. I understand him differently. I support him with full strength, instead of half sincerity and half disguise. Whenever something bothers me, I tell him with honesty. We trust each other and that's what the couple's about. We love each other as who we are.

 

 

Friday, October 7, 2011

True colors



Who are you, really?
Do you know who you really are?
Or do you call yourself by what others labeled on you?
Have you ever asked to yourself?

Have you dreamed about whom you wanted to be?
Are you still dreaming about same dream?
Or did you stop dreaming?

Are you afraid to keep following your dream?
Does anyone ridicule of your precious dream?
Are you stained or discouraged by their cynicism?

Don't be.
Your life is better than theirs.
Do you know why?
Because you are still trying to reach something, meanwhile others just give it up.

Your worth is made by you.
So don't give up, and look up the sky and smile.
Because you are loved by the greatest love.
Trust in yourself and believe in you.
You can do it.



*   *   *

You with the sad eyes
Don't be discouraged
Oh I realize
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small

But I see your true colors

Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

Show me a smile then,

Don't be unhappy, can't remember
When I last saw you laughing
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there

And I'll see your true colors

Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow 



Thursday, October 6, 2011

Children


A little human being who is delicate like tiny rose bud.
These little organic creatures are our future.

People who is living in this world and who makes major decisions -
they need to see these "little but big people" who's got great possibilities and amazing potential.

Just because children are small, just because they don't know how to articulate their minds into words,
it doesn't mean they don't know.

They see with crystal clear eyes.
They observe without prejudice.
Their mind is not corrupted yet.
They have cherishable purity and innocence.
We adult can't even mimic these natural gift.

But I started to wonder,
weren't we once children like them?

Now, we have grown up, we have job, we have cars and houses,
we have friends who follow you no matter what kind of person you are,
we have everything what we've dreamed of since we were young,
and are you happy for all these?

The more you got, the more you want.
That's what I heard from the wise.

Your creeping, toxic greed made you blur your vision.
Your vanity drove you a wrong place.
Your heart is thumping but it's only for the materials.
You use your words but it's only for filling the gaps.
What's the point of living your life?
To show off? to be fake? to hurt other lives?

Look at yourself into a mirror and realize it before it's too late.
We humans only got one chance, and our time is limited.
Cherish your life and do good!






Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Where is the love?

My recent request- "Where is the love??" 


"Where Is The Love?"

What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma
Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA fightin'
The Bloods and The Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate, yeah
Madness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates
Man, you gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)



It just ain't the same, always unchanged
New days are strange, is the world insane
If love and peace is so strong
Why are there pieces of love that don't belong
Nations droppin' bombs
Chemical gasses fillin' lungs of little ones
With ongoin' sufferin' as the youth die young
So ask yourself is the lovin' really gone
So I could ask myself really what is goin' wrong
In this world that we livin' in people keep on givin' in
Makin' wrong decisions, only visions of them dividends
Not respectin' each other, deny thy brother
A war is goin' on but the reason's undercover
The truth is kept secret, it's swept under the rug
If you never know truth then you never know love
Where's the love, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the truth, y'all, come on (I don't know)
Where's the love, y'all

People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)


I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder
As I'm gettin' older, y'all, people gets colder
Most of us only care about money makin'
Selfishness got us followin' our wrong direction
Wrong information always shown by the media
Negative images is the main criteria
Infecting the young minds faster than bacteria
Kids wanna act like what they see in the cinema
Yo', whatever happened to the values of humanity
Whatever happened to the fairness in equality
Instead of spreading love we're spreading animosity
Lack of understanding, leading lives away from unity
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' under
That's the reason why sometimes I'm feelin' down
There's no wonder why sometimes I'm feelin' under
Gotta keep my faith alive till love is found
Now ask yourself

Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?
Where is the love?




Damaged, hurt and now what?



Polluted mind, damaged soul, crooked spirit, blinded eyes,
what are you going to do?

What are you doing here at this time?
Why! why are you doing this?

Waking up at 3:30 a.m? Are you nuts?
Wait a second, is there something bothering you? something blocking you from sound sleep?

Yes, I'm greatly disappointed.
My disappointment was somewhat forecast-ed, and I tried to ignore purposefully.

My optimistic view has cracked badly, and maybe it is what it is supposed to be. Or is it, really?
Hold on a minute! Am I stained? Holy crap! I shouldn't let it get to me. I just can't let it happen.


*   *   *

Often I realize it's impossible to keep my head up. There are so many opposite forces around me, and they push me down constantly. They know everything, all they say is I know this, I know that, of course I know this and that. Their easy assumption and prejudice makes me sick. 
I really want to shout at them, do you really UNDERSTAND what you know? If you know so well, and if you understand its meaning behind, then explain to me-
Why are you acting such a bitch? Why do you choose to be such an asshole? Why do you have to push others down so that you can stand out a little higher? Does this action make you feel better? Do you gain confidence if you crush down and trample on others? Oh, so great your self-esteem! Oh, I adore your narcissistic point of you! Oh, you are the best! Oh, what else do you wanna hear? Now, are you happy? 

I get tired of listening same old meaningless your echos. You speak, you write, you talk, and you talk a lot, it doesn't mean you know a thing! Stop talking, and stop judging and try to understand please! You don't even give an effort to try, then you'd better shut up. Don't make yourself unworthy. The more you try to push others down, the more bitter person you will be. So please stop hurting yourself by acting something terribly stupid. 

Look at yourself into a mirror, and face it. You are not perfect, nor am I. We are in a same boat, believe it or not. You just need to see it differently, and one day your will realize we were connected from the beginning.


Monday, October 3, 2011

The sound of Fall

Crunch, crunch, stepping on the pile of dried fallen leaves on the sidewalk.

A toddler walking by, and she couldn't miss the gift of nature.

Crunching softly, hopping, stomping, listening to the sound of fall.

And I wonder why do we forget the joy of simple things as we grow up?

Staring this one fallen leaf on my patio table, and ask softly - how was your life? Did you have good life with beautiful memories? Is there anything you regret? I hope you don't. 
You look so beautiful, and peaceful. Now, you make me realize our life is also like yours. 
One day, I'll depart from this life, I hope I also lay myself gracefully like you.



Saturday, October 1, 2011

Untitled



   Looking for some kind of mind-blowing stuff, or mind-refreshing stuff.
   Being thirsty or dying to understand of the culture, language, child's mind, life and words.

   Restless mind, not able to shut down,
   I don't want to be entertained by simple life drama.
   I'm longing for the dramatic real life story.

   Who doesn't like Drama? No one can't resist on this.

   Trying to understand why I can't stop thinking of the stories,
   What's the purpose of me sitting in the dark in the midnight, perhaps to write?
  
   Am I really able to write my own stories?
   Will I be able to make it good?
   What about distractions? What should I do with them?
   Somehow I know the answer, but it's hard to practice it.
  
   Ignore them, Sun Hee. Show them who you really are.
   You can do it, you can do it, you did it once, why not again?
   Don't think of negativity, life is still beautiful, embrace them and try to transform it in your way.
   You are able to do this! And you will! Yes, you will! 

 
  
  

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Mom's diary - my new identity


   I got one hour to write this, which I'm not sure how it will turn out. There has been a strong idea in my head swirling and twirling, but every time I was about to write, life kicks in and I ended up being drifted away from the creative mood.

   It's been three weeks that my 4-year-old daughter, Sou Lynn started going her preschool. It surely had impacted on our whole life. No need to mention about the private meeting with her room teacher within a week, I've found there's something I have to accept regardless, which is being called "SouLynn's mom".

   When I drop her off to school, the friendly faces hi to me and calling me, "Hi, SouLynn's mom! How are you today?" When I pick her up from school, the new friend mom asks me, "SouLynn's mom, are you gonna go in the playground?"

   Now, I'm known as SouLynn's mom everywhere. Yes, I AM SouLynn's mom, but I also have a name. Silly me, who cares? It's my random ranting that no one really cares. Having few minutes of monolog and whistling through my nose, I tilted my head the other side and thinking about my mom.

   As long as I remember, my mom was called SunHee's mom all her life. Even at this point, I became someone else's wife and someone else's mom, my mom is still being called SunHee's mom. And my mom loved this title. One time I wondered if she would prefer to be called by her own name. And she told me, "I don't mind. I belong to you as much as you belong to me."

   My mom was always content looking at me and my brother. As if we were some sort of trophies of her own, she gazed on us long time with the happiest smile. My mom never spoke up loudly how much she loved us or care for us, but she showed us her unconditional love through her smile. And, we felt it. I always knew I have the best mom in the world, although I realized it deeply later on. 

   Being called SouLynn's mom doesn't sound so bad anymore. That's the constant reminder how much my role is crucial for my child. I belong to her as much as she belongs to me.