Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Impromptu writing - June. 21. 2011

   Deep in the night,
   Supposed to be in the bed, sleeping.
   But, somehow can't fall asleep right now.
   Trying to think, why?

   There was a time when I didn't need to worry about tomorrow-
   No responsibilities, no motivation, no destination.
   Wandering places to places, searching for the places where I could belong.
   Feeling of being lost, couldn't help but being bitter.

   When I opened my eyes, I woke up.
   When I was hungry, I ate.
   When I felt tired, I went to bed.
   Just spending another day, and day, and days.

   Who needs life goal anyway? 
   Why do we fight against nature of life?
   Simple life is the best!
   This was what I thought and I mocked the people who struggled for their dream.

   And, I met a lady who was 7 years older than me.
   She was a bank branch manager's high positioned assistant.
   I was just a summer part-time delivery girl.
   Being a typical university freshman, my life circled within alcohol, friends, and karaoke.

   One morning, I was stinky drunken but managed to go to work.
   I did my chores, all the routines that I had to do-
   including shining bank manager's desk, washing his tea cup, scrap booking daily economic articles, and delivering mails.

   During recess, this lady came to me and yawned with smile.
   "I went to bed late last night. I just couldn't fall asleep.
    You see, the night is my time - no one tells you what to do, no one watches you, just enjoy being yourself.
    And, I'm paying the price now. " She chuckled and lowered her voice as if she would tell me a secret.

   "Sun Hee, when you grow older, you will know how valuable to have your own time. 
   Your own time is priceless. So, don't waste your time." 
   Tonight, I hear her voice. And, I understand her messages better and clearer.
   19-year-old immature girl became 29-year-old mom with life experiences.
   I've learned many important lessons through my personal experiences but the most significant lessons were from others - their words, their actions and mostly their lives. This lady's words still echo in my head, that means probably they were sincere and honest from her own heart.


Thursday, June 16, 2011

Il Divo makes me write tonight.


  Il Divo ("divine male performer" in Italian) is a multinational operatic pop vocal group created by music manager, executive, and reality TV star Simon Cowell. Formed in the United Kingdom, they are also signed to Cowell's record label, Syco Music.[1] Il Divo is a group of four male singers: Spanish baritone Carlos Marín, Swiss tenor Urs Bühler, American tenor David Miller, and French pop singer Sébastien Izambard. To date, they have sold more than 26 million albums worldwide. [2]
  -  From Wikipedia

   Listening Il Divo's music immobilized me from whatever I was planning to do. The harmony of four languages in a beautiful music blew my mind. Although I can't understand most of songs, I just can't stop listening. Is it called "power of music"? What's the secret ingredient in a music anyway?  I want to know. I want to learn. I want to make it for myself.
   Four handsome tenors whose faces are carved by angels have irresistible charisma on the stage. Opera singers have been always my favorite. They look confident, proud, and enjoying the moment. Their posture is always graceful, and dramatic. Their voice is powerful but they keep their composure no matter what.
   Individual singers look all different in Il Divo and their faces and posture tell me lots of stories. Just looking at them is like falling in a magic hole. For a listener, for a fan, it's such a bliss.
   How can they be so amazing? 
   How come they look so gorgeous? 
   Simon and his marketing department must have known what they are doing. 
   For hours, I've been looking at their pretty faces via Youtube, listening their delicious voices, and feeling drifted into a romantic place. Oh.. I love listening their voices.

   I dream whenever I hear their voices.
   I imagine whatever they sing although I don't understand.
   I try to feel it, not to analyze it.

   There must be any messages or any stories in it - I want to know, I want to catch it.
   Languages are merely a tool of understanding -either Spanish, Italian, German, or Korean, it doesn't matter what kind of tool you have. The purpose of learning other languages are just to have better understanding of life and to have a better connection between people.
   I knew it and I was living in it and Il Divo confirmed it.


Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Mom's diary - 6. 8. 2011 / What's your problem, bitch?


[ Before I write my diary, I need to warn beforehand that there will be frequent use of vulgar words, including F-words. So anybody who's not so comfortable with these words, just close it. You don't have to read it. ]

I'm in the turmoil of negative feelings right now, and I don't want to screw my mood and spoil my evening any longer by some kind of arrogant, idiot woman that I met in the shoe store in the downtown, Montreal. The only way that I can vent properly is writing. So here I am, sitting by the desk, typing my small Netbook keyboard crazily, and steaming out my anger.

This is how my story begins. It was relatively pleasant afternoon considering the weather forecast had announced it would be 38°. Initially I wanted to stay in the neighborhood but sooner, I changed my mind. SL and I had a peaceful brunch at the café ARhoma, and headed to Place-des-arts to see what's happening there. We had fun walking underground city in the center of Montreal. I truly appreciated how lucky we were. It was hot and humid outside, so I was determined to stay indoor with A/C.

When I checked the time, it was 3: 30 P.M. Soon it would be the rush hour so I needed to hurry up to back to condo. There, SL saw the sparkling shoes in the shoe store, and my eyes got widened when I saw the sign "rabais 50% tout"(discount 50% all items) on its show-window.

It was pretty crowded - lots of young ladies trying different shoes, the saleswoman bringing other shoes that their potential clients had asked for. It was hectic if I have to use a one word, but I was determined to buy new sandal in this store. As I tried different styles of sandals, my "shoe lover" SL didn't give up trying for herself either. She pulled out all kinds of sparkling ones and tried them on and looked herself into a mirror. It was fun time together, and honestly I didn't think her actions would bother other people.

Here, I need to point out the facts - she is not even 4 years old yet, she likes to see herself in a mirror, and she didn't make any noise or mess in the store. After she tried one sandal and moved to another, I put them back a.s.a.p. I'm not that kind of selfish, ignorant mom who doesn't care about her kids' behavior in the public.
I DO CARE ABOUT OTHERS. I concern my child's behavior in the public all the time. This is one of the important lessons that I have to teach my child- in order to survive in the society with other human being, unless she decides to live in the inhabited island all alone- she needs to practice how to have fun without disturbing others.

Back the the scene, I found really nice purple sandal on my size. Knowing the fact that it's rare to find 5 1/2 shoes, I believed this was my chance. And, I was about to tell the clerk that I would buy it.

   Suddenly, I heard a woman's screaming. "Ahhoooo!!"
   I quickly checked SL, and she was perplexed.
   My quick sense told me that she stepped on this woman's toe while running toward me. With no time, I apologized, "Oh..I'm so sorry. My daughter wasn't being careful."

   "Look at this toe! Look!!"
This woman raised her voice as loud, her eyes widened as possible and she was about to eat me up. She lifted her foot on the foot stool, and pointed at her skinned-off pinky toe. It wasn't bruised, bled or broken. For a second, I thought she was really good actor. Her exaggeration level was equal to the Hollywood class. She made all fuss about and started to being dramatic in the middle of the store.

   "Hum? Do you see this toe? Do you? Is this your child?" She continued to yell at me.
   "I'm really sorry. Sou Lynn, please apologize to this lady for stepping her foot." I still managed to be polite.

   "What? I don't need her saying sorry. It's YOU! YOU ARE THE MOM, and IT'S YOUR FAULT!"
   You let your child run around, and that's why I got this!  YOU ARE HER MOM, SO WATCH YOUR KIDS!" Ok? You are her mom! Watch your kids!"

I couldn't believe what I just heard. It was way beyond of my expectation. With my mouth being opened, it took few seconds to register what this crazy bitch accusing me. Her voice tone was 100% to draw all the people's attention around us. This crazy bitch and I became the center of entertainment.

I've heard, I've seen, I've read so many stories of making moms feeling bad, this was the hardcore situation which I've never thought I would face. This few seconds of high tension, my voices in me fought each other.

However, I didn't pull out this nasty words in front of her. The main reason was being with my daughter, I couldn't burst out my spontaneous anger in front of her, although I felt like punching her face straight. "Paw, paw!!!" I would feel really good, then I would face the consequences of making bad choice. Frankly, I regret being polite at the beginning and wasting my expensive smile to this worthless shit. My kindness is not for this narrow-minded, selfish, ignorant shitty folks.

'Shut up, bitch! If you saw the child running around the store, why didn't you go around? You don't have fucking eyes to see this little one? Fuck you, who the hell are you telling me that it's my fault? Shut the fuck up, you crazy bitch! Do you think I'm the easy one to play with? Huh? Do you think I'm that naive to take all shits from your mouth? You are doing this on purpose because I'm Asian, right? You, racist! Why don't you go fuck yourself and be miserable on your own! You worthless, mean human piece! Your mouth is just piece of rag, you dirty bitch!'

I try to be nice and gentle to others, but the truth is I'm not that kind and gentle. My smile and kindness comes from what I believe in. I believe in goodness in people, and peace. But this world is running by all kinds of people, who doesn't necessarily think the same way how I think.

   This is the end of scene.
   "I guess you don't have any experience with kids." I answered and turned around from that ugly bitch, and told SL, "you know what? there are some people like this! This is fine!" I showed her a smile. This smile wasn't easy one to bring up, because I felt like screaming, and pulling out that bitch's hairs. But I had to do what I had to do. I had to make sure my SL didn't get any shock from this crazy episode. I still felt other eyes around me, but I kept smiling at my daughter and gracefully put back my purple sandal, and asked SL, " did you have fun?"
   Then we walked out slowly still smiling, as if nothing happened, as if nothing bothered me, as if I didn't care.

   Now, I don't want to end my day being mad at someone who's worthless think of. She probably was having a bad day, she wouldn't generally act like such a bitch, but it doesn't mean she has the right to vent on any people. I'm still trying to think if there was any other way around to solve this issue.
   All I can think is this is how I should have told her, "I sincerely apologized and if this isn't enough for you, that's not my business. And, don't you ever tell anybody a child's behavior is mom's fault. You obviously don't have any clue what it's like."

   I'm done being angry. I pulled out angers and frustrations as much as I could and now I'm really fine. I will sleep peacefully. Tomorrow will be another day of adventure and fun for us!

Sunday, June 5, 2011

A night poem

   Sitting in the middle of living room, all alone underneath a dim light.
   Looking at the time, it's 11:26
   It's time for bed, I need to rest.
   But simply I can't just go to bed right now.

   Something needed to be pulled out from my brain.
   It's the story that I've been holding in my heart for a long time.
   I've been wondering if it's the right time, and if it's going to be the right way.

   Am I able to do this?
   Am I brave enough to tell the untold stories of the past?
   Would it be wiser if I just conceal it?
   I'm not quite sure of all these questions.
   One thing I know is something has to be done to save me from the haunting voices.

   I'm used to be an outcast.
   I've been living my life as a stranger.
   People call me in various way, but none of them is quite right or everything is the truth.
   The more to try to figure it out, the harder to reach to the end.

   When would I get the clear answer?
   Who's going to help me?
   Somehow I know the answer, it's just hard to accept it because it's tough road to take.

   My cynical laugh came out as if I knew it would be the same way to end my poem.
   Too much hesitation distracts my concentration..
   I need to do something about it, or else it will remain as an unfinished.



Thursday, June 2, 2011

À Montréal

In the beginning

It was a cold December day in 2003, when I arrived in Montreal for the first time.
I might have looked like small, delicate, shy Asian figure on others' eyes, 
the truth being I was a genuine rebel from little town in Korea. 

I was 22, being young and brave yet uncertain about my future.
I needed to get out from where I used to belong, I couldn't breathe everywhere I went.
I was a wild creature and didn't know where to go.

Over two years I was sure being failure of my life. 
One of the main reason being the deficiency of academic standards in Korea.
Everything seemed to finalize with which University you'd enter and the success of life divided from this point.
I used to ask a huge question in my heart, who the hell decide the winner/ loser of life anyway? 
Why am I so unlucky to be surrounded with folks with shallow mind who only concerns about- 
the rank of the society and the salary of the person? 

I was sick and tired of this nauseating environment. 
I knew by heart if I would stay longer, I would become one of them; 
That must have been the real failure of my precious life.
The only exit was the escape.

Then, life brought me an unexpected gift in an extraordinary way.
I always believed in a sentence, "if there is a will, there is a way"
I had a strong will of escape, and there came a sign of way-out.

[To be continued..]