증조 할머니, 미안 해요. 사랑 해요. 보고 싶어요.

seeing that thin line on the monitor showing me that my great grandma's heart had stopped beating is not how they depict in movies at all. the movies didn't prepare me for the helplessness, regret, sorrow, and disbelief i felt when my great grandmother's small and aged hand didn't squeeze back when i held it. how is it that a heart so big and strong could stop beating just like that?

im angry. i was there and she was alive. her eyes were open. her chest was moving up and down. the monitor showed that her heart was still beating. i thought i had more time. even then, i should have told her how much i loved her, how much i would miss her. but then, i came back two hours later to doctors trying to revive a lifeless body. i should have spent those last two hours talking to her. she coudnt respond but she would have heard me. i was stupid and careless for thinking i had more time. now she'll never know and ill always regret it.

im sad. i wish i spent more time with her. i wish i could take back every time i ignored her nagging about how short my shorts were. i wish i took her out to lunch one last time. i wish i knew how little time i had left with her, then i would have visited her more. i wish i got to thank her for raising me...for being there for me when my own father wasn't there. i wish i could thank her for leading me to Christ and taking me to church when i was a kid even though i fussed and yelled and complained for hours every Sunday morning. there was so much i didnt get to tell her.

there was so much more to learn from her. so many questions i still wanted to ask. but i didnt know she was gonna leave so soon.

증조 할머니,

미안 해요. 사랑 해요. 보고 싶어요.

a dream is just a dream

in my dream, the ground beneath me did not tremble. in my dream, the shelves of my heart did not shake and were stable and the books were neatly tucked away in their places. but when i woke up, i found myself still stuck in the center of the hurricane of pages.

and now the pages are so thick, that no one can see me or hear me at all. all they see is the big messy hurricane of a life and move on to more pleasant things to look at. but i do not blame them at all. even i can no longer stand to look at the mess because it makes me too dizzy. all i can do is pray for more dreams where the ground does not tremble and the shelves are stable and the books are still books neatly tucked away in their places.

i like you

I don't get why I'm so mean to people even though I really like them. much of what comes out of my mouth when I talk about others are complaints, criticism, or judgement. and then when I actually hear what I'm saying, I realize that it's not really how I feel at all. I like everybody. Most people do not think so, but I do. There is not one person that I do not end up liking after I get to know them. So let me get to know you, so I can like you and admire you. Why is it so hard for us to express how we really feel and think?

I wish you could eat my spirit and throw it back up so that you could understand me more clearly. I don't mind having myself completely digested, broken down, and made available for everyone I know to see.

But, then again, I know that before I become able to let you see it, I must learn to let God see me-- in the form of the disgusting Harry Potter vomit jellybean.

INK

John Cadengo let me use a uniball signo micro 207 pen and I really liked it. It was dark, fine-point, and did not bleed through the paper.

I like things like that. I like clear concepts that make dark and permanent impacts on my way of thinking. I do not like it when concepts are too thick, bleed through and make a mess of my train of thought. I don't like wasting ink.

I have this one friend that sends me text messages with quotes about once a week. Yesterday, he sent me one that says, "If a man who cannot count finds a four-leaf clover, is he lucky?" - Stanislaw Lee.

It makes me really sad when people complain about their parents' rules and nagging. I miss my dad telling me what time to come home and yelling at me when I go out without telling him. I miss him trying to force his Korean influence on me. I miss him bossing me around like telling me to make him food and wash the car and do the laundry. I won't have the chance to do little things like that for him ever again. Your time will run out too.

I also miss my mom having enough time to teach me and guide me by the hand through every little obstacle that comes my way. I miss thinking that she was the smartest, strongest, and greatest person in the world.

I wish everyone could realize how lucky they are so they can find joy in appreciating their parents and so that they can show their parents that they are appreciated. I guess you really don't notice what you have, until it's gone.

blogging

why do people blog? i used to blog but make most of the entries private. then i decided that writing in a journal is better. 

i dont think id be a good public blogger. because when i write its hard for me to control the verbal diarrhea of personal information and exaggerated emotions. It's also very hard for me to stay on point when i write. it probably wouldnt even matter if someone found my journal and started reading it cuz i have horrible illegible writing and its written in a way in which only i can understand. its basically a list of all my feelings, thoughts, and opinions blotted down in no specific order. at one point i used to write my journal in a special code so people wouldn't understand if they read it. i dont know why i went through all the trouble... everything in my journal entries are full of personal crap that affect only me.