Entries for April, 2007
I've half-written and deleted so many entries since my last one. I would sit down and write, and the end products didn't strike a chord in me - they weren't lyrical enough, artistic enough, or witty enough. They didn't scream to me of compositional genius, didn't yearn to be framed and hung in Carnegie Hall, and didn't have the spark of literary inspiration that I've come to idealize in my writing. Stupid, really. What the hell is the point of this journal, anyway? It's not some gallery of the pseudo-literary keyboard tappings of the next Vonnegut. [So it goes.] I think it's about damn time I write about what I'm feeling, about reflections upon my experiences, and the occasional amusing anecdote from the life of Jihwan Kim.
I can see what Marcus Aurelius saw in stoicism that appealed to him so. Sometimes emotions can get in the way of what you really need to do. The frustration of analyzing Euripides' application of his deux ex machina. The prickling shame of disappointing someone who depended on you. The dull pain in your left chest when you think of that girl. It would seem a hindrance to living one's life, this emotion. Some nights I just go outside to take a walk and try to clear out all the tangled strands of thoughts churning in my head and just breathe, wondering what it would be like to be able to completely shut out all superfluous emotion. Maybe life would be easier.
Emotion is a part of life, what makes life so vibrant. I acknowledge that. But the important question is, for what are we living? For what purpose, to what end? What constitutes life? This sounds ridiculous even as I'm typing this out. Who hasn't thought about this? Who hasn't, during some fleeting moment of absolute clarity, found that elusive answer essenced in a breath of cold night air? Right, like I'm any different from that other poor fellow walking on the other side of the street at half past midnight, counting streetlamps as he muses? Who the hell do I think I am?
I sit down on the curb, knowing what's coming. The dormant conversation that slowly bubbles to life every few months when I let my thoughts wander too deeply into the recesses of myself. The light I'm leaning against buzzes a soft, monotonous symphony for my thoughts. I bow my head and close my eyes.
Hey, God. I guess you want to tell me something. Yeah, I know. It's been what, a year and a half since you've brought these thoughts up? Whitman College, hm? Worship leader, eh? Yeah, I noticed what you've been doing in my life. It's pretty funny how everything that's happened in the past few years all sort of worked itself out perfectly so that I could be right here, right now. No big surprise for you, I guess. I've got to confess, I feel closer to you than I've ever been before. Yeah, of course you know. I'm beginning to see what you're doing in my life - how you're working in me. I can see a bit more clearly what you want me to do with my future, and I can sure as hell hear you a lot more clearly. God, it's just.. I just want to live it out my way, you know? Go to grad school. Get a doctorate. Be famous, respected, admired. Why can't you call back in ten years? I'll be ready then.. What? Well, of course I love you. Yeah, I.. but look what I have to give up! Well, no.. I guess it's not that big of a deal in the big picture, but why do you always have to look at the big picture? Yeah, I see what you're doing in me. I feel it. No, it really isn't that hard. Just.. give me a few moments. Let me think.
God.. if.. if I do this, will you lead me? Will you pull me through the trials and tribulations? It's going to be hard, and you know it. Will you help me? You promise?
...all right. I give it up. It's all for you. Surround me with your presence, Lord. Give me courage, strength, and wisdom. Give me perseverance, boldness, and love. Give me the faith I need to do your will, and I will devote it to you. From now on, guide my steps.
Amen.
Written by jihwan at 12:48 AM.
I stare at the boy in the glass.
The smothering air of the dorm's common room envelops me as I step inside, glad to escape the rain. The run back from the gym has me breathing hard; my screaming muscles sing me a sweet melody. Peppered with icy raindrops and dotted with hot beads of sweat, I grab a bottle of green Powerade from the fridge and chug down half the container before I pause to wipe my face with a towel. I toss the half-empty bottle back into the cold recesses of the fridge and step into the hallway. I am greeted by my reflection in the mirror opposite the corridor.
We stand staring at each other, myself and I.
I take in every bit of my reflection. A light frame that holds within it a quiet firmness. Neat black hair that threatens to outgrow its hedges, eyebrows pursed in scrutiny, a slightly crooked nose and lightly stubbled chin. Lips that pull left with each slow, sardonic half-smile. A confident neck with an adam's apple nodding up and down in agreement with belabored breath. Thin, well-defined arms and a resolute chest, taut legs and slender ankles sprung upon small, quick feet.
I study my shoulders. Upon these shoulders lie the duties of a son and brother, the goals of a student and the emotional panorama of a friend. Upon these shoulders rest the responsibilities of family, the toils of work, and the reality of aging parents. Upon these shoulders are laid the convictions of a Christian and the burdens of a very personal cross. Upon these shoulders lies the weight of a life yet unfulfilled.
Ugh. I'm getting sappy again. I'd better go shower and clear my head. What do you think?
With a crooked smile, the man in the glass shrugs his shoulders.
Written by jihwan at 08:48 PM.
Frustration: listening to a mind-blowing album by a new underground Korean hip-hop artist and having nobody to share it with.
I've been listening to a few names that have dabbled in the hip-hop scene for a while but have only just begun to cut EPs and labeled albums. I haven't been this excited since I found out TBNY had released their first CD. I'm currently listening to Vivasoul, Noblesse, and DJ Soulscape's instrumental beats album and really wish I had someone to revel in it along with me.
Hip-hop is my music.
I enjoy most major genres, and have a relatively large library of country, R&B, soul, and rock music, and even have a decent collection of electronica and classical. But nothing gets me going like a sick beat and and smooth, lyrical flow. But I have not found a single person so far who is into the Korean hip-hop scene. It really sucks. If anyone is interested in taking a listen, let me know.
When I go to Korea this summer, I'm making it a point to attend as many club concerts as I can.
The cool thing about Korean hip-hop is that the big label artists [The Movement Crew and MC Sniper's group, mostly - forget the YG Posers.] consistently perform live at local clubs and bars for a small entrance fee. They headline the club's concert night along with a few underground names; I cannot WAIT to get in and meet up with people who actually listen to Korean hip-hop and are willing to talk about it with me.
This entry was like ass.
Written by jihwan at 01:29 AM.
Like many penniless college kids across this great nation, I've taken on a job to help fund my prodigal ways. Now, I've worked in the service industry before, so I went into the job as a waiter at a local Teriyaki shop expecting the worst of situations that involve relatively close relations with the clientele. But damn it, a single man cannot possibly be expected to put up with the ridiculous string of uncomfortable incidents that I've experienced throughout my [increasingly jaded] youth.
Yeah, it's another one of THOSE stories.
It's a relatively busy night considering it's a weekday evening. I'm rushing back and forth balancing huge platters of rice and chicken and short ribs, swishing around pitchers of ice water, scribbling down phone orders, shouting kitchen requests in irreparably broken Spanish, and trying to ignore the baby in the high chair screaming GISHBAAAAAAA!!! into my ear while I pour scalding tea into ridiculously tiny china. I swear, if the tips weren't so damn good...
I hear the faint tinkling of the bells as yet another customer enters the restaurant. Let someone else seat him. I've got to help this mother convince her pig-faced lardass of a kid that a salad is, contrary to popular belief, quite the delicious substitute for a plate of sizzling Korean barbeque ribs. As I turn away from the verbal wrestling match [which would shortly escalate into a very physical restraining exercise for the poor mother] to make my table rounds with a charming smile, a well-timed joke here, and a subtle compliment there, my manager [a mousy Korean woman] discreetly pulls me aside.
"Kim, that gentleman who just walked in is a very special client. I want you to go serve him."
I glance over at the man. He looked to be in his early forties, with slightly thinning, sandy hair, frameless glasses, and an unusually androgenous face. Were he a bit more light-framed, he could have passed for a woman. He is wearing a crisp, pinstriped dress shirt, well-pressed denim jeans, and studded cowboy boots. Slightly confused, but somewhat happy that the manager felt I was the best waiter to represent the restaurant, I pulled out a menu and led the man to a quiet table near the back.
Jihwan: [pouring water] There you go. How's your evening so far?
Androgyne: I'm doing fantastic! It's a bit chilly in here, though. [rubs hands conspicuously on chest, as if to confirm the sentiment with his apparently weather-sensitive nipples]
..no. oh, no. not again. dear god, not again.
Jihwan: [quickly averting eyes] Well, I suppose I can turn down the air conditioner a bit for you if you'd like. please say yes. please say yes.
Androgyne: [waving hands with a bit more wrist movement than is usually necessary] No, no. I'll be fine. I think things will get pretty hot soon enough. When the food comes out, I mean.
Jihwan: Well, I'll have your dish right out. Please let me know if you need anything. damn it. damn it all to hell.
Androgyne: [eyes burning into the small of my back as I head toward the kitchen with his order] Oh, don't fret. I will.
Prodded by my manager's vigorous nods, I end up waiting on the table exclusively for the next half-hour. I am eventually invited to join him in dinner and sit across from the man. I sit in silent torture as he peppers me with questions about my interests, how often I go to the gym, and what I do for fun. A hot bead of sweat trickles down my face, and he reaches for his napkin as though he wants to wipe it off for me. I quickly turn away with a pathetically fake sneeze, mentally sobbing as I am emotionally raped. I'm surprised to feel a shocking amount of rage slowly boiling inside me. I sense his eyes lightly tease over me as I desperately restrain myself from reaching up and punching him in his girlish mouth as hard as I can. As he finally stands to leave, he reaches over with a crisp twenty and attempts to slip it into my apron. Appalled, I firmly decline his generous tip and lead him to the door. He gives me a sly smile and fingerwaves at me as he heads out.
all right. what. the. hell.
Ignoring the rest of the patrons, I storm over to the kitchen where my manager was peeking through the slats of the screen at our pederastic engagement. Extremely shaken up and unexpectedly angry, I demand to know WHAT JUST HAPPENED. She tells me she is extremely sorry for putting me in the uncomfortable situation and tells me I can go home early. When I demand to know who that disgusting man was, she apologetically sends me off with the ever-so-reassuring words,
"He's a big deal. He travels a lot. Said he likes Korean bo- I mean, Korean food."
what?
..feel so dirty. so very, very dirty.
Written by jihwan at 03:10 AM.