Ads

I'm not quite sure as to why (I'll dissect this later), but this ad really works:

Sorry about the poor quality, I tried looking for a better one, but hey, this is just a blog. This whole campaign has a very autumn in New York type of feel to it. I like the vintage bike (almost guaranteed that it's a single gear). It just works. Life At Work, how clever.

Been a while

"Every man had to test himself, and if he was courageous and lucky he found maturity. That was all the reward you could ask for, or were entitled to: growing up.

- Ward Just, The Translator (1991)

When I think about all of the age-old Asian-American, or for that matter, Korean-American mantras of the Issei (not sure if I'm allowed to use a cross-cultural reference in reference to a separate and completely unrelated cross-cultural reference) aka our parents, the American Dream obviously comes to mind, but the American Dream of our parents was somewhat different than the one that we learn about in history and sociology textbooks. The comparison is incomplete and imperfect, but when I put myself in my parents' shoes when they first decided to leave Korea and come to America in hopes of a nice car, mansion and maybe more important than any of that, a reputation back home that they would never get to enjoy, something doesn't really make sense.

When we were in high school/middle school/or maybe as far back as preschool for the really unfortunate, our parents always told us how much they had sacrificed for us in coming to this country without money, friends or language and went on and on about how it was our obligation to repay them through studying hard, earning a decent living and taking care of them so they could finally be comfortable. I'm almost 100% positive I'm not the only one in this and if you have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about, please just read this post as a Korean-American sociological/cultural case study.

But one thing that my parents at least regretted to mention is that they had dreams of their own that were either crushed, thrown aside to be picked up in daydreams or arrested for their kids to carry through at some point later on. Some were successful, most weren't. I'm sure most of us have had this point communicated to us by our parents in subtle forms that we were too young and stupid to understand. Now in retrospect, I realize that these subversive pressures weren't so much for betterment as much as they were just the torch of their dreams passed on to their children regardless of whether they were forced or willing.

And please don't take this as some bitter kid (not sure if I can still call myself a kid at 23) ranting about how his parents put pressure on him to bring home a report card free of minus blemishes and tardies. What I'm getting at is actually closer to the opposite. Just bear with me.

My point is that at some point, there was proverbial waking up. Or if you're a pessimist an "Oh (enter preferred interjection here)" moment. There was a moment wherein our parents realized that this American Dream that they had twisted, filled in, defaulted to be perfectly their own wouldn't ever come true. In fact, most probably realized that they would be working by the sweat of their brow and the tired bones in their fingers for the remainder of their productive years. Here's where the sacrifice part comes in.

I remember back when I was in college, I was having dinner with a good friend of mine at Cheeseboard when this lady began talking to us out of nowhere. Aside from the strange incense smell emanating from her clothes and the fact that she claimed that Biography of A Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda was the greatest work of literature to have ever been written, she was a nice lady. But one thing that she said really irked me, so much so that it still bugs me to this day. After the general awkwardness of letting her know that my friend and I were not boyfriend and girlfriend, she told us that we shouldn't be pursuing law, engineering, business like all of the rest of the asian mainstream (her words, not mine), but that we should go into fields where we could be the proverbial sacrificial lamb (see above) for the future. What I thought she was hinting at was that we had to die to ourselves so that we could aspire to be unsuccessful only to realize that we had to defer to the next generation.

That's exactly what our parents had to do. They didn't know the language, they didn't know the customs (if you're a complete idiot and this is completely lost on you, wikipedia L.A. Riots) and most of all, they didn't have the opportunities that we have today. And all of this is so painfully true.

What that lady told me over dinner that cold night in Berkeley killed me inside because it was so evident, so prevalent in my own life. I saw my parents and I hated that they had to die to their own dreams only to see someone live vicariously through everything that was provided by their hard work and anguish. What is love? That's a question that's been asked of me countless times over the past year. All I can do is point to Christ, but I'm beginning to see that the love of our parents had/has so much more depth than we thought we realized.

Is it wrong to have selfish desires? At this point in my life, I could care less. It doesn't make what our parents had to go through any less tragic. They're the tragic heroes of our short and very hopeful lives. It almost hurts me to say that, only because I can't imagine what I would feel having to do that.

I guess there's really no point to this post other than to get that off of my chest. Sorry if it sounded depressing, there are just a lot of things happening right now and please don't take that as anything other than what it means.

Revelation Song

Can't get enough of this song after hearing it at the Driscoll Conference.

Creature of Habit

I've come to the realization that I hate change. A few thoughts:

1. I've been listening to The Herd with Colin Cowherd for 10 years now. Started my freshman year in high school. The reason: he's just smarter than all the other idiots on ESPN and pretty witty too.

2. During my last 4 months in Berkeley, I had the hummus sandwich with lentil soup at Smart Alec's every day for lunch without fail. The reason: tasted good.

3. I've driven the same car for 6 years, going on 7 and I refuse to get another one until I absolutely have to. The reason: I really don't know. But sometimes I find myself giving my car a pat on the dashboard for all the faithful years of service...even when I'm alone.

Happy belated Valentine's Day

Christmas Time

I was reading over my previous posts on this blog and stumbled upon this one (written, but never published) for December 2, 2007:

"Every year I look forward to the Holiday Season because it's the one time of year that I get to spend with my loved ones without fail. I've missed birthdays, graduations, and so many other occasions from having to live so far from home. But Christmas time is always spent with friends and family. And like clockwork, every year there always seems to be one defining moment leading up to Christmas that truly ushers it in for me. Sometimes it's a movie I watch, a conversation I have, or even an old friend I just so happen to run into. This year it was a song. On one of our random Awana trips to Starbucks, I was lounging with Brian while waiting for everyone to get their drinks, or finish their chicken legs (long story) when "Christmas Time is Here" by Vince Guaraldi came on. Brian and I just sat there for a few minutes listening till the song ended and we all got up to leave. On my way out, two thoughts came to my mind: The first was just how much I enjoyed sitting there enjoying the music for no reason at all. I sat there never wanting to leave and I couldn't even explain why (how often do we really ever just sit and listen to music nowadays?) The second was a reminder of how I take for granted the great friends and people I've met throughout my life. Talking to Brian while sitting there just reminded me how precious friendships are. For all I know, a year from now, Brian could be hundreds of miles away, our time together reduced to monthly phone calls or bi-yearly visits. This Christmas season, I'm thankful for loved ones. Thank God. Merry Christmas"

If I remember correctly, this was the semester after Brian spent a year in Indonesia. For all I knew he could have gone back for who knows how long.

So this year, thank God for friends.

I asked the Lord...

I asked the Lord that I might grow

In faith, and love, and every grace;

Might more of His salvation know,

And seek, more earnestly, His face.

’Twas He who taught me thus to pray,

And He, I trust, has answered prayer!

But it has been in such a way,

As almost drove me to despair.

I hoped that in some favored hour,

At once He’d answer my request;

And by His love’s constraining pow’r,

Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

Instead of this, He made me feel

The hidden evils of my heart;

And let the angry pow’rs of hell

Assault my soul in every part.

Yea more, with His own hand He seemed

Intent to aggravate my woe;

Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,

Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

Lord, why is this, I trembling cried,

Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?

“’Tis in this way, the Lord replied,

I answer prayer for grace and faith.

These inward trials I employ,

From self, and pride, to set thee free;

And break thy schemes of earthly joy,

That thou may’st find thy all in Me.”

This is quickly becoming my favorite hymn. It's scary to think how many times I've prayed the beginning prayer in however many words. "I asked the Lord that I might grow in faith, and love, and every grace; might more of His salvation know, and seek, more earnestly, His face." Even this trite, readymade prayer holds such power. God answers prayer. Maybe not how you intended Him to. But he answers. We are, after all, speaking to the creator of the universe.

One is the loneliest number (but not really)

I think I've been getting a little too comfortable by myself. You know you reach this point when you start wondering whether hell really is other people. It's easy to imagine when you reach the point where the smallest things set you off (at least on the inside). Like when someone's laugh is a tiny pitch too high for your liking. Or when people just so happen to press every single floor before your own when they get into the elevator. Or when someone cuts you off on the road and you find yourself repeating that God's grace is sufficient for you to avoid an inevitably disastrous retaliation. Ok, maybe it's not that bad, but in short, I need to force myself to see people. Other than my boss, that is. 3 reasons why.

1. I'm forgetting how to communicate with other homo sapiens.

The other day, I was talking to one of the parking guys for my building and when he asked me how my boss was doing, I couldn't quite make out what he had asked me so I asked for clarification, but instead of saying "Excuse me?" or "I'm sorry?", I uttered some incoherence that can only described as something in between animal yelp and Cro-magnon man. It was literally:

Me: Hahaha too much work sometimes.

Parking guy: [smiling in agreement before asking] How's An?

Me: Huhhl?

I think he just stood there for a few seconds before repeating to me what he'd just said very slowly, sounding out every syllable of the simple two syllable question, like you would to an infant.

2. Nothing I see in the cave that I inhabit called the office holds any bearing on reality.

A few weeks ago I was introduced to the phrase "ftw". I then proceeded to type www.google.com in my address bar before typing "ftw" in the search bar. Google for the win.

3. I have no idea what's going on.

Last week my boss found out it was Columbus Day at 10 in the morning on the day of.

So did I. In fact, I had to google "federal holidays" to figure out when I wouldn't have to come in to work again.

I think for the last few weeks, it's been ok since I have my friends the book, the TV and exercise to keep me company. But I think I'm realizing now that I need to actually make an effort to see other people. This is something I've never had to do before. Strange.

*on an unrelated note, Redeemer.com just posted 150 Tim Keller sermons online for free. Looks like 150 more commutes are taken care of for me. Thanks John for the heads up.

Glorious (sorry long entry)

I absolutely relish playing the part of the obnoxious opposing fan. I'm not ashamed to say it's a sort of elementary type of pleasure. Like the kind Nelson from the Simpsons gets whenever he says "HA HA!" (Someone needs to invent a legitimate way of expressing stresses for the English language). If you don't know who Nelson is, it's this kid:

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. When I think about who I become when my team is thoroughly thrashing another team that I have a deep hatred for, I see this kid. My inner Nelson comes out. And anyone who's ever seen me at a Cal football game can attest to this (Joann, why are you strangely the first person to come to mind?). When I see this picture, I think of all the times I've run over to a losing team/fan and said something that runs along the lines of "HA HA!" while feeling only a subconscious underdeveloped awareness of how annoying I really am to them.


I'm proud of my Cal Bears. Despite two straight Pac-10 losses in their only games against really good teams. I'm proud of them. They played great today. A few mistakes here and there, but I'm not about to get nitpicky with a team that averaged 3 points a game for the past two. Which brings me back to my original motive for writing this entry.


As you can probably deduce from the above title, I decided to name this entry "Glorious". You see my friends, I reserve this word for days like this. If Cal football would ever happen to knock off USC at the Coliseum (or even at home for that matter), I would consider that glorious. Or if Cal were ever to win the Rose Bowl or win the National Championship, that would be glorious. Oh and every so often, I might use it in a praise song, but that's beside the point.


The point is, today's win was glorious. Why you ask? Why does a Pac-10 win against a 3-3 (0-3 in Pac-10 play--my inner Nelson urged me to include that little snippet) UCLA team gain the title of "glorious"? Because Tedford hadn't won a single game in LA during his Cal tenure. Because for the past 6 years, we've shot ourselves in the foot whenever we came to the Rose Bowl. Because while walking through the golf course toward the Rose Bowl, I felt the giddiness of a superficial 15-year old prepubescent girl wondering whether she'd be prettier than all the other girls at her high school.


Let's just say UCLA ended up being the DUFF (Designated Ugly Fat Friend) and we were the pretty girls around her. UCLA made us look good. REAL GOOD. Same goes for the fans. Now I'm all for verbal jousting amongst fans. I think it's part of what make sports so fun to watch. But honestly, if my team gets dominated like it did last week against USC, I shut my mouth and take whatever they give me. If you're going to identify yourself with a team, you better be able to lose graciously WITH them. Now as I've mentioned, I love being the loud-mouth trash talker to fans of the opposing team. Before I continue with some of the best quotes of the day, I'll only prime you by telling you that we won 45-26, and let's be honest UCLA fans, it wasn't nearly as close as even that score may seem.


1. "UCLA...SUCKS!"
That pause after UCLA is crucial. Why? Because you raise your fist in the air and shout "UCLA!!!" as if you're a lowly Bruin fan in order to bait the appropriate response, which is some form of acknowledgment that we belong to the same clan (usually a fist pump and a "YEAH!!!") But little do they know that that "SUCKS!!!" is waiting for them like a fist to the back of the head. BAM!!!! YOU JUST PARTICIPATED IN TRASHING YOUR OWN TEAM!!!! HA HA!!!


2. "Bruins!!! (as a sign of camaraderie), ALL IS NOT LOST!!!...YOU NEVER HAD ANYTHING TO BEGIN WITH!!!
Once again, that pause after "LOST!!!" is absolutely crucial. Why? Because you give them a glimmer of hope for some sort of comfort or consolation after losing (but only for about a second) before slapping them upside the head with the insult that their team had no business hoping for any sort of prize short of a consolation. Oh wait a minute, we don't even give them that. Once again, my inner Nelson. "HA HA!!!"


Now before I move on to my last quote, I'd just like to mention that every so often, a stroke of brilliance comes over me that always leaves me stunned and wondering, "GREAT ODIN'S RAVEN!!!, HOW IN THE WORLD WAS I SO INCREDIBLY...BRILLIANT?!!" (in Ron Burgundy-esque parody). This last quote was produced by one of these moments.


3. Now continuing with the theme of Will Ferrell, imagine me with this look on my face:

What does this face tell you? That's a look of genuine, unmitigated concern. This is the look of a man who has something very important to say and whether or not you believe me, you better listen up because I'm only concerned with your well-being.


Now imagine me running over to the UCLA section with this look on my face after a pick-6 late in the fourth quarter that stuck a dagger through their hearts and shook it all around, tearing apart every single chamber wall of their hearts leaving only a sad, indistinguishable, mutilated pile of human tissue.


Now imagine me shouting "GUYS!!!...GUYS!!!...GUYS!!!" with the above look on my face (Go ahead, scroll up to refresh your memory).


Now imagine me shouting "IT'S OK TO LEAVE NOW!!!...I'M PRETTY SURE!!! IT'S OK TO LEAVE!!! YOU GUYS CAN GO!!!"


Now imagine me shouting "WAIT!!! GUYS!!! WAIT!!!"


before shouting "NEVER MIND!!! IT'S OK TO LEAVE!!! YOU GUYS CAN LEAVE!!!"




I know. I know. My hatred runs deep. But damn it, hatred brings about such great comedy. Now I have one more thing to say before I let you guys go. As I mentioned before, if I'm ever on the losing side of a thrashing like this one, I'll shut up and take what the fans give me. It's common sense really, I mean, what can you really say, right? Your team just lost.


I guess someone in LA didn't get that memo.


Now just like ESPN, I've given you my Top 10, or Top 3 for that matter. Now I give you my 2 worst of the day. As I'm walking out of the Rose Bowl through the tunnel shouting "BACK TO THE BOTTOM BRUINS!!! BACK TO THE BOTTOM!!!" and "I GUESS IT'S NOT THE COACHING HUH?!!!", I hear a sniveling UCLA fan (think Golem from Lord of the Rings) attempt to shout out box scores from the past two weeks in his Peewee herman-like, ring-tone voice.


1. Verbatim, he shouts, "42-0!!! 47-0!!!"
First of all, if you're going to call out box scores, at least get them right. In the words of Jim Calhoun, "GET SOME FACTS AND COME BACK AND SEE ME". I'll reserve my second point for number two since it's overarching.


2. "Well, you guys are like 1-6 in LA"
Do you remember Clueless? You know that movie starring Alicia Silverstone and two other girls that no one knows what happened to? Well, think Clueless when you pronounce that "like" in the above phrase. It was literally just like that. Straight up valley ditz status. Only, it came from a fat, middle-aged, hispanic guy with a full-grown beard. My response to that was: "what does that have anything to do with the fact that you lost today?". Honestly (this is where I address Smigel from Lord of the Rings), anything bad you have to say about the team you just lost to makes your team look even worse. If you're going to shout out box scores from the past two weeks, you're shouting out to the world just how bad your team is, seeing as to how you just got thrashed by a team that lost "42-0, 47-0". If you're going to tell me that we're 1-6 in LA, then you just lost to a team that's 1-6 in LA you pathetic excuse for a college graduate!!! HEY IDIOTS!!! IT DOESN'T TAKE A WHOLE LOT OF BRAIN TO REALIZE THAT THE MORE YOU TRASH TALK, THE LOWER YOU BRING YOUR OWN PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A FOOTBALL TEAM!!!


My love-affair with the caps lock continues.


I can only imagine just how Nelson-like I'll become when we beat USC. Maybe I'll wear a denim vest to the game. I leave you with this.

Thoughts (from this past week)

I spent 10 minutes trying to think of a clever, witty title for this entry, but I can't. So, here are some thoughts from this past week. I'll try to think of a better title next time.

The long-awaited grudge match between USC and Cal happened this past week. All I can say is, we got dominated. That's all I'll say about that. But right before the game, before entering the stadium, I got the rare opportunity to watch Peter Carroll and the USC players walk into our stadium to get ready for the game. Now for all you nons, Pete Carroll could potentially go down as one of the greatest college football coaches of all time. And the Trojans are chock-full of future NFL Pro-Bowl talent. I literally thanked God for the opportunity to witness such an event. I was straight up Charlie and the Chocolate Factory status as I ran up to that bus. This was my golden wrapper.

So what did I do?

I started shouting near-obscenities non-stop at the top of my lungs with hands cupped over my mouth for added volume and emphasis. I've always said, "to USC, we're just another team to beat, but to us, USC is the devil". I think the mic man put it best when he said, "THOSE PLAYERS, THOSE FANS, THAT SCHOOL... REPRESENT EVERYTHING THAT IS WRONG IN THIS WORLD!!!". That pretty much sums up how strongly I feel about USC.

So what am I getting at? In between my shouts of "LET'S GO HUSKIES!", "WE WANT CORP!" and "WE WANT A SALARY CAP", all I could hear was myself. Now people have always told me that I have a notoriously loud outdoor voice. So I knew everyone could hear me. In fact, I could have been deaf and their eyes alone would have told me that. When all the players walked in after giving me the dirtiest glares a football team named after a condom could seriously give, a fellow Cal fan walked up to me cracking up and shook my hand while telling me "That was awesome man".

But why was I the only one? What the hell? This program's done everything short of getting on a loudspeaker to tell the world that they cheat and pay their athletes and not a word? No one hates Florida the way people hate SC. PEOPLE HATE SC FOR A REASON. Give me a break. Save professionalism for the NFL. This is college football. Not golf.

On a completely unrelated note, I was with my boss deciding where to eat lunch when we stumbled upon this Korean restaurant in where else but K-town. As we sat down, she suggested I order the "Soh muhlee gook bap" which could literally be translated into cow head soup with rice. But I didn't care, I was hungry so I assumed that cow head soup could be translated into something else that my ignorant, barely korean and far too American upbringing never taught me.

So the food comes out and I try some of the soup before I begin to add my salt and other "accoutrement" (I know, I just jumped on the friend ladder) and I realize that this tastes just like suhlungtang. So I'm super happy seeing as to how I haven't been able to have suhlungtang for what feels like ages. Halfway through the meal, I reach down to the bottom of the bowl for my clear suhlungtang noodles and there aren't any. Any of you who have ever had suhlungtang know what these noodles are. They're like the the top to a muffin. Sometimes they're the only reason I order suhlungtang. YOU CAN'T EFFING HAVE AN EFFING MUFFIN WITHOUT THE EFFING TOP!!! AND YOU CAN'T EFFING HAVE EFFING SUHLUNGTANG WITHOUT THE EFFING CLEAR EFFING NOODLES!!!

Allow me to digress for the sake of better expressing my disappointment in that moment. I remember when I was a little kid, maybe four years old, I saw two older kids getting into an argument. As their words got more and more heated, I remember thinking that this could turn ugly real quick. Suddenly, one kid (the fat one, because there's always a fat kid in fight memories that turn funny at the end) shouts at the top of his lungs and says "YOU'RE F****** LUCKY I'M A CHRISTIAN, CAUSE IF I WASN'T, I WOULD BEAT THE S*** OUT OF YOU!!!". People say I remember EVERYTHING. There's a reason I remember so much. Usually it's because whatever it is was so hilarious to me at the time that it made an indelible impression on my sense of humor and self that would never leave me. THIS was one of those moments.

But I digress (whoever was the first one to say this needs to be punched). When I brought my spoon up from the bottom of that bowl with only rice and soup, I felt what that aforementioned fat kid felt. My anger was straight up feral, primal, call it what you want. Gluttony had nothing to do with it. It was an anger stemming from the fact that THE WORLD SHOULD NEVER ALLOW THINGS TO COME TO THIS. I was about to knock my table over in front of everyone during a busy lunch hour, walk to the manager and shout "YOU'RE F****** LUCKY I'M A CHRISTIAN, CAUSE IF I WASN'T, I WOULD BEAT THE S*** OUT OF YOU!!!!" No joke. I was angry. So angry in fact, I felt this injustice needed to be rectified through this blog that no one ever reads. Lesson of the day? I don't know if there is one, just don't ever give me suhlungtang without clear noodles or I'll turn into a fat kid and give you some great comedy.

Collecting

My friend Sam got deployed to Kuwait for a year. We'll all miss you Sam.

For some reason, there just so happened to be a Sharpie and lip-liner in my car. Sucks for Drew.

Darth Maul

We'll miss you Sam. Be safe.