I'm currently in a mood of reminiscence, as I flip through pictures of myself and my jean jacket. Flooded by the feelings of memory, the touch, the smell of it, I'm standing on a boardwalk in California, near the tail-end of my time there.

The smell of this memory is not overwhelming. There is nothing too pungent-- foul or pleasant- that would evoke any emotional attachment. But sight--here, there is sensation. There is a palatable mood that is painted across my mind, attached to that day, clinging to the realities of the wood on that boardwalk.

Gray. Dull. Numbing sensationalism at my fingertips, to the farthest of my reach. A wingspan that yearns to rip my arms out of their sockets, if they could only reach just a little. farther.

My desire to see and grasp everything and absorb every moment is combatted by this grayness. This grayness that stunts human capacity and potential and enjoyment. It is interesting to see the patches of clouds that congregate to form such a mass of dull. It is a palate of gray, a diversity that contributes to just how intimidating that whole gray really is. Patches of lighter grays stick to a darker one. They haven't quite mixed yet and they probably never will. But the big landscape painted on the sky remains as overbearing as ever was.

It is powerful in its ability to stain the corridors of my memory, embroidering and overpowering the people and the faces, and the hands who made that day with me. I am erased from this, as I end up the shaving of a pink eraser that has done it's job, admirably.

My time in California was up. It bid me farewell without fanfare. No pomp and immense circumstance.

DO GOOD FRIDAY

keep on the lookout, from the watchtower, clocktower, belltower, a tower records. Remain locked in anticipation on some kind of elevated plane standing above sea level for big, great changes with this blog.

I'm aware that I've promised this before and have left my loyal readership less than impressed. But THIS time, THIS time, I promise.

Happy Sunday everyone, Gay marriage is now legal in New York state, peoples of ethnic Asian backgrounds make up 1/8th of NYC's entire population, and I will be clapping my hands and worshipping Jesus in 10 hours, in a beautiful Church in Queens.

2AM has dawned upon me and this paper I'm supposedly writing, somehow it just feels like a NY kind of day. I am in a New York State of Mind sitting in my New Jersey Kitchen.

At ease, gentleman. And goodnight.

Wisdom from the Land of Lincoln

The suburbs are the same everywhere. It's all about the company you keep.

O the Places You Will Go

I'm terrified of greener pastures. It's this creeping doubt I have inside my head, pounding its point relentlessly.

I helped write my little sister's college essays this winter break and she has this notion, that may or may not have been directly fed by me that California, the West Coast is the place she needs to be. So when we had both realized what was best for her, we went about solving this problem of convincing the Universities out in California that they need her to be there too.

And I remember when every prompt she had about moving, new challenges or accomplishments would arise I had this one quote stuck in my head from a teacher who had trumpeted this very phrase up till the date of my graduation,
"Go West, young man. Grow up with the country."

This notion of moving to a place where reputation does not lead him first through a door is near impossible nowadays with facebook and tweets signaling your very triumphant or quite quiet entry into this new doorway to new people. But it petrifies me, nonetheless.

I know what is waiting for me in Jersey. I have no idea where my career is going to take me. I have no idea where God is going to take me. I have not the faintest clue on how my life will play out day from day. But I have known what awaits me in Jersey, no matter what time I choose to inherit my home and my one acre. It's this suffocating predictability that so many people are find pleasant. Suffice to say. Say. Sufficient to say. Self-sufficiency.

Making your own bones. How sweet would it be to make new friends. New, good friends, worthy of your time and reciprocal interest. I wish my life was like an episode of Friends where I could ask out a girl in a coffeeshop or making a lifelong friend with a person I just met today.

Life without a laugh track, man. Ignorant of my marks and cues, I'm living without a laugh track, teetering.

This is where I've dreamed about starting new!

1. California

2. Seoul

3. Jejudo

4. Hawaii

Ahhahaha I just realized all of my fantastical aspirations involve lots and lots of year-round sunshine. I sincerely hope entertaining these fantasies in my head never grows dull!

Creative non-fiction/ memoir

I'm taking a Creative non-fiction class and it really stresses personal voice and memoir along with journalistic integrity. While writing I realized it kinda sounded like a blog entry, so being the lazy ass that I am, I've chosen to excerpt my own writing, effectively plagiarizing myself. YES.
Please excuse the grammar. I really need to learn.


I used to think in Korean. I have the great privilege and shame of not being able to do that anymore.

Lemme see. I was bout 5 at the time when I fell. I just started kindergarten but coming from a Korean household English words would flee from the grasp of my tongue.
My Korean parents spoke in stories, idioms, riddles, and jokes. All that which would have been lost by the prisons of the English alphabet.

So I lay there crying in a hospital as a doctor wove my face together with needle and thread; I’ve never felt more man made or robotic. I was being fixed. With my kindergarden vocabulary I shouted,

“NO MORE. NO MORE. NO MORE.”

I cringe when I think about this.

I’ve devoted myself to releasing myself from stereotype. I’ve cringed more about the use of Asian accents in cinema and TV and even in my household than anything else that exists in this world. SAD. To be proper, unaccented Americans is what I’ve wished for my family for a long time.

It is my shame that I cringe at my father. That because the strength of my mother cannot translate into English, my heart tears because people cannot see her intellect and resiliency, people will not see that she is no housewife and never will be because of the constrictions of a language form.

A man can’t ride your back unless it’s bent.

Wandering at 10:30

I write because I'm bored.
I write when I'm motivated.
I write when I'm on deadline.

Period. Punctuation. Pears. Pineapple. Pens. Pencils. Paper. Paper Crane. Crane Man. Korean. Bahp. Chopsticks. Samgyupsahl. Lettuce. Healthy living. Mom. Nagging. Carefree. Freedom. Room. Free doom. Mushrooms. Mushroom Cloud. Nuclear. Are We all going to die. How many are there? North Korea. How much should I really worry. Crazy. Dictator. Starvation. Execution. Liberty. Justice. Freedom. America. Materialism. Louis Vuitton. Louis Vuitton Don. Kanye. Pharrell. Dress. Sneakers. Blazers. Chains. Jewelery. Jesus pieces. Wood or gold. Wood. Splinters. Gold. Greed. Greed. the Grinch. Green. Money. Money is the Root. Of Love. Of Homes. Of Dreams. Of Children. Of Adults. Of Parks. Of Baseball. It Makes the World go round. Gordon Gecko. Greed is good. Goodness. What is goodness. Discomfort. Smoking. Drinking. Sexing. Texting. Sex-texting. Ah. Hunger. To feed one's family. Breadwinning. Breadeating. Gender. Stay-at home dad. Bill Clinton. The House Husband. The fraternizing, sexualizing house husband. Rings. Commitment. Commitment to pain to love. Commitment to make new yous. Children. Babies. Baby Names. Gwenyth Paltrow. Fucking Apple. Are you kidding me. Money can really make anything happen. Jay-Z. "And she named me Shawn because it was her right." Late-night. Head-spinning. Letterman. Leno. Conaan. Leno's a douchebag. Letterman is too but he's funny. Double-breasted suit. Old school. It's all about the fit. The very best man can be dethroned by looking like a slob. He can lose respect and status by simply having one-to-many buttons on his jacket. Think about that lappelle gentlemen. In the end it's all about being a gentlemen. Because being here is a privilege. You need to act accordingly. Live accordingly to the gospels of suffering and pain and love and compassion and humility. With privilege comes great obligatory pain. Let's suffer together. Joy Min. Joy Min thinks people who blog are weird. He's probably right on the money on that one.

The Fashion Issue

Fashionista even when my car can't keep up with my grind. Yes that is MY Honda Odyssey. Yes that scarf is actually my hoodie.

Let's Begin. Tour of the Sartorially Inspirant (new word: Spread the good news)

One of the only artists still in his boy band phase to kill it, day-in, day-out.

T O P

Johnny Depp and his hats. Never seen anyone who can pull off that seamless cool of an old-school hat. Always carefree. he looks like he's having fun with what he wears, the greatest quality to have.

the Tweed thrifting king of http://www.proprpostur.com/

Josh Kissi of streetetiquette.com/ Love this guys blog. Another thrifter who works retail at jcrew. Takes the staples that companies like Uniqlo, clarks, jcrew offer and layers them with sweaters and jackets of American classics to create a current look that constantly pays homage to the past.

New one for me: thecreativeroutine