While others majored in Finance, I earned a PhD in Resilience...

Writing a resume for me is one of the most difficult things to do.  To be honest, I feel like it's such an inaccurate representation of who I am professionally, and it sure as hell doesn't capture my personality.

Sure, I have skills that can be developed, I'm intelligent enough to comprehend pretty much any "how-to" PDF or video that's out there to get the job done - but just because I can, it doesn't necessarily mean I want to.  Perhaps I'm selfish, stubborn, or even lazy.  Bottom line is, after living most of my life working my ass off to make ends meet or to somehow lessen a heavy burden on a single mother I adore (most of the time), if I'm given a choice as to how or where or with whom I exert my effort and talent, I make sure it's meaningful.

I may not have time for everything or everyone, but what I would do for my friends, family, and a great idea, can't really be calculated or accurately conveyed on a resume.

I recently read an article from hbr.org that described how invaluable it is to have resilience.  My life has been a never-ending roller coaster ride.  Why do I love Hawaii so much?  From the moment I was born in Honolulu, I was loved and cared for by my family unconditionally and blissfully unaware of conflict for a total of 4 straight years!  Then, we moved across oceans, from apartment to apartment, from one state to another, finally settling down in Atlanta, Georgia.  Since Hawaii, I've never lived in one home for more than 2 years.

And.. I just spent 10 minutes recalling each home I've lived in, and I'm surprised to say that I am living in my 22nd home.  Should I dare count how many jobs I've had since I started working as an 11-year-old cashier on weekends at the retail stores my mom managed?  Omg, my brain hurts.

What does this do to a person?  It makes him or her resilient.

These last few months are a perfect example of the kind of "luck" I've had my entire life.  It's always something upsetting and terrible that happens followed by a suspiciously positive outcome.  Last Thursday, the apartment building located literally on the other side of my bedroom wall (not attached) went up in flames and is now a pile of rubble.  I watched it burn, and was ready to accept that my apartment would be next.  But not even a week later, I'm comfortably sitting on my couch, in my first apartment on my own (with no roommates), listening to my music, writing up this blog post.

Another example?  Sure!

After getting rear-ended almost 2 months ago, I've struggled with neck/back pain, car repairs taking a month, but the settlement paid for the very nice MacBook Pro I'm using right now, which was luckily about 33% off the normal retail price.  Then, just last Saturday, I backed up into a pole in an apartment parking deck, total damage costing about 2 G's.  What may seem like a typical careless accident was actually different due to the unique context.  The passenger in my car when all this went down was a certain someone who successfully kept me interested longer than most... We had just met and were trying to coordinate late night chow time, and ended up in his parking deck to guide his carpool of friends to their cars.

He told me to sit tight, and he'd be right back.  I was ready to bail... I wanted to crawl under my covers, fall asleep, and never wake up to face this level of embarrassment.  That didn't happen.  Instead, this lovely individual came back and consoled me with stories of his own mistakes... the kind of accidents that resulted from a split second of misjudgment.  Over tea, hummus, and pita I resolved to move on and be thankful that no one was hurt, I didn't get a DUI, and I didn't hit another parked car (Not to mention the nice warm feelings associated with this certain someone... ).

Having been through much worse than what I just described, I'm slightly indifferent.  I shrug my shoulders, smile, and move on.  I remember when I took these things personally, and I was miserable because I kept wanting to find some relief and escape from chaos, misfortune, and tiresome work.  Now, I wouldn't dare escape from what I have going on in my life because there's meaning in my relationships, my endeavors, as well as my struggles.

To close, a quote...

"As we see, the priority stays with creatively changing the situation that causes us to suffer. But the superiority goes to the 'know-how to suffer,' if need be. . ."  -Victor Frankl

The Fight for Individuality

This blog was created with good intentions, and I'm finally ready (as I am not scrambling to find a job, nor am I homeless, or running from the cops... thank God.) to explore some of the topics I had in mind in the beginning.  I really want to reflect on some of my experiences and piece them together in a way that provides a glimpse into what it's like for me, to be stuck between two very different cultures.  And to say that it's only two cultures I associate with is somewhat of an oversimplification.  There are so many subcultures and cliques that I can identify with easily, and some that I don't connect with at all.  It's in these interwoven associations where I notice that my sense of what's right and wrong becomes more fluid.

Early last week, I noticed I had a unique reaction to a seemingly normal, or insignificant event.  I am Korean, I know; I look like it, I can speak the language, and I love the food.  But as I walked into a dry cleaners in an upscale neighborhood to drop off a few items, I couldn't tell right away whether the two gentlemen were Korean or Chinese.  So I spoke in English...

It was obvious after a few words were exchanged that the man helping me was more interested in striking up a conversation than getting my items checked in.  I got the usual "Where are you from?" but slightly modified... "What country are you from?"  I could have easily been the smart-ass and answered, "I'm from the United States of America."  But I refrained, practiced some self-control, then answered that I am Korean.  And guess what, so is he!  How about that??  And this is the exact point at which I recognized the utter discomfort building up inside... And it dawned on me that this occurs often.

Immediately my mind starts to...

"Oh no! Is he going to start speaking Korean to me, and ask me what my parents do, what my job is, how old I am, if I live with my parents, and when he learns that I don't, is he going to ask if I live alone and where my parents live at which point he will realize that it's not 'they', but just 'she' and that the 'he' of 'they' isn't in the picture, which will then lead him to ask where 'he' lives and what 'he' does... "and, by the way, where did you go to school?!'"

Eek...

I highly doubt that anything like this happens on a regular basis in Korea.  But it sure happens a lot to me in Atlanta. The reason why I share this story is because I know that I don't have to be 4th generation to know how intrusive that feels.  I'm sure 2nd generation Korean Americans can relate easily.  But my issue is not with him being Korean... it's the underlying vibe I pick up on that is completely different from the American person's vibe that some local people possess.

The difference is, when a Korean person is randomly asking a series of personal questions, it feels like I'm being sized up, or that I'm being shoved into some kind of hierarchy; whereas, a conversation with an American woman I had the other day while waiting for our cars to be washed was wonderfully pleasant--breezing through topics like acupuncture, the growing Asian population in Atlanta, my art, some interesting shopping experiences, and I even shared a lot of the same personal information mentioned above.

There is a clear difference in attitude and communication styles when one is of a conformist mindset, rather than an advocate of individuality.  I'm sure a sociologist could explain how a culture's social tendencies develop, but I'm not an expert in sociology (please take what I say with a grain of salt... or a splash of soy sauce! Ha!).  Consequently, the frustration builds when I'm confronted by someone (anyone--Korean or not) who expects me to conform based on my ethnicity...

I don't want to conform...

I guess I'll just have to keep fighting for and celebrating Individuality.

My Little Sister - Part 2

When I first met Sharon, I thought... "How adorable!"  She was quiet and shy, and so busy trying to hide in her thoughts.  I knew immediately that the way she understood her surroundings was much different than the rest of the youth girls.  The environment we interacted in was structured, "happy", and extremely eager.  Sharon and I were both submersed into a small, tight-knit, church community--voluntarily for me, somewhat involuntarily for her--after a seemingly never-ending cycle of chaos, damage control, and a constant nagging that prompted, "why me?" in the more unfortunate circumstances.

Although I am not as cognizant of the time line of our sisterhood, I do remember making a commitment to never end my pursuit of her.  She resisted my affections for a couple years.  I'd say, "I love you Sharon!" and then her response would be a mere, "okay."  I would just smile and say it over and over again until she hung up.  We had our heated conversations about deep, life-changing beliefs, and we shared our laughs while listening to random pop songs in my car when I picked her up to hang out.  

One main thing we have in common is that we are two very expressive people.  If we didn't have that outlet, we would both be severely self-destructive.  I am an artist, and so is she... she writes beautiful poetry, plays the violin, dances, hugs, and smiles brighter than the sun!  When she's excited, it's so contagious!  Oh my, did I mention she makes a bunch of delicious goodies for me??  

I opened up to her more and more, as she became mature enough to relate to me less as an official "mentor" at a religious institution, but more as a real life, bonded-by-blood kinda sister.  Wow... I absolutely loved her honesty.  I tried my best to gently get rid of the idealized version of me, knowing she was comfortable seeing me as a saint.  I wanted her to develop tolerance for others, in a way that is loving and encouraging, because it's intolerance and impatience that hinders people from connecting with each other on a more deeper, spiritual level.  Our conversations allowed me to come to terms with the real me in so many ways as well.  

As I was pleasantly surprised by her recent post regarding our relationship, I've been trying to figure out how to sum up our relationship from my point of view.  I feel as if there's always more I can do for her... and that feeling all boils down to this:  I never ever want anyone to feel as alone as I've often felt growing up the way I did. 

And though she often wouldn't let me be there for her in ways I thought she'd want or need, she claims to have learned so much from me.  How is that even possible??  I will never know.  However, what I do know is that I love her dearly, and I am so damn proud of her.  :)

My Little Sister - Part 1

Sharon is my little sister.  When I introduce her as my little sister, I don't feel like it's really necessary to explain the significance of having a younger sister who isn't REALLY my younger sister by blood.  It's just the way it is between us.

I just had brunch with her today, and we had such a great time.  I just found out she even had a blog, and took a minute to check it out.  She wrote two posts about me already!  I'm going to repost them on Pineapple Soju, then I'll write my side of it. She is an English major at Oxford, and is a very talented creative writer.  This really made my day... :)

The History of the Sista!

I first met Jessie unni at Jillians in Discover Mills. It was a Sunday; the church I attended at that time was big on recreational time (what it called “fellowship”) after church service, and arcade games plus finger food were a hit with the crowd. I was at an air hockey table, busy in the middle of a match, and she was by my side, telling me to move the puck this way and that, and made hand/arm tactical motions. I didn’t know her that well, because she was a newcomer, but I just felt like telling her, “Wow, you know your geometry, don’t ya?” or something smart-alecky like that. I was a finicky sixth grader. She must have been…a freshman in college. Woah.

Other things I remember: her singing; her dog, Angel, rescued at the church parking lot; her cute red car; a heck of a bubbly personality.

It’s hard to believe that there existed a time when she and I were not as close as we are right now. Because I am, to this day, a person who cannot connect easily with people in the first place, I had a really hard time letting people into my personal emotional space. Therefore, even though I didn’t have a problem with her person, per se, I built a barrier with her when the church authorities delegated her as my “small group leader.” She was to be a mentor in whom I was to confide my problems. It was a major problem. I was at an extremely sensitive age, with a hoard of private issues at home, and to be told that I couldn’t talk to my usual mentor/confidante was devastating beyond imagination. I needed time to build trust and familiarity with a person. And as much as I must have hurt her by my civil indifference, I could not bring myself bridge that gap by force.

A few months later, I took a hiatus from church, but for some reason, at the end of middle school, I called Jessie unni out of the blue. Why we do things that do not make sense I do not know, but for me, it was one of the best decisions I ever made. Honestly, I would have been pissed at this brat of a girl, putting on this air like she was all that, demanding my time and attention. But Jessie unni drove 40 minutes to come see me. And afterwards, we consistently kept in touch. Outside the confines of the church hierarchy, with no pressure to bond, we began to…bond.

The rest is a blur of everything that was simply, for both of us, life. Hard decisions, harder coping phases, disappointments, pain, and a lot of tears make up the black ink of the palate. However, new friendships, strengthened sisterhood, good food, insight, and humility, too, shine through as sporadic bursts of color. Above all, the picture is abstract, raw, and still incomplete, but in places there are meaning. And that reminder of significance keeps us painting the big picture.


Life Lessons I Learned from Jessie 언니

Let me introduce first, our history: Please read it here before you read the rest of the blog post :D

Every writer has inspirations. Mine are astonishingly numerous and delightfully fickle. However, in strictly human relationships, Jessie unni* has been, is, and will continue to be a huge source of wisdom and artistic stimulation in my life and writing career. She has exemplified the timeless advice that young should learn from their elders. Practical or silly or serious, here are some of the lessons I have learned either from or through Jessie unni. The list is in no particular order, and as you may have guessed, far from finished. They have been lifesavers in my friendships, boy problems, fashion sense, and even baking. I hope they help you in your own way, as well.

1. Be mindful of the angle you take in playing air hockey. In fact, be mindful of the angle you take toward people. Even if you receive negativity, you don’t have to reciprocate likewise. You can be an adult and disregard immaturity.

2. When baking brownies, you don’t have to beat the batter thoroughly. It’s not cake batter. It tastes better with lumps.

3. It’s always worth buying few (okay, VERY few) of quality clothing than to buy more of cheap quality clothes.

4. You don’t have to be middle-aged or old to buy a house for yourself. Just do a lot of research and know what you’re getting into. Aw heck, apply the same principle to your finances, as well.

5. Yeah, it’s nice to have guy friends because men usually tend to be lax, drama-free, and total opposites of hypersensitive women. But if you can find girlfriends who are like that, then it’s gold.

6. Driving a stick costs less gas, and is more fun for people who really enjoy driving.

7. Old-school Mariah Carey is so much better than new Mariah.

8. Art will express for you what words sometimes cannot. Art has a system of its own…within the disorder, you find patterns and reoccurring themes.

9. Love comes and goes as with men who bring it and take it back with them.

10. Jesus equals no inhibitions, just ultimate freedom. Church should not be an institution of intimation, bondage, or control.

11. It takes a while, but you CAN get to a place of reconciliation with your own family, especially your mother.

12. For you college kids out there and beyond: You tend to come back to your passions in your area of study. It’s good to follow your passions. However, note that “good” doesn’t necessarily mean “easy.”

13. It is not in your place to judge what is within the realm of others’ private affairs. Adults are (in most cases) licensed to act according to their own free will, regardless of your morals or opinions.


*unni is a term in Korean for an older female. I especially use it as a term of endearment for her*

My vacation from blogging is now over...

I know I've neglected to blog  for a while.  Life has been interesting... to say the least.

Now that I am a college graduate with a degree in Drawing and Painting, I should be focusing on the development of my portfolio and grad school applications.  Or, I should be pursuing opportunities to show my work in various alternative spaces since I am now on my own as an artist outside the safe confines of the educational setting.  But, to be honest, I really haven't been doing any of that.  

Pursuing an undergraduate degree has been the most excruciatingly slow process ever.  Lots of moving, getting sick, fighting with mom, making up with mom, working full-time, working part-time, working in the mornings at 5am before class, working after class until 12am, working... (working?! yup, LOTS of working), worrying about grades, giving up on grades, worrying about money, learning about money, buying a house, worrying about my future, making friends, losing friends, making sacrifices, crushin' on boys, giving up on boys, changing majors, doubting my abilities, then realizing my actual abilities, contemplating what to do with my newfound (or newly realized) abilities, wondering why people are the way they are, wondering why I am the way I am, finger-pointing then owning up, breaking down then building back up... oh, and did I mention I was unaware of the existence of the countless extended family members out there on my Dad's side until I was 21??  Now that was a memorable moment waking up to that realization. The list goes on! 

The last 8 years of my life have been the most unpredictable, heart-wrenching, exciting, eventful, and educational years ever.  It's tough juggling all of the above with little to no heads up or warning.  

So yeah, I'm currently taking a breather... whew~

Past, Present, Future... Perseverence

           Beautiful writing is what fascinates me the most.  Powerful ideas simply expressed in language are impressive and beautiful, while gestural and confident marks may express meaning on various levels.  Writing and drawing have become equally important to me over the course of many years of journaling and artistic expression.

           Journal writing became a familiar and necessary practice for me growing up.  I wrote in journals to unload the weight of mental and emotional burdens and to celebrate in moments of gratitude and joy.  I learned to converse with myself, putting the intangible and fleeting into concrete and approachable words, which significantly validated the various facets of my own subjectivity.

           Journaling for me has taken on a new form.  My drawings have evolved into a culmination of expressive handwriting free from the conventional left-to-right, top-to-bottom orientation.  It is no longer restricted by the constructs of a defined language, and is instead non-sequential and layered. 

The content of these new drawings deals with tension and conflict surrounding my identity as a fourth generation Korean-American woman from Hawaii living in the American South.  Issues of independence, responsibility, racism, sexuality, spirituality, and morality were in a constant state of conflict due to contradicting cultural norms.  Individuality conflicts with cultural expectations of submission and sacrifice. 

The gestural brushstrokes boldly evoke Asian calligraphic references in the same way that one is immediately confronted by my ethnicity. The process of creating these drawings mimics the way my identity is broken down into visible categories based on first impressions, and to experience my drawings or me accurately one must engage in conversation.  Both the initial marks made with black ink and my ethnic identity are permanent—as soon as the mark is made, and as soon as I am born, all that is left to do is accept it and grow with persistence and intentionality toward a reconciled and complete self. 

The framework established by the gestural marks provides a base for subsequent additive marks that symbolize the act of reconciling the past—filled with uncontrollable circumstances, lost relationships, and buried memories—with the active present and the more hopeful future. 

           Pursuing a graduate degree in painting and drawing will allow me to further investigate hybrid cultural identities within a globalized society.  Although the content of my work stems from personal experience, the issues it addresses are relevant to immigrants all over the world as well as many biracial individuals.  I intend on refining a global visual language that confronts cultural boundaries to inspire accessible dialogue among unique yet displaced individuals, and to invite others to participate.  

This is about 3x4'.  It's the first of my third set of three (3-1), and most people's favorite.

 

Details of the first drawing.

This is the second of the series (3-2), with more opaque ink.

Detail of the second drawing.

This was used with only a corner of my brush, with less ink.

Third of the third set of three (3-3).

 

Details of the third drawing.

First of the fourth set of three (4-1).

 

Detail of first.

Second of the fourth set of three (4-2).

Evolution Begins...

As I explored the writing on my initial drawings, I wondered what the relationship was between structure and chaos, whether the spontaneous marks would react differently within a structured framework.  I experimented with origami diagrams and gestural, energetic marks integrated within the geometric forms.  I soon discovered that there was no successful integration, just another layer "placed" on top of the framework.  Disappointment lingered momentarily, just until I realized that if this process of creating a drawing is indeed mimicking the much practiced act of journaling, then the content should be closely related to what I experience daily. 

 

 

 

I could go into a deeper explanation of what's being conveyed here, but I really enjoy hearing others' responses.  These drawings have a life of their own, and they relate to different people in different ways.  I'll post my most recent artist statement with my most recent work...