MinJungKim.com

7/31/01
Um.. yeah, so I saw a movie and had icecream with a cute guy yesterday. A veritable SLAM. One who’s ears I nibbled on once or twice during college years but haven’t seen or heard from in nearly half a decade until this past weekend. Soo… um, no kissy face, booty call, or anything like that. Yet. Maybe. Who knows. *Grin*.

We had a nice hug at the end of our evening out and those old odd feelings came back in a mighty rush that felt barely containable all evening. Not love, no. I’ll be honest and say that we were definitely not in love in those long gone academic days.. I would say that I was definitely in lust with him back in the day. What’s the difference?

In Love: “Wow, he’s so smart, and witty, and charming, and gentlemanly…and oh my gosh, soo good with kids.. and like, he’s so… wow… his character is sooo like fascinating and I could talk to him for hours… and I want his dreams to come true and I hope that I’m in them and there’s no one else I’d rather spend hours with in a caf� discussing books, philosophy, introducing him to my Dad…”

In Lust: “Wow, I like how his finger tips feel against my waist when he’s hugging me goodnight and the smell of his chest and how much would I just love to nibble on his ears and drag my lips slowly across his shoulders and…ooh I’m getting carried away…”

So challenging, the honest acknowledgement of corporeal attraction versus the rationale of the ephemeral psyche. But honestly, nothing happened this time around. Just good talks, and a hug goodnight (with his fingers pressing just right on my waist)

07/31/01

Song Lyrics Du Jour
Le Click – Call me

Call me when you’re down
Call me when you need someone
Call me when it’s rough
And you think that there’s no one

If you need someone
Call me when you’re down
If you need someone
Call me when you’re down

This installation of 90s dance remix sponsored by Min Jung Kim. Dunno why, but that song really felt good to hear once, twice, three times, and once more for good measure today. Of course it brings me back to those careless days of when I was younger, slightly more hoochie, and far more irresponsible. The following tune was of course Madison Avenue’s Don’t Call me Baby. Remember those silly jiggy wiggly tunes? Bootay shaking, arms swaying, hair flowing, heart in tune with the overwhelming bass and hands raised to the laser lights. Feels good to be cheesily nostalgic sometimes.

GG & Boba TeaSaw GG today over bobba tea & a drive through foglands that are the sunset district of SF. She’s as fantastic and lovely as ever and we compared & shared some notes about darlings that we know both online & off. Of all the online journalers that I know, GG is the first one that I knew in person prior to reading them and their words online. I find it fascinating that I know such a different side of her through her writing that I probably never would have gotten to know otherwise.

Weeeee

07/30/01

Near Perfect Day
Tender dove,
How lovely today was in spite of the fact that you weren’t here.
My room smells of summer forests and clean laundry
and after dinner and a coffee, just right — hot, sweet, creamy
I dealt with my most arduous struggle of the day — building a well fed fire in the fireplace
I spent the evening reading
whilst listening to gentle glowing crackling
and the lovely distraction of lyrican dancing shadows across my lap.
I finished reading several books, jotted some notes regarding my upcoming trip, and soaked in the leisure. So precious and sweet.

Of course I miss you, luv, but what’s a girl to do.
This is the best time of my life and an altogether lovely Sunday, through and through.

I shall sleep ever so well tonight with a grin on my lips
the caressing scent of smoke in my hair
and sweet thoughts of you.

07/28/01

Yes, that’s me.

I don’t know if it’s weirder knowing that Kevin has put my mug up to represent the wonders of web-camming on yahoo for kajillions to see, or that it was sent via an email newsletter to even more kajillions, or that several dozens of people have recognized me from this pix and dropped me a note.
Sheesh. And I’m not even having a good hair day there.

Not like today, anyways, but go figure.

Is it the way you love me baybay?
Go buy Jill Scott – Now.
Last night, I went to go see Ms. Scott perform delicious melodies with lyrical genius.Of course I know I was like the only Asian American there but I didn�t’ care. It was delicious. Everyone knew all the words to each and every song and Ms Scott has the regal proud confidence of performing brilliantly without unnecessary flair or pomp. The woman was wearing sweats and fluffed out her crazy ‘fro and was every bit as gorgeous as any other top vocalist I have ever seen in concert. Completely amazing brilliantly.
If you can get tickets to see her live, do it. Do it. Do it.

I was blessed with odd circumstance. Pretty boy 1 & 2 & 3 were supposed to bring gal pal to the event but she had strep. Soooo … free ticket went to yours truly. Stellar.
In section E with row 2 tickets, the view was amazing and Ms. Scott’s expressive, generous face made each member of the audience feel like this was a sistah that you’d want to kick back & trash talk with and love for your whole life as someone so warm and true.

Here I go getting my ass in trouble again.
Tonight. Parties.
Yes, plural.
Parties.

I’ll be wearing my rockstar jeans (see the sparkly dragon? it goes all the way up & down the left pant leg) And got my hair blown & styled in “revenge” do. At one party, I know of at least two former men from my past which will be in attendance. Now this is not to say that I’m *angry* or *bitter* or *want them back*.Aw, hell no.

I just want to look *damn good* and enjoy it.
I am being a silly ms sassy pants.

Min Jung

07/26/01

The obsessive compulsive in me is silently self-flagellating because I neglected to re-mention it yesterday. Especially when I consider that I wrote about 6 long detailed lists.

Thought of the day.
When your foot or your butt falls asleep, the rest of your body should soon follow. Otherwise you will fall and twist your ankle. Hard.
Ouch dammit. Allow myself to throw myself from my desk to my bed and crawl under the covers using only my upper body strength.

Wee.

Some thoughts on APA Open Mike Poetry Slam Reading Thingamaroos
Eye,
I
Aiiiiiieeee.
I do not write
spoken
word
poetry.

I just
don’t
want
to read
into
a
mic
full
of
your
spit.

07/25/01

Ear Candling part II

For those interested in learning more about ear candles or purchasing them, you can do some research to price compare and get them online. Otherwise, check out your local holistic health/granola shop or vitamin world.

Lists
There are six lists that preoccupy me these days:

#1 Personal To Do List
#2 PR Client To Do List
#3 Writing To Do List
#4 Reading List
#5 Letters to Write List
#6 People to Call List

Is it fucked up & neurotic that I have a list of lists? *Sigh* It’s true. I *am* the busiest unemployed person you’ll ever run into.

Let’s talk neurosis.
Manic – Occasionally going in to mad cleaning frenzies, productivity frenzies,etc.
Co-Dependent – In America it’s considered a disorder when you can’t be happy for yourself but live to make other people happy. In Korea this is called being a good yamjahneh Korean women. And yes I find this fucked up. This is why I’m not yamjahneh. Though sometimes I’m still more Korean than I like to admit.
Paranoid – Yes, some people make me uncomfortable & slightly paranoid from this website. I try to ignore that regardless.
Narcissism – Don’t hate me cuz I’m beautiful. Hate me cuz I’m an annoying opinionated bitch sometimes. But I’m cute & oddly charming in spite of that, aren�t’ I? *Blink blink*
Depressive – Um, yeah. If I let myself, I could slip into this again. I’ve been down before. Really really in the pits of despair, woah, drowning, an emotional bandwidth black hole spiraling no fun weepy down dooby doo down down, comma comma down dooby doo down down bad way.
So down that I’m not ashamed to admit that Proz was necessary or I might have tipped over the edge to alcoholism.
Schizo – Yeah. I go to extremes. I know.

What’s my drug these days?
God. And the belief that if I keep things in perspective and maintain my faith and shed my burdens on someone who’s hands can easily handle what I find overwhelming, then I’ll be ok. I’ll be more than ok. I’ll be great. That and the slightly selfish notion of not letting anyone or any situation steal my sunshine because there is way more out there that is good in the world to focus on than the temporary day to day crap.

More webby crazy pix here. Mostly of random people that I don’t know, but who cares.

07/19/01

Webby Shmebby
The Webby Awards are over.
First off, before I begin my commentary & allow you to peruse the cheesy pix, allow me to say that the following are truly sexay biyatches.

Ernie is a sexay biyatch.
Belinda is a sexay biyatch.
Eve is a sexay biyatch.
Heather is a sexay biyatch
Evan is a sexay biyatch
Lance is a sexay biyatch.

and of course, it goes without saying that yours truly is a sexay, saucy, scintillating clavicle of a biyatch.

Of interesting note tonight, while introducing myself to a random gent, the following snipped of conversation happened.

Moi: ” Hi, I’m Min Jung”
Gent: “Hi, You’re Cute.”
Moi: (internal monologue… you too… for a white boy… wooo!)
*Grin*

Of course, as per the norm with me, I’m still about as smooth as a rhino chapped butt in January but let’s not go there. And yea, cowboy is still a sexay biyatch but I’ll try to ignore that.

So what was the webby’s about?

Imagine the Emmy’s on crack.
With dialup.
And ravers.
At an opera house.
With glitter.
And lots of E.
And corporate sponsorship.
And free fresh raw oysters.
And krispy kreme donuts.
And vibrating massagers.
And a guy will trade stock options for food.
And feathers.
And fur.
And more glitter.
And a man with a tree growing out of his head.
And gummy bears.
And little red Chinese new years envelopes with fake pink slips inside.
And bizarre performance artists/dance..
And gay pride bondage chaps.
And Webvan teeshirts.
And Alan Cummings.
And Open Bar.

Um, yeah.
And lets not forget Mayor Willy Brown’s comment about the kink factor of the web and Sam Donaldson toupee comments. What a hoot. If you were there, you know where I’m coming from. If you weren’t, boy did you miss out on some silliness.

Yours truly was interviewed by Oxygen Media to boot. Who knows where random fame hoing gets me, ya know.

Additionally, of interesting note, a Korean (Korean American?) won the webby award for the arts. Check it out. Interesting fusion of story telling, flash timing, & music to create a mesmerizing experience. It’s interesting, though a bit demanding on your attention span.

I am pooped.
Laters peeps.

Min Jung

07/18/01

Eeep.
Opp.
Ork.
Ah ahhh.

- Busy day at the salon.
- An awful drive in traffic
- Taking some bio pix for my next article in KoreAm
- Some Isabel Allende reading
- A nap (wiped *out*)
- A luke warm soda
- Eating really cheap dim sum after midnight.

07/15/01

In Recovery
The party was a roaring success. Potential love connections in the works. (Not for me, but for other house guests… ya all know I never really have any game and I’m about as smooth as chapped rhino butt in January).

Approximately 140 guests in all.
2.5 Tubs (Huge turkey stock pots) of Lemon Soju
Innumerable empty beer bottles & cans
14 empty wine bottles
2 Pots of Kimchi Jjigeh consumed
1 Huge ass watermelon soaked with Coconut rum
Plus pix of Ernie grimacing after taking a few shots

I love how Ernie has a penchant for rubbing his hot sweaty face all over my cool arms & hands when he’s drunk. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s all sweaty & goofy & stuff, I might be mildly turned on but then again… it’s still Ernie.

I had a wopping hangover this morning but I’m feeling *much* better now.

For once, I’ll obey my brother’s wishes gladly.
Old Man (over 10 years older than me) who I had all of a 20 second conversation with at the party regarding crushing recyclables called me and asked me out after the party. Kid you not, When he called to ask me out I had to wrack my brain trying to remember who the bejebus he was. What the frick. He caught me off guard so I accidentally said yes but with much mental reservation. When we had a first real conversation this evening, it was revealed that he graduated college in 1985. Um. Doing the math. Oh ewww! He’s like inching on 40?! Icks. Oh wait. I’m almost 30 ain’t I? No damn it. I’m only 27! Can we say *eep*. A few years back when I was seeing an older man (11 years older than me, divorced, and with an 11 year old son) Mike, my bro, pleaded with me promise to not date anyone older than him. Finally something I can comply to.

Min Jung Mojo Nixed by presence of XFactor at the party.
Stupid stupid stupid. I was joking with housemate Jon before about my goal for the party was to smooch some nice boy at the party. Then XFactor shows up and effectively nullifies my mojo like fricking kryptonite. Plus I found myself in this odd place of feeling slightly uncomfortable and excessively self conscious at my own party. I felt if I hit on anyone while he was there, it’d feel contrived, if I talked to Xfactor himself too much it’d be either forced & unnatural, awkward, or I’d be overly self analytical in the meta-evaluation of the moment to make sense of what he was saying, I’d be either fighting with myself to be either really non-goopy or from saying something really really really mean hearted to him. Regardless, I wound up smoking a lot of cigarettes. Thunk, that’s my ass falling off the wagon. After an uncountable number of glasses of lemon soju in my huge latte mug, I had to do something to sober up and maintain control.

Of course as he waved goodbye to me from the other side of the glass door I couldn’t help thinking out loud “My goodness, just look at him…I am sooo much higher on the attractiveness meter than he is. Look at that big flat ass. And that receding hairline. Bejebus Can you believe that at one point I was practically begging him to *love me*?

Ze Photographer (responsible for some black & white pix of yours truly) at my side chuckled and said “No shit, really? He doesn’t seem like your type at all.”
“Um, yeah… but something about him used to totally curl my toes.”
Ze Photographer: “So is he dating one of those gals he came with?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know…”

Previously in the evening while in conversation with the Xfactor, he had complimented me on the mix of people there.

There was a corner of lawyers, in the kitchen were neurosurgeons and bankers, by the fire making smores were the game developers and some elementary school teachers & friends not to mention other lovelies from my church world, work world, college world, intercollegiate organization world, and literati. (including Mah Personal Biyatch Richard Kim who appears in an upcoming MC Hammer Video which we previewed at the party to royal applause. I think the song is titled “Why you gotta have mine.”). I let slip that some friends at the party were met online.

XFactor gasped and exclaimed “Oh my gosh! Like people from Match.com? Chatting online?”

My answer
“Um, no. (Looking into his eyes directly and slightly disdainfully)
“*I* don’t do that. There are people from II stix and the like”

Luckily I discovered that he doesn’t know about this website. Yet. Let’s hope it stays that way. Do I want him to know about this journal. Obviously not. Not to mention that it was a little snotty jibe that I stuck in there since I know that the gal he dated after me was in fact someone he’d met from Match.com

CowBoy Chronicles – continued
Ernie. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. You embarrass me to no end. Why must you antagonize me so.
Cowboy is *incredibly* cute, charming, funny, and friendly. And though I don’t typically find myself attracted to Caucasian guys, he does trigger a little jello jiggle in the insides of my belly when I see a twinkle from his eyes Of course our lifestyles also appear to be completely in conflict. Like, hello, beyond the white/Asian thing which if there were plenty of other goodness in common could be plenty easily overcome like many other lovely couples that I know, but there appears to be much crazy little in common. Like how I’m an anal nut about entertaining and he throws a barbeque at 5 but has no food or guests until 6:30. Or how he’s totally comfortably talking about the types of drugs he’s taken in the past and I’m pretty much a drug-free virgin aside from the tobacco, the onetime experience with a popular vowel, and alcohol. (Oh yeah, that crazy cilantro too). Or the fact that I occupy my free time thinking about my faith whereas he and his friends obsess about setting up their camp for Burning Man.
Frankly, burning man scares me. I don’t think it’s a good place for a Christian to go to. *Shrug*

So I’ll go ahead & file cowboy into the “never pursuable crush” file.

Mr. Reboundo & Boh Ree Cha Girl
Birthday boy, cutie, sweet, Korean, & Catholic to boot, slightly tipsy upon saying his goodbyes whispers in a hug under his breath something to the effect of “You aren�t felling laik duing sumthin to make me stayee?”

Moi aka Boh Ree Cha Girl: “Huh?”
Reboundo: “Uh…nothing”
Moi: “Nah, what’d you say”
Reboundo: “Oh…just joking around saying you wouldn’t want to do anything to make me accidentally stay over, would you?”
Moi: (As I languorously give him a sexy hug while balancing a wine glass with one hand) “Nah. I think not. I’m not partial to being the rebound girl. I’ve been there, done that, and sometimes if I let myself, I get caught up in it but I never wound up being “the one.” I’m always the rebound chick and I don’t think I’m about that anymore. It’s come to the point where I’d just really not go there. BTW, you’re not taking this breakup thing too smoothly now are ya?”
Reboundo & I Chuckle. Kisses on the cheek & a friendly farewell. I think we both know that our friendship and respect for one another and where we are in our lives is more significant than a fleeting booty call.

Webcam Woes
My trial period with Webcam32 is over. I now try to reinstall webcam32 and it won’t let me saying that the trial period is over and when trying to enter a hacked code, it gives me a VBox error. I’ve tried ChillCam but it doesn’t seem to work for me. Anyone have any other ideas on how to get this fixed?
Email me

In Passing
I’ve met the lovely woman behind the fantastic In Passing weblog.
She’s a hottie. Bertie, if you’re up for seducing another SurvivorBlog ex-girlfriend, I recommend you put her up on your target list.
And darling Bertie, regarding my ear-ringing skills, well, I’d guess that even if I were to go bisensual, I’d still be a little out of practice with my 2-year-no-booty status. You’d have to let me try a few times before clinching it, I think.

Min Jung

Can’t Touch This
Richard is in the beginning of the music video as a badass Asian mafioso guy in the suit.

“You owe Bolo money. You do know who Bolo is, don’t you?”

Have you seen Korean men rap before? It’s apparently a collaborative project between Hammer and a few other up & coming Korean rappers. I forget their names but I’ll grab it for you next time.

Comments from the
Royal & Wise Godson Oliver

“Jee Godmom Min Jung, You sure can pick ‘em.”

07/14/01
So tonight is the big swanky shin dig ghetto fobulicious party. My hair looks good, I’ve buried the bodies. The room is in a reasonable state of cleanliness and the sober up food goodness of Kimchi jjigheh is ready. Do I rock the body so hard that your ears ring or what?

The guests arrive shortly and I gotta move the ‘pooter upstairs to run the party mix ala mp3.
Can you dig?

07/13/01

To be quite honest, I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing with my life I don’t know what I want to do, I’m frightened of all the directions laid before me and I feel like I’ve been dropped at midnight to the center of a desert with neither compass nor stars to guide me. And I only have one canteen of water and a pack of tic tacs in my pocket.

I must remember to have faith.
And maybe a bubble bath

07/12/01
Happy Birthday to MinJungKim.org

Yup, it’s the one year anniversary of this site being updated on anywhere nears a regular basis. Scary huh? Thanks to the peeps who encouraged me to write here and to really make this space my own. This site is so big now that the notion of homestead going under frightens me to bits and I need to get off my tuckus and backup the whole shebangbang.

I haven’t been particularly loquacious of late. I’ve just been focusing my energy on settling into my groove on several fronts. Reading lots of books, comic books too, jotting notes down regularly, managing to write bits & pieces for my PR client, volunteering here & there and sipping lots of Coffee. Lots.

Tonight I had a very productive 3 hour study session with the PSO man tonight. GMAT. It’s weird how some of the crevices of my brain still hold algebra & geometry & grammar goodness among the crumbs. I feel like I’m in 10th grade again except I don�t’ have to wear a kilt and penny loafers. Thank goodness.

My affection for lists has been rampant of late and on Monday my list included over 20 items. Some projects were more of the serious and tedious nature like balancing my checkbook, running to the bank, reading my client’s white papers, etc. Other items were completely frivolous like painting my toenails & jumping rope. Regardless, it still felt just as good to cross off a frivolous item from the list as it was to scratch off a tedious item. I thought to myself, what a lovely way to start of the week and I slept well that night.

It’s been 4 days since my last cigarette and I’ve decided that neither the purchase of a pack of lovely clove cigarettes nor the potential of emphysema are luxuries that I’d like to indulge in these days. Especially considering I still don’t have health insurance and Cal-Cobra is obscenely expensive. Oh yeah I signed up for Blue Cross but woopsie, never mailed in a check because I was running low for paying for silly things like the car, car insurance, rent, electricity, DSL & etc.

This is how I manage to survive considering that it *is* month 4 that I’m going on for underemployment. Within the last few weeks I’ve actually been sending out my resume to places. You can hear crickets chirp and raccoons howl over the noticeably silent job phone.

I know that forever after I’ll think back on this summer with envy as the most selfish and relaxed time of my life. I’m going to enjoy the moment a bit more before starting to get paranoid and more antsy. I think I’m handling this time pretty well, considering it all. I’m busy, managing to make rent, haven’t had to use my credit cards for life essentials, and really relishing this opportunity for what it is. I’m scrapping. I’m challenging myself, I’m aware of how fragile I am but trying to maintain the vigor of life within my sights.

Still, many days it feels like an uphill battle.

I spoke with Obba the other day. He was curt, exhausted obviously. To be quite honest, I wound up feeling more wounded from our minimalistic conversation than any other potential blow to my ego from the last few months. Instead of any encouragement or pride for my writing, (I had emailed him to ask for his address so I could send a copy of the anthology as thanks to him) I felt dismissed with his exhausted voice promising to send me some financial support. It really wasn’t what I wanted to hear and though I’m not really in a position to say no to such an offer, it felt like a slap in the face. I wish I didn’t always feel as if I were such a obligatory burden for him. I wish that I had some indication that he didn’t feel like this was just another situation where he needs to bail me out. It hurts. And it’s only the ones you love dearly who can make you tear up in frustration like this. In spite of yourself. And yeah, this shit really makes me want to cry. I’m fucking trying to be positive, motivated, and everything, but it’s really not easy and I’m doing the best I can. I really am. I sucked up my pride to take a silly job to make rent. I hustled to try & get a PR client too. I’m not embarrassed to admit I collect Unemployment. I didn’t want to ask for money. I really didn’t and it hurts my throat when I swallow just thinking about it. I already feel brittle enough and I need to hear that he believes in me more than he feels like he has to bail out his idiotic flaky irresponsible sister out again. Of course he doesn�t say these things aloud but that’s what I feel when he doesn’t say much of anything else to me. It hurts. It just really really hurts.

07/04/01

Happy 4th of July.
Lord, I promise I’m not going to touch a piece of flame scorched meat again for at least a month.

Bleah. Woah with the overindulgence.
To commemorate Americana at it’s best, I present you with the following quote a la Ms. Lady Liberty.

“Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

In this spirit, I offer the following pix of me, Ernie, & Ritchie welcoming Bertie to America. Truth of the matter being we just wanted to be fobulous and try to embarrass her when we picked her cute ass up from the airport in Texas for SXSW a few months back.

After all this SurvivorCam business, I’m sure you will love having your own life back again, yo.

07/02/01

Ok,
Q. What’ s more embarrassing than blushing in front of a really cute guy in a cowboy hat?
A. Having Ernie go up to him and say “Hey, are you into cute Asian girls?”

True. Yes I blushed. Lots. So did Mr. Cutie Cowboy as he pulled down his hat a bit.

Cute guy’s reply: “Uh gee… I don’t know what to say to that…” My attempt at aplomb…”Um… yeah, you are really cute” as I turn & walk away holding my steaming hot red face in my hands thinking to myself ***DUMBASS DUMBASS DUMBASS DUMBASS***

The reality of the situation being that Ernie, Myself, Roman & Bell went to try out as volunteers for the Webby awards. Ernie got rampaged by a fan…it was not pretty. But hey, when you’re an internet blog star & going to be on the Weakest link, what the heck can you do? To be honest, all four of us were checking cute cowboy out. Still no verification on if he’s straight, gay, taken, married, bi, or into Kimchi.

My attempt at being a fusspitality star?
Putting on a fake European accent and referring to everyone as “Dahhhling”. *Shrug* Maybe it’ll work. I’ve been told I’m nearly as fabulous as the gay men I know so hey, that’s gotta go pretty far for me, right honey?

Wah? Not my birthday…
Weee! I’ve gotten some more goodies this week.
Thank you to the anonymous II stix reader who sent me the ergonomic keyboard.
Thanks to a lovely British gent who’s kindness overwhelms me
Thanks also to one very beyootiful lady who is charming and delightful beyond words and who’s friendship I’m grateful for
Thanks also to Nicci Darling who sent a belated birthday gift to me as well this week.
I dig this loving. I really do. Thanksy!

Lunch Bags.
I’ve never really been partial to PB&J. Not jelly, nor marmalade nor jam. Nor did I ever get to the point of being particular regarding smooth or chunky peanut butter. Rarely, if ever, were these things in our refrigerator.

My parents never really made me these types of school type lunch sandwiches when I was growing up. Instead, mother would pack us bologna or turkey sandwiches. We rarely had sweets in the house, opting for fruit with much more frequency. To this day I have difficulty, discomfort with eating whole fruits, but once it’s diced or sliced into sections like my mother would serve her bible study group, I’m a munchie monster. Like the other kids, my brother and I had juice boxes and capri sun packets with the too weak straws that rarely punctured the silver skin on the first try.

I recall the year that my dad was laid off from Chrysler. I was eight and scrawny. Shy was an understatement. Mousy was slightly more accurate but still incomplete a description for who I was at that time. I was invisible. I was, after all, one of only three Asians at my elementary school. My ears would frequently burn when the chant “Chinese, Japanese, Look At These, Dirty Knees” would be slapped and clapped on the thighs of the other little girls there. They’re only reference for Korean people was from M*A*S*H. Otherwise, they’d sometimes refer to me as a “Crayon”, How appropriate. To them, I was colored after all. Not nearly as “awful” as being Hispanic, or Black or even Polish in this WASP neighborhood, but still I was an outsider. Midwest Suburbia circa 1982. The same year that Vincent Chin was murdered being mistaken for Japanese, and therefore personally responsible for the auto industry decline that included layoffs of my own father.

Mom was working furiously. Dad was set in charge of our lunches and watching as Mike & I walked hand in hand through the park to school. He’d made me a lunch of gghim bab.( Korean style maki rolls) With spam.
After several days of coming home ravenously hungry, he looked at me curiously, questioningly, but without expressing any accusations or scolds.

We were told not to be wasteful.
We were not poor, but were ingrained to be mindful. We never went out to eat at a sit down restaurant and a luxury for the family included stopping by McDonalds every other week after an exhaustive trip to the library.

I would never admit to my father, slightly crumpled from his embarrassment of not working, that I couldn’t eat the gghim bab at school because of the other children.

The following Monday morning, I ran out the door, conveniently forgetting my lunch bag.

Around 11AM my name was read over the speakers to come to the Principals office. It was more than a little surprising to me to hear my name, my English name – Julia, being called out so loudly. It echoed through the room and I was startled to see the other kids in my class turn around and look at me, really look at me, and squint as they squealed out “ooo oooo oooo” in that sing song that means you’re in trouble.

As my shoes timidly squeaked down the halls towards the principal’s office, the rest of my class had been dismissed for lunch. When I joined them, nothing in the world could cast a shadow on the grin from my face.
Clasped tightly in my hand was my lunch. Straight from McDonalds and with the fries still hot enough to cause my fingers to dance when plucking them out of the bag. Every day for the next few months my father brought a hot lunch for me to school with the emblazoned golden M, encouraging the envy of other girls and the infallible assertion of my American-ness. We’re talking McDonalds after all.
I was a princess with the extravagance of hot French fries every day.

Today, I am hankering for French fries and my Dad so much that it almost hurts.

In other news

This site will be celebrating it’s 1 year anniversary on 07/11/01
(The date when this site actually started getting updated regularly)

As I put together highlights of the last year, please email me with what journal entries you thought were memorable.