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.