Self Archeology
12/02/01
Self Archeology
I sometimes wonder if I’m a total narcissist. After all, don’t I own a website and by some delusion of grandeur someone actually visits and I get that little thrill from checking my traffic stats. Vanity, thy name is Min Jung.
I remember reading the diary of Anne Frank when I was nine or so, finding it fascinating and curious that a young girl’s diary should become so widely read, so carefully written, and so poignant in it’s clear, simple honesty. And then I started my own foolish diary, with hopes that should I by some accident become famous, it might prove interesting as a dissertion on my life, thoughts, and silliness. Perhaps I’d be posthumously researched and someoen would find my first diaries in purple spiral notebooks, scraps of paper, and scribbles. For this I thought I might bother to improve my otherwise deplorable penmanship.
I won’t bore you with excerpts from the older entries but I find it fascinating digging through those old memories, carefully, or carelessly scrawled in over a dozen notebooks now. The most regular rants started to occur after I discovered my fascination with boys. Previous entries involve fighting with my brother, petty school details & stress, and how many little things there were that my mother did to either infuriate me, or break my heart.
I stopped writing for several years because my mother had a penchant for snooping and reading my diary, placing it back in my hiding spot, but with a carefully scripted note of “apology” for things she’d done that had upset me (which included invading my privacy and snooping and reading my diary).
Dece 9, 1992
Dear Diary,
Someday in the future I will piece together all my writing - diary, poems, journals, etc. and examen my life. What’s up? I think haave come to grips with my hopelss infatuation on
(Typical 18 year old, wasn’t I?)
Sept 1, 1993
New Month, new season, new era.
I am free. Unconcerned by trivialities. Wild. Potentially wise. Getting there. Morphosising into a woman.
(I think I must have finally grown out of my training bra or something)
November 18, 1993.
Dear Diary,
Today I broke a boy’s heart.
(Four months later, he broke mine)
August 13th 1994,
Why is it that the only guys who ever ask me out to dance are fat white dudes in glasses? Why are Koreans so masochistic — does every game have to involve some form of humiliation or punishment? Why am I suffering so much from this wasabi headache.
(Now it’s a question of filtering out the jawbhom’s from the real cuties ~asian, white, & misc, and obviously, I’m still masochistic…plus my tolerance for wasabi headaches has skyrocketted)
January 7th, 1995
God listens and immediately responds. Do I?My walk had been a way big meandering. I feel like such a hypocrit sometimes. I’m either a goo person with bad habits or a bad person with good habits.
(Still wondering about that one.)
February 22nd, 1995
Just got back from visiting
His response “What the heck was that?”
Me “Um, gravity.”
Him “Oh really?”
Me “Yeah… really… this however, is a kiss.
And this too, that’s also a kiss”
(Man. Those were innocent days weren’t they? When i would visit a boy and he would sleep on the *floor*.)
09/27/97
My serious nature that less than a handful of people see How infused it is with sadness, fear, and utter lonlines… vulnerability. There is a spot of darkness andthat is cloaked by lae and lights. What does it take to lose that spot? Maybe I should reliquish some of my frivolty, It keeps too many people at bay. And essentionally I am still alone. I get the very serious chill in knowing that if I gave up my silliness, I might find myself more alone than not.
How have I failed to recognize the insignificance of my relationships with certain individuals and tried to convince myself of their overvaluation. And then there is the loss of common ground. Thloss or dissolution, perhaps an unveiling of ever having much ommon ground in the first place. What would happen with the withdrawal of superficial constructions that manipulate the perception of intimacy.
(Another one to rethink a bit)
02/13/98
Perhaps temporary but I feel a bit better today. Health improving. Prone to wearing dark brown nailpoish these days. So thick that it covers all flaws with it’s shiny opacity. Too much of me still feels really broken these days.
(…)
So odd to go back and find these old pieces of me. Awful nice though. Am considering bringing up my old journal archives for this site too as I’m feeling less stalker freaked out of late. Plus, you can’t really erase personal history. It’s rather criminal. Especially when digging it up like this is so much fun.
Min Jung
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