MinJungKim.com

You ask me now, as followup to my last post, “Are you Happy?”

Must I say?

There are, I believe, some basic parameters that must first be submitted for considertion. Our personal definitions of these benchmarks is ever more complicated as we grow to live in more sophisticated and complicated times.

1: Meeting basic needs
(Does that mean wifi and a new cel phone every month? prestige? respect? drugs? getting fucked regularly? being able to walk around naked? having the right to marry? Reaching financial goals? Creating art everlasting? Conquering SSX Tricky? Having fresh coffee?)

2: Accepting circumstances
(I can’t change the way I feel about X. Y can’t deal with the fact that I can’t do _blank_. My father never apologized for _blah_blah_blah. I never got enough breast milk as a kid and now I’m lactose intolerant *and* have emotional abandonment issues)

3: Recognizing control and lack thereof
(I can leave my heart open to change. My hapiness and validation does not rest on *one* person. And I can be forgiven. I can be healther. I can accomplish more. I can’t make that person love me. I can’t make that person love me less. I can ask for forgiveness. I can choose that some things are not worth my time. I am allowed to be selfish. I am not obliged to martyr myself. I do not have to be altruistic. Politeness is sometimes for pussies. I can ask my boss for these concessions. I can negotiated for this. I do not have to accep tthings as they are. I am mobile. I am not static. There’s a predicate of this sentence. And school house rocks. I am capable of choice and action in this, any, all circumstance. I am an agent to my own change.)

4: A plan of action/goal/etc
(I will talk to someone. I will make this decision. I will commit to this. I will take classes, see this person, write this, be this place in my career. I will go to group counseling at the senior community center. I will learn polka on tuesdays. I will compete next august.)

5: Reasonably accurate self assessment
(Fuck that, I suck at polka. Cha cha is a better choice)

6: A willingness to allow oneself to be happy.
(Are you ready? Willing? Can you allow yourself this moment and just be?)

The English language fails me….even though I consider myself a reasonably loquacious writer and communicator.

Consider this:
We usually think of accuracy and precision as pretty much the same thing. But in science, these words are used in significantly different ways. A result is considered accurate if it is consistent with the true or accepted value for that result. The precision of a result, on the other hand, is an indication of how sharply it is defined.

Additionally, there are two words in Korean which are difficult to define in English (especially for yours trully who is terrible in Korean).

And these are…at best, my attempts to express what I understand these words to mean.

Jhung: (not to be confused with analytical psychology) A sense of connection. A spiritual allignment. Trust. Loyalty. Affection without condition or explanation.

Ma-umeh: Comfort. Where or with whom your heart finds ease. Understanding. A sense of being home. When everyone, everything, every situation, or the person you’re with feels completely right. Gut confidence.

Ancient Greek has the words philia, eros, agape, and storge, meaning love between friends, romantic/sexual love, unconditional (possibly sacrificial, unreciprocated) love, and affection/familial love respectively.

And my name, according to popular definition of the theology in Korea (not going off of the chinese symbols that make up my name …which according to my Dad means something like charming woman who has compassion for the people….yeah whatever little feather of the bull pucky moon…)

minjung theology describes the so-called
“losers” of society.

The minjung are a class of outcasts: slaves, butchers, actors and
shamans—those so-called “crazy” religious exorcists.

Have I prevaricated overly much?

Am I happy?
Yes. No. Maybe.

That answer is absolutley accurate. But no where near precise.

It is often said that people think themselves into depression. The thinking pattern of a person helps him accept or avoid a stress situation. If one shows disposition towards anxiety, worry, restlessness, anger and tension as stress responses, it can lead him to chronic emotional turbulences. We can worsen an ordinary sorrowful situation by imagining its possible intensity. We create problem situations by imagining what might go wrong, could go wrong, and how terrible it would be. Even if the depression is due to biochemical imbalances, the person doesn’t abstain from thinking negatively about it. Constant stressful situations make one develop a negative pattern of thinking, which gives in to depression at the slightest provocation in life.

I was talking to a friend a few weeks ago and I asked him if he was happy.
He said no.
I asked why not.
He stated that he hadn’t accomplished enough to warrent or deserve happiness.
At the time I responded “Dude, there’s a difference between being happy, and being satisfied. Don’t ever be satisfied, but don’t deny yourself the opportunity of joy, love, laughter, and happiness while on route to accomplishing your dreams.”

This advice, was not too shabby and sometimes I have to remind *myself* of these things.

I’m still not sleeping well. But I’m working on it.

(Warning: Goth mode poem ahead. Warning! Warning!)

Dearest Shame and Melancholy
Old friends who visit too long
Whose comfort I find in breast-beating
And whispers lacking song

Your company is tiresome
I’m too polite to ask you to leave
Your confessions ever mournful
When I have too much to bereave

The burden of your company
An obligation or an indulgent pang
As you gently drape a silken rope
Against my throat to hang

No one was ever innocent
Blame, a bitter dose to take alone
Was Guilt ever better?
With that sharp needle made of bone?

To pierce until I bleed
Or with supplication to nightmares
A better way to drown in mercury
Sinking heavy, mad, through dark air.

Since January, I have managed to, with the assistance of my friends — empty $350 worth of good scotch.

Just about time to order more of the “cheap” stuff.

Nahhh…

I’m never going to be famous. My name will never be writ large on the roster of Those Who Do Things. I don’t do any thing. Not one single thing. I used to bite my nails, but I don’t even do that any more.

- Dorothy Parker

The skies being overcast?
So right. So very very right.

Seems I’m not the only one with odd thinks and furrowed brow these days.
Everyone’s got nightmares. I look up at the night sky and wonder if there’s some sort of funkmood retrograde in state.

Funny, as the other side of the coin is a bit of spring fever. Or at least a wish for such indulgence.

One part of me wants to dance wildly and giggle, toe through dew drenched grass and eat cold cucumbers with gochuchang.
The other wants to curl up with tea, or scotch, and just sleep… until I’m confident that I’ll actually feel better.

I unfortunately don’t have the luxury for either.
It’s not good to be static, I know.

On perspective though:
1 year ago, I was stressed beyond belief, emotionally drained, and praying daily.

These days? Oh my Dad is doing brilliantly. That, at least is extraordinary comfort and progress. We had a great conversation the other night. He’s trying to get me to marry a peach farmer. It’s very cute.

I had a dream the other night that I was being set up. I saw the face of a man whom I’d never met before. Interesting…that usually doesn’t happen.

“Vegetarian Day”

You’d think it means the conscientious choice to avoid meat products. Cruelty, hormones, political touchy feely hippy crunchy vibes. Etc.

What it really means?
Being too busy or too lazy to get a real lunch and noshing on kettle chips all day.

Or rather, a pretty blonde. So say I for the streak in my hair.

In conversation with Chase

“Say, some cute mormons are out on your block. Backpacks. Skinny ties. Etc.”
“Yeah, but they can’t do fun things. They cant’ even drink Coke.”
“… really?”
“… Really.”
“Not even diet?”
“…”
“…?”
“… you’re really blonde some times.”
“What?! What’d I say?!”

If you want to be like me, be sure to do the following.

1: Have insomnia sparked by nightmares for about two weeks.
2: Insist on catching up on sleep over the weekend based on pure exhaustion, fatigue, scotch, and perhaps some sleep medication.
3: Have an entirely new variety of nightmare.
4: Make sure it’s a fantasy D&D style adventure. UnHobbits. Named Nobbits.
5: Be the subject of human sacrifice where your heart is ripped out of your body and thrown into a blazing gold… uh… wok.
6: And while that’s happening, be sure that a snappy broadway style tune is being sung by a chorus of hundreds. Something on the lines of “He gave you his love, you give him your heart.”
7: And that would be … literal.
8: Have the sacrifical attendees wearing sequin miniskirts that look like fish tails.

I fucking *died* in this dream. I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen.
I had to consciously will my dream to continue so that the plot would continue to proceed in spite of my death in hopes that it would get better at some point.
I woke up before this could turn into any sort of a happy ending.

Oy.

Here it is!!

Hurray!

I get a pix here!

Dear God,

Please let my head stop hurting for once this week?

I’ve not been feeling so well.

You’re a champ.

Thanks.

Love always,
Min Jung

Very very very good.

http://www.haroldandkumar.com/

I am *so* fucking close to having been Cindy Kim (Perfect Asian Girlfriend from the Downloads area) that it’s a little terrifying.

Except for that honda civic hello kitty thing.

I got power puff girl stickers on my cell phone.

… On second thought…I’m more like Cindy Kim’s older, crazier, drunken, slutty big sister. Or the cousin that no one mentions.

I don’t necessarily feel good. But I’m better. And that is good.

I can’t help it.

I feel like my heart has been grabbed, twisted, and pulled.
Kicked.

Mostly it’s in my head.
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