MinJungKim.com

(In the tradition of past breakup posts – See 2008 2007 2006 2005, 2004, 2003)

Dear 2009,

I was thinking today about my friend Audrey. Someone whom I haven’t seen in years.  A great gal. Beautiful voice, fun spirit.

She moved to NYC a few years back and when we met up for dinner she described the city in this way.

“It’s kind of like the boyfriend that is lame and forgets your birthday and occasionally pukes on your doorstep and maybe hits you in a fit. But then there’s that one day when he brings you flowers out of the blue and it feels like everything is just magic again.”

I wouldn’t describe you, dear 2009, quite like that.  But I would say that we had a lot more times of stress and distress together than we had moments of magic and wonder.

Let’s talk first about transitions.

There’s been so much transition for me this past year.  It has been unsettling and you know me, I like stability, order, some level of certainty.  There’s been so little of that for me this year.  Shuttling back and forth from Seattle to San Francisco for doctors appointments and the move back.  Doing that while pregnant and increasingly uncomfortable during the first part of this year was unraveling.  Doing it while feeling emotionally isolated while physically unweidly – that much harder.

The identity transition was more difficult than I care to admit.  And the struggle with conceding that work options for me were nil as a pregnant woman in transition from one city to another was abysmal.  And then on to motherhood & housewife?  Weird. And something I still don’t feel comfortable with.  I was able to do some great work to support some friends projects but were awesome still, in a consultant roll, but it still felt oddly awkward and uncomfortable for me.  I love Amelia with all my heart and I embrace my relationship with her as her mother. But being a professional Mother seems … well, just not quite me.

Like I wasn’t in my own skin or pretending to be someone else.  I felt that way a lot this year.

But we survived the transitions and made it back to the bay area, settled into a small home and slowly made it home-ish though after several months here it still doesn’t quite feel like home.

There was the car aggro. Never so much in a single year have I hated my car so much.   Broken taillight. Cracked windshield. Bad wipers. Saturn going out of business and the nearest service center being a 2.5 hour drive away. Being pulled over for expired car registration due to mail forwarding snafu’s from all the moving around and having to wait in line for 2 hours on my feet while holding the baby at the court house was an experience that I never ever want to experience again. Ever.

There was the physical exhaustion.  Pregnant to the birth to the sleep exhaustion to the general feeling that I’m not as physically resilient as I’ve been when I was younger. Oh 2009, you made me feel my age.

And relationship stress.  I hate the fact that I’ve had relationships with important people in my life become strained and cracked. And there’s this sense that I have no tools or abilities to fix them. I hope that changes. I need that to change. It breaks my heart and brings me to tears every time I think about it. And I know admitting that outloud makes it sound melodramatic or postpartum hormonal but it’s true. There are some relationships, that the absense of, has made my heart hurt.

And while it’s great to be back in the bay area and have good friends nearer than far – the dynamic is notably different. Those friends that are unencumbered by children are free and out at bars and concerts and parties and mischief.  I’m able to make an apearance on a rare occasion but a lot of the dynamics are different.

But there has been magic.

Amelia is pure magic.  At the cusp of 2010 she is 7 and a half months old. Sitting up by herself, smiling at the drop of a dime. Giggling at Peek-A-Boo. Standing while supporting herself at her play table. Starting on solid foods and sleeping a solid 9 hours a night now.  She is pretty and personable and giggly and good.  She. Is. Pure. Magic.  And I love her with all my heart in a way that I cannot begin to describe or explain to someone else who is not a parent.  This, my most precious cargo that I have angsted and worried over during 9 monthts of gestatiion to birth and to change after daily and hourly change after change (and I’m not just talking stinky diapers).  She is magical.

So, 2009. I thank you for her.  Thank you so much for her.

She was the grain of sand of hope that the entire world of Fantasia can be made from.

(Yes – Nerd 80s movie reference. Do you get it?).

So 2009. Our time is done.  Looking forward to a more magical 2010.

Yours,

Min Jung

Somehow, as a veteran blogger, you’d think that I’d have seamlessly transitioned from writing regularly about myself to endlessly documenting the nuances and changes of my first born child in week after week detailed installments.

When in actuality I’ve managed to  pull that off in photos but very little in prose.

I guess I still feel a little weird transitioning from talking about myself as my single mischievous carefree self to this supposedly mature and innately wise motherly creature.

And I feel like a fake trying to write as if I’m a confident and wise mother creature.  And being fake about anything is an impossible feat for me.

I am, if nothing else, pretty direct and frequently embarassingly honest.

I haven’t written very much also because it feels like childcare doesn’t really permit an extended period of time that’s clearly focused.  It is endlessly mildly disruptive.  Not so disruptive as to be insane: but just enough so you wonder where your day’s gone and how come you’ve forgotten to eat and only managed to fold half of your laundry over the course of a full day.

So instead of writing anything about me and how I feel about sort of being a Mommy Blogger, I’ll tell you all about her.

My baby girl Amelia is nearly 6 months old now.

Her hair has grown long enough so that it lays down flat on her head.

She’s starting to teethe, crawl, and express her curiosity by reaching for and examining nearly anything within reach.  She’s still mellow and generally cheerful in disposition and much like her earlier days, her favorite place to nap is on my belly.

In fact as I’m typing this, her head is in the crook of my right arm elbow and her hand is possessively positioned over my right boob.

Her nose is perfect and her eyes, closed in fitful sleep now, still vary from brown and green/hazel.

I can make her laugh with eskimo kisses, tickling and kissing her feet, snorting under her chin and at her neck, or sometimes just looking at her and laughing with her too.

She still likes the korean farting show and no longer hates Tummy Time as much as she used to.  She still hates pacifiers and prefers her fingers in her mouth when my nipple is unavailable.

She wakes up around 8:00 am, and starts singing and talking to herself around 9:00.  She takes a disco nap at Noon and 3.   Her favorite stuffed animal in her crib is Eeyore.  She’s like her mother and only poops about once every 4 days.

She’ll occasionally make yowling kitty cat noises.  She actually turns towards you and recognizes when you refer to her as Madame Flatulencia.

Amelia can be amazingly well behaved while at church and finds the stained glass at St. Dominic’s to be fascinating.

She enjoys her baths and as far as I can tell, every color I put on her seems to make her complexion look brilliant. (I’m jealous — I’ve never been able to carry off green or yellow).

She still hiccups alot.

As a mother, I’ve only set two goals by which I measure my success with Amelia to date: is she happy and is she fat.   The answer is yes to both. So I win.

(In the tradition of past breakup posts – See 2006 2005, 2004, 2003)

Dear 2007,

Well. We both knew this was coming. It’s our thing.

This was your year. The year of the pig. The year of wealth and prosperity and good things. There’s been a lot of that together that we’ve shared. Particularly in memories and in laughter.

To do things together to the fullest and to know at the end of it all that we have lots of ridiculously rich memories to share with each other and to say goodbye to each other without regrets and without hesitation.

We’re both old and mature enough now to know that about both ourselves and each other.

And really, my what a year we’ve had.

We’ve traveled to Texas, Michigan, Seattle, Berlin, Heidelberg, and Paris.

We’ve said hello and farewell to good friends and family. It’s been a year where I’ve felt fury and frustration, whimsy and delight. Snarky giggles and sometimes whimpery nights of needing simple comforts.

We’ve maintained love and seen it grow and bloom into something gorgeous that has outshone any doubt that’s managed to burrow itself into a corner of self doubt or worry in my psyche.

Dear 2007, you’ve even been there for me for some of the happiest days of my life. I mean, getting engaged, getting married(Flashmob version in the livingroom). Getting married again. (In the church and all that good stuff.)

And you’ve given me the opportunity for tremendous hope and joy when Jason and I found out that we were pregnant. And then to lose that pregnancy so soon after we’d grown to glow with the idea of having a physical manifestation of our joy and love for each other come into our lives. It’s been rough, losing that hope, though we both know that it’s only temporary and that hope, well, like our spirits, it too will rise. And that in grief, there is still the opportunity to see and to know true love and to understand its greatest significance in providing strength and comfort during those moments of weakness and tenderness.

To learn that so early in a marriage is, at the very least, an important blessing to recognize and stay focused on.

Dearest 2007, I want to thank you for being such an important year in my life. It’s been a year full of challenges and growth, beauty and some grief, tenderness and laughter, song and heart written personal scripture. You’ve been a year that I’ve learned to love in jagged and sharp moments as well as those glowy and full of firecrackers under my skin.

So thank you, 2007. You’ve been as good to me as you could. And I hope I’ve done right by you as well.

Wish me well with 2008,

Min Jung

When the sun comes up in just a few minutes,

every second I become more warm and receptive to

the simple joys

that come from being completely loved

and loving completely.

… responding to fear.

This has been an abiguous and awkward topic for me to approach for quite some time.  I’m feeling a hankering for getting out of my shell and writing again.

Personally.

And not for any specific audience – in fact, actively trying to ignore the potential audience of the future anonymous masses out there. (Future potential bosses & co-workers, ex-coworkers, ex-boyfriends, ex-boyfriends and their psycho new significant others, etc.)

I’m digging my heels in and trying to go back to that wide eyed and non-selfconscious wonder that I first had when I started blogging years ago.  Carefree with my small expanse and canvas for words.

It’s been nearly 10 years since I first started writing online for a general public. 14 years if I choose to include my rants on miso soup, bad poetry, and sassy (pre-binary attachment) challenges that I used to issue on usenet. And I’ve tried very hard to remember who that person was.

Raw. Honest. Impractical. Emotional. Impulsive. Loquacious. Engaged. Fanatical. Foolish.

And man could that girl write.

And over the last few years, there have been bits and pieces of that girl that have been etched away.

Some of it is growing up and needing less navel gazing vitriol to sort through my feelings, my ideals, and my need for feedback and attention. Some of it is retisence — in response to certain readers (both real and imagined). And then some of this retisence transformed to a reserved sort of microphobia which has grown to be an accepted and accomodated – timid fear.

Which is stupid.

Because it’s like I’ve given up one of the things that I’m actually pretty decent at – which is writing about the goofy things that I see and experience in life and sharing it with whomever I care to.

I was talking with my friend A. today (as I was getting my toenails painted a Ferrari red) re: whether it’s possible to market oneself as being just a genuinely good and earnest human being and if that personality trait had sustainable value in the current job market. Yes. No. How do you articulate that?

How do you re-engage with a sense of wonder and respect for ones own value system and integrity? How do you express those things within personal and professional environments without feeling forced or contrived. How do you express your own mental and emotional presence and express it to the universe  — which is a massive pulsating beacon and mirror for such energies?

I’m reminded of the simple small prayers that I used to say every night when I was younger and better engaged with my spiritual side.

And I want to start praying again.

As per the norm, less for myself but for those people, projects, and problems that I’m involved with or care about. And then for myself that I can bring the best of what God intends of me to each interaction. A re-engagement with faith to refresh my perspective on the opportunities that I’m being given these days.

I’m grateful for being able to remind myself that I do have that in me.

So my coworker KC was telling me about this new geneology site. Geni.com
One that’s a social network for families.

With the latest news on Myspace, sexual predators, and etc etc, I had to take a moment to still my head.

After all, rolling one’s little Asian eyes that far back into your head can cause bystanders to believe you’ve gone through some sort of apoplectic shock.

And besides that, those sites and every last name based geneology site has utterly failed to garner any interest for me whatsoever.

I mean. Please.

“Last name Kim.  – 300K results. Wow. Look. You’re all related.”

Which is weird and a sardonic statement, I suppose, re: my Asian American experience, after all.

Because Korean Korean people do know and care about geneology and pedigree.  They know (duh) that you might be a Kim but they want to do from which district, which village.  Which royalty you might be related to.

I’ve only been asked this question while at student conferences over 12 years ago.  More likely than not, I was asked by someone from an Ivy League.  By someone who just might be as pedigreed and privileged as Wookie Kim    Who knows, maybe the questioner way back when was even related. We all are, you know.

“What kind of Kim *are* you?”

“Uh… I dunno.”

“Well then where did your father go to college?”

“Uh… I dunno”  (Which I realize is a dumb question but it’s not like my dad ever spoke about his life in Korea, being in the Navy, or where he went to college.  I only know snippets which I have to drag out of him.  Or from recollections of nags that my mother would bemoan like

‘Your daddy…Daddy neber takuh me out danshing likuh he takuh udder lady in school. But he nebber take mommy.  So sad poor mommy.’ 

I remember asking my Dad when I got home from that student conference those questions.

He finally told me which university he went to but I promptly forgot.  It never came up again. I mean, it’s not like they had a football team and Dad was catching the games at 4AM to root for the Firey Radish Pickles or anything.

But this I do remember.

“So, Daddy. What kind of Kim are we?”

“Who askuh you dat?”

“Someone from school.”

“Oh. I see.”

“So, Daddy, what kind of Kim *are* we?”

“Ah-bee-yushly. We are the *BEST* kinduh.”

“Ah-bee-yushly?”

“Yesuh.”

“Oh! Obviously. That’s just awesome.”

A clever one, my Daddy.

• We are a country still at war.  And the rest of the world doesn’t really like us too much right now.
• People die every day.  You will too. Memento Mori. (Which by the way, is also the title of an awesome korean lesbian horror flick. I kid you not.
• You did, in fact, turn the stove off. Seriously.
• At one point, I used to actually sent birthday cards.  I miss having real in your hands kind of mail too. Letters. Postcards. Etc.  The last letter, and the only one I’d received in perhaps a year that wasn’t transfered by pixels, was from Josh Wolf.  I’m really lucky. I get regular postcards from one of my best friends living in Wisconsin.  She’s been sending me cute postcards off and on over the last 11 years that I’ve ben in SF. Sometimes once a week. Sometimes once a month. I have boxes full of whimsically hand written missives with pictures of her daughter, illustrations styled from Griffin and Sabine, cows, cute dogs, her daughter who’s a cute little blonde gal with sass and wants to learn Chinese,  I’ve sent her … maybe 2.  I suck.
• Personal housecleaning stuff – just do it and then go play warcraft.  Procrastinating is wildly inefficient and ruins the quality of lazy time which is what you’re actually all about.  If you’re distressed or worried about procrasinating about something, it totally busts on the lazy time experience.
• Call the parents.  Oh they love you.  And the more you talk to them, the less likely they’ll try to google you or find your myspace page and find something more incriminating.
• Take the camera everywhere.  What’s the holdup, mofo?
• Just write.

You know what I love about traveling this time around?

Being in chill mode. I don’t have a panicky hectic pace. I’m not in a rush to see people. I’m able to have marvelous and intimate conversations with people without the distraction of urgency or some facade of being accessible and seen in some scene.
I wake up. I decide if I’m going to get up right away or putter a bit. I putter over to the fridge and grab myself a yogurt and make myself a cup of coffee. I sit on the couch and decide to myself “no, no, i don’t quite want to put socks on yet” and sort through the ambiguous plans that I have for the day.

My brother and sister-in-law have one of those marvelous overhead showerheads that look like an alien space vessle that’s aimed at peering down at your naked body and delivering lucious warm water pressure to your head. Oh, it’s so nice.

Last night I was able to sync up with one of my favorite rockers Brian and hear all the great things that are currently going on in his life, for his band, and our own personal takes on the terror known as adulthood responsibility. He is mighty sage on a number of points and at this point in my life, if I don’t know what I want, that’s more than alright. So long as I know that I don’t know that, at least that gets me on pace to looking. Also, there’s a purpose to everything that happens in the universe. Instead of fighting with circumstance to move with and around and beyond it is a significantly less frustrating use of my resources. This is not news to me, but it’s something that has taken some time to sink in.

Additionally, I have made plans to meet up with the most mischievous Heath to go be Keanu Reeves. I mean seriously. Gracious my. That should be a hoot.

My plans for the rest of my time here are beginning to gel up, but in the spirit of taking care of myself and not pushing too hard, I’m leaving my mornings free for coffee, yogurt, and barefoot personal time.

Location:
Dallas, Texas
Casa Navarro

In as many moments of the day where I am able,
Please remind me daily, Dear God,
Of the capacity for joy that you’ve given to me,
The strength, confidence, and comfort of safety that I always have with you,
And the humility and grace that knows that
my existence is a product of your love,
and that only goodness can pour forth
with these intentions and faith in mind.

Hey!

Listen to some dudes in Chicago who are drunk/stoned audio & video blog!

With several horrendous mispronunciations of my name!

For those who only read my text and have never heard my name spoken, here’s a few notes for you.

Min - as in miniscule … like some guys penises that i know

Jung – Not like the fucked up psychologist quack pot but with the actual J sound. Still, it does rhyme with young. Soft g at the end. The second part of my first name should not sound like a Cantonese war yelp before butcher knives and swords (along with random instances of cherry blossoms and/or snow) get thrown through the air and Zhang Zi Yi pretends to not be pouty for once in a film.

Kim - as in Kimberly. That girl in highschool that you had the hots for so badly that you let her copy off of your physics test.

Other ways my name has been mispronounced in the most recent past?
Minja – as in Ninja.
For which I felt obliged to post the Pink Ninja pix.

*shaking head and clucking tongue in dismay*

In other news:
Latest mathematical/socialogical truisms

The liklihood of wifi being present is inversely proportional to the number of doilies on a premisis. Real Doilies. Paper Doilies apparently only mean that there are wifi networks present but locked off.
Tested and true.

Also: The propensity for doily making increases as the frequency of a woman’s menstruation cycle declines.

Also: The size of one’s purse is directly proportional to the number of people that a woman cares for. Those chicks with those tiny little hand clutches? Bitches. They’ll expect to be taken care of. Those women with epic sized bag larger than a mini-cooper are likely trying to take care of a small village in south america. And/or 2 children and a significant other who frequently acts like one. Add additional bags for diapers, yoga gear, and valium. Lots and lots of valium.

Also: The frequency with which one makes drunk dialing calls is inversely proportional to your acceptable level of attractiveness to anyone. ANYONE. And even your friends will feel less likely to try & pimp you out.

Also: The liklihood of trying to run on gas fumes towards the gas station is not indicative of idiocy so much as a chance to experience an opportunity for humility and recognition of a very heartbreaking human condition. (Oblique I know.. I’ll write more about this later)

Also: On a monday, one really does *not* need to hear a friend speak about purchasing a strap-on to spice up one’s sex life. Seriously. Ever. Unclean. Unclean. Unclean.

By recommendation from a friend of mine.

****
Desiderata

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

There are a lot of voters guides out there but my pal Jeremiah has been kind enough to put the following together.

Jeremiah’s Voter Guide:
This election is very important. This special election is a direct
attack on the working people of California. If you live in California
you should vote and don’t let anyone turn you away. You can vote today
and tomorrow. (If you vote early it has to be a city hall.) If you
can’t make it to your polling place on tuesday you can go to any
polling place and vote. Don’t let them stop you. It’s all about
turnout. So I have taken the time to review all the measures and
props and candidates. Use ‘em if you need them, tell a friend if you
don’t. Questions or comments welcomed.
Peace and Empowerment,
Jeremiah
If you need more detailed explanations check out http://www.sfpeople.org
California:
Prop 73, 74, 75,76,77, 78 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Prop 79 Yes
Prop 80 Yes

Local SF
Prop A,C,D,E Yes
Prop B, F NO!

SF Assessor: Phil Ting

Prop 73 is an anti-abortion law and was put on the ballot to bring out
conservative voters. Turn out is everything. You must vote. And pray
that we win.
**********
Roommate Jane also has an excellent rundown with reasons why the issues should be important to you for both statewide and San Francisco Initiatives.

Read it all here.

In fact, print it out and take it with you to the polls. Or use it as a guide when you’re doign your absentee voting sheet.

Get out the FRICKING VOTE PEOPLE.

Slacker-Savant:

Pronunciation: ’sla-k&r sa-’vänt, s&-, -’vän; s&-’vant, ’sa-v&nt
Function: noun

Etymology: Urban America 1980s post Baby Boom Era combined with French, from Middle French, from present participle of savoir to know, from Latin sapere to be wise — more at SAGE : a person of learning; especially : one with detailed knowledge in some specialized field (as of science or literature) who chooses not to appear as if they are capable of or interested in any actual work. Also referring to a person wwho persistantly looks as if they are slacking off but somehow manage extraordinary productivity by leveraging technology or exploiting areas of gross inefficiency within an organization.

Is typically highly resistant or abhorant to conventual management or provintial ideology. One that manages to get “promoted” inspite of themselves when they “save the day” while wearing flipflops and hung over.

Not to be confused with Idiot Savant.
Pronunciation: ‘E-”dyO-sä-’vän, or same as IDIOT and SAVANT for respective sing and pl forms
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural idiots savants /-”dyO-sä-’vän(z) /; or idiot savants /-’vän(z)/
Etymology: French, literally, learned idiot
1 : a person affected with a mental disability (as autism or mental retardation) who exhibits exceptional skill or brilliance in some limited field (as mathematics or music) — called also savant
2 : a person who is highly knowledgeable about one subject but knows little about anything else

But I think I’ve finally done it.

I’ve hit my wall.

And it hurts. (Because, afterall, walls are quite hard)

And there will be some hiding & hybernating until I get some things figured out.

I think I’ll dub this my 100DayPlan.

Henry David Thoreau

“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”