Sex? Love? What??

Lets cut the crap.

The novel/movie "he's just not that into you" sucks. There are only two good things that come from that movie and #1 is the title, and its a line towards the end of the movie that goes something like "...and the greatest gift she gave herself was moving on". And everything in between is such bullshit. The conclusion of the movie is exactly the opposite of what the movie should be about.

Hey, but the title itself was quite the epiphany for me.  It made me realize as humans how delusional we are. We make up a lot of stuff in our head, just to I dunno, make the sting of truth feel a little less painful. 

Come on. 

Can it be any more clear? 
Situation #1  You like this guy, and you think the dude likes you enough. You guys make out, maybe even have sex, eat dinner together sometimes, hold hands in private, but there is something nagging you. He won't ask you to be his gf. You ask him about it and he says "well, i'm not looking for anything serious. I like you, maybe even love you, but I don't want anyone to know and I don't want any strings attached"You do the "oh yeah, me neither" but shit, deep down inside that's the opposite of what you wanted to hear.  You delude yourself because you think...maybe he'll change his mind? Maybe this, maybe that. Here I know this is harsh but honestly this is the truth: "you're good enough to fuck around with, but ultimately he's just not that into you." Sorry.

 Situation #2 You call him about 99 times and he ignores your phone calls. I know this may sound like a no brainer... but seriously. Some people don't seem to understand "you're acting insane and he's ignoring you." Even if he didn't think you were insane before, he does now. If he's not returning your calls don't think of a million excuses of why that could be. Here, i'll tell you "HE DOESN'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!" This one, I just don't understand. Don't... do that. Why would the 99th time be any different than the first?

Situation #3 You go on a date and he never calls you back. "is he sick?" "did he lose my number?" "he must be some sociopath freak!" i dunno, think of all the excuses you can. but really, the heart wrenching answer is... you already know. Does it hurt your ego? But why should it hurt your ego? You will meet tons of people who you're just not that into.

Situation #4 I think this one is my favorite. You meet this kid. He's suave as hell, and he's totally cute. But he reeks of overplayed lines, and has no sense of boundaries. he just seems like a douche. You hear he's a player. He's known to be a womanizer, and he throws lines like "yes, to the world I may be, but not to you. I think i'm in love with you. You're the only girl for me...you're different" and you know better but a part of you wants to believe in this romantic idea. That you of all the girls in the world, have the ability to change this person that has a soul made of garbage. Sigh, but you don't. No one does. Not even the devil himself! So WAKE UP!

I'm not perfect, no one is. These mistakes are so easy to make. I've made them, so have you and the stranger next to you. The delusions we create are ones we all are guilty of making. But it just makes me wonder. What is so hard for us to just realize those words. "This person isn't into me." and be okay with that. And move on. Its just statistics you know? It may be you, it may not be you but the bottom line is he/she is not for you. Why is accepting those words so hard. 

That movie... was so stupid. So if you say "i'm the rule and not the exception" and know it to be true
 but secretly hope to be the exception and get disappointed every time, you're stupid. Eh, but at the
 same time if you are okay being stupid who is to say otherwise?

e y e 'm r a c i s t?

Is it strange that I'm having culture shock in my own homeland? How is this possible? The moment I get off the plane, I'm in the immigration lane and some chick comes up to me and asks me if I have an American visa. "I'm a citizen you moron. I think that's what this blue square thing means. And which is why I'm in this lane.  You guys shouting nonstop "ONLY U.S citizens and Canadians IN LANE 3&4" was heard loud and clear, oh i dunno the first 5 times in the first minute I got here." Racial profiling still sucks and its still annoying as shit. Sure, she was just trying to be efficient, making sure we're in the right lane and I know she had no mal intent but it still feels...you know... weird. Its just different.

Seoul felt like I was becoming an ant, and scurrying in the ant colony. First, because Koreans have black hair and black eyeballs, so it felt like I was amongst ant people but also because they really do scurry. Taking the subway is like being in a mosh-pit. Mosh-pit in an ant colony. So in this world of ants, I first became confused and then strangely, being an ant with other fellow ants felt comforting. The hard part was trying to find my dad. He blends in too well and if I wasn't also Korean and by nature good at scurrying, i would have lost sight of him many times.

Being Korean means you have to sacrifice a lot. You have to sacrifice the happiness of your feet, your face that you were born with, your seat on the bus or subway for the elderly, your liver, your lungs, originality in every sense. But goddamn, Koreans know how to be polite.  No sorry, perhaps polite is not the right word. Japanese people are polite. Koreans are good at being entrepreneurs and elitists. Yeah you sacrifice a lot, Yet, why do I feel so out of place here? I'm not the only yellow face here at seatac airport. There are many colored faces here, yet I can't help feeling out of place. Uncomfortable, like I have to try even harder to be "American" to prove that I am one. Speak with a more distinct white accent. Drink my Starbucks coffee get my ipod on, and type furiously on my mac.

Don't get me wrong. In no sense are Koreans "nice". They are blunt and got this hot boiling blood running through their veins. Give em some alcohol and watch them morph red into belligerent monsters. Its a dog eat dog world they live in, but what can I say? I am one. That very blood runs through my veins. And so, there is something to be said for blending in naturally. A world catered for you. Sizes that are made for you, food catered to taste good for you, hospitality and customer service catered for your Korean needs and habits. Warm hand towels before every meal, a family mart on every corner ...flight attendants that are bending over backwards to ensure your good.

Just sayin. Sometimes being an ant isn't so bad.

h e l l o g o o d b y e

I'm the rule not the exception.
And I don't want it any other way. I don't think I'm good, any other way.
The greatest gift I've given to myself is solitude and space. Space to breath, space to do as I please. Space to curl up in a ball and cry if I feel like. Space to hide from the world. Space to dance like I want to. I like the freedom to be me.

Sometimes, I think if it wasn't for Ness I'd pack my bags and be a wanderer. I'd miss home like mad, but there is something liberating about having no obligations to anyone or to anything. or any idea, or any institution of an idea. Freedom to roam, and go and stay as I please.

Its true. I sometimes entertain myself with the idea of companionship. After all, I am human. When I'm fifty and all my friends are married with children will I be lonely? When my friends hurriedly ask for the check because they have to go home to have supper with their family, will I feel the longing for someone to come home to? Will I be envious of that life? When I wake up in the middle of the night from a bad dream, will I wish I had someone next to me to tell me "Its okay dear. It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep"
Will I someday want that same someone to tell me on my birthday how glad they are that I was born?
Someone to garden with me, to remind me to take my vitamins, and to listen to old records and watch movies with? To take about endless things, from politics to astronomy... and crooked science and faulty logic. From the ugly sweater to celebrity gossip. And have Chinese take out and skip the dishes every Saturday night.

I do wonder these things from time to time but the conclusion is always so obvious. Its bits and clips of a huge package. Those possible perks aren't worth ... the grueling tango between two strangers. Its not me. No matter how much I wonder ... I always come to the same conclusion.

I'm the rule not the exception. And I'm okay with that.
I like that I'm okay with that. :)

There is this song that I think i'm in love with. "Little Lou, Ugly Jack, Prophet John"- Belle & Sebastian w/ Norah Jones

s k i n o f t h e n i g h t

I feel like the walls are closing in.
The older I get, the more things become transparent.
or perhaps it is me that has become translucent?
I take a look.
          nothing remarkable here.  disappointing.

I am selfish.
Human nature made me so.
And yet,
I feel so guilty for my natural inclinations
I wish I were 
   stronger,
        better,
            more in control.
I tire of this broken vessel of a thing I call my body.
Sometimes it angers me.
Sometimes.
 but most times it just gets me down.

I feel alone.
I feel detached.
I will never run like the wind bullseye.
shit. fuck. enter polluted words here.

Endless hours spent contemplating
sorting out the mechaniacs of the composition of decomposition
bones and more bones.
My slow disinigration was comforting

this is not. is that selfish? 
sorry. already stated that I was.


I tightly wound my wound with invisible strings
like how spiders wind with their silk.
like those chinese feet bound by their self worth
I keep spinning to hold it together.
its bound so tight, it hurts now.

it bleeds, sanguine.
but its okay. my heart is nearly all translucent.
I won't dirty up your carpet
it drips clear.

m i n i m a l i s m

minimalism |ˈmɪnəməlˈɪzəm|

movements in various forms of art and design, especially visual art and music, where the work is stripped down to its most fundamental features. ...

As I am getting older, I no longer dream of the things I used to. It is almost as if i've found a new tune to dance to, or perhaps new shades to see the world. I find myself in constant search for open air, and all things that represent such. Captivity and domestication are two things that I may always find resistance towards. I do not mean this in the sense of doing domestic things such as cooking, cleaning or grocery shopping. Heaven knows I love those things. I just hope that I may never have to jettison my dreams of endless possibilities.

I only see things as shapes, colors, symmetry, asymmetry and all the things in between
I only hear sounds as major, minor, diminished, augmented, and all the things in between.

One day, when I build a house which I will it will entail these thing:

No windows, just doors

 

Doors that cannot be locked

A bath where I can submerse myself in. Ofuro style

Library that has ladders and tiers of books

Simple.

Pictures from Architectural Digest

m e t a l . b e e t l e . t w i n e . w i n e . n u t s

S e e d

A ripened plant ovule containing an embryo

A source or beginning

"When we look back at the past, it reveals the beginning. However, in life we have been given the gift to “choose” with free-will any path to walk on. As we progress towards the future, we find that there is something unexpected waiting to be discovered." -Frederick Park

There is something fantastic about art. Creating something from nothing.

A beetle inside of a metal beetle.

The Aesthetic beauty is obvious, but the intricacy is beautiful on its own

Evolve

We are constantly changing, moving, growing. We were not created to be stagnant or stale. It is not the tangible location or destination, but more a metaphorical idea of who we are to evolve to. In terms of tagua nuts, I would like to be the beetle one. I mean, its a real beetle, in a metal beetle. Isn't it a fantastic piece of art?


Artwork at its best.


ありがとうございます:
Frederick Park
Designer & Metal Artist
www.frederickpark.com

r e b i r t h

from the mud a vessel of life grows.away from darkness. gasping to grow above water to breath.once it has its souffle d'air, it blooms.from darkness the most wonderful things can grow...

a / w h i r l w i n d / o f / c l i c h e ' s / d e f i n e / m e / i n / a / n u t s h e l l /

Its been a year since i've moved back home. Home, or Portland was a place I never wanted to come back to. It signified small town, dead ends and proof of my failure. Who knows why I thought that way. Somewhere along the way i had made up my mind that "home" was meant for me to make on my own and far away from where my original home was. This last year was a year to learn all the reasons why cliche's are cliche's.

Like "you are your own best friend",

"you make your own happiness, no one can do it for you"

"beauty or happiness is in the eye of the beholder"

"you can't help someone who doesn't want to help themselves"

"you reap what you sow" i mean the list goes on. Think of a cliche and i'm sure i've experienced it and found it to be true.

"every cloud has a silver lining"

"what doesn't kill you will make you stronger"

and finally "home is where the heart is"

What the heck does that even mean you say. Home is where the heart is. I almost feel like I left my heart in a small box when I was 14, closed the box and labeled it "do not open/use/ or take" and instead put a fake one that was really, really good at being an excellent fake heart. In all seriousness, Perhaps the word heart can interchangeably be used with the word identity. Identity is where all of ones securities and insecurities come from. The question of how familiar one is with oneself.

"know thyself".

"knowledge is power" the list goes on. Denying our nature, or perhaps our natural self is the most self-detrimental thing one can do. Smothering your true inner desires I find just leads to an explosive, dangerous result. You're like pressure in a carbonated glass bottle, shaken and ready to explode. And most likely slivers of glass will cut themselves into the innocent and guilty alike. All the human bystanders close by you.

"the grass is always greener on the other side"

 but I'm content being me. Waking up with my dog sleeping on top of my head always trying to steal my pillow, laptop humming usually with something i was watching or listening to that i fell asleep to, books sprawled open all over my bed and night stands. Well, along with other junk... but mostly cups filled with water (being a sweat monster means i get thirsty like one) I forget to take back down to the kitchen. I don't have fancy saks 5th ave boots, prestigious Doctor boots, or mom boots but I have my be a good person boots that i wear to teach kids. I have the freedom to breathe and do what I want. Finding joy in the little things in life, helps me see the big picture.

Shit, I mean we all are different. No matter what, we're always going to be judged, we've all got our own demons and we're sorta fucked up all in our own ways.
So whats the big picture?

We all just make a life for ourselves that we're okay with.

At the end of the day when we turn off the lights its our own inner self we answer to. Being the best me, means taking care of me but also knowing that I have the ability to cause harm to others. And of course learning to exercise restraint to do my best not to. Anything and everything I am, or do can be scrutinized and there will always be someone that does not agree with me, but as long as i'm doing my best to be my idea of happy, who cares. What i wear, what I do as a living, wealth, my opinions on music i dunno all those aesthetic things in the end are just...aesthetics. They belong to my identity, so if you don't like what you see, just...get the hell out of my way. just kidding. sorta.

"To each their own"

"to err is human, to forgive is divine"

"happiness is a warm puppy"

Goodnight.

Artwork by Yoshitomo Nara