Dear Mom and Dad

I’m really supposed to be doing my readings for my literature class, but I also really wanted to write this letter before my thoughts slipped away. Also, there is a seagull five inches next to me trying to get the last bits of my apple. He’s just chillin’. 

 So many people, too many people, have told me that college creates a distance between you and your parents that somehow makes your relationship with them better. I didn’t believe them, because I never believe people. People are posers and they lie. Haha…kind of.

Anyways, I’m about halfway through my seventh week of college, and I hate to admit it, but people were right. 

 Intermission: The seagull, which I will now address as Steve is stabbing my apple with his beak. 

 DANGER: I THREW THE APPLE, AND NOW 50 OF STEVE’S FRIENDS ARE AFTER ME. THEY WANT TO KILL ME. THEY ARE STILL HERE. ABORT, ABORT, ABORT. 

 Anyways, I survived the seagull take-over. Rudely interrupted. They’re still all looking at me, by the way. 

 For the last several weeks before I left home, I told myself that I wasn’t going to be one of those “babies” that cried when they left home, but I was lying to myself. Oh, I was lying big time. The day I left, I said my goodbyes to my dad early in the morning, because it was a Sunday and my dad is a pastor. After my dad helped me move all my many belongings into the van, we sat down across from each other, awkwardly, on the two beds in my room, and he read me a verse and prayed for me. Halfway through his prayer, I started crying, and after he finished praying, he started saying goodbye to me and telling me how proud of me he was, and how he was going to miss me. By this point, we were both choking on our words; I don’t think I actually said any real English words. And then we hugged. 

I don’t think I knew how much my dad loved me until that moment. And it’s one of my favorite moments in my life so far. It was sad, but it was so raw and real. Throughout the week, my dad still sends me texts and tells me how much he loves and how he prays for us. He did the same kind of thing before, but I never thought anything of the texts, they were just text messages to me. Now, I read them and I treasure them, because now I know their worth. My dad and I have a weird relationship. We don’t really talk much, even when we’re the only two people in the car or at the dining table. We disagree on many occasions, but we never really talk about things or “open things up”. But in the last couple of months, we’ve found new ways to express ourselves to each other, and it’s been one of my most treasured journeys thus far. 

 My goodbye with my mom wasn’t as emotionally triggering as the one with my dad, because I think we both prepared ourselves for it throughout the summer and especially that week. And also because my mom came up with me to move me in. 

 That was a long backstory, whew. So, without further ado, here’s to the crazy nutjobs I call my parents: 

Dear Mom and Dad, 
          There have been many times throughout my pubescent childhood and teenage years where I have disliked you guys immensely. Sometimes you guys were just mean, and sometimes you guys were so annoying (I write that with a teenage girl’s voice in my head). But I haven’t realized how much you guys love me until recently. I took your unconditional support for granted all these years, and never stopped to think how much it’s done for me. There would have been so many times where I would have fallen into depression if not for your love for me. And I’m here, right now, to just stop and say how much I appreciate all that you guys are to me. You guys are and have been the best parents that I have ever had. Thank you for being a backbone and a motivational force for me. And I promise that I’m going to try to be the best person that I possibly can, because I know that’s what’s important. Thank you so much, and I hope that you guys don’t read this until way later because that would be really embarrassing. Good day. 

 Love always, 

 Amy

Greatness

I move into college in just about one day, and yesterday, I was just fine, but now I feel like I'm about to shit bricks. 

For about three weeks, I've been basically doing nothing, just binge watching "Orange is the New Black" (which isn't as good as everyone raves, the story line is very repetitive and predictable) and "Brooklyn Nine-Nine" (funny, but not entirely realistic). I was actually really anxious to start school and move on with my life. Surprisingly, not having anything to do gets depressing. For three weeks, I got up no earlier than 11:30, and I snacked all day long in the huge stash that my house has right now, we're talking Hot Cheetos, Flamin' Funyuns, Cheez-its, pretzles, Oreos, and an assortment of cookies. It sounded like life, but it got old real quick.

But this week was different; I actually started, and almost finished packing. I met up with my friends one last time, I left some postcards for my sisters to mail me, I made one last batch of cookies, and I kept my dog close all day. Suddenly, the day I've been waiting for, for so long seems too close. I didn't think the end would be so close, but then again, I guess I'm forgetting what I told myself when I had just graduated: the end is just the beginning. 

I'm anxious, I'm excited, I'm scared, I'm sad. I'm so many things right now, it's really confusing and overwhelming. I don't want to leave home, because I feel like I'm leaving behind my family, almost like I'm walking away. At the same time, I want to learn, I want to establish my passion, I want to see the fucking world. I don't want to be sad. I know that my relationships with my loved ones aren't ending, they're just changing, but it's hard to see past "I'm leaving them." 

One thing that I decided from living my life and watching my mom live hers, is that it's okay to be selfish sometimes. Actually, sometimes, to move on with your life, you have to be selfish. I feel selfish, but there's things that I need to do that I can't do at home. I love what I have right now, but I won't love it after staying in it for too long. 

And so here it is, my ultimatum for myself:

Amy, you're literally moving into a new phase in your life. Things are changing, your relationships with your family and friends are changing. You're going to meet new friends that you were destined to meet. You're going to learn new things about life and new things in your textbooks. There are things that you were meant to do, and you need to get your ass up and go do those things with confidence and enthusiasm. God made you to live a life of greatness, find that greatness, hold it, learn it, and then share it. Remember, God has a purpose for each tear that will fall from your face; he has a purpose for every tremor in your heart. Trust in Him, and lean on Him throughout this journey. I believe in you and the light that is in your soul. Go get 'em tiger.  

A Never Ending Party

I am currently in New York City as I write this.

That sentence just needs to stands by itself. There's so much to see here and so much to experience. I have no idea how I'm going to fit this city into the short seven days that I will be here, but I am so dazed in love with this city and its inhabitants. 

I was sitting in Washington Square Park last night, taking care of some thoughts that needed to be organized, and I'm still in a high from what I experienced. Everything was just so perfect. 






















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The night was dark, but lit up with the glowing lamps circled around the park. I sat down at a bench and thought about how we can't take the time to experience something without losing the time to make different memories elsewhere. NYU students were talking about meaningless things to my right. In the distance, past the fountain, street vendors were trying to lure in children with small glowing lights thrown into the air. Slightly ahead of me, street musicians, possibly some homeless people, and just regular people were making and sharing music with each other. There were about ten bodies, two guitars, one ukulele, and so much love. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. They were stamping their feet, clapping their hands, teaching each other lyrics and rifts; I wanted so badly to go and join them, but I didn't have the guts. I just enjoyed their love and passion from a distance. I marveled at how these people, who clearly looked as though they were having a rough time getting by, were leaving their fears behind and taking time to enjoy the beautiful, never ending party that life is. 

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I sat tapping my feet along with the strum of the strings, and in the darkness, a scruffy voice appeared. It said, "They are the most uncoordinated musicians that I have ever heard." The voice, accented, came from an elderly man with white hair and a rather full stomach;  I could distinguish his facial features through the dim lights. I turned to him, smiled, and said, "But they're having a good time." He agreed and we had a casual conversation about how he was a retired restaurant owner who came to the park every night to hear music. I listened and engaged in light conversation, but really, I was distracted with the musicians up ahead. I wanted to go up to them and ask them to play "Twist and Shout" by The Beatles. I talked to the man about how I wanted to study to make films, maybe write some scripts first. I checked the time on my phone and saw that I had to get back to my friend. I wanted to sit in the park until the last person left, but I knew I had to leave and that no moment lasts forever. Unwillingly, I pulled myself up from the warm concrete bench and bid my friend in the dark goodbye, I shook his hand and left the park and the beautiful hearts and stories in it behind me. I ran across the tiny, cracked street back into air-conditioned rooms. 

I Told Them All to Stick It

Lately, I've been at a lost for words. I've tried to start this blog post just about a million times, but each time, I kind of felt lost, like I didn't know what I was supposed to write about. I also didn't want to force myself to write meaningless words, because, well, that would be meaningless. 

So much has happened within the course of two weeks, that it is actually ridiculous. I've experienced joy, love, betrayal, anger, shame, and other things, I don't even know where to begin. But right now, the one thing that is tugging and ramming into my heart is the feeling of betrayal. The feeling where someone that you love and care so very much for was hurt and wounded, and you can't even fight back for them. 

My mother, the strongest woman I know, who works day and night to not only support her four girls and her parents, was betrayed by her business partners. She was backstabbed and then stabbed again in the front. When I heard, continuously, event after event, what they did to her, I felt anger, not in my heart, but deep within the depths of my stomach. There's a bad taste in my mouth. I want to hit someone, I want to cry, but to whom? 

I don't know why these things keep happening to my mom. My family has experienced hardship, but it seems that the hardships always come swinging at her first. I'm fucking pissed. I've been listening to Paramore (the best angry, punk rock music), continuously, for two weeks, and it's almost like I can relate to every single song. This time I will not back down, I will not just be a support for my mother. I am going to the fucking front lines and slaughtering some people. Not literally, but with God by my side, and hers, we will fight the good fight. I know that with God here, we can never lose. 

So they can all STICK IT. 

To Stand Strong

There have been countless times when I’ve been self-conscious about who I am, what I look like, and etcetera. However, I’ve come to realize that I can’t change who I am. Instead, I pursue to stand strong, which, I have found to be equally as difficult.

I am Korean. I am Christian. I am 5’6”. I am a female. I love rock/alternative music. I love pictures of dogs that have been stung by bees. I love indie films. I fanaticize of traveling all over the world. I love the arts. In fact, I love the arts so much I want to work in the field of arts for the rest of my life. I want to use art as a medium for inspiration. I want my art to inspire people, adults and children, females and males, alike, to keep dreaming. To keep fighting for the people and things that bring them joy and happiness.

My journey into this field hasn’t even begun, but I know it’s going to be long and difficult. I have a feeling that at certain times it’s going to suck; I’m afraid. I’m willing to be afraid and I’m willing to suffer in order to get where to I want to be, because I know it'll be worth the fight. We don’t always have to live in constant stability, it’s okay to be afraid, as long as we stand strong in who we are.

My Biggest Fear

My biggest fear is losing my individuality. I'm afraid that, one day I'm going to become just another face in the crowd, and I'm going to lose the drive to seek new adventures. I fear that, one day I'll stop wanting to fill my life with my own stories and I'll just fill it with stories from another aimless mouth. 

Where I'm from, the people drink the same drinks, they wear the same clothes, they listen to the same music, they only take what's put directly underneath their noses. The people here don't travel, they stay where they are and they keep it safe. I'm afraid that I'm going to become just like them, and I won't realize it until it's too late. 

My fight is not to be different from the crowd, it's to keep my soul alive and growing. I want to fight to want to learn about more than what's given to me, to learn not just within the walls of my school. 

I hope that I will push my fears to it's absolute limits, and then overcome those fears, and then replace those fears with new ones and repeat the whole cycle over again. I don't want to be the same person in twenty years that I am now, but in a fatter and more unpleasant version. I want to be changed by my experiences and grow from those experiences. 

I see people eat the shit Hollywood gives them and then shit out exactly the same stuff. We're losing not only our creativity, but also our thoughts; people are beginning to become one gray face. We need to fight for our individuality and keep the color that this world deserves to be drenched in. 

High School...

My high school experience was equally as rewarding as it was trying. I learned and I struggled, I gained and I lost. Like most, I began my journey lost and unsure. I made more mistakes than in all my previous years combined. However, the difference between those mistakes and my previous mistakes was that, I learned from every single mistake. Many of those mistakes could have been avoided with humbleness or humility, but in all four years, I do not have a single regret. Each mistake led to new growth in wisdom and character, and here I am now, alive and well. For this, I have my parents to thank, they led me with incredible patience and love; my friends, they made my experiences colorful and exciting, they always put a smile on my face when there was a frown; Kathie, for becoming a trusted confidant and a passionate sister in Christ; my sisters, each and every one of my sisters is a piece of me and they constantly remind me of who I am when I’m not sure; my aunts, my uncles, my grandma, my grandpa, and my cousins, they taught me how to find perfection in imperfection; my teachers, they showed me what it was like to have an incredible zest for knowledge; and most importantly God, He was there when I was in my darkest days, He held me up when I was falling, He gave me peace when I was anxious, and He loved me through my sin. My journey has been long and exhilarating, but it is not yet over, it is only just beginning.

“But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

Matthew 6:33

Different, But Not So Different

I used to imagine what it would be like to have a 1950s family that lived in a clean little home with a white picket fence that always had dinner at 6pm everyday. My mom would take care of the house and my dad would have a 9-5 job to which he carried a dark-brown leather briefcase. My sisters and I would wear pretty dresses that came past our knees with evenly spaced polka dots. And then I would remember that I didn't really like dresses. 

I guess it would be nice to have a routine life that was simple, but then I wouldn't really be me. I would be that other girl from the 50s. Your family and your surroundings are what make you.

I used to love routine, and I would get horribly disappointed and upset when it got messed up. And soon enough, I found that no routine, or tradition, lasts forever. Sooner or later it will get messed up and forgotten. But then I learned that change isn't such a bad thing. It makes thing different, but not so different. Sure, our ways of expressing ourselves are different from the 17th century, but isn't it also different from the ways we expressed ourselves yesterday? There will constantly be changes, but some things always stay the same, like love. It may look different from the outside, but I think it always feels the same in the inside. 

The Small Moments

There are moments when I understand God's work in life, but, most of the time, I don't understand. Right now, I don't understand what God is doing. But, I do know that his plans are always bigger than what they seem. 

I don't know why God chose to inflict grief upon an eleven-year-old girl, but I know he makes all things happen for our good. So, even though it's difficult to see, I know that somehow, somewhere, this eleven-year-old girl will find peace and understanding in this situation. 

Today, at 6 am, Lily lost her dad to a heart attack. She was given no warning. I don't really know Lydia, I've seen her a couple times, and I know she's a friend of my little sister's. I also have no idea what she's going through, but I know she needs support and love, even from me, a mere stranger. 

I'm still trying to process all of this information. I'm trying to imagine the sixth grade me losing someone extremely dear to me and how I would've felt, but I can't. I have no idea what it would be like, but I know God brings his beloved together in times of grief. 

As much as this event serves as a great misfortune, it is events like these that pull me back to see from a different perspective and guide me to be someone who is grateful for all the memories that I've been given. 

I started my blog almost a year ago to write down and share my thoughts, but now it's become a place where I can store my memories and the small moments. It is the small moments that store that little bit of happiness that we need. It is the small moments that we all share. It is the small moments that we need to remember. 

Up, Up, Up (For Zach Sobiech)

I always tell people that I don't want to have kids, because they're loud and annoying and dirty. But, the truth is, I don't want to have children, because being a parent scares the shit out of me. I never understood how some girls were just "born" to be mothers. How can you just come to a point in life where you can say, "Yeah, I'm ready to have kids now. Send them my way. I'm ready to make decisions that will affect the life of Child A. I'm ready to devote the rest of my life into somebody else's life." I don't know if I'll ever come to a point in life when I'll be ready to say that, but I have mad respect for parents everywhere. Especially mothers, not because I'm sexist, but because, somehow, mothers seem to have two hearts: one for regular stuff, like family and friends, and one separate heart for their children. And when the heart for their children fills up, they make room in their other heart. It's amazing how much a mother, or father, will give up in order to love their child and to give their child happiness. 

Parents give up everything to love their children, and when they lose a child, I can't even begin to imagine the pain and agony they endure. I've never lost anyone that I was really close to, but I've lost a pet rabbit named Fluffy. I remember crying for straight a week whenever somebody mentioned her. To lose a child? I can only relate it to losing maybe a million Fluffy's. 

Soulpancake, on Youtube, with director Justin Baldoni, documented the beautiful story of Zach Sobiech, a 17-year-old boy who was slowly passing away from osteosarcoma. After being diagnosed with a remission, or a spread of his cancer, Zach made the choice of quality over quantity; Zach chose to live a happier, shorter life with his family and friends rather than a longer life filled with cancer treatments. Zach left this world for a greater one on May 20th, 2013. But he didn't leave this world before touching millions of lives, including mine. Soulpancake recently released another video of Zach's family and the things they had to share about Zach one year after his death, and his family is just as inspiring as Zach, himself. One of the things that both broke my heart and filled it at the same time was something that Zach's mother said. She said, "If I had to do it all over again, I would give in in a moment."

We constantly yearn for a greater life. A life lined with successes and surrounded with people who care for you. In our search for this life, we forget to feel. We lose the ability to feel happy and to feel sad. We try so hard to maintain a status quo to avoid loss, but ironically, what we lose is our emotions. Zach Sobiech and his story taught me that, to be afraid to invest into relationships and to love other people only hurts ourselves. The greatest thing to do with this life we've been given is to feel, to love, to lose, and to gain. We cannot live in fear of loss. I believe that it is in the mechanism of the equilibrium of this world, that when we lose some things, we gain some things. 

And we'll go up, up, up

But I'll fly a little higher

We'll go up in the clouds because the view is a little nicer

Up here my dear

It won't be long now, it won't be long now.




"Clouds" by Zach Sobiech 







The link to the first video and the link to the second.