For A.M., whence came the sound and the light.
guru: What is your ideal day?
Jackie: The day starts early. I awake with a vision that is cleared from the mud of yesterday. I expend my energies on learning, creating, appreciating, and being with the ones I love; family, friends, and new acquaintances. My self feels new and is flushed of human infidelities. I am inspired by ambiance and its subtle noise. The hum of an empty room and the sight of winded grass on a concrete island in the middle of a bumper-to-bumper traffic are amazing. I see through a set of eyes that are newborn and not blood shot. The micro of all things is released and I see that God lives here.
And if it's a Monday, it ends in front of the television watching Anthony Bourdain.
‘Maybe there is a beast….maybe it’s only us.’
-Simon, Lord of the Flies (Golding, 1954)
Sleeping in a pile of folders from 2009, 2010, and a lot of irrelevant distractions, I found a folder of entries that were written between 2006 and 2008.
It’s Wednesday, September 29, 2010 and cold. I am sitting in an apartment in Seoul, South Korea, thousands of miles from where I used to jot overheard conversations, observations, and ideas in Northern Virginia, Washington, D.C., Massachusetts, Europe, and New York City.
I don’t recognize that person. It’s 4:17 am and this body is tired and misanthropic. Beaten down by a hustled recovery from a sudden heartbreak, the quiet suffering beneath the menace of an over-superficial female role/society, blinded by fear, jaded by experience, hypocrisy, deaf by the decaying of my English tongue and the warble of a language that is of my ancestors’ (but not of my own), I realize that I have been tired for the past three years desperately clinging onto
something nothing as a “gyopo” “foreigner” martian living abroad, particularly in the country of my family’s family. Stop punishing my family, my parents, and me for not being Korean, for not being a woman, for being too Western when I’m not, for betraying my blood when I didn’t, for being too confused, tired, and quiet. It is 2010 and my eyes and mouth are taped over. I have given up.
But even in hell, a new hope is brimming. It’s something being born out of a harsh and furious experience.
I guess this is what they say is, “All part of growing up.”