What Losing a Friend Taught Me

So. I realize this list is ridiculous. Ridiculous in that I'm basically just regurgitating a bunch of cliched life lessons. Ridiculous in that I managed to reduce such a powerful experience down to these platitudes. But you know, the most ridiculous part of it all is that it took losing a friend for me to really understand these simple truths: 

1. Love infinitely. Love ruthlessly. 

Give love richly, as if you'll never, ever run out. Cradling it safely in my arms and doling it out only on special occasions as if it were a prized possession got me nowhere. This seems obvious. But one fateful day you might also be confronted with the overwhelming reality that you had the capacity for more, yet you hoarded the love you could have gifted to others as a false love for yourself instead--an unnecessary barricade of pride--because you thought the supply of love in this godforsaken world was finite. Because you didn't want to escape the comfort (read: confines) of your own narcissistic self-preservation.

...and it will crush you.

Safe? Safe is a good word for high-schoolers. And superficial, surface-level friendships of convenience. But safe is not a good word to fall back on when the big, the bad, and the ugly rear their heads. Ironically enough, safe won't save you when the going really gets rough. Safe will abandon you, betray you...only to reveal the fleeting insignificance in your relationships and the dooming frailties of your heart.

So empty yourself daily. Take risks daily. Because God's infinite pours of grace and wisdom will refill you. Learn to dwell in the uncomfortable zone. Tell them you adore them. That you're thinking of them. That you'd do anything to save them from their throes. Even if you can't. Even if two years later -- after they're taken away from you and after it's too late -- you find yourself point blank with the harsh reality that you couldn't possibly have done anything to save them.

2. Pray together.

Good friends are earthen vessels: they are the handiwork of the potter's hands, they have the capacity to hold a lot of good things for you (or become cesspools of muck if untended to...but that part goes without saying), and most importantly, they can turn back into dust at any whim. To pray together in good faith means to mourn together, to dream together, to fill voids together, to face the good, the bad, and the ugly together, to abound with hope together...and to cling to a life-giving truth in a dying world together.

3. Never, ever, ever be lukewarm.

Lukewarm people scare me now. Their subdued enthusiasm, their bent on maintaining neutrality, their false sense of contentment...all sacrifice truth and the blasé attitude is often just a lack of empathy brought on by blinding self-interest. Cold people are insecure people who project their crippling fears and unconscious deficits in self-esteem onto you. Well-known fact. But lukewarm people take those same fears and deficits to another level with their denial of meaningfulness (our raison d'être). This isn't wrong as we're all entitled to our own unique experiences--but if it's meaningful relationships that you're after, the day you allow yourself to be a lukewarm person should be the day you breathe your last dying breath. When you'll have no choice because your body will literally go cold.

4. Be tenderhearted. Be vulnerable.

...which brings me to the next point: say every warm thing you need to say, want to say, and feel compelled to say. Those times when you withheld genuine compliments or words of kindness or concern because you didn't want to seem sycophantic, let them roll off your tongue like thick molasses. Let it hang in the air, even if it makes you feel awkward or oversolicitious. There really is no time to waste on these follies. Rejection is terrifying, yes, but remorse is worse.

5. Wrestle with the ugly.

If you want your friendship to last, you have to be willing to allow your friend to a hold a mirror up to you. For the longest time, this was too scary for me because I didn't want to confront my fear that I wouldn't like what I saw. And I didn't have the guts to do it to others. But the good friend sits with you and shows you the beautiful, the scarred, the lovely. The good friend helps you wrestle with not just the evils around us, but the devils within us. What's more is this: I realized that if you're lucky enough to even have one person in your life who can mimic God's grace and do this for you with unconditional patience, you really can't ask for more. If you have one, go hug this person right now because some people don't get to have this experience...and it literally kills them.

6. Forgiveness is salve for the soul.

Work every kink out in the open, forgive others' selfish inroads, and relentlessly seek forgiveness for your own slip-ups. I learned the hard way that the second secretive thoughts begin to simmer below the surface, the friendship develops a rotten subterranean layer that neither of you will want to dig up later. And little did I know--what seems like just a silly little release of emotion (a head game, even) is actually a highly effective problem-solving solution with measurable results. My only regret is that it came a day too late in the case of my friend and, rather fittingly, I had a hard time forgiving myself for it. But the important thing is that forgiveness did eventually come to liberate...as he always does when you invite him in.

rip ysl ♥

Liquified Brain

Vagrant tears have been rolling out of my left eye nonstop, interrupting my evening and playing tricks on my otherwise sunny disposition. My eye is clearly malfunctioning because I am not sad! Why is this happening?

In any case, I immediately thought of this quote:

“the tears stream down my cheeks from my unblinking eyes. what makes me weep so? from time to time. there is nothing saddening here. perhaps it is liquified brain.” (Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable)

Beckett fascinates me -- his life, his literature, his lore... He's just way too much amazingness for my little mind to handle.

Existential A-Musings

The following article spoke volumes to the still-developing, angsty, postgrad-limbo-trodding pollyanna in me:

"It's Not About You" by David Brooks (NY Times Op-Ed Column)

While he misses the mark on a few points and makes a few overly sweeping generalizations, I couldn't agree more with his prescription for self-effacement. In other words: Screw the narcissism. Throw out the platitudes. Give me grit and give someone else the glory.

I wanted to write a response on how I feel and what this means for my own personal struggle(s) with my choices regarding the future, but I stumbled across this passage a few nights ago and I don't think I could explain a part of it as well as Kierkegaard does:

"Our early youth is like a flower at dawn with a lovely dewdrop in its cup, harmoniously and pensively reflecting everything that surrounds it. But as soon the sun rises over the horizon, and the dewdrop evaporates; with it vanish the fantasies of life, and now it becomes a question...whether or not a person is able to produce--by his own efforts as does the oleander--a drop that may represent the fruit of his life. This requires, above all, that one be allowed to grow in the soil where one really belongs, but that is not always so easy to find. In this respect there exist fortunate creatures who have such a decided inclination in a particular direction that they faithfully follow the path once it is laid out for them without ever falling prey to the thought that perhaps they ought to have followed an entirely different path. There are others who let themselves be influenced so completely by their surroundings that it never becomes clear to them in what direction they are really striving. Just as the former group has its own implicit categorical imperative, so the latter recognizes an explicit categorical imperative. But how few there are in the former group, and to the latter I do not wish to belong. Those who get to experience the real meaning of Hegelian dialectics in their lives are greater in number. Incidentally, it is altogether natural for wine to ferment before it becomes clear; nevertheless this process is often disagreeable in its several stages, although regarded in its totality it is of course agreeable, provided it does in the end yield its relative results in the context of the usual doubt. This is of major significance for anybody who has come to terms with his destiny by means of it, not only because of the calm that follows in contrast to the preceding storm, but because one then has life in a quite different sense than before."(taken from one of Kierkegaard's early journal entries, found in The Essential Kierkegaard)

And just like that, I realize I've already decided. I want to have life.

Open Letter to My Future Kidlet(s)

Dear Spawn,

If you're reading this, yay! It means you've made it in one piece to this developmental stage. I didn't drop you on your head, accidentally poison you, or sell you to the boogeyman...at least not yet. 

I'm writing this to you as a 23-year old overgrown child who has long been wrestling with the concept of parenting. No offense, but I never really liked or wanted kids. But just in case some powerful otherworldly force possesses me to carry a zygote (or two...or three) to term, I feel compelled to warn you, my (hopefully adorable) future kidlet(s), about a few very important things. This is my mommy disclaimer. My hope is that it will help you meet all the twists and turns of our relationship and other inescapable courses of parent-child fate with the open mind and open heart you'll need if you want to stay sane. Especially if you're anything like me....which to some degree you will be. 

Without a doubt, at times...

• I will hurt you. And disappoint you. When I drop the ball on you, you will feel jaded, lonely, or forlorn (or all three).
• I will be terrible at expressing my unconditional love and affection for you -- sometimes when you need it most. 
• I will use and abuse the "I'm the adult" card and forget to listen. 
• I will make you wonder if you're really living for yourself or if you're just living for me. 
• I will underestimate you. I will overestimate you....all the while missing the point to stop estimating you at all and instead smother you with love and awe.
• I will make you cry - in front of me, behind my back, and maybe even in public. Even worse, I will berate you for crying, when I should be hugging you tight.
• I will forget how young you are. I will forget how old you are.
• I will have unreasonable expectations of you, and will thus douse you with a slew of unwarranted social comparisons.
• I will embarrass you.
• I will never be good enough, yet I will sometimes treat you like you're the one who will never be good enough.
• I will contradict myself. Better yet, I may not even make any sense. 
• I will give you a hard time for not being independent, but at the same time I will not want to let go.
• I will be retributive with my anger towards your mistakes, instead of purposive.
• I will clamor to shower you with gifts when I feel especially guilty (probably about something on this list). 
• I will be so busy making sure your tummy is fed that I will forget to ensure that your soul is being nourished.
• I will, one day, stop being the all-knowing adult figure you needed. You will realize I am no longer leading the way -- we are now walking alongside each other.
• I will never quench your thirst for mothering (maybe even fathering, if you're especially unlucky).

With that said, it only logically follows that:

Anything good I do, anything I get right...will have been orchestrated by the pure grace and mercy of a God. 

I refuse to take credit for it. Because I am not a perfect person, nor will I ever be. Though I will undoubtedly be bursting at the seams with love and good intentions for you, it doesn't erase the fact that I am a broken human being. We all are. I will try my very best to give you an amazing life and help you soar. But please don't ever for a second fall into the trap of idealistic modern family constructs and think that I will be the perfect provider. More importantly, don't ever fall into the trap of thinking that you yourself could be perfect. And I say this with the wisdom of experience: God is the only perfect mother and father, so lean on Him. I will help you, because it's what I do also. And just like that, in imperfect harmony, I hope we can go forth creating beautiful, fruitful, and meaningful lives.

So yea. Perchance I make the bold/senseless/irreversible decision to have kids, this is what I'd want you to know.

With love,
Your crazy mom

p.s. I really hope I got to have my way and that your name is Soren. Or Egypt. Or Emery. Or Cyan. Or Krav. If not, please look away as I go strangle your father for taking away my lifelong dream.

p.p.s. Seriously, make your bed.

요이땅!

몸이 망가질 직정 ㅠㅠ 한달째 지독한 감기를 앓고있음. 으읔.

그래도 기죽지않고 죽도록 열심히 사는 내 모습...숨통이 트인듯한 이 색다른 느낌...참 반갑다. 애매한 골치 덩어리들은  깨긋히 아웃시킨 후 쉴세 없이 빛을 향해 달리다보니...나도 모르게 오래간만에 다시 환히 웃을 수 있게됐다. 뿌듯하다. 

언뜻 보면 무조건 바쁘게 지낸다는건 좋지 않지만 이렇게 여러가지 활동으로 인해  많은걸 배우고  써클을 넓히고있으니...성장하고 있는게 틀림없다. 또다시 주저앉는 날도 물론 오겠지. 근데 생전 처음으로 내 행복을 위해 진심으로 응원해주는 사람들과 어울리니 힘이 생긴다.  이런거구나...늦었지만 너무나 필요했던 깨닳음. 새로운 경험들, 설레는 내 가슴. 맘에 쏙 들어.  

빨리 낳고  계속 달려야지. 

The Lady or the Tiger

Everything I hated about myself in the past, I'm having to learn how to love. If there's anything that the past few years have taught me, it's that I'd rather tackle the rest of my life from a place of self-love than of self-abhorrence. But that doesn't make it any less terrifying. I guess in a sense I am a creature of habit...and that's why?

My dizzying compulsion to over-empathize and to make squalid attempts at mastering a God-like omniscience of all things under the sun; beating myself up for not understanding why I deserved the bad things (at some times) or the good things (at others); allowing destructive, verbally abusive people to hijack my inner monologue one too many times; playing frenzied versions of the blame game (attributing my blunders to the failings of others vs. punishing myself too harshly for the failings of others); this mountain of guilt and unworthiness that I'm particularly wired to feel as someone who is just as much a product of privilege as she is a product of dearth -- which drives everything that I do and manifests at times like a twisted penchant for pain...none of this gets me anywhere. Somehow I have to redirect all this energy towards a more self-soothing endeavor.

Soren Kierkegaard, a bona fide Danish stud muffin, said that life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. So, yea, I can connect the dots of my past to groom myself to be my present and future utmost. But to a certain extent and that's it. I can't try to connect the dots of my future because I will never understand everything -- nor will I be able to control the journey or the outcome as much as I'd like to. And I'm gradually accepting this because I'm realizing that the more I yearn to, the less I give myself the wiggle room I need to live faithfully and fearlessly.

Photophilia

Everything of this world loses its luster. Places, possessions...even people. As humans we were uniquely gifted (burdened?) with the cognitive ability to know better, yet we are the first to squander any and all traces of brilliance on earthly escapades. "We" including me.

Lately, too many things have been losing their luster. 

The problem is, we have lives to live out during the remainder of our stint here. And we're restless light-seeking creatures by nature, like moths to a flame.  Scrambling from one illusively shiny thing to the next will only exhaust us and take us for a ride (or two, or three...or 586,237).  How do I deal with the fact that everything in this world will lose its luster?

Perhaps...if I redirect my energy towards polishing and re-polishing myself from the inside out -- rather than from the outside in, and teach myself to stop scrambling, I can start to chase a true brilliance bright enough to sustain me until I get to bask in the eternal afterglow...

Just a tiny perhaps.

Enochlophobia

You know when you have to push through a big crowd? You want to just close your eyes, clench your fists, and ram right on through, but can't because you need a strategy? Every second spent stalling or calculating the next step you're filled to the brim with anxiety as you eagerly await the next possible moment to thrust yourself forward again? You chance a few glares, a harsh word or two, a stubbed toe, a spilled cup, whatever. And you chance brushing up uncomfortably close to someone along the way? But you gotta keep moving or else you'll be STUCK in a place you don't want to be? You sacrifice some of the fleeting highs that come with stopping to mingle or enjoy all that's abuzz...just for the sake of getting. the. hell. out? Because you feel like you're suffocating? Because you want to be in a space you can call your own and breathe?

I feel like that in life right now. But there is no crowd. There are no people involved. It's just me against a bunch of intangible forces. How unsexy is that.

But in a way ("glass half full" moment coming right up), everyone with a dream or passion to be anything even remotely resembling a dynamo in life SHOULD (ironically) have enochlophobia, or fear of crowds. I read something along these lines somewhere: if you want to lead the orchestra, at one point you have to turn your back on the crowds.

Weird day.

Today was a weird day. It was full of pangs.

Main Entry: ¹pang

Pronunciation: \ˈpaŋ\

Function: noun

Etymology: origin unknown

Date: 15th century

1 : a brief piercing spasm of pain
2 : a sharp attack of mental anguish

Pang #1. It is dark, and I'm wrestling with Sleep in my mind. My nighttime ruminations create a fortress so tall--so impenetrable, that those zzZ's have a hard time pinning me down. I'm about to admit defeat when I am startled silly at 1:00am by the ring of my phone. I've received junk email from my old friend's Yahoo account. It must have been hacked. Nothing alarming right? Wrong. This friend took her own life four months ago. What's worse? The subject line:

Hello.

The hairs on my spine stand at attention. I pinch myself. I know there's no way she could have sent it, but I have to admit: for a fleeting moment, a tiny part of me felt hope, eagerness. I half-imagined the gibberish in the rest of the email rearrange into loving words of reassurance. This has got to be a sick joke, I think. It has become harder to sleep. Sigh.

Pang #2. I woke up to the worst bout of joint pain I've had since March. I curse my body and decide to spend the rest of the day trying to relieve the stiffness. I try an epsom salt bath, yoga, and Aleve. None work, so I finally drag my sister out to go on a light hike with me. We make a few stops first.

I've just paid the cashier at Stop #3. The little one and I head straight for the exit...and straight into Shitty Run-In With Heartless Lady And Her Elderly Mother. Basically, my sister made a run for the exit while the door was slightly ajar, brushing gently past Elderly Mother. Heartless Lady throws fit because my sister didn't hold the door open for her mother. Heartless Lady deliberately complains loudly for us to hear as we walk towards the parking lot. An unbearable minute passes...we are almost at our cars now. She does not stop complaining to her mother about what a manner-less child my sister is. So I confront her:

"Um. Excuse me. I'm sorry. but my sister is mentally challenged and doesn't understand the situation. Social cues like holding the door for others don't come easy for her because she is autistic. Do you think you could you stop talking about her like that?"
Heartless Lady is pissed. "Miss, I was talking to my mother. Not you. This is between me and my mother. Why are you butting into our conversation."

"I'm not. You were speaking loudly for us to hear, and it was very rude. Trust me, she didn't mean it. Please stop."
"That does not excuse your sister from holding the door for elders. Or you could have stopped her from running out like that. And you know that I can have a conversation about it with my mother if I want, right?"

"She didn't know better. And I can't control her. It's not that big of a d---"
Heartless Lady cuts me off coldly. "Then you shouldn't bring her out. If you can't control her, what are you doing out with her? If she has behavioral issues, she belongs at home." She shakes her head disapprovingly and walks away.

Speechless. I'm so offended, so outraged...that I don't even notice the tears falling. People are so backwards sometimes. Anyways, what a sight we must have been: Girl holding groceries, crying in between a nail salon and a candy store at 3pm in a suburban strip mall. Can't forget the aloof young girl beside her, patting her chest and making neighing noises. Sigh.

Pang #3. After collecting myself, Sis and I head to bluff top trails in PV, near the Terranea Resort. With neatly manicured lawns, gorgeous oceanfront cliffs, vacationing families, trails heading down to the beach...I figured it'd be a perfect way to get my mind off the negativity and grease my hinges. But as soon as we hit the main trail I see a freshly created memorial for a lady who jumped off the cliff, exactly one month ago.

Unbelievable. Of all the beautiful sights to see, I am led to this--visions of another stint on earth abandoned. Charles Hansen Towne's words from 1922 dance back to life again:

"When he went blundering back to God
His songs half written, his work half done,
Who knows what paths his bruised feet trod,
What hills of peace or pain he won?

I hope God smiled and took his hand,
And said, "Poor truant, passionate fool!
Life's book is hard to understand:
Why couldst thou not remain at school?"

Then, a visitor. A guy not much older than I was came to visit the memorial. He stared long and hard into the ocean ahead. I left to give him space, but for a second, I had this urge to approach him. We were strangers, but we must share a similar pain. We had to---I mean, after all, we shared real estate on Bereavement Blvd. But why didn't I? Could have been a moment of mutual comfort, however brief. Sigh.

Pang #4. I drove home feeling off-kilter. My mind was stuffed to the brim with thoughts. I cursed to myself realizing that my joints were in no better condition than they were in the morning. When I pulled in to my driveway, a group of girls from the eating disorder treatment home next door were piling into a van. Maybe an outing? Either way, more thoughts of her, and of a potential healing that didn't occur. Of my unfinished therapy. Another pang. Sigh.

Today was a weird day. You know, those feeling days. It reminded me of all the time I have spent clawing hard at my surroundings and deep within me to try to find a strength I don't have, but pretended to have. Along with the overall unreliability of positivity and hope. I don't like days like today.

There must be a reason why God tends to massage bruises like this. So I'm patiently tuning in to the airwaves. And tomorrow, I will reenter the normal world of California summer sun + weekend laziness. In other words, tomorrow will be better.

나의 2010

마음 넓은 사람들과 뜯깊은 추억을 만들기.

쓸때없는 걱정거리는 쉽게쉽게 내쫓기.

안이나 밖이나 생각과 행동으로 인해 더욱 빛나는 사람되기.

소리만 내지말고 열심히 듣기.

아쉬움 없이 살기.

Diamonds in the Dust

My sister had her 18th birthday party. Wow. 18 already? I'm wiping tears of fear and joy away as I wonder what life--no, God--has in store for her. It worries me tremendously and because I am currently working at a regional center, I'm constantly thinking about "life with a person with a developmental disability" in all its legal, emotional, clinical, psychological, sociological, and economical guts and glory. As such, the weight of the responsibility is slowly kicking in. Times like this I wish I had a friend who was in a similar position so we could divulge our innermost heartaches and qualms without feeling self-conscious. That person would understand how it knocks the wind out of you when you least expect it (and when you thought goodness by now you must be used to it) and lingers like a thunderous brass gong ringing tirelessly inside your chest. Who needs no explanation to understand how it feels to be permanently awash in tides of  heightened sensitivity and compassion...all because of this painstaking relationship you have with someone who will forever remain oblivious to all that brews around them. 

Celebrating her 18th birthday this year is an especially joyous occasion....and that is because my sister had a rough year. Actually, our entire little pod of a family had a rough year. After a frustrating, turbulent few months of strange fainting spells that turned out to be mini-strokes, my sister was diagnosed with Moyamoya disease, an extremely rare (and by rare I mean one case in millions rare) progressive condition marked by cloggage in the two of the most important arteries in your body: the ones sending blood to your brain. Strokes, seizures, mental decline, hemorrhages, loss of muscle control and death are all some of the sure consequences for those with moyamoya, and there's really no cure. Revascularization surgery, however, significantly reduces the likelihood of any such problems and indeed, surgery we did do--immediately. and in Korea...which is why I was in the motherland for a bit. 

A couple months ago, my sister's future--our family's future--dimmed significantly and every minute became nervewrecking, but by the grace of God and his strange, miraculous ways, she bounced back and is now doing better. By a last-minute stroke of fate, she didn't have to shave her head, either. Thank heavens. She is obsessed with her locks. My insides are aflutter nonstop now, especially when I think about the devastation that first struck me. I live for my sister, proudly and willingly. I feel a powerful urge to walk in a direction that will better the lives of her and others like her and ensure security for the both of us, so that we will live out the last of our permanently entangled lives together in peace. But news of her initial diagnosis shattered all of that and I literally felt hopeless, unmotivated, and sorry. Sorry that it was her, as opposed to anyone else in the family not already dealing with a multitude of obstacles to a fulfilling existence. Moyamoya is so rare that few medical professionals even knew what it was. No one had answers for us, which frightened us terribly. We anticipated anything and prayed hard. Very hard. It was all the more difficult because there was a whole added layer of complexity and heartbreak that I know isn't understood universally. I had a really hard time connecting with anyone to the level that I needed to feel solaced. And that loneliness, with all the other craptasticness of life and failed friendships sprinkled on top, continues to pang inside of me...but who cares. A light has been cast again on a shadowy future and that is all that counts for now.  Today, June 13th is a day to be remembered as the day that marks yet another challenging year quietly conquered by my family. 

Tears and Cheers. 

1000 words to help you paint a picture

She flips her hair using her neck to admire her own "long, billowing" hair. It never gets past the base of her neck, but she has faith that one day it will indeed be long *somehow*

She loves to have the palms of her hands scratched at night. They are rough and callused because of it. Many many years of it.

She talks in questions. Even when she's writing greeting cards, her punctuation mark of choice is the question mark. Hello? Happy Birthday? I love you? Andrea?

She hates being the last in line when walking in a public space. She is always worming her way up to in front of the rest of the family, working hard exceed our pace while constantly looking back to make sure we're still there.

She is a mic hog. Don't ever go to karaoke with her.

...but she is a great singer. Listen to her sing when you have the chance. Go with her.

She always, always, ALWAYS sees the best in people. Always. She is 1000% blind to others' flaws. It's truly admirable.

She draws people funny, using circles and ovals for each limb, the torso, and the face.

She is infinitely lovable. God truly blessed her with the gift to warm hearts and draw people towards her.

...So when we go to the mall and such, there always seems to be someone from her high school or her church who recognizes her and goes out of their way to say hi.

She is still scared of flushing the toilet.

She thinks cars have feelings. One time she felt sad that my mom's car would spend the night out in the driveway, where it gets "cold and lonely"

She is predictably irritable...most of the time. The other 15% of the time it's a guessing game.

She loves food. She likes to look up cooking videos on Youtube.

She hates watching American TV. Only Korean satellite broadcast channels. Variety shows are her favorite!

She says weird things. Like "your hair looks like an ice cream cone!"

She recently started watching her own weight. It was cute at first and now it is funny and odd. Poor girl.

She will always give her signature temper tantrum for 15 minutes before changing her mind when it's time to go out. We know how to time it now; we just wait for her to come back 'round.

She loves to point it out very loudly (using her finger) when someone farts. "You farted! Gross!" When you're in public, it's mortifying. (Not that it's happened to me...)

She enjoys copying the children's bible, word for word, in neat little lines.

She loves to watch the same show/movie over and over...play the same video game over and over. As a result, there was one time when I had memorized (like, seriously memorized) quite a few movies (i.e. Mulan, Sound of Music, Finding Nemo...)

She likes puppies, but if it's small, she'll smoosh it between her hands and cuddle it SO hard that it'll get annoyed of her.

She loves tofu. More than any other person in the world...I can bet on that.

When she was a a toddler, she put a fat Washington-state sized slug in her mouth thinking it was chocolate. My aunt luckily caught her.

She imitates a lot of the things I do. It's flattering, sisterly, and humbling all at once.

She can't sleep if my mom hasn't come to her bedside to pray together. And she prefers English.

She also took up hook-stitching or whatever it is. She taught me how to do it at least three times and I still don't know how to do it. She feels proud that she knows how to do something I don't know. I like it that way.

She loves to ride the bike. We grew up in a cul-de-sac and currently live in a house with one. She will spend hours and hours just riding back and forth.

She likes to dance in public. She shakes her booty, twiddles her fingers in the air, and does neck isolations. As she likes to call it, she's dancing like an "octopus." It's rather embarrassing.

She spurts out Korean here and there. It's hilarious.

She recently developed the habit of calling you, saying whatever she wants, and then hanging up on you mid-conversation. It happens at least three times a day. For every member of our family.

She likes to lock herself in her room and listen to Celine Dion for hours. And dance, uninterrupted.

She thinks ten $1 bills is worth more than one $10 bill.

She loves to touch soft things, like fur...or my hair.

She is so clever that she thought to hide stuff in her trash can! Where no one can look.

She has an art teacher she adores...often times more than my mother. The art teacher moved to Korea.

She gets teary-eyed thinking about her art teacher.

When I used to get in trouble and have to sit on my knees and keep my hands up as a punishment (yes, Korean style), she would voluntarily join to defend me -->

She makes us proud by doing the simplest of things, like brushing her teeth on her own, or microwaving and cutting her own food. We often laugh about it, but I know the pride is genuine. ''

She isn't a shopaholic, unlike the rest of our family. When we offer to buy her clothes, she says "No, it's okay. I have too many clothes." Looks as if we all have something to learn from her.

She never complains about pain or discomfort. Ever.

...so it makes us even more sad not knowing if she's hiding it to keep us from being alarmed.

She has an impressive (selective) memory. It often reveals how much weight she gives to the smallest of situations, and reminds us how truly valuable each moment is.

She gives us something to work for--a purpose that keeps us grounded day by day. I've made so many mistakes and lost many friends, but she continuously makes me a better person.

She lives in the moment. What seems ephemeral to us means the world to her, one fleeting moment at a time.

She deserves the world and more.

Waves of Longing

To this day, I am utterly shaken by the stillness that exists between us.