on memories

I have something called a memory box, which is basically a tin that I fill with little souvenirs from notable events throughout the year. For example, if I go to the movies with friends on a fun night out, I might save the ticket stub in that box. And so on.

I guess this is a little tradition that started for me on my own since I was young. It wasn't a deliberate, planned act, but just a matter of convenience. I had photos and souvenirs, I had a shoebox, voila. A memory box.

The shoe box has since gotten upgrade to a Little Women-esque chest, donated by my aunt. And now, it holds fragments of things, from stubs to polaroids to letters and handwritten short stories I've never really typed up.


It's strange how we feel each moment of our lives so keenly, so much so that in that single moment, we don't feel like we'd ever forget it. Because just think about it. What do you feel now?

Right now, I feel the smoothness of a keyboard, the lateness of the hour, the quiet hum of my refrigerator. I feel an ache in my shoulder from sitting in the same position too long, and the words that are spilling across this page. I feel and sense so many things. Truly, the body is just a bundle of nerves, because all it can do is just feel.

I don't feel like I'll forget this moment, even though my brain knows plainly that I will, or at least most of it. This is just one small moment among many similar moments of tired nights writing at my computer.

It's curious to me that this is the way it is. Because a person, at the end of the day, is just a long string of memories. Their entire being is composed of this idea, since everything that shapes them to who they are is the collection of memories that holds the entirety of their lives. And yet, we're not capable of remembering everything. We just remember in fragments, of certain days that we bother to write down and take note.

The importance of remembering isn't just recorded in textbooks or memorials. It's present in our present (sorry), and it's one that's keenly felt by anyone who has the idea to really examine themselves as a being. What do you see when you look inwards?

For me, I see snow. I see my grandmother standing, holding my hands clad in red mittens.

I see my father's back, always turned away as he drives me to my destination.

I see words swimming in front of my eyes as I struggle to stay awake in another desperate night of studying.

I see the string of lights at the local mall as I come out of the movie theater with a group of good friends, laughing and feeling content.

 I taste cold yogurt and hot rice, I hear my mother's music and the latest hit on the radio.

Within the box, I see birthday letters, strangely taken photographs, and subway cards that are gathering dust under the neglect of the LA public transportation system. The box allows me to remember some things that are really not worth remembering, like the specific dates for my antibiotics prescription, but they also show me hidden evidence of a life that has actually been lived.

I spend so much of my time doubting that my life has been significant that I'm surprised I have a boxful of scraps that assure me that I have, at least, lived for some of these seventeen year.

There are memories that you can't place in a box. But it is important to remember them, and hopefully the box becomes an aid in that.

on failure

Here's the deal about screwing up: it's the horrible, gut-wrenching feeling that something has happened, something bad, and it's your fault, and there's nothing you can do about it.

I am a perfectionist, of a most frustrating variety. I'm the kind of person who is not able to begin a task if I believe that it cannot be carried out perfectly. In some ways, this is good - what I do matters, and therefore, whatever I accomplish is actually quite good.

But I'm still prevented from actually doing more. I have not yet learned the lesson of youth; that it is only through mistakes that I can truly live and learn and do. I am so young that it hardly matters at this point. It's better to stumble now than later.

Yet the gut-wrenching fear of failure is still there. It is always there, like a phantom that haunts me as I think of new projects to complete. It is one of the reasons why I haven't been writing more often lately, why I haven't been able to get back into piano, and why I want to learn how to cook more Korean food but am deathly afraid of what's going to happen when I get near the kitchen.

When I really get down to thinking about my own process of thinking, I am the kind of person who continuously mulls over an issue. I look at it from all kinds of angles, trying to see if there's any flaw to the execution of my plans, and I reach in with a mental wand and attempt to fix it. Some would say this is a good thing, a signifier of my perfectionist nature making things perfect.

But then there are people like my dad, who just do. My dad is the spontaneous type, who rushes into projects with the kind of passion that I admire. He is determined to see it through, whereas I often get discouraged when things start going haywire. However, while my dad is spontaneous, he is also adaptable - and there, we see balance. Through flexibility, he approaches head-on as they come; there is not mulling or predicting the future to make sure the road is perfect.

This is one of the things I have to learn. Luckily, I have learned it more in the recent years, as I stepped further out of my comfort zone into activities where perfection was not ensured. I am a member of my Mock Trial team, where I debate and fight against another team based on a fake trial given to us. We have to formulate strategies, theories, and arguments while also dealing with the issue of objections and times. There is no predictability here - if the team we face catches sight of our flaws, we lose. If they don't, we win.

I love my team, but I can't say we're winners. More often than not, we end up dropping out of rounds because we face teams who are simply more prepared than we are. Most recently, we ended up becoming one of ten schools to remain in the competition - out of ninety total schools. I was ecstatic and determined to reach at least the semi-finals.

But then the other team had memorized the entirety of their script. We weren't yet off book. We lost.

Here's the curious deal about Mock Trial: I have probably lost most often through that activity, but I have also lost with a sense of enlightened joy. Winning, losing, failure, perfection - it didn't matter. I had simple just done.

That is the kind of joy I'd like to carry on through the rest of this year, the next, and into college. To do more, to see more, without the fear of falling of flat on my face. Because even if I do, then I'm sure there will be someone who will help me up. A possible stranger. And that could be the start of a beautiful friendship, wouldn't you agree?

reading list #1

I've been reading almost nonstop lately, and it felt a little wasteful not to keep track of my reading list. So, without further ado, here's what I've been reading.

>>>>Before I Go to Sleep by S. J. Watson

Summary: 'As I sleep, my mind will erase everything I did today. I will wake up tomorrow as I did this morning. Thinking I'm still a child. Thinking I have a whole lifetime of choice ahead of me...' 

Memories define us. So what if you lost yours every time you went to sleep? Your name, your identity, your past, even the people you love — all forgotten overnight. And the one person you trust may only be telling you half the story. Welcome to Christine's life.

My thoughts: This book is highly conceptual, and its premise is fascinating. I was more interested with the psychology, and although the "thriller" part of the book was what made it a huge hit, it would have been more appealing to me if it had dealt more with the effects of Christine's memory on her family.  

Rating: 3.5/5

>>>>The Good Earth by Pearl S. Buck

Summary: The poignant tale of a Chinese farmer and his family in old agrarian China. The humble Wang Lung glories in the soil he works, nurturing the land as it nurtures him and his family. Nearby, the nobles of the House of Hwang consider themselves above the land and its workers; but they will soon meet their own downfall.

My thoughts: I was completely engrossed in the life of this farmer who starts to rise in status as China itself begins the change with the coming of the industrial age.  What I loved the most was that as the book deals with the idea of tradition, of love and loss, and the ever present sense of change, it also tells the story of a family that is not perfect or even perfectly good, but as dysfunctional as any family that has ever existed.

Rating: 4/5

>>>>One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey

Summary: Randle McMurphy, a boisterous rebel, swaggers into the world of a mental hospital and takes over. A lusty, life-affirming fighter, McMurphy rallies the other patients around him by challenging the dictatorship of Nurse Ratched. But this defiance, which starts as a sport, develops into a grim struggle between two relentless opponents: Nurse Ratched, back by the full power of authority, and McMurphy, who has only his own indomitable will. 

My thoughts: This was a book assigned in my English class, so I've been reading this with a fully analytical mindset. This usually detracts from my enjoyment of a book, but Cuckoo had me fascinated from the start. The characters and their struggles speak to the reader, and it broke my heart to read the end.

Rating: 5/5

>>>>The Fire and Thorns Trilogy by Rae Carson

Summary: An insecure princess with an unclear destiny becomes a secret bride, a revolutionary, a queen, and—finally—the champion her world so desperately needs.

My thoughts: I'm a sucker for fantasy worlds that have a historic root and strong heroines - and this series has both. With a world that seems to have its foundation on Spanish history, Fire and Thorns weaves fantasy and religion together around an incredibly well-written cast of characters. I read all three of the books in this trilogy in one weekend, despite my initial reluctance to start "another YA fantasy series." Reminiscent of my favorite book series, The Queen's Thief, Fire and Thorns is entertaining and captivating. 

Rating: 4/5 

>>>>Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

Summary: Persepolis is a graphic novel of Satrapi's unforgettable childhood and coming of age within a large and loving family in Tehran during the Islamic Revolution; of the contradictions between private life and public life in a country plagued by political upheaval; of her high school years in Vienna facing the trials of adolescence far from her family; of her homecoming--both sweet and terrible; and, finally, of her self-imposed exile from her beloved homeland

My thoughts: The art for Persepolis is fantastic, but it's the story that gets me in the end. The tumultuous period of the 1980s and 90s in Iran are rarely discussed in my history classes, but this novel not only helps to shed light on the events, but also on the emotional backdrop they place. I related to the main character on a personal level, making her story unforgettably searing.

Rating: 5/5



Disclaimer: All summaries have been copied or revised from official summaries listed at Goodreads.

when i reached neverland

Lately, I've been contemplating the idea of never.

Wendy once said to Peter Pan, "Never is an awfully long time," which is quite possibly the greatest romanticized understatement of all time. I, of course, understand the idea of "never" intellectually, but I don't think I've ever really had to confront it emotionally (In terms of other people. We'll get to myself and the afterlife later).

While writing my college essays, I (and most likely many other seniors) realized how tremendously privileged my entire life has been. Scratch that; it's not a realization, because I've been uncomfortably aware of this fact in the back of my brain ever since I learned the concept of "poor." But I did have to actually deal with the fact that I am quite spoiled.

Because really, what have I ever wanted for? When have I ever been challenged or denied opportunities? The very fact that my parents immigrated to America, the land of opportunity, means that I was part of the limited number of children born to parents who were brave enough to come to a foreign country because life could be better here.

I'm really freaking lucky.

I've never really dealt with any significantly traumatic loss, my family members are all healthy, and I grew up under the influence of the best parents in the world. Sure, I've dealt with my own turmoil and depression and anxiety, but I've always had help and support throughout it all.

So I am privileged, and I have never been forced to deal with the idea of eternity and the word "never" until I started to contemplate that I really am going to college in a year's time.

Besides burying my head under a pillow and rocking back and forth for hours with the aftereffects of an existential crisis,  I've been giving the idea of eternity a lot of thought. Because technically speaking, eternity for me means the 60+ years that I will (potentially) live after graduation.

What am I going to do? And also, what will I never do?

I read somewhere (Paper Towns by John Green) that the likelihood of a completely unlikely event happening to me is possible at least once in my life. For example, meeting the Queen of England. Getting struck by lightning. Getting into college. But among all of those things, the possibility is that there will be only one thing that actually happens.

What is that thing? And what things will I miss out on?

When I think of everything I would like to do, I know it's not humanly feasible for me to accomplish everything. I can never win a gold medal at the Olympics, I will never be rich, I will never own more than one pet.

I guess the good thing about being a child and still coddled and protected from the realities of NEVER was that eternity felt so...open. As we grow up, there will be more responsibilities and realities of life that place limits on our so-called eternity. The space of that eternity just grows smaller and smaller until there's barely any room for what we'd like to fit in there.

Too little room. The beginning of Never.

Sylvia Plath once wrote about a fig tree. She wrote about her desperation, because the fig tree and its branches represented all of the goals and pathways that she wanted to pursue, whether it was as a high fashion magazine editor or a painter or a writer. Even if she wanted everything, even if she wanted to chop down the entire fig tree and eat every single fig on its branches, she could never do it because it was not possible.

So she couldn't choose. The poem ends with Plath sitting at the base of the metaphorical fig tree, unable to choose which fig she wanted to eat, and then having those figs dry up one by one, until they all fall dead to the ground.

I could very well get stuck with this idea of never. I could start despairing that my potential and my dreams might be limitless, but reality is not.

But at the end of the day, I think I refuse to be like the girl at the base of the tree. I refuse to be stuck there, so that I can't even eat one fig. I'll have my one fig, if that's all the world will give me, and dammit, I'll work like there's no tomorrow, so that I can have another fig. And then another. And then another.

Maybe some will fall to the ground, dried and withered. But I'll still have had my share of figs.

september snapshots

I do have to remember that the purpose of this blog is not simply for my (procrastinating) pleasure, but also for the sake of my memories. It is, after all, recording my senior year.

To be fair, I didn't do much in September other than study and freak the hell out about everything. But there were always those little spaces of time when I managed to eat some food and talk to a few friends, and those moments made the crazy month worth it.

Be warned; there are many food pictures.

1.) Midnight fries are the best fries. Taken on the night after submitting my Questbridge application, hooray.

2.) Cheap Thrifty ice cream from Rite-Aid. Mine was one of the chocolate chips, although I regret not getting mint chocolate chip instead. Would have been aesthetically prettier too.

3.) I watched one movie in theaters in September, and it was the blockbuster (Korean) hit Myeong Nyang (Or The Admiral: Roaring Currents) in LA's CGV theater, which uniquely shows Korean films. The title refers to a historic battle by one of the most celebrated Korean military officers, Admiral Lee Soon-Shin. He defeated 300 Japanese ships with a meager fleet of 12, making his victory almost impossible, yet completely legendary.

4.) Our local mall has a Shave-It, which is basically just flavored shaved ice topped with ice cream. It's a strange combination, but apparently delicious, and I tried it for the first time. Mine is the orange one - I was chicken and I forgoed the ice cream. But my friends' were delicious.

5.) I went to a place called The Tea Gardens, where the tea was good and the prices astronomical. I did love the pastries that lined the windows oh-so-prettily.

6.) We ordered a tropical, fruity tea that had a ridiculously long name that I immediately forgot. I prefer black teas, but the citrus flavor was pleasantly unexpected.

7.) We were technically there for lunch but I got the breakfast menu anyways. Eggs Benedict on toasted English muffins hollandaise sauce and a basil flavored hash brown. Yum.

8.) And the pastries! Oh the pastries! Strawberry shortcake, glazed almond cheesecake, and a butterscotch cake that were adorably miniature sized. If only the prices weren't so high (for a poor student), I'd go back just for the pastries. 

Sing, September! from indecisiveplanning on 8tracks Radio.

And finally, a playlist! Here are all the songs I've been enjoying since September. It's a mix of both Korean and English songs, but I hope you enjoy it regardless of what language you speak.

at the end of the day

Hey all, or at least to whoever is actually reading this.

This is my first post in more than a month, which is a pretty good indication of how hectic my life has been and how low this blog is on my priority list. I would apologize, but I don't think I have enough readers to apologize to, so ha. I can do whatever I want, yo.

(I was also planning on a September Favorites, but it's like halfway through October, so I'll just lump everything together and make a huge favorites post in November.)

Anyways, yeah. With September came the realization that my life is slowly ending. And by life, I mean that sweet blissful period of time called childhood, when you really do have nothing more to worry about except school and homework and activities and trying to let puberty do its job.

That life is now officially over. I will, of course, be announcing its official end multiple times in the course of the next year, what with all of the "landmarks" coming up (end of college apps season, college decisions, graduation, eighteenth birthday, actual entrance of college, 1 month anniversary of living by myself and not dying), but it feels weird doing it for the first time.

Why was September more eventful than any other month? For one thing, my college apps began and my ACT was this month. School also started to hit the ground running, as well as my extracurriculars, and I gotta tell you, balancing all of that and sleep has been really exhausting.

I ended up doing really well on my ACT, so woohoo! I've been maintaining my grades at school (except for AP Economics lol), I think I'm pretty up to par with my extracurriculars (although I am super behind on one deadline), and I just finished my SAT II Subject Tests today (Literature, which I'm sure I rocked).

So all in all, not that bad, I guess. I mean, I do feel like I shaved off five years of my life with all of the sleep deprivation, but the results were worth it, so there's that.

I don't know if you can tell from this post, but my social life has been pretty much dead for this entire month. I barely see my friends who don't have similar schedules to me, which is really upsetting because I value some of these friends the most. It also sucks because this is our last year. I won't be seeing these guys again collectively for a long time, if ever.

That being said, I have been able to occasionally sneak off campus (or even go to a friend's house! Gasp!) because some of my friends have started driving. The little pick me ups that I could find in between those feverish hours of studying reminded me of why I was actually studying.

I plan on being an English major, which, I know, is not the most practical major to choose from. And who knows where I'll go after graduating. Maybe law school, which would be the most practical thing to do. Maybe I'll write a book, and it'll be a best-selling hit and I won't have to work a day in my life. Who even knows?

I guess the best part of my personality is that I'm adaptable and my interests are broad. There are many, many options for me that I'll be happy with. In the past, I had this particular ambition of wanting to change the world and getting recorded in history books...but that doesn't feel as important anymore. I do want to change the world, but not because of my own big-headed ideas of my own importance, but because the world needs change, just as it's always had.

But I guess in order to do that, I need to learn some things first.

I do have an ultimate goal, and it's not a degree or a book or a career.

At the end of the day, it's simply...experience.

Experience of working on projects that make me feel good because I'm doing something productive and using my skills and finishing a final product. Experience of seeing new things and eating new things and listening about new things. Experience of learning about subjects that I could never have been interested in, and then feeling academically stimulated. Experience about learning emotions and relationships and how it feels to have all of these FIRSTS (first relationship, first kiss, first epic fight, first calling-someone-out-on-their-bullshit-and-not-being-a-coward).

My goal requires hard work and dedication. It's hard to remember that when I'm sitting miserably at 3 AM stuffing my brain with facts and trying not to break down from the exhaustion and the pressure.

But it'll sure be worth it.