To My Superman, Dad

One of my earliest memories I've had was me in my little red pinafore around the age of 4/5 going to a Chinese kindergarten. Then, the uniform was as such that little girls had to wear red pinafores to school. And the only thing that I can recall about that dark dark time (in my opinion pretty darn dark because I could speak zero Mandarin then), besides peeing my pants in front of everyone, was my dad in his necktie, carrying me as I cried and said I didn't wanna go to school.

Another memory I have (though I can honestly say with full conviction that I have ZERO memories of this) of my dad and I is this one photo of me when I was a tiny little baby. He was holding baby me by the back of my neck while propping me up by my bum.

I remember seeing that photo for the first time when I was about 11 or 12 years old. It's actually my dad's favorite photo of me. For as long as I can remember, my dad has always talked about it. He must really like that photo haha.

But enough about all these little snippets of memories. As I write this, looking back today in retrospect, I can't quite recall my dad being very vocal about things. When it came to punishing us, mom was always the one in charge. Whenever it came to us asking the parents for permission, it was always/ mostly through mom's approval. Dad seldom got mad, but instead would get impatient. He'd get impatient when we would get ready to go out to eat. He was always (even till this very day) the first to be downstairs and ready to head out. It's as if his insatiable love and passion about food motivates him to be on his toes, ready for his feast. He wouldn't say it but I guess deep down we all knew that dad was just tremendously excited to be trying out the new restaurants that he had heard about (especially since it was all word-of-mouth then). Needless to say, dad's true love, besides mom, was food. But that love was also translated in the fantastically amazing yet simple cooking. Both my parents are amazing cooks and I've learnt so much from the both of them. Growing up, I always remember dad in his apron & his top off, cooking for us but also calling out to me to make sure I'm standing next to him so I could "learn how to cook". He used to follow it by saying "I tell you ah, next time it'll come in handy when you go to university". And actually, it was my dad who taught me how to cook for the first time in my life. The first thing I learnt how to cook (instant noodles do not count) was fried eggs.

I was about 8 years old. It was a Sunday morning, and the night before, dad had told me that he was going to teach me how to fry an egg. Then, we lived in a house where our "wet" kitchen was actually not within the house. But sorta adjacent to the kitchen door (we had 2 entrances to the house, one the main door, which was used when guests came/ late at night, the other, the kitchen door). I used what felt like a giant kuali and fried my first ever egg. I remember that morning, I was so excited to learn it that I sprinted down to fry the egg and started without my dad (I had seen the adults do it so many times I figured it was a piece of cake to do it myself. And of course, SUCCESS!) then as I was almost done frying my first egg, he appeared and said that it looked good! I could remember the overwhelming feeling I got from a successful fried egg + dad's approval + most importantly, not killing myself haha. Right afterwards, he got me to fry 4 more & I was more than happy to do so. Possibly one of the best days of my life, etched in my memory for the rest of my life. 

Dad was always excited about food. He taught my brother and I how to eat steak, salmon, to use cutlery properly, and even why it's important to know how to use chopsticks. Since we (my brother and I) were young, he and mom had always done everything in their power to make sure that we were well exposed to various kinds of tastes, cultures, and backgrounds. If you know me well enough, you'd know that I'm always super down to try new things. Be it foods, books, activities, or even fashion styles, I'm always down. And it's all thanks to my parents. My parents also made it a point to get both of us to learn how to do menial tasks. From whistling (this is also another one of my favorite memories! But I'll save that for another time), to changing a light bulb, dad (& mom) taught us to how to buy newspaper from the uncle downstairs without being scared. Now you know where I learnt how to do so many things.

So today, I honor not only my father, but both my parents for being supportive of one another, and for teaching me that both mom and dad are equal. What mom can do, dad can as well. Vice versa. Growing up, I never saw the binary of what men should only do, etc. Instead, I saw both my parents on equal playing fields as men & women and I'm tremendously grateful for having such fantabulous parents like these two individuals (although like every human being, they have their flaws and I can't stand them sometimes -They, me too, I'm sure-) but both of them have taught my brother and I ample things that many seem to take for granted.

So thank you, mom & dad. Thank you for being such superheroes!


Love ya!

Cookie Monster Cleans

It is official crunch crunch Cookie Monster on a binge crunch time for Kim.

I have completed week 1 of my final quarter/ semester of Korean classes and the search for a job has become more urgent than ever.

And so, if you haven't already done so, you'll know that if you type my name in on Facebook, you'll see my beautiful face. Annnddd before you ask "wait, Kim, didn't you...?" to which I shall respond. HOLD YOUR HORSES. It's on for a reason. I needed to contact humans urgently and so had it on. But I also remembered that my previous self had joined groups for non-teaching job seekers and had been browsing for potential jobs. That and only that reason. I use it neither to stalk, post, nor scroll newsfeed at all. NADA.

And in my search for jobs, I found this company that said they were constantly looking for people to write for them. And so I emailed them with my samples from my previous job alongside my Twitter & blog. After 3 days of back and forth emailing, this came...

Needless to say, I am rather excited. In one of the emails, the said person had informed me that they're launching a new magazine that is looking to explore an area of luxury in Korea. This gets me excited, not only because I get to continue working on my craft, but I get to do some work that I really really enjoy. It's been a while since I got to go out and do work like this, and so this gives me immense joy. I really hope that things work out.

But despite all this excitement, the hunt is still on. I still need a work that'll provide me with a visa to stay in Korea for the long haul. So before I strap on my invisible I shall be undefeated! bandana, excuse me while I go deep clean my bathroom.

A Bizarre Spiritual Encounter

I had the most bizarre event happen to me today.

It was a nice, cool day out, with winds, and some soft sunlight that greeted me as I waiting for my student to arrive home from school for her English tutoring (I did this outside the building, the waiting, I mean).

As I listened to the husky, caressing, sweet voice of Adele, I stood basking in the sun, taking in the soft tinge that was accompanies by the gentle breeze that made me feel like I was meant to be on the cover of a magazine. In that moment, I was lost. My mind empty, filled only with the voice of Adele, my senses that welcomed the flapping dark teal cloth that made up my pants, and the soft rays. But in that moment, as I admired the welcoming warmth of the sun, I somehow felt this pull towards it. As if my spirit was nudging it's way out of my body toward the sun, following the wind, up up away towards the warmth.

It was a strange feeling, as if my spirit wants to be removed from my body (naturally, of course, not from any freak accidents or any of that sort), into another state of tranquility. I'm not sure if this was my first time, in my accounts, I remember that I'm rather poor at recounting certain events that have occurred in my life. But today, in my blue/green attire, I felt my spirit move, like an unclear signal on 80s colored television sets, nudging in and out of frame.

It was at that moment that I recalled and perhaps had a slightly better comprehension of the saying "died of a broken heart". In my opinion, it's not the broken heart that's caused the death, but more like the sudden immense appreciation of nature and the environment around one that has been channeled from the pain that causes one's spirit to leave this concurrent world. As if signaling for the ethereal.

Afterwards, I was very tired physically, and somehow was at a loss for words. As if that episode drew all the energy I had left for the day.

3 Weeks, Out.

Over the last three weeks, I took a hiatus.

Only contacting people who I wanted to see, an attending events/doing things that I really wanted to do. I crossed off bucket lists, added to my own "criminal" reputation (it's just a speeding ticket haha I'm mocking the officer who said the speed I was at minus 7mph was criminal haha), visited quite a good amount of places, and all on my own expense.

In the last 3 weeks, I had the marvelous privilege of watching a fantastic author receive his honorary doctorate degree from Yale, meet up with fantastic individuals, cozied in with some amazing people who treat me like family, have chats with my former professors, bawled my eyes out to people who then smothered me with hugs, love, encouragement, and a refreshed sense of determination & heart, and basically, have the rare opportunity to have heart-to-heart conversations about life, and emotions. In the last 3 weeks, I cried, laughed, sang, hugged (A LOT), talked, and listened to so much, that I feel prepared again for what's to come.

Instead of bombarding you with all these words, I'll just leave some of these here...

when you go get Kickin' Crab and the soccer match is on