Experience

Experience.

It's how most of us, most of the time, gain our knowledge of and perspective on the world. Of course, I've always "known" this, having been taught from childhood that we were sent to this earth by our Heavenly Father to gain experience and learn from it; but it hasn't been until recently that I've actually started to know it. I'm not sure why that is. Maybe it has to do with spending so much time watching B learn. Maybe it's because of the many conversations I had with B's mom about life and the things that happens to us in it. Whatever the reason, experience and its effects on us as a people and as a race has been on my mind a lot lately.

I wouldn't go so far as to say that our experience is what defines us as who we are. I don't think that we are merely the summation of the various experiences we've had in life. To think that way would be simplistic. But I do think that our experiences make up a large part of how we view the world, and how we view the world makes a big difference in how we react to the world. So many people take no thought for things that happen outside their realm of experience.

"Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig"

Increasingly often, I get this feeling that my life is speeding by and I have yet to do anything. How is it the end of another year? Let alone the end of the decade? Ten years ago, our family had just moved into a new house two months previous, and to a new town only a few months before that. It was our first holiday season away from our family, and I was bitterly bitter about it. Ten years ago I was my second younger sister's age, almost-fourteen. Ten years ago I only had five siblings instead of seven. Ten years ago I had no idea my family would still be here; ten years ago I would have never dreamed in a million years that I'd be who I am today. Ten years ago, if I'd bothered to think about it, I'd probably have thought I'd be married with a kid or have one on the way. I never could have guessed that I'd be sitting in my living room, listening to Korean indie rock music and typing a blog post on my very own Macbook, very much not married, with no kid (but wanting one), a Korean-speaking return missionary on the way to my third college in six years. Isn't it funny how life happens to you?

It's wonderful to be home. Every time I come home, though, it gets slightly more unreal. I'm home, but this house isn't really my home anymore. It's my parents'. But at the same time, I don't have a home anywhere else, either. I'm homeless in a non-homeless way, if that makes sense. It's rather disorienting at times. But all that being said, it is wonderful to be home. For the first time in a long time, my whole family was at the same church at the same time last Sunday. I'm looking forward to Christmas coming up in a few days, and more family-togetherness time. We'll open our stockings, have ice cream on our waffles for breakfast, open the presents slowly (and one at a time -- my dad insists), oh and ah over everyone's new stuff, sit around doing nothing much of anything, make perogies, eat those yummy perogies. Traditions involving food are always the best traditions.

The Problem with Blogging

I'm sure there are a few, actually, but the one I'm referring to is actually more accurately a problem with the blogger. And it's this: I think too much.

Yes, there it is. I've confessed. It's true, and it's regrettable, but what can you do? I've never heard of an off switch for your brain, more's the pity. Just today I've thought up about five really good ideas for a post, but sadly, none of them made it into existence. They're still just half-formed ideas floating around in my head. But even when my ideas make it out of my head and into the blogosphere, they're never exactly what I was going to say to begin with, and neither are they as good as they were in my head. Why is that? It's such an annoying Truth of the Universe. I read a great article about this phenomenon in the NY Times once, a few months back. The creation rarely turns out how or as well as the creator wanted it to.

Sometimes I Don't Make Sense to Myself

Korean indie band 10cm - I'm Scared of the Dark Tonight (오늘밤은 어둠이 무서워요)

When I reflect on what I know about myself, I realize that it's not really all that much. "Know thyself", one of the only useful things Socrates ever said in a life and career that was unfortunately verbose, is a much harder thing than people understand sometimes, I think. I don't know why it is that sometimes I'm happy in certain circumstances, and in similar circumstances sometime else can't be bothered to be pleasant or polite. Why is it that one person has me all aflutter and another doesn't even cross my mind when they're out of sight? Why do I love riding the subway so much but yet want to live in the country? Why do I love Korea so much? Why is it music and not sports that gets my heart racing? Why don't I like chocolate? Why am I so much like my dad?

The older I get, the more complicated the world seems to be. I don't think that that's necessarily what's actually happening, despite some rather sobering developments socially, religiously, internationally, etc; rather, it's a function of me getting old enough to comprehend the complications that have always been there. And they have always been there, it's just that at one time or another they might have been buried below the surface of the social awareness. I doubt there are very many truly unique problems troubling us today. Those problems and challenges might have manifested themselves in different ways or through different channels, but the at their root, I think most of the challenges facing us today are ones that all of our ancestors faced as well. 

Things I Should Really Stop Doing

ㄱ.  Immediately assuming people don't like me


ㄴ.  Telling myself I'll start exercising in earnest "tomorrow"


ㄷ.  Watching kpop videos and wanting to move to Korea to become a member of a boy band


ㄹ.  Trying to convince myself that I don't need to study Korean any other way than by watching dramas


ㅁ.  Putting things off until the last minute


ㅂ.  Eating too many of my favorite treats


ㅅ.  Staying up until long past midnight watching kdramas for no discernible reason


ㅇ.  Doing just enough to "get by" when I should really put in a little more effort


ㅈ.  Worrying about things I can't change

Learning to Walk

For the last week and a half or so, B has been learning to walk. We really started working with him in earnest two Sundays ago, and since then he's made explosive progress. Whereas we used to have to coax him to walk even one step, which was about all he could manage as his balance wasn't the best, almost two weeks later he's walking halfway across the living room at one go. We used to have to initiate the walking attempts by bribing him with toys, affection, or whatever else would get his attention; now, as long as he can pull himself up on something, he'll give walking a shot all on his own. It's amazing to see how quickly he's learning. His first birthday is coming up in about four weeks; it wouldn't surprise me at all if his primary mode of transportation by that point was walking.

But the reason I was really thinking about this is not the actual walking he does, but rather his attitude when he falls down. When you're learning to walk, falling down is a given. When he does inevitably introduce his bum to the floor rather forcefully, he doesn't whine, or frown, or even get very upset. Oh, there are times where he hits his head on a wall or a toy on the floor, or the table legs, or even faceplant into the rungs of the stair rails. He cries. But he doesn't have a bad attitude about the whole thing. Failing once doesn't make him want to give up forever. Failing a hundred times hasn't stopped him from getting up and trying again.

http://www.wordle.net/show/wrdl/2760645/Failure

I know what you're thinking: "AnnMarie, hello, that's not really anything extraordinary, babies all learn like that." That's exactly my point! Every child learns every single thing they do -- walking, talking, eating, running, crawling, reading, you name it -- by failing over and over and over and over, hundreds and probably thousands of times in some cases. Up to a certain age, that doesn't seem to discourage or dishearten most kids at all. They just get up (literally or metaphorically) and try again. It's not until we get older, and see that some kids don't fail as much or as often as we do, that we start letting failure get us down. Failing becomes something dirty, even evil, and definitely something looked down on. But what fundamental changes take place between infancy, childhood, and adulthood? Nothing, really. We still learn by failure. Failure teaches us things that success can't, and yet the great majority of us are afraid of it, vilify it, even refuse to do things because of it.

I'm not claiming that I'm not one of those people, because I very definitely am. I think my fear of failing is one of the defining traits of my personality. It has kept me from doing many, many things. I need to get over the feeling that failing is a bad thing. It is in some cases, of course, but most of the time, failing is a chance to learn something. As long as you learn something from your failure, it's not worthless. The real shame in failing is when you let that failure stop you from doing something that you want or need to do. There have been many stories and examples illustrating this principle told to me in my lifetime, but I think the one that has made the biggest impact on me thus far is learning to walk.

Monday, Monday

Today started off very Monday-ish. My phone strangely broke this last Saturday for no reason that I can determine; I had left it on my bed, went upstairs for dinner, and when I came back down again, both screens would only show white. Also, apparently, no functions except calls work on it, either -- I had set an alarm to remind me to register for classes at USU this morning at 201 am (midnight in Utah), and it never went off, resulting in me being waitlisted for the only class I actually really wanted to take. I had strange dreams last night about a Korean boy band, but the funny thing is, it's wasn't even one that I particularly like or care about. I woke up groggy and to a whiny baby B, and then suddenly remembered about how I hadn't registered yet and had a fun half-hour of panic as I tried to figure all that out. And to top it off, after a weekend of absolutely gorgeous, warm weather, it's back to being cold and overcast today.

On the other hand, I'm on the waitlist for the class I want to take, and there are only two of us; hopefully I can still get in. I did get in to the other class I really wanted to take, and all of the other classes I need I was able to get in to, as well. B went down for his nap without too much fuss, and the leaves on the trees are still pretty even if the sky isn't blue, and I don't have to go outside if I don't want to, so it doesn't matter if it's cold today. I got to sleep in, and my new favorite drama airs episodes today. So things aren't too horrible.

What Is to Come

Fall has been lovely this year. It's hard to believe that it's the middle of November; it's been unusually warm and bright this year. Green leaves have lingered on the trees far longer than I can ever remember them doing so before. Of course, I've mostly experienced it through the window, since I spend the majority of my time at home with B, but I still appreciate the sunny days and the splendid view outside.

It's hard to imagine that five weeks from now I'll be leaving this area for good, at least for the foreseeable future. (What a funny phrase that is -- how much of the future is actually foreseeable? None of it, really.) I'm not really thrilled about starting all over -- again. In the last five years, since I left home to come to SJC, I haven't lived in the same four walls for longer than six or seven months. Moving yet again isn't exactly thrilling, as I said, but hopefully I can stay in one place for at least a year and a half this time, while I (finally!!) finish up my undergraduate degree. I've even decided not to reapply for the CLS program and try to go back to Korea next summer, which I would love.

I'm nervous about starting over, honestly. I don't think I'm good at making good first impressions, or friends, for that matter. I think I am a good friend, at least I try to be, but I always find the initial stages very difficult. I think part of it is that I lack confidence that I'm an interesting person, someone that other people would voluntarily choose to be around. It's amazing how far-reaching the effects of a few years and some bad experiences in elementary and middle school can have. Plus, being a 24-year-old junior in college, when most people my age have already graduated and gone on to jobs or graduate school or families, doesn't exactly make me feel better.

But I am grateful to be moving closer to my extended family. It's been a decade since I've lived in Utah, and almost four years since I've been back; it will be good to see my cousins, uncles and aunts, and grandparents again, and more regularly. And I'm grateful for the opportunity to save money and help my grandparents out at the same time, as well as the chance to be in a place where the influence of the Church is strong, learn about my family history, and take the time to learn about Church history more thoroughly. Not to mention, I have the chance to study what I want to study. (Though sadly, despite Korean being in the USU catalog, they don't actually offer those classes at the moment.) Who knows what other opportunities lie waiting for me to discover them?

DLS iz nawt kewl

Daylight Savings is messing with me big time this year. Worse, it's messing with B's sleeping schedule, which makes life difficult all around. My whole circadian rhythm is totally messed up, and that does not make for a happy AnnMarie.

빛

Picture can be found here

I want to live in a house full of light. 

Maybe it's because of my father's continuous reminders to "turn that light off and open the window" in my childhood. Maybe it's just because. But there's something about natural light flooding through an open window and filling a room that makes my soul feel like singing. Good lighting makes everything better, from movies and television to pictures and even your mood.

November 4th

Picture by Mexicanwave and can be found here

It's November, and some of the leaves on the trees are still green. Just a testament to the warm autumn Maryland has had this year; as recently as two weeks ago it was still in the 70s during the day, and didn't fall below 60 degrees at night. This last week I don't think it's gotten above 55. It seems "real autumn" is settling in to stay. Today's the perfect mid-autumn day -- a little chilly, leaves in variations of red, green, orange, and yellows still on the trees, overcast skies, and a little bit of rain. It's the kind of day you wish you had a fire, a blanket, a good book, and nowhere to be.

Things I'd Like to Accomplish with My Life

I'd like to be the kind of mom that kids go to when they have problems, questions, or even just something on their mind. Ten years ago, I never would have guessed that my mom and I would be such good friends, but I'm happy to say that we are.


I don't know if I'll ever forget how it felt to be in a strange, foreign land with no real grasp of the language or culture of the place that's suddenly become your new home. I'd like to reach out to those people who have come to America because it represents opportunity and a place to fulfill their dreams. I'd like to help them learn both the language and the culture of their new home.


I'd like to be fit and active my whole life, going strong until the day I shuffle off this mortal coil. Which obviously means I should get started, since it's been years since I was in any kind of shape that wasn't squishy. 


I'd like to be the kind of person that is constantly improving their talents and finding new ones. Or at least trying new things.


There's so much of this world I haven't seen yet. I'd like to be the kind of person that is always exploring new places and new cultures, and broadening their perspective and understanding. 

Randomness of the Kdrama Persuasion

(All screencaps from dramabeans.com and ockoala.wordpress.com.)

Pak Min-young as Kim Yoon-hee in Sunkyunkwan Scandal

It's hard to imagine that anyone would be foolish enough to think that the person above was a boy after she had appeared in front of you wearing those clothes.  And yet, somehow, someone (the guy in the second picture below) still did...and even if you don't quite buy that, the tension of "the boy liking the very pretty girl that he thinks is a very pretty boy"...mmmmm, well. It's a lot of fun. And the drama is well-directed and well-acted, and absolutely beautiful to behold. Shall I picspam you with some of the yummy male leads?

Yoo Ah-in as Moon Jae-shin, the bad-boy protector type who falls for Yoon-hee 

Pak Yoo-cheon, also known as Micky Yoo-cheon from DBSK, as Lee Seon-joon, her one true love

Song Joong-ki as Gu Yong-ha, resident playboy and my personal favorite

In other news, my latest crack drama, 장란스러운 키스 (Playful Kiss), just ended last Thursday, and now I am very sad. It wasn't the best drama I've ever seen, but it was still pretty darn captivating. It doesn't hurt that Jung So-min as Oh Ha-ni was completely convincing and utterly adorable and relatable.  Also, it didn't hurt that Kim Hyun-joong as Baek Seung-jo was utterly delectable and yummy-looking, either. Add in romantic hijinks, an excellent group of second leads, and some good camera work, and voila you have the recipe for bona fide drama crack. And lots of squeeling and awwwing.

Jung So-min as Oh Ha-ni and Kim Hyun-joong as Baek Seung-jo in Playful Kiss

And just because I love this drama and think it's adorable, more pictures!

Nothing in Particular

I wish there was something interesting to say about my life at this point. But there's not. I'm at home most of the time, watching either B or kdramas. Not the most exciting life.

Speaking of B, the monitor just went off; he's up from his nap. If I don't go get him, he'll start chewing on his crib.

A Lot of Catching Up

I haven't posted much in the last few weeks, have I? Not for lack of news, but more for lack of motivation, I think.

The biggest news is that I was accepted to Utah State University for the spring 2011 semester, meaning that I will be moving out to Utah in January and (hopefully!) graduating three semesters after that. If not, well. There are worse things than taking eight years to finish your undergraduate, I suppose. I try to ignore the fact that some of my friends will be graduated with their Master's degrees before I even get my undergraduate. Life isn't a race, right?

I'm sad to leave Annapolis. I'm even sad to leave St. John's. I have to admit, it pains my pride a little to graduate from USU. SJC would have looked better, but after I humbled myself some, I realized that there are more important things in life. Like, spending time with my family. Or getting married and starting a family. Or even, just doing what you want to do and not paying to do something you don't. But I do love this place; I'll miss the water, the gorgeous fall leaves, the sense of history and the quaintness that is here. And the people. The people most of all.

I do feel very good about this decision, however. At first, back at the beginning of September, when I was still in school but hating it and contemplating withdrawing, I was so worried about the decision and its implications that I could barely sleep. I waffled between I can't take another minute of this I have to withdraw NOW and But what if I don't get accepted anywhere else? I'll be stuck and unable to graduate, with loans to pay for and no place that will hire me. The worry and indecision followed me around like a cloud, a cloud with wispy fingers that curled around every thought. I labored under the cloud for a few days, until I was almost crazy from the uncertainty of my future. And then one morning, someone randomly said something offhandedly, and the answer to my prayers came all at once, rather like the proverbial sun breaking through the clouds. It's funny how the Lord works like that; so often the answers we need come through other people at the time we're least expecting it. My testimony of prayer and the fact that the Lord answers prayers has been strengthened considerably through that experience; and so it serves a double purpose, not only as the answer I needed but also as a testimony to me that the Lord hears and answers my prayers. The Lord's nothing if not efficient.

Stream of Consciousness

I wish I knew where my life was heading. Not in a specific sense, even. I feel a curious apathy about life these days; maybe it's because I spend most of my time in the house taking care of a little life form that doesn't talk. The days are ticking off, one by one, and all the sudden it's the end of September when it was just the beginning of September. All the sudden I'm 24, when I could have sworn it hasn't been that long since I was 19.

It's hard to get excited about much of anything these days.

I love fall!

Fall is the best time of the year.

I love the slight chill in the air, wearing sweaters, wearing jackets, wearing hoodies, wearing long sleeves, drinking hot cocoa, leaving my windows open at night, the smell of the cold, the sound of the leaves rustling in the trees, the vibrant colors.

I love fall!

"For when I am weak, then am I strong"

2 Corinthians 12:10

I would have to say that my mood recently would be more qualified classified as "brooding" (and not in a poetic sense) than anything else. I have a bad tendency to think too much about certain things, say for instance, my inadequacies or my failings. Or both. I'm an equal-opportunity brooder. But as the term "brood" implies, this habit of mine is neither constructive or productive. I may wallow in my weaknesses, but I never seem to get around to doing anything about them. I'm impatient, intolerant, sarcastic, and skeptical on occasion. I talk too much, too strongly. I hurt people's feelings, sometimes without even trying. I'm lazy and unmotivated. My priorities are messed up. You notice all these are still in the present tense.

Weaknesses aren't comfortable things. I don't think the Lord intended them to be. The fact is that weaknesses, shortcomings, and failings -- all those things that drive ourselves and others crazy -- as uncomfortable as they are, are an integral part of the human experiences. A vital part of the human experience. As in, we couldn't be human without them. We couldn't serve our purpose in life without them. We couldn't become more than we are without them. If we let them, they will teach us more than any number of strengths ever could. And not only us, but others as well. We will reach and touch people through our weaknesses that we never could through our strengths, whether those weaknesses be physical, emotional, mental, or spiritual. They have a purpose.

I learned this lesson while serving on the mission, but I think over the last year and half since I've been home I've forgotten it. I've let my weaknesses take over me, instead of learning from them -- and the struggles to overcome them -- to become a better, stronger person. We will always have weaknesses, it's true; they will always serve a valuable purpose, it's true; but we cannot allow them to consume and rule us. The way we learn from weakness is by humbling ourselves and turning to God for helping in overcoming them, not by succumbing to them.

난 말인데... Or, Me

So, I'm 24 now. I passed into my 25th year of life on Monday. In honor of the day (though this is a bit belated), I present myself.

This is my cousin James, who's four months older, and myself as babies. Our moms were trying to do the cute thing, and what resulted is James eating my face.

This is me at about three or four years old, when we lived in Bountiful, Utah. I still have the pink blanket; in fact I am wrapped up in it at this very moment that I am typing this. My father is, I think, mortified by the fact that his RM daughter still sleeps with her baby blanket at night.

This picture was taken when I was about nine or ten, when we lived in Bozeman, Montana. I think this was my "I'm a cowgirl for Halloween" look.

High school, and an attempt at makeup. This must have been years ago, since Heidi hasn't been shorter than me in ages and ages. I think she looks older than me in this picture, despite being three years younger. People used to ask us if we were twins. I don't see it, personally.

After my second first year of college, the Sunday before I left on my mission to Seoul, South Korea. I look so young and innocent.

On my mission, in my second area. Good to know I didn't take life too seriously.

This picture was taken this last summer, back in Korea, at a World Cup viewing party in the heart of Myeongdong, Seoul. We lost the game against Argentina, but it was a great experience nonetheless.

Sometimes the events of my life seem very unreal to me. I'm not sure at what point that feeling of unreality started, but sometimes I stop and wonder at the fact that I've been out of high school longer than I was in it. I wonder what this next year of my life will bring?

101 Things That Make Me Happy

1. hugs from behind
2. notes from my friends
3. posts on my Facebook wall
4. comments on my blog
5. squealing like a high schooler over my Korean idols
6. hugs in general
7. being held
8. reaching a goal
9. a really good run
10. reading a good book
11. watching kdramas
12. singing
13. going to church
14. going to Institute
15. hanging out with my friends
16. eating grapes for breakfast
17. BLTs
18. cranberry juice
19. getting a call on the phone
20. watching matches burn
21. smelling woodsmoke
22. libraries
23. getting to go places other people don't
24. seeing a baby
25. playing with a little kid
26. that look on people's faces when I greet them in flawless Korean
27. taking pictures
28. getting a sincere compliment
29. discovering a new band I love
30. Disney movies
31. Pride and Prejudice
32. walking barefoot on lush grass
33. a pedicure/cute toenails
34. wearing a swishy dress
35. laughing
36. skipping
37. watching the numbers change on digital clocks, speedometers, or anything else where numbers change
38. being called by a pet name/term of endearment
39. sunsets
40. sunrises
41. wind in my hair
42. that little hint of crispness in the air that means that autumn is coming
43. waking up to birds singing
44. romantic endings
45. walks
46. the smell of new books
47. citrus smells
48. cuddling
49. taking naps
50. comfortable sweats
51. big, comfortable beds
52. making someone smile
53. doing secret nice things for people
54. foot massages
55. back massages
56. seeing my parents in the airport when I get home
57. waking up slowly, snuggled in my blankets
58. chapstick
59. laying in bed in the morning
60. flip flops
61. landing back in Korea
62. snuggling in bed and talking to Heidi
63. the smell of 김치찌개 and 참치김밥
64. listening to little kids talk to each other
65. setting things on fire
66. knowing my family loves me
67. having my hair brushed
68. neck massages
69. really cool words
70. making connections I hadn't noticed before
71. listening to rain fall on the roof
72. snow
73. a single red rose
74. getting mail
75. getting packages
76. kisses
77. playing dress up
78. late-night talks with girlfriends
79. cheddar cheese and pepperoni
80. counting my blessings
81. doing a good job on/at something
82. reading my scriptures
83. saying my prayers
84. telling people 'I love you'
85. feeling my hair loose on my bare shoulders and back
86. hot showers
87. long showers
88. big words
89. sunshine
90. blue skies
91. full moons
92. flying kites
93. slinkies
94. my pink blanket
95. knowing completely random facts about places, people, or things
96. driving really fast
97. watching people unwrap a present you know they're going to love
98. playing with my spikey blue ball
99. fuzzy socks
100. putting on lotion and having soft skin
101. lazy Sunday afternoons

Things To Be Learned

For the last week and a half, I've been living with a friend of mine. She and her husband generously offered to let me live with them this year, giving me room and board in exchange for watching their baby a certain number of hours a week. It works out well for all of us, because I don't have to go into debt to pay for housing, and she gets some time to herself, which is always valuable when you're a new mom. Or an old one, for that matter.

Since school doesn't start until tomorrow, I've had a lot of time to hang out with B, their baby. He's just barely eight months, and definitely a handful -- the kind of baby that doesn't ever slow down or give you a break. Plus, for some reason that stumps us both, he's been off his eating and sleeping schedule, resulting in all of us being cranky and tired. Which is annoying, but not the point of this post. It's been awhile since I've spent this much time around a baby; the last time was when Nathan was born, almost five and a half years ago. Being at an age where B could be my baby, it makes me think. I've learned a lot in the last week and a half.

But I think what has come to me, over and over, is just how much our earthly relationship with our parents mirrors the one we have with our Heavenly Father. B's favorite thing to do is to find whatever he shouldn't be into and try his darndest to get into it. Whether it's dangerous (knives, electric outlets, heavy objects, etc) or just liable to be ruined by his overenthusiastic attempts at exploration (cell phones, books, computers) since he mostly explores with his mouth, when we take it away, his reaction is the same: full-on temper tantrum. "But I want it! I want it, and you don't love me because you took it away from me!" Seriously, you can almost hear him say it. It hit me one day, after I blocked Attempt No. 14,839,292 to dive headfirst off the arm of the couch, or eat a cellphone, or play on the stairs, and said in exasperation, "B! Will you just give it a rest and realize that that's not good for you?!" I wonder how many times our Heavenly Father feels like that in a day? If you think about it, compared to our Heavenly Father we're little more than babies ourselves; we lack the foresight and experience to know when something that seems irresistibly attractive -- that shiny knife, say, or that curiously-shaped electrical outlet -- could potentially hurt us. "But God, why can't I be rich? Why can't I drink as much alcohol as I want and not suffer the consequences? Why this, why that -- You must not love me because you won't let me do what I want!"

Last school year, we spent so much time exploring the question of who God is, and His nature. But really, He's not the big mystery that people think He is. If we really want to learn about Him and our relationship with Him, we have only to turn to our own earthly parents to find out.

Due to not falling asleep until three this morning, I woke up late and groggy to the sound of the baby (not mine, I'm living with a friend this year and she has an eight-month-old little boy) working himself into something of a frenzy. It was only just ten, and his mom had already had a bad day. The conversation that ensued after putting him down for his nap has made me ponder a few things today.

Communication. It's all-important to any kind of relationship, whether you're friends, employee-employer, or spouses. Or even parent and child, even up to and including our Heavenly Father.

Our lives really do revolve around our choices. There are a lot of things in life that you don't choose, it's true; but in every situation there is a choice, even if that choice is nothing more than deciding between having a good attitude or a bad one. And in the end, we will be held accountable for those choices.

I'm so glad that God is the final judge. I'm so glad that He knows everything about our circumstances and our hearts when we make those choices, and that we have a Savior who gives us the opportunity for second chances, so that He can be both merciful and just. And I'm so glad that's not my job. We humans are so imperfect and so limited; it is wonderful to have confidence in a perfect Heavenly Father who both loves us and wants us to be happy. I'm so glad that He will always do what will make us the happiest in the long run, and is patient enough to listen to our short-sighted rantings about how "life isn't fair" or "I can't believe this could happen to me". I don't always do a good job of showing my appreciation and gratitude by my actions, but I am grateful.

This all makes me realize how much I need to step up, fix my avoiding ways, and take responsibility for the choices I make. Because even making no choice is making a choice by default; only we forfeit the opportunity to do our best with the situation or the circumstances when we act that way.

One O'clock AM

I was trying to be good today. I made a special effort to be in bed before midnight. I even limited myself to one drama episode! I set my iPod on a timer (love my new toy ^_^) and snuggled down into my new sheets on my comfortable queen-sized bed (which I am very excited about) and waited to fall asleep. That was an hour ago. *sigh* One am is a good time to think, because there aren't too many things to distract you. Unfortunately, if you're thinking, you're not sleeping.

Today I've been reflecting on myself a little bit, and it has occurred to me anew that I am an avoider. Avoidance is my method of coping. If I don't like something, or it's too hard or too difficult, or I just don't want to do it, I just ignore it or put it off until "later"...but when "later" rolls around, it's that much more stressful and unpleasant for being put off. I wonder how long I've been this way? I don't remember how I was when I was little, but I've definitely been doing it since high school. It's not a healthy coping method.

The thing about me is, I really dislike asking for help. Unless it's about stuff I don't care about particularly, like anything to do with money or the government. But all the important stuff, the stuff that can really mess you up if you're not careful, if it's too big for me to deal with myself, or if I just don't like it, I shove it into a little corner of my brain and go humming off to read a book or watch a drama.

I've always liked to think that I was a brave person, but I think I'm not. There are a lot of things I'm afraid of, and I'm not good at facing those things in spite of my fear.

Today Was One of THOSE Days

THOSE days are the days where you wake up in a bad mood and everything seems to get worse from there on out. I was in a horrible mood all this monring and into the afternoon, but a little shopping (got a new book, yay!) and  hanging out with 경숙 (Kyoungsook, my tutor) thankfully brought a little sunshine into my disposition, if not into the actual sky (it rained all day).

I can't decide if I want to go home or not. I do want to go home because I'm ready to have my own space again, to be able to nest and spread out and just do things the way I want to. I'm funny that way. But on the other hand, I really don't want to leave Korea. I don't want to go back to school and have to deal with all that again. By "that", I mean real life. It's such a pain sometimes. Not to mention that I get treated like a princess and I eat like a king. That's always nice, too.

This is, in fact, my very own picture, taken by me at 민속촌 in 수원 when I was there a year ago.

O Remember, Remember

 Big Bang's TOP in the movie 71-Into the Fire

I watched 포화속으로 (translated literally as "Into the Gunfire") today after class with a friend of mine (my "cousin," actually). The story is of a single battle that occured during the Korean War. Due to the lack of troops, a group of 71 student-soldiers were charged with defending a strategic point against the advancing North Korean army making its way to Pohang, a shipping port in the south of Korea. As this summer marks the 60th anniversary of the start of the Korean War, there's been a lot of films and dramas being released that deal with the war; this is one of them.

I swear I haven't cried so much in the last five years as I did in one two-hour span today. I used to really enjoy action movies, though war movies weren't ever really my thing, but at some point I stopped cheering at all the explosions and started thinking about all the collateral damage they cause. Watching a movie that is based on an actual historical event just multiplied that feeling a hundredfold. Everything is a thousand times more tragic when you stop to think about the things that don't show up on the screen -- all their mothers, their little brothers and sisters, their fathers, their sweethearts, the children they would have had, the things they would have done, the innocence they lost and all the terrible things they had to do and live through.

I'm not doing a terribly good job of saying what I was feeling. Ideas and feelings that seemed so impressive at the time really lose all that when you try to put them into words. Suffice it to say, it was a good movie, one that made me think, and remember.

Things I Love About Korea

I love eating on the floor. Actually, I pretty much just love the way Koreans eat food, period. I love eating with chopsticks. I love having my bowl of rice, and eating out of the common dishes that fill the rest of the table. I love having a 찌개 (Korean soup) and five million kinds of 김치 (kimchi), or just the one common kind with rice and 김 (roasted, salted seaweed). I love eating fruit after every meal. (The only exception to this is when the fruit happens to be tomatos with sugar sprinkled on them. I've changed a lot of my thinking since coming to Korea, but I'm afraid that I'll always see tomatos as a vegetable, despite their actual classification as a fruit.) I love that so much of Korean family life revolves around food.

I love that people love that I greet them in Korean. It almost never gets old, that little start of Oh, I wasn't expecting that when someone tries to pantomime something to me and I speak back to them in Korean. Or the way they exclaim, "You're so good at Korean!" when all I've said is hello. Sometimes this grates, but usually not.

I love the Korean emphasis on the family. I especially love Korean little kids. I think I want at least one of my very own. Still working out on how to swing that...

I love Korean floors. I love that no one wears shoes in the house, and that the floors are always spotlessly clean. (This is important when you use it not as just a surface to rest other things on, but as your living space.) I especially love that Korean floors are heated in the winter, instead of uselessly heating the air in the room. It makes winter mornings much more enjoyable.

I love Korean pop culture. So much more enjoyable than its American cousin.

"Have miracles ceased? Behold I say unto you, Nay"

Moroni 7:29


Two weekends ago I went to Busan to visit an old companion of mine. She was my only Korean companion, and she was also my first junior companion. She's literally an angel -- I've never known a sweeter, more generous and giving person in my life. I was sad that I was with her for only a transfer before I got transferred to another area.

Busan is about three and a half hours away from Jeonju by bus. We decided that I'd take the 930 bus and she'd meet me at the terminal and we'd figure out our plans from there. No big deal, right? My first stroke of bad luck was getting to the bus terminal in Jeonju and realizing that my phone hadn't stayed on after I turned it on that morning. The battery had died the day before, but I'd been sure to plug it in that night, and hadn't bothered to drop my charger in my bag, because I was only going to be gone for the weekend, right? It turns out that my phone hadn't charged, I'm not sure why, and I was headed to Busan to meet my companion without any way to contact her -- because, of course, the only place I had her number was in my phone. I didn't have anyone else's number memorized, either. I got on the bus and hoped that she'd be there waiting for me when I got to the station like she said she would be; otherwise, I wasn't sure what was going to go down.

I made it to Busan and into the terminal. I walked along slowly, looking all around me: no luck. I headed upstairs, looked outside, waited for twenty minutes; no sign of her. I started panicking slightly. The only person I knew in Busan was her; and unlike Seoul, I didn't know my way around, I'd never been there before, and I didn't even have her address so I could try to make my way to her house and wait for her there. I prayed. I looked around some more. Still no luck. I prayed again, a little more earnestly. Dear God. I know this is my fault for ignoring that little niggling in my mind this morning that said to put my charger in my bag. I know this is my fault for not having the presence of mind to keep a written copy of her number with me. But God, I really don't know anyone here, I have no way of getting in touch with her with my phone dead, and she's not here. Help. Please.

I tried turning on my phone, to see if that would be the answer to my prayer. Maybe it would miraculously stay on long enough for me to retrieve her number, and then I could call her from a payphone. After a few tries it wouldn't even turn on anymore. Strike that idea.

Before I could completely abandon myself to despair, a tiny little thought niggled its way into my brain. What if I called the missionaries? My companion was a return missionary, and missionaries love return missionaries. Surely they'd have her number. The phone book would probably have the number for the church, and it was lunch time so maybe they'd be at the church making copies or something...it was the best shot I had. I went downstairs and found -- miraculously -- a phone book in one of the phone booths. I looked up the name of the church -- 예수 그리스도 후기 성도 교회. There were some fifteen entries, at least. I had no way of knowing which was her ward, so I just started from the first one and decided to work my way down the list. No one answered at the first number, so I tried the second. Success! Someone answered, but I could barely hear him. I asked if the number was for the Haeundae Ward. He said no. I asked if he knew the number. He said yes, but asked me why I wanted to know. I explained what had happened, and added that I was trying to get ahold of my companion. He asked who it was. I told him. Ah! he said, I know her. Would you like me to give you her number?

I gave her a call, and after a few minutes of searching for each other, we discovered that we were in competely different terminals. Turns out there are more than one, and which one you end up at depends on where you leave from. I left from the only one I knew about, and she went to meet me at the only one she knew about. If I hadn't been able to get in touch with her, I would have had to turn around and go home -- I never would have found her, no matter how long I waited, and she never would have found me, either. I have no idea who it was I called on the phone. I found out later, after I told my companion the story, that it really was miraculous that I was able to get in touch with her -- a little while before, she had switched phones and her number had changed, and most people didn't have her new number. Even if I had reached the missionaries, for instance, they would have had the wrong number. Somehow, I got in touch with one of very few people who had the correct number.

We had a great weekend together, even though it did rain. (The area she lives in is very famous in Korea for its beaches. We walked along one for about five minutes, and then the heavens opened in a very Noah-like fashion that lasted all weekend.) I was able to charge my phone and got home without any further incidents, but now I have a really cool story about personal revelation and listening to the Spirit and a firmer conviction that God loves us even though we're pretty much always screwing up. There was nothing I did that made me deserving of the miracle I received, but I took God at His word that if I asked in faith, I'd get an answer, and He did. I hope all of you will have an occasion to do the same -- but perhaps in a less dramatic fashion.

Home Is Where the Heart Is

...and mine is in Korea. To tell the truth, I was worried before I came back. Everyone (oh, nebulous Everyone, cousin to They!) told me that it's different when you're not a missionary, that I would find it very different and not to be disappointed. Plus, this time around I'm not in Seoul. Nope, this time I'm in a "small city" of only 700,000 people. (I keep trying to convince Koreans that this is, in fact, quite a large city, but they don't buy it.)




But to tell the truth, I'm more in love than I was the first time. Well, by the end of the first time. Of course it's different when I'm not a missionary, but everything I love about Korea is still the same -- the food, the people, the culture, plus, this time around I get to add in an obsession: dramas! And noraebangs! (Basically, it's private karaoke where you only have to sing in front of your friends.) And, I don't have to walk around all day in the summer heat, so that's definitely an improvement. The truth is, in some ways I feel more comfortable and at home in Korea than I do in the States. I'm not sure why that is, exactly, but maybe it's because somehow I blend into the rhythm of life better. Maybe it's because I blatantly stick out that I feel more like I fit in. I don't know. I just know I love it here.

I wish I had some pictures to post, but my camera has pretty much bitten the dust. (This is in addition to my computer and my iPod. This is not a good year for my electronics.) So instead I'll just write a little bit about what's going on right now.

I'm in Jeonju, South Korea, studying at Chonbuk National Unversity. I get up every morning around 645, get ready for the day and eat the (very hearty) breakfast my 이모 (it means "aunt") makes for me, then head out around 750. I catch the bus about 805, make it to the classroom by about 830, and have four hours of classes starting at 900. There are three classes, beginning, intermediate, and advanced; I'm in the advanced class. For the first two hours we have 유승섭 선생님 (Professor Yoo Seung-seop), who is our grammar teacher; for the last two hours, we have 이숙정 선생님 (Professor Lee Sook-jeong) for speaking and listening. She's pretty much the bomb. I want to grow up to be just like her. On Friday afternoons and Monday mornings, instead of our regular class we have 김병용 선생님 (Professor Kim Byeong-yong), who is...well, he's supposed to be our writing teacher, but he mostly just lectures for two hours about whatever he wants, then gives us massive, ugly, really-difficult-even-for-Koreans articles to translate into English.

At one pm, we let out for lunch, then have the rest of the day to do homework (this is Korea, after all, the land of much homework and constant studying). We also meet with our peer tutors. Mine is particularly awesome. Her name is 김경숙 (Kim Kyung-sook), and she's a year younger than me so she calls me 언니 (the term for a girl's older sister) and we're not actually friends by Korean standards (only people the same age can be "friends" -- everyone else is a "close [fill in the appropriate relationship term here]"), but we are good friends in the American way of looking at it. I usually come home in the evening around 1900, sometimes earlier and sometimes later, depending on what activities we had in addition to class that day. My family -- my 이모, my little sister, 민경 (Min-kyung), and my little brother, 준영 (Jun-young). I do have a dad, but he lives and works in Seoul during the week and only comes home on weekends; since I've been gone every weekend except the first one, I haven't seen him in about three weeks. But we're going on a family trip this weekend, to Seoul, to a waterpark, so that will be fun. Anyway, after dinner (which is very yummy; my 이모 says she's not a good cook, but all the food is wonderful), we usually do homework, watch TV (DRAMAS!!!!! In real-time in KOREA!), tease each other, ask various language questions, or I get quizzed on my day. It's a very relaxed, family atmosphere. I'm getting spoiled, too, because my 이모 does everything and won't let me help. It's very different from my family, that's for sure. But not bad. ;)

Next post: my cool adventure in 부산 (Busan) and some more about what I'm doing.

Part II

Friday night my host mom came and picked me up, showed me around the house (they have a very nice appartment), I unpacked, then watched the World Cup with my host brother, then went to bed.



Saturday I woke up, and we took the bus over to my school to make sure I could find it, and my mom and I chatted for a bit.


Then we took the bus back the other direction but got off at Emart (a big grocery store) to go shopping for dinner, then went home. Oops, before we went home we had lunch at a resturant, something I've never had before.
 
THEN we went home, I played on the computer for a bit (it's in the room I'm using, which is nice when I wake up really early like this). 


Then we packed up our dinner (Korean BBQ) and went across the street to a little historical monument place where some dead people are buried (a long time ago, like burial mounds I think they might be kings?) and had a nice picnic where they made me eat until I almost died. Remember, this is Saturday still.



After that, we came home and my mom's nephew, who's also my brother's tutor, was here, he's a few years younger than me and was VERY surprised that I spoke to him in Korean.


My mom decided we needed to play some games as a family, so we played a couple and had a lot of fun, and they let me off easy so I only lost once. Then we watched more World Cup.


Anyway, that's only through Saturday night, believe it or not.



Yesterday morning before I went to church we made our own kimbap, my first time trying, and it was pretty good if I do say so myself.



Of course, all I did was put it together and roll it up, not actually prepare the ingredients. But it was still good.


After church, we went straight to see a production of Mama Mia! that's touring from Seoul. In Korean, of course. It was really good, and lots of fun. After that is when we went for bing, you know, the shaved ice stuff?


And my mom, actually, she wants me to call her aunt, anyway she ordered a waffle, too. And it came topped with a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of vanilla ice cream covered with chocolate syurp...and a sliced tomato. Koreans definitely view tomatos as fruit here.

대한민국! The Story, Part I

I'm finally here. After being over-orientated and hearded around like a middle-schooler, I'm finally with my host family in Jeonju, South Korea. It's early Sunday morning here -- Fathers' Day back in the States -- so this the beginning of the second full day with them, and already I have a lot to talk about.

Our family at Corky's in Memphis, one of the best BBQ places in the States

Just a short outline of what occured prior to this: I left Martin early last Saturday morning with my family for a vacation to Memphis, necessitated by the fact that the State Department booked me a flight out of that airport at 600. We went to a museum, ate lunch at Corky's, walked the entire length of the Mississippi and its tributaries at Mud Island, visited Beale Street, went grocery shopping, and swam at the hotel. Sunday Dad and I were up at 400 (me at 330, actually) and I was off to Chicago at 600. I finally arrived in DC around 1400, made my way to the hotel after meeting up with some of the other CLS people, spent the time before the icebreaker/first orientation catching up with a friend, then attended the first of many orientations that evening before going to bed. In the morning we started our day-long orientation at promptly 900, sat in one room for almost the entire time until 1700, then went out for a yummy Malaysian dinner on good ol' Uncle Sam (your tax dollars at work, people!). I met up with another friend for ice cream and a chat, called a few people, then went to bed.

We left early the next morning for Korea, flying out of Dulles on a United 777. I was stuck in the back of the plane in the middle of a row of five peple, between two rather large guys, for 13 hours with nothing really interesting to do and unable to sleep. (I don't recommend that you ever fly overseas on an American carrier. Foreign is totally the way to go: better service, better food, better entertainment, better accomodations...) We had a short layover in Japan, and then it was on another plane to Seoul, where we finally landed and met up with our director around 2030. By the time we made it to the hostel, it was late and we were exhausted. Sadly our room had a few quite loud snorers, which didn't really help me feel any more rested when I was woken at around 600 the next morning by my overly-anal, but well-intentioned, roommates to get ready for the day.

Our hostel

Our first full day in Korea was filled with more orientations: we made a trip to the US Embassy for one on safety and for an introduction to the country, then went to have lunch at the Seoul YWCA. After that we finally had some free time to explore Myongdong, one of the most famous shopping areas in Seoul, for an hour; Katey and I headed out and explored (and bought Korea soccer jerseys! Go Korea!) to the point that we got all turned around and lost. Good thing I speak Korean and have had lots of practice asking for directions. Bad thing that there are apparently two YWCAs in Myongdong, and people were directing me to the wrong one. Good thing Korean people are way nice and a very amused but still helpful 아저씨 (an older man) took us to the right one -- which turned out to be right behind the one we were directed to. We were only about 20 minutes late, but hey, it was only another orientaton anyway. After that one, we had dinner at California Pizza Kitchen, to the relief of many of the kids who haven't spent 1.5 years living in Korea, then trooped over to a bank in the area who had set up a big projector screen and chairs for their employees to watch the Korea/Argentina game. We got to cheer on Korea wearing the red jerseys and the big air-filled noise-making sticks and the songs and the chants and surrounded by probably more than a thousand completely patriotic Koreans who were very disappointed by Korea's 4-1 loss to Argentina. I was pretty disappointed, too. I think I was the most into it, but I also had the most fun. :)

Some of my group before the game started; in the background you can see one of the many, many huge posters that are plastered on almost every single large building in Seoul. EVERYTHING is World Cup-themed right now, down to almost every commerical on TV.

The crowd at the pregame activities - sorry, my camera doesn't record sound.



The crowd at half time, right after the only Korean goal of the game - still no sound, sorry.

Random Thought

"The course of true love never did run smooth."

I think I feel a junior essay topic coming on. Something about sources of conflict in love stories? Pride and Prejudice as the text, maybe? Hmmm, I must muse on this. But it sounds compelling, at least to me. I like using quotes in my titles, and heaven knows I definitely do not want to write on anything philosophical for any essay. I always end up disagreeing with the author and my papers are never broadminded enough for my tutors. Plus, I'm interested in writing and the mechanics of plot and storytelling, so that would be intersting to examine. Hmmm...

Communication, Or The Lack Thereof

image found here

The frustrating thing about writing -- or any kind of creation, really -- is that it never turns out the way it was in your head. Sometimes this can be a good thing; the inspiration of the moment may hit and change everything in one fell swoop, or a serendipitous happening could send you off in a more productive direction. But often, at least for me, what actually appears behind the blinking cursor is but a pale immitation of the idea that captivated my mind.

Whenever I complained about papers or essays in high school, my dad would say someting along these lines: "The ability to communicate effectively in the most important thing you can learn. If you can write well, if you can make your ideas and your opinions understood by other people, that will help you more than almost anything else." And you know, it's true. So many of the problems in the world are because of miscommunication in one form or another, problems all the way from the personal to the global. God wasn't messing around when he cursed the people at Babel. Understanding each other is difficult enough even in the same language, but add in the language barrier and differences in thinking born of different cultures and BAM! You've got all kinds of wars and conflicts. All because we either couldn't, or didn't want to, understand each other. Ponder that for a bit. And then think about the abysmal state of language education -- both English and foreign -- in the majority of this country. All the science and the math in this world will be of no use to us if we can't talk to and understand each other.

Random snippets of life

This morning I woke up on the floor of the living room. Of course, I was there on purpose, having slept there to escape the heat and humidity of the attic. But the view is quite different from the floor.

I've recently rediscovered how much I love the scent of Head&Shoulders shampoo. My sister has it in our shower at home, and everytime I shake out my hair or run my hand through it, I inhale the smell of it happily. There's something so nice about liking the smell of your hair. It's better than perfume, I think.

I'm so glad to be home and surrounded by all my books again. They're like old friends I'm getting reacquainted with again. Since most of my human friends are no longer in town, having moved away for jobs or school (or visiting family in Turkey, in one case), it's been especially nice to have them with me again.

My dad's been away since Tuesday, and won't be back until Sunday evening. Mom and I undertook our own DIY project in his absence, and its successful completion left my vanity very gratified. The cupboard under the sink has been an eyesore (and awfully smelly) for years now; Mom and I decided to do something about it. So she went to Tuck's and got $3 worth of linoleum (spelling?), I pulled everything out and cleaned out the cupboard, and we collaborated to get it properly cut and positioned, and now we have a lovely arrangement that looks (and smells) quite nice.

Home is a pretty slow kind of place. It's even slower and less bustling than Annapolis. Nothing much ever happens here. That used to annoy me to no end, and honestly, every once in a while it gets on my nerves now, too. I like to have things to do besides watching dramas, believe it or not. But I enjoy being home. I didn't used to like my town, but the older I get the more I do like it. I don't mind living in a small town, provided the education system is good. But then again, maybe I'll homeschool my kids. I'm debating that point. I don't know if I have the patience to have my kids home with me all day, or if I'll need to send them off to school just so I can regain my sanity. We'll see; that's a little ways off, anyway. It would be cool to teach my kids Euclid and Apollonius, though.

"There's no place like home, there's no place like home!"

image found here

And truly, there isn't any place like home. I've been home in good ol' Martin for about four days now, and it's been heavenly. The only detracting factor is that Heidi's in Chile while I'm home and Stephen can't afford to come home for the summer. (Actually, I can't either, but my parents paid. Wonder why they didn't pay for Stephen to come home? Maybe because he's getting a job out there? No idea.)

I love being home. Of course, I still fight with my siblings and go crazy when they run around the house acting like, well, kids; but it beats the heck outta living in the dorms. I'd rather put up with kid-noise than drunk people-noise. And then there's the fact that I can't sleep in with my dad insisting that everyone be up by 6 am. It's amazing how much more of a day you have when it starts at 6 am. On the other hand, it gets kind of tiring. But on the other hand, when I wake up in the morning I can have yummy, hot muffins made just for me by my amazing mommy. Or her amazing potato chowder for dinner.

All in all, being home is the best.

Still, I'm really psyched to be going to Korea in just a few weeks. Wooooohoooooo!

"Why can't you fly now, mother?" "Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way." "Why do they forget the way?" "Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly."

I've been thinking a lot about growing up lately.

I turn 24 this year, exactly four months from today, actually. 24 is a pretty grown up age. My mom was 24 when she got married. A friend of mine had two kids before she was 24. People have careers at 24. Keats was in his last year of life at 24. Mozart wrote symphonies before he was 24.

This week is the five-year anniversary of my graduation from high school. High school doesn't feel like it was the long ago. Middle school doesn't feel like it was that long ago. I remember the apartment I lived in when I was three years old. I remember the boy I had a crush on in second grade. I remember when my little sister and I used to lie awake in bed and giggle and make up silly stories and games. I remember when my family only had four kids. I remember when I felt so big and grown up because I was 12. And now I'm almost twice that age, and suddenly I don't feel so very grown up anymore.

I never could understand Peter Pan when I was younger. Why wouldn't you want to grow up? Grown ups are the ones who can do things! And why would you want a mother? Moms just nag you and make you make your bed and clean up your room and they never let you do what you want. I think I understand Peter Pan a little better now, on both points. Sometimes I wish I could go back. Not so that I could live my life over again, although I've done some pretty stupid things in my time that I'd like to take back; no, I think I'd like to be five again just so I can really appreciate it this time. It's good to be five. Everyone thinks you're cute, you're old enough to tie your own shoes and feed yourself, but no one expects you to do much more than that. Five-year-olds never feel insignificant, because everything is about them. When you're five, your biggest worry is that Christmas takes so long to get here, because your mom takes care of everything, all those things like bills and insurance and food and the mean kid at kindergarten.

You know, I think Peter Pan was on to something.

Mother

When I was thirteen, I thought my mom was the worst mom in the whole world. I was certain that she didn’t know anything at all, and what was with all this insisting that I do my chores, clean my room, and help around the house? Didn’t she know that was her job? I mean, what else are moms for, right? But somehow in the last decade, my mom has transformed into an almost-perfect mother. In fact, you might even call it miraculous.

I’m sure when my mother held me in her arms for the first time, twenty-four hours after her labor started, she couldn’t possibly have understood what the next twenty-four years would bring. Nineteen months after I came along, my first sibling made his appearance on the scene, to be followed by six more at irregular intervals. My dad was still finishing his undergraduate when I was born, and was working on his Masters degrees for the next three kids; we moved in between child number four and child number five, and then again between children six and seven. Child number eight, our last, was born during the first semester of my senior year of high school.

Some might question the wisdom of having eight children in such a world as this one is, but I will be forever grateful for a mother that had the courage to welcome each one of us into this world, to hold us and love us, and with our father, guide us through the many challenges that make up life. My mother has sacrificed – willingly – many things for our sake, from her career goals and her Masters degree to sleepless nights spent comforting sick children. She has given all her time, her effort, her attention, and most importantly, her heart to us.

Growing up I might not have had fancy toys or exotic vacations, and the only car I got on my sixteenth birthday was a Hot Wheels, but I had something much more precious: my mother’s unconditional love and support. I always knew that whatever mistake I made, whatever I did or didn’t do, however upset she was with me, she would always love me and want me to be happy. Sometimes I resented that, but she never gave in to my tantrums or sulks. Her constant patience and love, her continual effort to become a better woman and mother, has anchored me amidst the many difficult and confusing experiences of growing up. Whoever I have become in these last twenty-four years, whatever kind of mother I myself may become in the future, I owe it to my mom.

Dear Julia

Dear Julia,

I still remember how nice you were to me in eighth grade, when I'd just moved halfway across the country and come to rural Tennessee with a big chip on my shoulder and an attitude about being there. I was grateful for your friendship. And then, in high school, when we used to talk about movies and you made me watch Mulan Rouge and when I had to leave in the middle of it you made me come back later and watch the rest. Those moments hanging out with you are some of my best memories of high school.

But I think the moment you blessed me the most was one of your hardest moments. Do you remember the night you called me at like midnight a few months after your parents' divorce? I was so touched that you would think me a good enough friend to wake up in the middle of the night. That meant a lot to me, and I cherish your trust and friendship. I don't want you to suffer, but if you are, I hope you'll call me in the middle of the night again.

You are so strong to meet head on the challenges that are facing your family. You and they have been through more than anyone should ever have to go through, but you're strong, and I admire you for keeping your faith despite your trials. You have such a bright, lovely spirit -- I hope you never let the world tarnish it.

Love,
AnnMarie

Of Death, Dramas, and Doctrine

I've been watching this drama recently. Literally, the title translates to "Time of Dog and Wolf", which is a reference to a French proverb that I can't currently track down. It's supposed to be something to do with the ambiguity of the twilight and not knowing if the thing coming toward you is your friend the dog or a wolf that's going to eat you. But whatever. The thing is, it's been making me think. The plot isn't too terribly original, though the drama is good. It's a spy/revenge thriller, with a love triangle (of course) between the two adopted brothers and the childhood friend of the one brother who's orphaned and adopted by the other brother's family. (Hence why they're brothers.) What really got me thinking, however, is the whole theme of death and revenge.

 Lee Jun-ki as Lee Soo-hyun, Nam Sang-mi as Seo Ji-woo, and Jung Kyung-ho as Kang Min-ki

I know it's just a story, but I know that somewhere, someone -- a real someone -- is probably experiencing some kind of similar feelings. Their father, or mother, or sister, or maybe their entire family was killed for some senseless reason, and now they want revenge, thinking that it will make them feel better, or that it will somehow set things right.

The thing is, that never works. The desire for revenge inevitably does more damage to the one who harbors it than its intended target. It's like a corrosive acid that destroys people's lives from the inside out. Hate is like that. I think God commands us to love our neighbors not because He needs us to, but because that's the only way to live a sane life. Forgiveness is the only way we can truly live happy lives. But forgiving can be heart-wrenchingly difficult, especially for the innocent who have lots families, loved ones, or been brutally used by wicked people. True forgiveness takes a lot of faith in God, that He will set everything right in the end, faith that there's something more worthwhile than making that person pay in this life, faith that there is a next life in which everything will be made right. The same goes for the deaths of loved ones. Death can seem so senseless, and it can bring with it great and terrible despair when you don't have the context of Heavenly Father's plan for His children to give you perspective.

It's times like these that I am so grateful for the restored Gospel of Jesus Christ, for the knowledge that this life is not the end, that we can be together as families forever, for the knowledge that it will all turn out well in the end. I am so grateful to know that the Lord knows us and our suffering, and though He won't always take it away -- that would ultimately keep us from progressing and being able to become more like Him -- He will help us through it.