Random and Trivial Thoughts on Life

집으로!!!

2007-07-02T02:13:00.001-05:00

오래간만에 쓰는 한글 포스트다.

그러고보니 국어로 쓴 포스팅이 별로 없다, 이 블로그엔.
그러고보니 한국 웹사이트도 별로 가지 않았군. 지난ㅡ

6개월ㅡ여섯달동안 비워둔 집. 한국. 대한민국. 남한. 집.

인천공항에 발딛는 순간,
어떤 기분이 들까?
마치 외국인이 된 기분일까.

오래간만의 귀향이다.

Somewhere between Being Fluent and Being a Native Speaker

2007-06-26T21:30:00.000-05:00

I mechanically sipped my tea as my college consultant examined one of my essays. It was 6 A.M., and I hadn't slept the night before. I couldn't stop regurgitating regrets -dear Lord, why so many errors, grammatical errors? why did I wait until the day before deadline? Then he broke silence. With his shrewd and sardonic sense of humor and my essay full of red marks, he said: "so, you speak four languages, but none perfectly?" The essay was about how different languages affected me (the first draft is somewhere in this blog).

He was...right. Well, not exactly. My Korean is perfect. My English isn't. Two years ago, one of my many Japanese teachers - he also boasted sardonic wits - told me that unless you go to a country and live there before you turn 14, you will never become its perfect native speaker. I told him that I came to the US when I was 15. He rolled his eyes. He told me that he wasn’t sure.

I'm not sure if I would ever be a perfect English speaker. I'm comfortable where I am. But then the thought that my English isn't perfect irritates me time to time. I am reminded of the fact when I make mistakes - the thought that I still have to 'learn' English embarasses me. I supposed I will never get over it, as long as I stay somewhere between being fluent and being a native speaker.

Spanish Tortillas

2007-05-22T15:17:00.001-05:00

Made with eggs, potatoes, and onions, a Spanish tortilla looks like a yellow-brownish half-dome cake. Once you slice it, you can see the beautiful layering of finely sliced onions and potatoes. The taste is superb – each bite leads to the savory mélange of all three ingredients; it’s creamy and smooth without being mushy. I devoured two to three pieces every morning when I was visiting Spain, as they were ubiquitously served at breakfast buffets.

My praise, however, is reserved for the well-executed ones. I hear stories about famous chefs having new hires to make omletes to test their skills. No wonder; half the egg dishes I get from restaurants are hard and burnt, on the verge of inedibility.

My point is that…I tried. I bravely tried. The result wasn’t a miserable failure, nor was it a mind-blowing accomplishment. I had chopped too many potatoes – it gave me a diagonal blister on my index finger – compared to the number of eggs. Hence I had to inflate eggs by diluting it with water – I should have used milk, but I had none – causing the texture to score three out of five on the rubbery sensation scale. In conclusion, I’m afraid that my roommate and I will be the sole tasters (if she chooses so).

Not at my Discretion

2007-04-19T09:48:00.000-05:00

I thought that things will be less murky and more predictable when I grow up.

I have grown up - I can drink and drive and watch rated-R movies with my parents an ocean away - but things look murkier than ever. My future lies in the land of unpredictability. I think. I plan. I do everything to do what I think is right. But the accomplishment is not at my discretion – it is at God’s. But His thoughts and His plans for me exist beyond my mortal comprehension. It reminds me of Maira Kalman’s column, ‘the Principles of Uncertainty.’ Yes, the principle.

One certain thing about my life and its whereabouts is its uncertainty.

The Business of Paying for Things

2007-04-13T12:38:00.000-05:00

I like paying for myself – for my meals, transportation, events and concerts. I’m not the richest person on earth, but I can afford things. If I can’t, I probably shouldn’t attempt it in the first place.

Then there are times when people try to pay for my expenses. Of course I am grateful, flattered by their generosity. If they are a) reasonably older than I am, b) reasonably better off than I am, or c) my family or something close to that, I’d shamelessly accept it. Same goes for special occasions, such as my birthday or my graduation. But in all other cases, it makes me uncomfortable.

Well, I take that back. I’m fine when I can pay back later, even if it doesn’t belong to the case a, b or c. Nonetheless, equal ‘give and take’ isn’t always the option. With my girlfriends, I usually have no problem; we’re good at keeping things even. It’s my guy friends that I frequently run in to trouble with.

A lot of men I know – it seemed – feel an urge, if not duty, to pay for women. I don’t know what’s behind that male psyche. And I don’t care if they do, as long as they let me pay for them as much as they pay for me. I can’t speak for other girls, but for me, it is somewhat stressful and angering to be unable to pay back. Even if I know their intention is benign, I feel reduced and lowered. I want to be equal with my peers in the every aspect of life. If you can share your ideas, hopes, and dreams on the same level, why can’t you share your financial responsibility?

A Marriage of Convenience by Somerset Maugham

2007-03-14T13:28:00.000-05:00

I love Somerset Maugham's short stories because of the way he presents conventional wisdom in very plain yet refreshing language. Here's one quotation from "A Marriage of Convenience," a short story about how an ugly french governer married his wife in a record time:

"'The fact is that in a marriage of convenience you expect less and so you are less likely to be disappointed. As you do not make senseless claims on one another there is no reason for exasperation. You do not look for perfection and so you are tolerant to one another's faults. Passion is all very well, but it is not a proper foundation for marriage. Voyez-vous, for two people to be happy in marriage they must be able to respect one another, they must be of the same condition, and their interests must be alike; then if they are decent people and are willing to give and take, to live and let live, there is no reason why their union should not be as happy as ours.'"

Simplicity is the virtue I cherish; and there's an abundance of it in Maugham's writings.

Movies I Like

2007-03-13T08:54:00.000-05:00

The movies I like are the movies that make me think. Inevitably, I turn to independent/foreign (which is ironic because 2/3 of what I watch are foreign - even Hollywood films are foreign to me)/artistic films.

Poverty. World peace. Sprituality. Human nature. Everyday life. Love. Hate. Whatever the subject may be, when I watch movies, I want to actively engage in the dialogue - which is in the form of music, acting, cinematography, and scenario. I criticize, argue, get angry, and be amused by them. Rarely do I think about those when I watch the movies made solely for entertainment without sophistication.

Nontheless, there are times my brain refuse to think. That's why my favorate movie list includes action movies that entertain my senses. ...I stay far away from comedies and romantic comedies and horror movies.

Eternal Vow

2007-03-12T21:13:00.000-05:00

영화 와호장룡의 맨 끝에, 용이 호를 남기고 절벽으로 몸을 던질 때, 그때 흘러나왔던 음악이 영원한 맹세였던가. 아득한 절벽의 끝으로 용은 한없이 떨어지고 있었다. 끝없는 낙하. 영원한 맹세. 그때의 그 영상, 그 표정은 아직도 선명하다.

영화를 본 지 5년이나 되었다는 게 믿기지 않는다. 엔딩 크레딧이 올라갈때 요요마가 첼로를 키는 장면이 언뜻 보였던 듯도 하다. 그리고 작년.Classic Yo-Yo라는 씨디를 샀다. 트랙 넘버 10: The Eternal Vow. 그리고...이 노래를 사랑하게 되었다.

중국 전통 악기로 시작해서 서정적인 첼로 연주로ㅡ 그 조화가 좋다.
애절한 슬픔이 배어나오는 서두가좀더 잔잔하고 고요한, 그러나 거역할수 없는 삶의 물결에 휩싸여 대하로 흘러들어가는 그 맺음이 좋다.

언어와 문화, 다름과 틀림 Language and Culture, Different and Wrong

2007-03-12T21:12:00.000-05:00

언어와 문화, 다름과 틀림

나에게 있어서 외국어를 배운다는 것은ㅡ그것은 다른 문화를 이해하는 터널을 뚫는 것과 같다. 나의 문화와 남의 문화의 차이점을 배우고, 마치 내가 그 문화를 타고난 마냥 흉내낸다. 궁극적인 목표라면 나를, 나의 문화를 남의 문화의 방식으로 그 문화의 구성원들이 이해할 수 있는 방법으로 표현하는 것. 그리하여 터널은 - 처음에는 일방통행으로, 나중에는 양방 통행으로 - 개통된다.

이 터널을 뚫는 과정에서 가장 중요한 것은 '왜라고 묻지 않는 것' 이다.왜? 왜 주어가 먼저 나올까? 왜 문장 구조가 다를까? 왜 이런 단어를 쓰지? 왜 이런 용법을 쓸까? 왜 이런 상황에서 이런 말을 할까? 사람들은 묻고 또 묻는다. 나도 물었다, 나와 다름에 대한 호기심을 담아, 나와 다름에 대한 짜증을 담아. 그러나 답은 간단하다 - 그냥. 새가 헤엄치지 않고 물고기가 날지 않듯, 타문화가, 타언어와 나의 것이 다른 것도 당연하다. 그냥 다른 것이다.

그러나 터널이 뚫린 후, 다름을 다름이 아닌 틀림으로 받아들인다면, 편견과 열등감과 오만함이 통로를 메우고 세상을 채우겠지.

To me, learning foreign languages is like drilling a tunnel for understanding different cultures. After learning the difference between my culture and a foreign culture, I imitate it as if I am born with one. If there were an ultimate goal to this process, it would be expressing myself in their way, the way that the members of that culture understand. And then the tunnel - at first as a one way, later as a two way tunnel - would be finished.

In the process of drilling this tunnel, the most important thing is not to ask 'why.' Why? Why does the subject come first? Why is the sentence structure different? Why do they use this word? Why do the use it this way? Why do they use it in this situation? People ask, and ask again. I asked, too - with the curiosity and the vexation coming from the difference. Nevertheless, the answer is simple: just because. As birds never swim and fish never fly, foreign cultures and foreign languages are, indeed, different from those of mine. They are different just because they are.

However, if we find the difference as an error even after the tunnel has been completed, prejudice and sense of inferiority and pride will block the passage and reign over the world.

Devotion, the Lack thereof

2007-02-15T13:55:00.000-05:00

My heart is mediocre, worse than bad. Of my million interests hardly any I penetrate to the deep core. I fail to motivate myself. I fail to formulate passion. Glaze is only as good as the donut gets, and I never intend to lick the surface for the rest of my life. Yet I still find myself trudging on the road to same old mediocrity, on the quest for the one.

The Secret of Corporate Life

2007-02-14T14:56:00.000-05:00

...is that nobody can suceed dieting (not that I'm on one, but...). During my first week, there was a baby shower with a whimsical cake adorned with a tiny plastic baby. And a pair of plastic boots, too. And the very mother of baby shower brought chocolate and vanilla cupcakes the day after. Last monday was some sort of conference with catered lunch. Hence, leftover brownies were all over the kitchen. Yesterday was somebody's birthday; inevitably, a sheet of birthday cake was brought in and consumed in a record time. Today was somebody else's going away party. The cake was a state of art: the layers of chocolate cake, chocolate mouse, vanila cake, custard cream, butter cream frosting and dark chocolate to coat the surface. I'm dreading the next week, the valentine's, and the week after, the Mardi Gras.

Dad, Traveling, Iran

2007-02-14T14:53:00.000-05:00

"...And you won't hear from your dad for a while. He's in Iran." Mom said casually over the phone, as I was hurriedly finishing up the conversation to get back to my dinner. Then it struck me: Iran? What Iran? The country that ignores the world and goes ahead with nukes? The country of Ayatollah Khomeini? The land of Persians? I didn't even know that visiting Iran was such an easy deal until I heard that my own dad is there.

Traveling is my dad's hobby, along with his violin and books. When people gather with family during the national holidays such as lunar New Year - which is this weekend - my dad packs up his belongings and takes off abroad by himself. Since I came to the U.S. and my mom became frantically busy with her work, traveling has become his routine. And he's picky when he chooses his destination. He never appreciated the U.S. (what's there except for massive land and food?), thought trip to Japan pointless (food's too tart! things so small and detailed!), and EU countries banal (his ears are more valuable than his eyes - he undervalues visual art). Instead, he enjoyed Tibet and India, China and Turkey.

What he sees and hears during trips remains mysterious to me. My dad never goes on to talk extensively on his occasional getaways to exotic locations. I only get glimpses of them from the pictures and teas and scarves that he brings back for me. And he seldom calls when he is out there, the habit that scared my mom and I when he went to Pakistan last fall. My secretist dad did not leave any contact info. We vaguely assumed that he was somewhere in Pakistan, hopefully safe. Perhaps, it was good to hear that he went to the Afghanistan border of Pakistan after the fact. I’m experiencing deja-vu this week. I am clueless on his whereabouts, except for that he is in Iran, not the safest place in the world. All I can do is to pray for his safety and wait for his call, which is unlikely.

The Revival of My Ambitious Resolution

2007-02-14T14:48:00.000-05:00

Years ago, I decided to keep a diary in three languages, taking turns: Korean, English, and Japanese. It was around this time - February (still in the beginning of the year). Of course, it didn't work. I was too lazy to write diaries in general, let alone the foreign languages.

But this year, exempt from the school and stress, I finally dug out my moleskin journal (which contains one entry from last January) and wrote. And I wrote in three languages separately and simultaneously, depending on the mood shift and subject matter.

I like to reason in English, probably because I learned academic writing and rhetoric in this States. Simultaneously, I feel less hesitant to write complements and gratitude and affections in English - over expressing gratitude is the American virtue, no? I cannot translate those tickly expressions - 'you're the best!' or 'that's so kind of you' or 'I love you!' alike - to other languages. I would be embarrassed to say so in Korean or Japanese; simple 'Thank you' would suffice.

On the other hand, I get sentimental when I write in Japanese. Or I write in Japanese when I'm sentimental. Or both. Either way, I dive deep into what's inside me, and describe them in a teenage girlish way (I admit that I've read too many Japanese comic books mainly targeted to girls). There's a happy dose of softness and femininity in my Japanese writing.

Korean, being my mother tongue, gives me the greatest freedom of all three. I am best read in Korean - I've read two-three hundred times more books in Korean than that in English and Japanese combined. Having a full command of dialects, idioms, jargons and grammar is a joy. My language lets me write in various styles, voices, and medium in the midst of nostalgia.

Although I rambled good three paragraphs on the distinction among three languages to me, I recently started to hop from one to the other in mid-paragraphs, sometimes in mid-sentences. Unlike my initial resolution, the act of keeping journals became an impulsive one; and that's the fuel that keeps me going.