Reboot

The idea of writing confronts me like a hesitant embrace from a long estranged dear friend, chilled by the apprehension of having yet to discover what has changed and what remains the same. Have to wake up by six in the morning but let’s keep each other up for old time’s sake. Good phrase, would be nice to hear more often.

Quick glance at the past and suffice it to say that God brought me back east because I was a wreck and needed healing that could only be had through the love and prayers of sisters and brothers who have traveled much further beyond the narrow gate. The song goes “scars are souvenirs you never lose” and mine assure me I have absolutely nothing in myself of which I can boast, only ever in the work of the gospel. Cured my incessant need to venture into dark and choppy waters, my limp and I would prefer to stay on the shore from now on tyvm.

The greatest gift thus far of my early thirties is that I have learned to be more patient with and understanding of the flaws of others and not take everything so d*mn personally. When I let go of the desire to protect myself it freed me up to actually listen and care for others, which I had been so blindly convinced that I’d been doing all along. Not so much that this heart is not worth protecting, but that it is not of such great consequence regardless. Huge. Revelation. Praying that God will continue to give me wisdom in interactions.

Since childhood, there has always been the theme of not being seen. My mother has been visiting frequently since the birth of nephew. And it’s not like she had not taken an interest in my life before, but for some reason these past few months it feels like she notices me as a person, and not as a question that needs to be solved. She even told me she thought I was pretty, which I don’t recall her ever saying. I literally said in my head, caught off-guard, “내가 이제 보이나? You can see me?” It’s sad because I know she loved me, but it had been miscommunicated and misinterpreted for so long. Same thing for other family members. Old relationships, new light.

Can’t change the past but by grace the lessons learned won’t go to waste. This one’s dedicated to memories and once dear friends.

And The Beat Goes On

Thankful for a jundo position that God recently provided for me. It’s the one thing that brings me joy without my having to remind myself to be joyful. Official as of a week ago but they have yet to advise on compensation. Looking forward to working with the leaders there. Still part-time at the Christian preschool, a job with which I am much less enamored. Just hope I have enough money for bills.

Went to the Children’s Desiring God conference yesterday. The plenary sessions reminded me of seminary, in a good way. Honestly I’ve been lowkey uneasy since I moved here due to charismatic movement seemingly at every turn. Listened to a sermon from the Strange Fire conference; I can empathize with the critics, but on the whole good stuff. The state of the fallen world torments me, God’s victory over sin and death notwithstanding. Not because his sovereignty is called into question, which it isn’t, but because it’s tragic and it’s broken and I hate it with every fibre of my being. Because I compound problems far more often than I ameliorate. Defined by spiritual deformity.

Write and rewrite the same themes, trace and retrace the same threads, holding out for the day when one plus two will equal something other than three. And other ill-fated mental fixations. Play a new song, Elle.

Becoming better accustomed to my ebb and flow and I’m not referring to menstruation cycles.

Speech Act theory: I will write a book this month.

Elle Oh Elle

A lot of my friends are getting married this year. Weddings that I really didn’t want to miss, because they’re people I really miss. I wanted to attend at least one, but looks like I won’t be able to because my sister recently decided to get married too. They say comparison is the thief of joy, and it’s true. Social networks e.g. fb, twitter, pinterest, et al. make incontrovertibly clear what you’re lacking and missing out on. Seems that more than a few people use aforementioned networks to validate their existence. And I hate the discontent it breeds: milestones in life turn into opportunities to boast and enhance one’s virtual “worth,” which leads to a highly controlled curation/manipulation that positions one to look as (fill in the blank) as possible. Profile pages become avatars.

What I’m saying is that I catch myself falling for it too. Ignorance is bliss, and today’s generation suffers from information overload. Do people even want the remedy? It really is a cancer, slowly killing you underneath the surface, and by the time you realize what’s happening it’s too late. Everyone’s aware that something’s wrong, and so many are hurting (as evinced by the majority of tumblr posts), but most people are ill-equipped to step outside of their circumstances and see what needs to be changed. I’ve been meditating on the question frequently of late, and I’m increasingly convinced that the answer is love.

Even with my sister getting married, instinctively my heart wanted to protest. And it wanted to be bitter and selfish and unhappy. But it’s my SISTER. Someone whose joy is intricately and inextricably tied to my own. So I was determined not to taint her happiness with even a trace of my ugliness. As I began writing the maid of honor speech, what became admonishingly apparent was that love is so much stronger than any pitiful negativity that tried to take a stand. When I remembered who my sister was to me, and how much I wanted the best for her, everything that I ever wanted for myself fell away. And I’m so overjoyed for her, because how could I possibly be anything else when the dearest person in my life found someone who adores her and makes her so happy.

Love causes you to forget yourself, make less of yourself, and therein lies the key. It seeks to give, and not to receive. Every act of love in this world whispers of the Greatest Act of Love, and it breaks my heart.

I’m maturing much more slowly than I thought I would. I’ve been running after all the wrong things and then stupidly dazed and confused when everything came crashing down, as shoddily crafted castles built on clouds are wont to do. Praying that I’ll stop being so damn shallow and proud, and stop expecting so much from others and focus more on giving. Being faithful in the small things. Remind myself that I’m beloved by God only on the grounds of what Christ has done for me. And… Sigh. I promise not to 따져 looks/brains anymore. Just give me someone who lives for you.

Ordination Ceremony in Anaheim

“Be content to be nothing, for that is what you are. When your own emptiness is painfully forced upon your consciousness, chide yourself that you ever dreamed of being full, except in the Lord.” Spurgeon

So It Goes

Forced to sit here in the community room of my complex as I download trial version of Adobe Illustrator on the painfully slow wifi. Estimated remaining DL time: 4 hours. Estimated remaining battery life: 1 hr 47 min. Math is so useful.

I’m twenty-nine years old and I’ve successfully pushed every person out of my life. The last one was hardest to cut off, being like a small but sometimes warm raft in a vast ocean with no land in sight, but I did it. Even ties with siblings are wearing thin; we’re each living in separate worlds, that rarely overlap. Distancing yourself from humankind is a dangerous place to be. It’s when you start to feel like you’ve got nothing to lose and you take risks you normally wouldn’t. Good time for me to join the CIA.

Where is God. Exactly where he always was. He’s not influenced or afflicted by my ebb and flow. Yet experientially, I’ve turned him into a chess piece and placed him as far away from me on the board as possible. I’m too caught up in myself to give him the response his character requires. And I want to change but I’m sad. And sadness is strength-robbing and soul-crushing. Even in my earliest memories I was sad. Probably has something to do with my mother struggling with depression the first few years of my life. Preoccupying myself with fun friends keeps it at bay. Filling life with serving church is powerful enough to have me believe I’m cured from time to time. But it always comes back. I do want to change. But not enough. If I do it won’t be by my doing anyway. Sometimes I think if I found the right person he/she would save me. And sometimes I give and I give and I give. Until there’s nothing left and the person walks away. I hate when I KNOW something is bad for me and will emotionally kill me but I can’t restrain myself. I’m a druggie and live for the quick fixes.

I don’t like being different, and what does that mean anyhow. I resent God because it makes me feel alone. And I’m talking like a child thinking like a child reasoning like a child because to-day, I don’t care. And am full of hate. The things I would do if I weren’t a Christian scare me.

Zippadeedoo

There is a particular blend of kindness, wit, charm, intelligence, arrogance, and asshole I find absolutely irresistible. And it has fucked over my life. Not the fault of the ones who happen to possess these qualities. But of the one with the indefatigable affinity for such (yours truly, in case you’re confused). I overestimate the kindness and underestimate the assholery. Looking back at the nice, plain, vanilla men who have attempted to catch my eye, I assume that had I committed to any one of them part of me would’ve been bored out of my mind. Moreover, I assume that my heart would’ve been left intact, and maybe that’s a fair trade. But that’s why I say hindsight is 50/50, because had I taken what now looks to be the better road, who knows what shenanigans I would’ve gotten myself into. In the end, you are who you are; circumstances just bring out what was already inside. Nothing in this world comes with a guarantee. Not counting the things you buy in a store. And come with a guarantee.

Hoping to find someone just as broken as I am. It’s come down to that. Not just aware of it in the back of their head, but takes it out and shows me. Someone who doesn’t look down on me from where angels daren’t tread, nor up at me as they balance my unwieldy body on flimsy pedestals. Though currently I might be in attack mode. Take me out to meet new guys and mentally I’m ripping their words/views to shreds. With a smile and a manufactured twinkle in my eye. Beware.

Hurt people hurt people. And the problem is. Who hasn’t been hurt.

Aging

For the vast majority of my life, I have glorified youth. Freedom. Spontaneity. In the past month, I realized that what I want is non-freedom and non-spontaneity. That I want somewhere to plant my roots. I’m like a tree that should’ve been planted years ago but instead is being kept in a far too small ziploc bag with a moist paper towel. Freedom can be as imprisoning as its counterpart.  Not quite sure what this means. Action plan is to focus on stabilizing source of income. Either by job or by arranged marriage. Not going to complain about how life seems to come together so easily for some people. Because in the end. I’d rather be me.

Turns out even Elles eventually grow up. I doubted it for a long, long time.

No Luck in Reluctance

Helplessness, self-sufficiency, helplessness. Nothingness, somethingness, nothingness. Life, and other bell curves. Flirting with absurdist nihilism but he’s not getting past second base. (Philosophies being infinitely easier to hold at bay than warm-bodied males.) These days, my mental fixation has been the increasing loss of security/confidence in one’s identity that comes with age. Presupposing an identity that was improperly founded. I shall compare thee to a pearl. Which is nothing more than a speck of dirt with a makeover. Painstakingly lacquer it all you want, can’t change what’s inside. And I like the analogy because most pearls of wisdom in this world are, when boiled down, glamorized meaninglessness. In the end I suppose we’re all just (we being the human race) dirt with a makeover. Only thing that makes us special is that for some unfathomable reason we’re cherished by the God of the universe. Pearls, I bear you no grudge. Warm-bodied males, I love/hate you.

Oh. I suppose my original intent was to write about how I used to feel like I knew what I wanted and how I should live. But the older I get the more all my ideals/ideologies seem to be falling apart. But bad things have to fall apart to make room for better things, or something to that effect. So goes the quote. The outer layer of goodness has all but withered away; let’s hope the evil within follows suit.

I don’t need to ask Lennon.
I don’t need to ask Donny.
I don’t need to ask Stevie.
I don’t need to ask Prince.
And that’s the most I’ll ever say regarding THAT.

The time has come.
To get shit done.
So raise your glass.
Let’s kick some ass.

Sigh.