Dear Children,
Your father has just got home from work. He's currently finishing the rest of his Fried Chicken Sandwich and enjoying an ice cold Hangar 24 beer. At nearly 23 years old, I am employed at Lucille's Smokehouse BBQ, serving barbecue to the citizens of Long Beach--usually Thursday-Sunday nights. Just so you know, I have already graduated college and have a Bachelor of Science in Microbiology under my belt. Pretty impressive, right? However, it's also the reason why I hate my job so much.
When telling my story to you guys, I want to be completely honest. Even if its brutal, and even if it makes me look bad, because I have always been an honest person. I want you to know who I was in good times, bad times, and before I became the person I want to be.
Kids, your father is a complainer. I complain a lot when I'm at work, and quite frankly, I absolutely hate my job. Whenever I mutter under my breath or say I need a new job, one of my coworkers reminds me that it could be much worse. And they're absolutely right. It could be much worse. I make $10 an hour and even on a bad night I still walk away with about $60 in tips. On a good night I've walked away with as much as $200. But the reason I hate my job is because I know that I could be somewhere so much better. With the time and money my parents invested in me going to college, and the social skills I have, I could be doing much more with my life. I'm not the customer service type. I understand why its necessary and why its important to give great customer service, but I am just not the type that can pretend to be happy with people that don't deserve my good grace. I'm the type that needs to be (and much emphasis on "needs") doing something that is making a difference. I want to know that the work I'm doing is valuable, and that my skills are indispensable. Although everyone should have a labor-based job once in their life, it's just not ideal to be picking up after other people's mess and scraping food off plates the rest of your life.
For now, I'm still a pessimist, and I'm not sure if that will ever change. I really, truly do hope that it does, and that I don't live the rest of my life expecting the worst from other people. I want you all to know that the little, tiny bit of optimism that lies within me is based on the fact that I know I can get through this. I've pulled myself out of some really tough times in life, and although I'm a complainer, I'm still a fighter. Not only do I want my parents to have a glimpse of the good life, but I'm doing this for you all. I know that one day, some day in the future, you'll be a part of my life, and I want to you all to taste the fruit of my success.
Going to sleep now, dreading the fact that I have to be at work by 3:30pm tomorrow on Valentine's Day. Not that your father gives a shit about Valentine's Day--trust me, it's not a real holiday. It's just some shit made up by card companies to generate revenue, so don't buy into any of it. Can't wait to see all the kissy couples tomorrow!
Sunday, February 14, 2016
Thursday, June 25, 2015
The Choice To Find Meaning In Suffering
One of the most important passages I've read in my life, from "Man's Search For Meaning" by Victor E. Frankl.
"They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms--to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.
And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not you would become the plaything of circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of the typical inmate.
Seen from this point of view, the mental reactions of the inmates of a concentration camp must seem more to us than the mere expression of certain physical and sociological conditions. Even though conditions such as lack of sleep, insufficient food and various mental stresses may suggest that the inmates were bound to react in certain ways, in the final analysis it becomes clear that the sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and not the result of camp influences alone. Fundamentally, therefore, any man can, even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him--mentally and spiritually. He may retain his human dignity even in a concentration camp. Dostoevski said once, 'There is only one thing that I dread: not to be worthy of my sufferings.' These words frequently came to my mind after I became acquainted with those martyrs whose behavior in camp, whose suffering and death, bore witness to the fact that the last inner freedom cannot be lost. It can be said that they were worthy of their sufferings; the way they bore their suffering was a genuine inner achievement. It is this spiritual freedom--which cannot be taken away--that makes life meaningful and purposeful.
An active life serves the purpose of giving man the opportunity to realize values in creative work, while a passive life of enjoyment affords him the opportunity to obtain fulfillment in experiencing beauty, art, or nature. But there is also purpose in that life which is almost barren of both creation and enjoyment and which admits of but one possibility of high existence restricted by external forces. A creative life and a life of enjoyment are banned to him. But not only creativeness and enjoyment are meaningful. If there is a meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete.
The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity--even under the most difficult circumstances--to add a deeper meaning to his life. It may remain brave, dignified, and unselfish. Or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal. Here lies the chance for a man either to make use of or to forgo the opportunities of attaining the moral values that a difficult situation may afford him. And this decides whether he is worthy of his sufferings or not.
Do not think that these considerations are unworldly and too far removed from real life. It is true that only a few people are capable of reaching such high moral standards. Of the prisoners only a few kept their full inner liberty and obtained those values which their suffering afforded, but even one such example is sufficient proof that man's inner strength may raise him above his outward fate.Such men are not only in concentration camps. Everywhere man is confronted with fate, with the chance of achieving something through his own suffering."
"They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms--to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.
And there were always choices to make. Every day, every hour, offered the opportunity to make a decision, a decision which determined whether you would or would not submit to those powers which threatened to rob you of your very self, your inner freedom; which determined whether or not you would become the plaything of circumstance, renouncing freedom and dignity to become molded into the form of the typical inmate.
Seen from this point of view, the mental reactions of the inmates of a concentration camp must seem more to us than the mere expression of certain physical and sociological conditions. Even though conditions such as lack of sleep, insufficient food and various mental stresses may suggest that the inmates were bound to react in certain ways, in the final analysis it becomes clear that the sort of person the prisoner became was the result of an inner decision, and not the result of camp influences alone. Fundamentally, therefore, any man can, even under such circumstances, decide what shall become of him--mentally and spiritually. He may retain his human dignity even in a concentration camp. Dostoevski said once, 'There is only one thing that I dread: not to be worthy of my sufferings.' These words frequently came to my mind after I became acquainted with those martyrs whose behavior in camp, whose suffering and death, bore witness to the fact that the last inner freedom cannot be lost. It can be said that they were worthy of their sufferings; the way they bore their suffering was a genuine inner achievement. It is this spiritual freedom--which cannot be taken away--that makes life meaningful and purposeful.
An active life serves the purpose of giving man the opportunity to realize values in creative work, while a passive life of enjoyment affords him the opportunity to obtain fulfillment in experiencing beauty, art, or nature. But there is also purpose in that life which is almost barren of both creation and enjoyment and which admits of but one possibility of high existence restricted by external forces. A creative life and a life of enjoyment are banned to him. But not only creativeness and enjoyment are meaningful. If there is a meaning in life at all, then there must be a meaning in suffering. Suffering is an ineradicable part of life, even as fate and death. Without suffering and death human life cannot be complete.
The way in which a man accepts his fate and all the suffering it entails, the way in which he takes up his cross, gives him ample opportunity--even under the most difficult circumstances--to add a deeper meaning to his life. It may remain brave, dignified, and unselfish. Or in the bitter fight for self-preservation he may forget his human dignity and become no more than an animal. Here lies the chance for a man either to make use of or to forgo the opportunities of attaining the moral values that a difficult situation may afford him. And this decides whether he is worthy of his sufferings or not.
Do not think that these considerations are unworldly and too far removed from real life. It is true that only a few people are capable of reaching such high moral standards. Of the prisoners only a few kept their full inner liberty and obtained those values which their suffering afforded, but even one such example is sufficient proof that man's inner strength may raise him above his outward fate.Such men are not only in concentration camps. Everywhere man is confronted with fate, with the chance of achieving something through his own suffering."
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
Mistakes We Knew We Were Making
Today marks exactly 1 week since I started my electronic monitoring program, better known as house arrest. Before I started the program, I was quite honestly terrified of how lonely I would be. By the end of the second day, if shear boredom alone hadn't consumed me, I was certain that I'd go insane from being so alone with nobody to talk to. Well, I was wrong, and it turned out to be all in my head. The first day was the worst, just like Morgan Freeman describes in "The Shawshank Redemption", although my situation is uncomparable to a prison sentence. On the first day, I knew I had a full 51 days to go before I'd get my freedom back... it was all in my head.
Over 7 days, I've kept a fairly routine schedule. Every day, there's some cleaning to do, because the fraternity house is filthy. There's really no schedule to my day. I alternate between making food, practicing playing the guitar, attempting to read the Holy Bible and "Man's Search For Meaning", browsing the internet, talking to the younger guys, and watching Mad Men. I've been getting a lot of sleep, and that's the only thing that bothers me. Without a solid reason to get up early, I get too much sleep and end up being tired the rest of the day.
I've had a lot of time to think... about the present, the future, and mistakes I've made in the past. With so much time on my hands for self-assessment, I've realized a lot of things about myself... here's one:
I'm nicer to people. I guess when the only people around you are your fraternity brothers, there's really no reason to be mean. But things are slightly different. I offer my things without a second thought, without making it seem like I'm giving something up for people. Normally, I'd always think about how sharing my things meant sharing what I've earned, but it's not like that this time. Instead, I offer my things because I want to share what I have with others. It's a huge improvement considering I always get upset when people ask for things. Maybe its the anklet that's giving me special powers... maybe it's the fact that I'm alone more often than not and I want people to stick around. I've pushed away most of the people in my life, so I want to keep these guys around. From now on, any bridges that I haven't burned, I'd like to maintain. Because I'm tired of standing in the rubble, letting the ashes fall through my fingers, wishing dearly that I hadn't lit the fire. I miss a lot of people... It's a daily thing for me to walk by someone I used to be close with, knowing how I wrecked our relationship. I'm a lucky guy to have the people I have in my life. I can't mend the bridges I've already burned, but I can try my best to build new ones, and maintain the ones I have right now.
Over 7 days, I've kept a fairly routine schedule. Every day, there's some cleaning to do, because the fraternity house is filthy. There's really no schedule to my day. I alternate between making food, practicing playing the guitar, attempting to read the Holy Bible and "Man's Search For Meaning", browsing the internet, talking to the younger guys, and watching Mad Men. I've been getting a lot of sleep, and that's the only thing that bothers me. Without a solid reason to get up early, I get too much sleep and end up being tired the rest of the day.
I've had a lot of time to think... about the present, the future, and mistakes I've made in the past. With so much time on my hands for self-assessment, I've realized a lot of things about myself... here's one:
I'm nicer to people. I guess when the only people around you are your fraternity brothers, there's really no reason to be mean. But things are slightly different. I offer my things without a second thought, without making it seem like I'm giving something up for people. Normally, I'd always think about how sharing my things meant sharing what I've earned, but it's not like that this time. Instead, I offer my things because I want to share what I have with others. It's a huge improvement considering I always get upset when people ask for things. Maybe its the anklet that's giving me special powers... maybe it's the fact that I'm alone more often than not and I want people to stick around. I've pushed away most of the people in my life, so I want to keep these guys around. From now on, any bridges that I haven't burned, I'd like to maintain. Because I'm tired of standing in the rubble, letting the ashes fall through my fingers, wishing dearly that I hadn't lit the fire. I miss a lot of people... It's a daily thing for me to walk by someone I used to be close with, knowing how I wrecked our relationship. I'm a lucky guy to have the people I have in my life. I can't mend the bridges I've already burned, but I can try my best to build new ones, and maintain the ones I have right now.
Saturday, June 6, 2015
Will Our Generation Change The World?
What makes our generation so different from that of our parents'?
That's the question that comes to my mind as I stare aimlessly, distracted from studying for this last final of my undergraduate career.
We're so different--that is undeniable. We live in a much more advanced society, with the high tech industry at the forefront of our civilization. Our parents didn't even have computers, phones, or the internet. Nowadays, everything is "high speed" or "high definition", anything slower than LTE is an artifact, and we have access to an unimaginable amount of resources through a single click on a search engine.
Our cars are faster than ever, with great fuel economy, luxurious interior design, and global positioning systems. Our phones--what used to be limited to 3 uses--for calls, for the time, and for texts--are now comparable to Batman's utility belt on crack. With the onset of smartphones, our society now relies on our phones for research, entertainment, and directions, as it sits at the helm of our social lives, dictating every interaction we make.
But it isn't just technology that makes us different from our parents.
We're as far removed from our parents' generation in every aspect of our lives as technology was in their time. From the way we dress to the way we dance, the music we like, and the way we interact with one another, I'm surprised that we haven't speciated yet.
I look around this library and can't help but be distracted by the girls that walk by--round of applause because that's one thing that hasn't changed. 10/10 girls here are beautiful, just like all our mothers. I can't say the same about the guys... well, because I am a guy. But one thing that has changed is our perception of beauty that is reflected in the way we dress. 7 out of 10 girls that walk by me are wearing elastic training pants, better known as yoga pants, that outline every curve of their legs, along with an exposing top. And keep in mind, we're in the library. When I go out at night, there's always a flood of high waisted shorts that make me wonder if "greatly ventilated", for lack of a better word, is a fashion statement. Strapless and extremely low-cut that make you wonder how on earth the twins aren't falling out are as commonplace as seeing a white car on the street. Though it may seem like I'm targeting women for dressing provocatively, let's be honest, I'd be targeting both genders if men were wearing crotchless pants that had women rubbernecking everywhere they went. Regardless of gender, the way we dress wouldn't be a big deal if it wasn't our primary key to attraction. We'll pour hundreds and thousands of dollars into the brand name clothes, scents, and accessories that will make us more attractive before we even think about what we can do to make us more beautiful on the inside.
Dancing is an art, and art is always changing. When I think about dancing in the mid to late 1900s, I think of men and women, hand in hand, moving with delicate footwork and gracefulness that resembled a show--but that may just be from the movies. Regardless, I know it was much more appropriately called "dancing" back then. Now, all I ever see is girls on all fours, rubbing their bodies on guys in such a way that I feel a little bad for their fathers every time I see it. Is it art? Maybe. If it is, then you can all call me the Rembrandt of stiff, virgin-like movements that would have dads chasing me with their belts.
I think our taste in music highlights the generation gap between us and our parents more than anything else. Our parents generation was defined by the classic rock of Queen, the power ballads of Journey, and oldies by the likes of Peter, Paul & Mary, and Ben E. King. And us... we're religious followers of the electronic dance music and rave scene. Guitars and drums have been replaced by synthesizers and laptops, while a concert or festival experience is determined less by the music and more by the drugs.
And interaction... as for that, I guess its not different, we just have less of it. Rather than talk to a stranger while waiting for a bus, we'd rather stare at our phones and rely on social media to keep us entertained. We've become a generation that simply doesn't interact--because, why go through the awkwardness of human interaction when we get updates from friends we already know, all conveniently stored on a couple GB of memory on our phones. What's the use of calling old friends to see what they've been up to, when we have Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat giving us the low-down on what all 1200 of our friends are doing, every few minutes? I don't think the lack of interaction is because our generation doesn't want it anymore, we simply all just forgot. As the saying goes, you lose it if you don't use it.
The difference between generations that worries me most, is how privileged we are, compared to our parents. Our parents got here first, and when they did, most of them didn't have a choice between working hard and being comfortable. Their only option was to grind their tails off to make things happen and in a lot of cases, became successful in what they did. A lot of us were born into what our parents created for us. And sadly, we have that option of being comfortable, because we're privileged. Sadly, I've seen less leaders in my generation, and more of those that expect something to be handed to them. This is the difference that defines our generation, and the one that's tied to everything else that makes us different. We're privileged--we have time to waste on social media, the money to spend on improving our image, and the option to be comfortable and have fun.
Being different from our parents is not a bad thing. It's inevitable that we're different from them, because so much has changed since their time. We're all just a part of a whole new age, each and every one identifying with a new image that represents themselves, apart from their parents.
Being different from our parents is only a problem when we aren't copying the things they did right. When we let materialistic possessions replace personal traits, when we don't work as hard as them, and when we forget the manners they taught us, we're headed down a path that is void of meaning. In this new age of endless discovery and advancement, our generation is expected to do great things. Yet, we're getting too comfortable. We're enjoying the perks of what our parents' generation has made possible, and doing less of contributing to our future.
I'm guilty of this privilege. I'm guilty of being too comfortable, of being materialistic, of choosing my phone over my loved ones, and having too many damn choices. As I sit here, I realize that I too am victim of everything that makes us different from our parents, and I want to change. I want our entire generation to change. I know that I'm not responsible for rallying an entire generation towards leading more meaningful lives--I know that there are plenty out there that have accomplished much more than I have. Yet, for those out there like me, that haven't found meaning yet, that aren't taking advantage of the amazing position our parents have put us in--I want us to change that. Will our generation change the world? I believe so. We all just need motivation. We all just need to get our eyes off all the materialistic distractions in this world. It's okay to be different from our parents, but let's keep doing what they got right.
Let's keep our manners. Gentlemen, give up your seats for the ladies on the bus. Hold the door open for people when going in and out of places. Say excuse me, thank you, sorry, and tell people that you appreciate them if you do.
Let's keep working hard. Harder than our parents did. They've put a roof over our heads, clothes on our back, fed us every day, and put us through college--we're in a great position to succeed, so let's put everything we have into leading meaningful lives.
Let's talk to each other more. In this high tech age, where new iPhones are being spewed out every year and new apps to communicate with one another are always appearing, let's not forget that we are a species made for personal interaction. We do our best work when talking to one another and that's where attraction comes from. Let's not forget how meaningful it is to hold a conversation with someone, rather than like their pictures on Instagram.
I think our generation will change the world. We may be different from our parents for every reason listed above, and many more. But as long as shake off the comfortable, get our minds out of privilege, and focus on what has meaning to us... I think it's okay that we're different. Let's go change the world.
That's the question that comes to my mind as I stare aimlessly, distracted from studying for this last final of my undergraduate career.
We're so different--that is undeniable. We live in a much more advanced society, with the high tech industry at the forefront of our civilization. Our parents didn't even have computers, phones, or the internet. Nowadays, everything is "high speed" or "high definition", anything slower than LTE is an artifact, and we have access to an unimaginable amount of resources through a single click on a search engine.
Our cars are faster than ever, with great fuel economy, luxurious interior design, and global positioning systems. Our phones--what used to be limited to 3 uses--for calls, for the time, and for texts--are now comparable to Batman's utility belt on crack. With the onset of smartphones, our society now relies on our phones for research, entertainment, and directions, as it sits at the helm of our social lives, dictating every interaction we make.
But it isn't just technology that makes us different from our parents.
We're as far removed from our parents' generation in every aspect of our lives as technology was in their time. From the way we dress to the way we dance, the music we like, and the way we interact with one another, I'm surprised that we haven't speciated yet.
I look around this library and can't help but be distracted by the girls that walk by--round of applause because that's one thing that hasn't changed. 10/10 girls here are beautiful, just like all our mothers. I can't say the same about the guys... well, because I am a guy. But one thing that has changed is our perception of beauty that is reflected in the way we dress. 7 out of 10 girls that walk by me are wearing elastic training pants, better known as yoga pants, that outline every curve of their legs, along with an exposing top. And keep in mind, we're in the library. When I go out at night, there's always a flood of high waisted shorts that make me wonder if "greatly ventilated", for lack of a better word, is a fashion statement. Strapless and extremely low-cut that make you wonder how on earth the twins aren't falling out are as commonplace as seeing a white car on the street. Though it may seem like I'm targeting women for dressing provocatively, let's be honest, I'd be targeting both genders if men were wearing crotchless pants that had women rubbernecking everywhere they went. Regardless of gender, the way we dress wouldn't be a big deal if it wasn't our primary key to attraction. We'll pour hundreds and thousands of dollars into the brand name clothes, scents, and accessories that will make us more attractive before we even think about what we can do to make us more beautiful on the inside.
Dancing is an art, and art is always changing. When I think about dancing in the mid to late 1900s, I think of men and women, hand in hand, moving with delicate footwork and gracefulness that resembled a show--but that may just be from the movies. Regardless, I know it was much more appropriately called "dancing" back then. Now, all I ever see is girls on all fours, rubbing their bodies on guys in such a way that I feel a little bad for their fathers every time I see it. Is it art? Maybe. If it is, then you can all call me the Rembrandt of stiff, virgin-like movements that would have dads chasing me with their belts.
I think our taste in music highlights the generation gap between us and our parents more than anything else. Our parents generation was defined by the classic rock of Queen, the power ballads of Journey, and oldies by the likes of Peter, Paul & Mary, and Ben E. King. And us... we're religious followers of the electronic dance music and rave scene. Guitars and drums have been replaced by synthesizers and laptops, while a concert or festival experience is determined less by the music and more by the drugs.
And interaction... as for that, I guess its not different, we just have less of it. Rather than talk to a stranger while waiting for a bus, we'd rather stare at our phones and rely on social media to keep us entertained. We've become a generation that simply doesn't interact--because, why go through the awkwardness of human interaction when we get updates from friends we already know, all conveniently stored on a couple GB of memory on our phones. What's the use of calling old friends to see what they've been up to, when we have Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat giving us the low-down on what all 1200 of our friends are doing, every few minutes? I don't think the lack of interaction is because our generation doesn't want it anymore, we simply all just forgot. As the saying goes, you lose it if you don't use it.
The difference between generations that worries me most, is how privileged we are, compared to our parents. Our parents got here first, and when they did, most of them didn't have a choice between working hard and being comfortable. Their only option was to grind their tails off to make things happen and in a lot of cases, became successful in what they did. A lot of us were born into what our parents created for us. And sadly, we have that option of being comfortable, because we're privileged. Sadly, I've seen less leaders in my generation, and more of those that expect something to be handed to them. This is the difference that defines our generation, and the one that's tied to everything else that makes us different. We're privileged--we have time to waste on social media, the money to spend on improving our image, and the option to be comfortable and have fun.
Being different from our parents is not a bad thing. It's inevitable that we're different from them, because so much has changed since their time. We're all just a part of a whole new age, each and every one identifying with a new image that represents themselves, apart from their parents.
Being different from our parents is only a problem when we aren't copying the things they did right. When we let materialistic possessions replace personal traits, when we don't work as hard as them, and when we forget the manners they taught us, we're headed down a path that is void of meaning. In this new age of endless discovery and advancement, our generation is expected to do great things. Yet, we're getting too comfortable. We're enjoying the perks of what our parents' generation has made possible, and doing less of contributing to our future.
I'm guilty of this privilege. I'm guilty of being too comfortable, of being materialistic, of choosing my phone over my loved ones, and having too many damn choices. As I sit here, I realize that I too am victim of everything that makes us different from our parents, and I want to change. I want our entire generation to change. I know that I'm not responsible for rallying an entire generation towards leading more meaningful lives--I know that there are plenty out there that have accomplished much more than I have. Yet, for those out there like me, that haven't found meaning yet, that aren't taking advantage of the amazing position our parents have put us in--I want us to change that. Will our generation change the world? I believe so. We all just need motivation. We all just need to get our eyes off all the materialistic distractions in this world. It's okay to be different from our parents, but let's keep doing what they got right.
Let's keep our manners. Gentlemen, give up your seats for the ladies on the bus. Hold the door open for people when going in and out of places. Say excuse me, thank you, sorry, and tell people that you appreciate them if you do.
Let's keep working hard. Harder than our parents did. They've put a roof over our heads, clothes on our back, fed us every day, and put us through college--we're in a great position to succeed, so let's put everything we have into leading meaningful lives.
Let's talk to each other more. In this high tech age, where new iPhones are being spewed out every year and new apps to communicate with one another are always appearing, let's not forget that we are a species made for personal interaction. We do our best work when talking to one another and that's where attraction comes from. Let's not forget how meaningful it is to hold a conversation with someone, rather than like their pictures on Instagram.
I think our generation will change the world. We may be different from our parents for every reason listed above, and many more. But as long as shake off the comfortable, get our minds out of privilege, and focus on what has meaning to us... I think it's okay that we're different. Let's go change the world.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
College Food
As I sat at my desk trying to write my dreaded organic chemistry lab report, the most delicious aroma entered my room.. the smell of bulgogi. I made my way downstairs and there they were. My barred out roommate Ted and a skillet of delicious, sizzling bulgogi on the stove. I helped myself to a plate of white rice, bulgogi, marinated squid, and dried seaweed, courtesy of Ted. I brought it back upstairs and devoured it in under 10 minutes... and while eating it, I truly realized what my favorite food was. I remember in grade school, whenever we filled out questionnaires, I would always write "Fried chicken"... or "Italian food"... or "Japanese food" for my favorite foods. I was either too embarrassed to write Korean food, or I was just sick of eating it every day at home. But being away from home 90% of the time for 3 years in a row really brings you back to your roots. I miss Korean food, I miss my mother's cooking. I'm not a terrible cook, but what I make in the kitchen isn't really ethnic food. It's just groceries from Albertson's and Trader Joes that I whip together in the fastest way possible. It's College food, and it's definitely not my favorite food.
Melatonin kickin in now... Goodnight.
Brian Chun
July 2014
21 years old
Sunday, May 4, 2014
Ad Astra Per Aspera, Paul
I miss you Paul. I don't think about you every day... but I do whenever something reminds me of all the times we spent together. It didn't hit me that hard when you passed away. I didn't sob uncontrollably. Not on the day you passed, nor on your funeral. I tried my best to be strong and stay composed and deliver a meaningful eulogy that best represented you. It wasn't until weeks later that I was driving home from a dental checkup and Nujabes' Luv Sic Pt. 4 began to play, that all the emotions hit me. That song brought back so many memories, most of all, how we used to rap it together when times were tough in our lives. Though I regret not making things better with you before you passed, I still believe you're in a better place. The fact that you accepted Jesus the year before you passed is a true testimony of God's love. No matter how much I wish things never turned out this way, or how much I wish you could have just changed, things are the way they are. The older I get the more I realize that this IS life, and there is not much we can do to change it. Bad things happen, and the best we can do is just deal with it and make something positive out of it. I will try my best to never take people for granted. I still treat people like shit, Paul. I can preach the Golden Rule but I still can't apply it. But when you passed, it was a cold hard slap in the face to change my ways. I'll try to be more patient with people, especially the ones that I care about. I'll try to treat everyone like it is the last day I'll ever see them. It's easier said than done, but you are my inspiration, because that is how you always treated others. I love you Paul, you're my brother forever. Since we're not going to grow up together, I'm just really thankful that we spent so much damn time together in high school. Wo Ai Ni, Paul. Shong Di til I die, No Money No Business, LNHC, most importantly, Doshteh? To the highest stars, through difficult times.
Monday, December 19, 2011
The Mixed Tape
What the fuck happened to the town I used to live in... Nothing's the same... the only thing that's still the same is the fact that we sit on our asses doing nothing. Besides that, the people are different, everyone's changed. I'm always in such deep thought, analyzing everything in way too much detail. Why do I care about the different things... the things that no one else cares about. I don't care about the same things anymore, or maybe no one else cares about the same things. I just wanna trip. Just sit somewhere silent and peaceful with the brothers, and trip the fuck out, see the world in a new light, rather than the boring eyes we see the world through every day. Truthfully, I worry about my two best friends. Two guys that I consider as close as brothers. Is it wrong of me to judge like this and worry so much about them, when I'm often involved in the same things they are. Yeah, sure as fuck drugs are fun, I love drugs. Isn't there a definite line between fun and priorities though? Between needy and desperate? Between what the fuck is safe and what the fuck is not safe. Between what's going to affect your future greatly, and kill you? But fuck, maybe it takes a UC education to understand that. Here's to the rest of my break sitting in my room, watching documentaries, and listening to Jack's Mannequin, because "my life is becoming a boring pop song, and everyone is singing along." Cheers, fuckers.
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