As I hold grande-sized Americano between two palms, it gives off more than what I've paid for through its warmth between my fingers and the steam escaping through the plastic hole to my frozen skin, and of course, also to my heart with its fluid. Across the table, I gaze at another party of three women and a child. Not too old, but not too young seems to the women's age, but what I find interest in is the perfect side view of a child about six years. A smart phone leaning against his juice tin is placed right in front of his face--his body slouched with his arms crossed to pillow his small head--and his expression remains emotionless, or just the same other way around, like the textbook illustration of any bored student in a class. Many of us believe that a smartphone will keep a child occupied and on leash in public places while the adults carry on with their businesses. But this imagery casts doubt upon me on who is keeping what occupied.
As the concrete rises taller, it seems the childhood once we have enjoyed--all the symbolisms of childhood in running the green field, capturing insects and frogs, and building empires of sand--are diminishing. I do not wish to stimulate another polemical argument of whether it is wrong to have a child raised as they are in modern times, but rather, I wonder as vivid as my childhood memories are to me I see how such lived past can be of distant history and almost legendary-like to the kid across the table. If told, would that child be filled with awe and jealousy, or with nonchalance and contempt? Times are definitely changing, I can tell by such simple observation. When that child grows up to be my age, what kind of reflection will he have of his childhood through another posterity of his age now? Will he have an Americano or what else?
Monday, December 19, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
BR: "The Five People You Meet In Heaven"
This book was just a reconfirmation of my personal belief in after-life. Although, different in structure, it was like the counter-version of Dante's Inferno. I always thought after-life was palpable reason to make sense of this life. The audacity, intelligence, capabilities, potentials, and emotions of human being does not make sense to have its bottle corked by the time allotted in this world. More so, the clear superficiality of people's lives throughout mankind seem so futile to have just indulge in pleasures, and to expand.
Truly it is just a theory, but I cannot feel more attached to the quote, "But all endings are also beginnings. We just don't know at the time." The protagonist learns to acquire five lessons: all things in life are meaningful without mistakes and there are consequences which interconnect all of the people, sacrifice can veer the courses of life, forgiveness cures the poison of anger, love outlasts life and death in a different form called memory, and finally, freedom from guilt is the freedom from within which requires acknowledgement of the guilt. Of course, these themes may differ from the author's intention and I am no scholar to have had this book under scrutiny. These are just my personal enlightenments. But I found it ironic how the lessons we can achieve throughout this life time can be passed onto the next--sort of like unfinished homework. My answer to this irony can only come from conjecture that, as the book had mentioned, we are to make sense of our lives before fully being admitted to heaven. Hence, I can insinuate that what we experience in this world plays a vital role in continuing what was just paused, what we call death.
Truly it is just a theory, but I cannot feel more attached to the quote, "But all endings are also beginnings. We just don't know at the time." The protagonist learns to acquire five lessons: all things in life are meaningful without mistakes and there are consequences which interconnect all of the people, sacrifice can veer the courses of life, forgiveness cures the poison of anger, love outlasts life and death in a different form called memory, and finally, freedom from guilt is the freedom from within which requires acknowledgement of the guilt. Of course, these themes may differ from the author's intention and I am no scholar to have had this book under scrutiny. These are just my personal enlightenments. But I found it ironic how the lessons we can achieve throughout this life time can be passed onto the next--sort of like unfinished homework. My answer to this irony can only come from conjecture that, as the book had mentioned, we are to make sense of our lives before fully being admitted to heaven. Hence, I can insinuate that what we experience in this world plays a vital role in continuing what was just paused, what we call death.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
BR: "Keep the Aspidistra Flying" by George Orwell
They say that reluctance to cooperate with materialistic society or the acceptance of hierarchy and necessary pre-requisitory measures of success in this money-god world can be deemed as freedom, with condescending tone. For they also equivocate such freedom with free-fall--longer the freedom, harder the impact of reality. Once a victim, they will probably convene around you to offer their consolation, blithely, and concern only as adversely reflected in proportion of their sheer reconfirmation on their beliefs; that the money is their god and all innately subordinate. But if they are right, the victims will differ in their ability to become resilient after the fall--from dumbfounded to some found dead.
So I guess there's no such thing as freedom in this world, at least in this sense, for Gordon is fighting or falling in the battle against the money society. The only alternative is to keep fighting or falling in the battle against the society without knowing the depth of it. But the fear of continuous anticipation of the fall and being aware of it, he had lost since the initiation. His approach was not to sell his soul to earn money up to his capacity. The consequences of it was harsh, from squalor he is consistently reminded of his wretched and limited circumstances between romance, friendship, family, self-dignity, and even basic necessities. On the other approach, he would lose again by freeing himself from dire circumstances and succumbing to the system, for he had declared himself a war.
Either way, it seems to enlighten me in such way that this system we live in, there's no escape, hence no true freedom. Whether we are enslaved to make them, or to curse about the loosened leash, money is money. The degree of commitment may vary, but it is necessary part of our lives, more so now than ever it seems. The obvious truth is stipulated by Mr. Orwell with details enlivened by Gordon and the objective of this book was probably to remind ourselves of the world we live in, the capitalism. Most likely, we will recur about the lives we live once more in this perspective upon the end page of this book. Some might be bolstered about their current views, some will be even more discouraged, and some will scent their youth in nostalgia when we were once all oblivious. As for me, I had come to accept the shame of part-taking of this game, but with precaution as to avoid full visibility of brand of slavery.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Irritation
I have been going to coffee shops all by myself for the last past three months, habitually. I study there for the upcoming LSAT. Despite all the clamor, I find myself in the zone of studying. From time to time when I take cig breaks, I cannot help myself but to eavesdrop on others. Without liberty of intent, my ears are vulnerable to the waves of various colors, shapes, and sizes of enchantments. But what I realized was that almost all of the exchanges of discourses are of same content, gossip. I am compelled to say that all instances of my unintentional eavesdrops have been about gossiping, because I can't seem to remember otherwise.
I am not disdaining their characters, rather I feel certain pressure to abate myself for writing such observation, for I, too, have done so sometimes in my life. Although I will be more aware in the future, I do not deny my proclivity in participating such humane rite.
With that set aside, I really feel disgusted by people's voice more often than not. Maybe I've never paid attention as such as now, but I realize that people do not come to coffee shops to buy coffee, desserts, or culture (seemingly clever marketing strategy of Starbuck's). People who come here in groups, pay money to talk shit; I can see the venomous specters of swords flying out of their mouths. Coffee shops provide services of products that fuel their customer's energy to continue, ranging from high caloric desserts to beverages that help customers clear their throats.
Honestly, I find myself caught in between a battlefield. What I have found myself to be as a bystander was clearly a false calculation. Moreover, I noticed that I have been stabbed long before my own recognition. This scar named irritation. All the negativity (although some gossips are hardly any detrimental) has watered my abomination towards people. Slowly, I am beginning to question, is it because they are Koreans? It can't be. Although revealing such hate might have insidious effect on my relationship with others, but really, I have imagined myself, at times when it is just too much, going to the table and slapping their mouths. In reality, I just pack up my shit and leave.
Without ever measuring the metaphor "shit talking" and "talking shit", I often used it. But now such idiom has found its identity in me. It really is ugly to see people gossiping. Literally, it seems like a pile of shit is talking to the corresponding pile (yes, I have seen them with God-given creative imagination). Also, the content of gossips is at times so irritating that, once again, with little creative twist, I've seen shit drool out of people's mouth: babbling on without any sense of words.
This pessimistic view is not the result of their annoyance during my study. I find myself vigorously focused during study. It is just moments like these when I take a break, I am helplessly exposed to others' words. Shit, I'm scared now. I am smelling shit coming from behind as I type this very sentence. I'm more afraid because these people behind me have been shit talking all throughout, and I'm not sure if their indigestive problem is proclaiming their stomachs' malfunction or I have taken a bigger scar of irritation.
As much inhumane some of these gossips are, gossip itself is so human. Blowing irony. Well, maybe since the test date is inexorably drawing near, I am just anxious, more so bitchy. Yes, I would like to end it with that because if I don't, it's going to be harder to face the reality. Blow me.
I am not disdaining their characters, rather I feel certain pressure to abate myself for writing such observation, for I, too, have done so sometimes in my life. Although I will be more aware in the future, I do not deny my proclivity in participating such humane rite.
With that set aside, I really feel disgusted by people's voice more often than not. Maybe I've never paid attention as such as now, but I realize that people do not come to coffee shops to buy coffee, desserts, or culture (seemingly clever marketing strategy of Starbuck's). People who come here in groups, pay money to talk shit; I can see the venomous specters of swords flying out of their mouths. Coffee shops provide services of products that fuel their customer's energy to continue, ranging from high caloric desserts to beverages that help customers clear their throats.
Honestly, I find myself caught in between a battlefield. What I have found myself to be as a bystander was clearly a false calculation. Moreover, I noticed that I have been stabbed long before my own recognition. This scar named irritation. All the negativity (although some gossips are hardly any detrimental) has watered my abomination towards people. Slowly, I am beginning to question, is it because they are Koreans? It can't be. Although revealing such hate might have insidious effect on my relationship with others, but really, I have imagined myself, at times when it is just too much, going to the table and slapping their mouths. In reality, I just pack up my shit and leave.
Without ever measuring the metaphor "shit talking" and "talking shit", I often used it. But now such idiom has found its identity in me. It really is ugly to see people gossiping. Literally, it seems like a pile of shit is talking to the corresponding pile (yes, I have seen them with God-given creative imagination). Also, the content of gossips is at times so irritating that, once again, with little creative twist, I've seen shit drool out of people's mouth: babbling on without any sense of words.
This pessimistic view is not the result of their annoyance during my study. I find myself vigorously focused during study. It is just moments like these when I take a break, I am helplessly exposed to others' words. Shit, I'm scared now. I am smelling shit coming from behind as I type this very sentence. I'm more afraid because these people behind me have been shit talking all throughout, and I'm not sure if their indigestive problem is proclaiming their stomachs' malfunction or I have taken a bigger scar of irritation.
As much inhumane some of these gossips are, gossip itself is so human. Blowing irony. Well, maybe since the test date is inexorably drawing near, I am just anxious, more so bitchy. Yes, I would like to end it with that because if I don't, it's going to be harder to face the reality. Blow me.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Notion of Justice in Modern Society
Probably the longest and most disputed argument since the dawn of humanity revolves around the topic, justice. However, I do not wish to paint the grey matters of justice neither black nor white today. I just want to share, in my humble opinion, what gives shapes and colors to justice, individually then consequently as a society itself.
Besides the obvious counterexamples, such as murder, steal, and etc., what do we use to define justice? Straightforwardly speaking, I think what we are used to or accustomed to frames our notion of justice. I hold certain values within which my personal experiences have allowed me to prioritize. These accumulated experiences are possible only through the environment I am directly or indirectly exposed to, thus what I am gradually accustomed to. Then these priorities of values emerging from the experiences comprise my notion of justice.
For example, we live in a society where an individual suffers no hierarchy of blood types. No person is unequally treated or more susceptible to injustice depending on blood types. Why? Besides the absurdity of such criteria to discriminate groups of peoples, we are well aware of the fact that blood types are insignificant factor in constituting our differences. How so? Because, we are not accustomed to such differences posing any significant considerations to elicit justice or injustice. Hence, we do not hold any values in such discrepancy. But say, hypothetically with permission of some irrationality, one is born and raised in a quarantined society where such physical trait is undeniable factor determining superiority over others, he or she will perceive such system of hierarchy as justice. Similar to caste system in India, any revolt or challenge brought up by lower class to upper class might be seriously deemed as injustice, therefore justice must be served by penalizing the revolter. By my personal notion of justice, all this sound ridiculous and maybe to you too, if you are living in similar society as mine. Nonetheless, have you ever wondered, why some people, according to your own notion of justice, are so oblivious to the fact that what they are doing is injustice? The same people you point finger to, can be pointing at you with the same rationale.
So justice seems dependent on collective actions which the society permits, especially in democracy. What society permits or prohibits are dependent on what people agree upon among themselves to allow or disallow, therefore becoming accustomed to them. As time progresses, this continuity of actions or inactions shape our values and finally, perceived as notion of justice.
Then the next question is, is justice directly shaped by our collective preferences? It seems that there are some matters of justice which are immutable, such as killing of another strictly prohibited. However, although extreme, it is possible that anything about what we define justice can be altered, due to influence of collective preference in a society (e.g. premarital sex was strictly prohibited in biblical times, but not so much in modern society). There might be arguments against such opinion, proposing that there are foundational black and white spectrums of justice, and anything in between (grey area) can be suitably altered by the changing environments of society. But then, this argument brings the debate back to zero, if not supporting the idea that collective preference shapes justice. In order for one to consider what's black and white and grey about justice, one must have had such belief instilled by the environment he or she is exposed to. So what is justice? Justice, especially in modern society, is a sketch book, which the hands of individuals within the society all grab a piece of crayon (collective preference) and draw as they see fit.
(Note: I was doing LSAT prep test at a coffee shop. I apparently took a longer break than my intention. Please have the generosity to give me some leeway in my unfurnished thoughts and writing. I really didn't feel like spending sufficient time to carefully craft this.) ; )
Besides the obvious counterexamples, such as murder, steal, and etc., what do we use to define justice? Straightforwardly speaking, I think what we are used to or accustomed to frames our notion of justice. I hold certain values within which my personal experiences have allowed me to prioritize. These accumulated experiences are possible only through the environment I am directly or indirectly exposed to, thus what I am gradually accustomed to. Then these priorities of values emerging from the experiences comprise my notion of justice.
For example, we live in a society where an individual suffers no hierarchy of blood types. No person is unequally treated or more susceptible to injustice depending on blood types. Why? Besides the absurdity of such criteria to discriminate groups of peoples, we are well aware of the fact that blood types are insignificant factor in constituting our differences. How so? Because, we are not accustomed to such differences posing any significant considerations to elicit justice or injustice. Hence, we do not hold any values in such discrepancy. But say, hypothetically with permission of some irrationality, one is born and raised in a quarantined society where such physical trait is undeniable factor determining superiority over others, he or she will perceive such system of hierarchy as justice. Similar to caste system in India, any revolt or challenge brought up by lower class to upper class might be seriously deemed as injustice, therefore justice must be served by penalizing the revolter. By my personal notion of justice, all this sound ridiculous and maybe to you too, if you are living in similar society as mine. Nonetheless, have you ever wondered, why some people, according to your own notion of justice, are so oblivious to the fact that what they are doing is injustice? The same people you point finger to, can be pointing at you with the same rationale.
So justice seems dependent on collective actions which the society permits, especially in democracy. What society permits or prohibits are dependent on what people agree upon among themselves to allow or disallow, therefore becoming accustomed to them. As time progresses, this continuity of actions or inactions shape our values and finally, perceived as notion of justice.
Then the next question is, is justice directly shaped by our collective preferences? It seems that there are some matters of justice which are immutable, such as killing of another strictly prohibited. However, although extreme, it is possible that anything about what we define justice can be altered, due to influence of collective preference in a society (e.g. premarital sex was strictly prohibited in biblical times, but not so much in modern society). There might be arguments against such opinion, proposing that there are foundational black and white spectrums of justice, and anything in between (grey area) can be suitably altered by the changing environments of society. But then, this argument brings the debate back to zero, if not supporting the idea that collective preference shapes justice. In order for one to consider what's black and white and grey about justice, one must have had such belief instilled by the environment he or she is exposed to. So what is justice? Justice, especially in modern society, is a sketch book, which the hands of individuals within the society all grab a piece of crayon (collective preference) and draw as they see fit.
(Note: I was doing LSAT prep test at a coffee shop. I apparently took a longer break than my intention. Please have the generosity to give me some leeway in my unfurnished thoughts and writing. I really didn't feel like spending sufficient time to carefully craft this.) ; )
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Being Single in Seoul at This Moment in my Life
Before unveiling my state of mind, all readers of this opportunity should have some clear perspectives about me. My first relationship with a girl started in senior year of high school. Of course, I am talking about first serious relationship and if you would like to know what comprise the term "serious relationship", then that is something you need to ask me in person. However, the objective of this exclusive exposure about my "single" mentality has no need to touch upon the term.
So ever since then, I had continuous relationship. My relationship status has not changed for eight years since then, only the girls. I am not purposely trying to be ostensible about my adroit skill with girls. For that matter, my present status and what I am about to share will prove otherwise in the upcoming words. However, just as bees are attracted to flowers and upon preference of which the flowers don't have, my approach to them was inevitable and undeniable.
I was the Don Corleone's "offer" to girls.
Anyone, seriously intimidated by the previous words may challenge me by saying I was only infatuated with girls, therefore probably didn't have clear cut standards of girls to date. Ladies and gentlemen, subject of beauty is subjective and I was honest with myself at all times when it came to selection of flowers. Just as the seasons change, different species of flowers receive different special spotlights. I should've became a florist.
Enough about the past, now I would like to share what I think about myself being a single. As some of you might know, having a relationship in Seoul is about showing that they are indeed in a relationship. All these significant rituals and holidays, which all couples must succumb to, make them ironically insignificant because that is what all of them do. Hundredth day celebration, Valentine's day, White day, 200th day, 300th day, Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the list goes on; I mean there are even couple sales at stores, couple events at restaurants, not to mention the boom of couple clothes, accessories, shoes, and who knows, you name one and sell it in S. Korea, you would be an entrepreneur. But, truthfully, I am also fully convicted in partaking of the national movement of couples.
So it is common for me witness couples' conspicuous expressions of love, which is adorable and cute. But being single in Seoul is sort of an eternal damnation because you see these behaviors everywhere you go. I mean EVERYWHERE. Their behavior is so common that people without significant others' actions are highlighted. Usually, when you see a couple doing there lovely things, people notice them. In here, heaven for couples and hell for others, it's just the other way around. For example, suppose let's say you go to a coffee shop by yourself to write a blog about "Being Single in Seoul at This Moment in my Life". You start to notice glances around you which are all pairs of pair of eyes. You try to act indifferent by having your sight fixed onto the monitor, and by all means their glances are not hostile, rather more pitiful.
I never knew until at this moment, how it sucks not to have a girlfriend. I always thought that I can always scout around for more flowers and being single never mattered. Honestly, I haven't been a single for more than 3 months, if my memory serves me correctly. Getting a girlfriend was like as if going to a refrigerator to drink coke if I had indigestion. But don't get this analogy misconstrued, I was honest and passionate about all my relationship with all the beautiful people I've met. I'm just saying, starting such romance was that natural for me. Then you ask, at this moment, why don't I find one now. Well, that is for the next blog, so keep yourself updated.
<To Be Continued>
So ever since then, I had continuous relationship. My relationship status has not changed for eight years since then, only the girls. I am not purposely trying to be ostensible about my adroit skill with girls. For that matter, my present status and what I am about to share will prove otherwise in the upcoming words. However, just as bees are attracted to flowers and upon preference of which the flowers don't have, my approach to them was inevitable and undeniable.
I was the Don Corleone's "offer" to girls.
Anyone, seriously intimidated by the previous words may challenge me by saying I was only infatuated with girls, therefore probably didn't have clear cut standards of girls to date. Ladies and gentlemen, subject of beauty is subjective and I was honest with myself at all times when it came to selection of flowers. Just as the seasons change, different species of flowers receive different special spotlights. I should've became a florist.
Enough about the past, now I would like to share what I think about myself being a single. As some of you might know, having a relationship in Seoul is about showing that they are indeed in a relationship. All these significant rituals and holidays, which all couples must succumb to, make them ironically insignificant because that is what all of them do. Hundredth day celebration, Valentine's day, White day, 200th day, 300th day, Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the list goes on; I mean there are even couple sales at stores, couple events at restaurants, not to mention the boom of couple clothes, accessories, shoes, and who knows, you name one and sell it in S. Korea, you would be an entrepreneur. But, truthfully, I am also fully convicted in partaking of the national movement of couples.
So it is common for me witness couples' conspicuous expressions of love, which is adorable and cute. But being single in Seoul is sort of an eternal damnation because you see these behaviors everywhere you go. I mean EVERYWHERE. Their behavior is so common that people without significant others' actions are highlighted. Usually, when you see a couple doing there lovely things, people notice them. In here, heaven for couples and hell for others, it's just the other way around. For example, suppose let's say you go to a coffee shop by yourself to write a blog about "Being Single in Seoul at This Moment in my Life". You start to notice glances around you which are all pairs of pair of eyes. You try to act indifferent by having your sight fixed onto the monitor, and by all means their glances are not hostile, rather more pitiful.
I never knew until at this moment, how it sucks not to have a girlfriend. I always thought that I can always scout around for more flowers and being single never mattered. Honestly, I haven't been a single for more than 3 months, if my memory serves me correctly. Getting a girlfriend was like as if going to a refrigerator to drink coke if I had indigestion. But don't get this analogy misconstrued, I was honest and passionate about all my relationship with all the beautiful people I've met. I'm just saying, starting such romance was that natural for me. Then you ask, at this moment, why don't I find one now. Well, that is for the next blog, so keep yourself updated.
<To Be Continued>
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Music
At a family vacation house, near the outskirts of Seoul, we decided to take some time off from subconscious toil brought within the city. Purple horizon partly hiding behind wildly orchestrated sea of mountains, we started a camp fire, flicker of light amidst impending, immense darkness. In far distance, highway full of cars can only be seen as absurdity in nature's magnificent presence.
There, we sat around the flicker being hypnotized with nothing particular in mind, but particularly by the dancing swords of flame. To arouse the serene mood even more, I played some songs with my Tab. To my remembrance, the list was of 'Sunny' by Bobby Hebb, Bill Wither's 'Just the Two of Us' and more of the similar harmony.
Minutes seemed like hours, and how I wished these hours would be eternal. My father broke the peace with a remark, "너 많이 성숙해졌구나? 정신상태가 많이 차분해졌어. (You've matured, your mental state is calmer)".
My list of music probably had reflected my state of mind to him.
"예전엔 무슨 '뻑뻑뻑'하는 노래만 듣고 다녔는데. (Before you only used to listen to music with 'fuck, fuck, fuck'.)"
He went on and continued, "무슨 오리새끼나오는 노래만 듣고 다녔잖아~ (You used to constantly listen to music that sounded like duck-quaking)."
By then, I almost fell from tilted chair laughing hideously about his metaphoric comments about my past musical preference.
It was a pleasant, shameful, and progressive self-reflection upon that comment. Pleasant, because I remember delightful memories from the past. Shameful, because I know at that time I had this very bitter, pessimistic, cynical, twisted, and FTW mentality. Progressive, because I have changed of which at the past moment thought I would not change or couldn't imagine myself to be, but still am. Many thoughts intermingled as the warmth of fire greeted me with luxury of comfort to reflect myself.
'Yes, I did quit that 'duck-music' for good', thought to myself with an inevitable smirk.
There, we sat around the flicker being hypnotized with nothing particular in mind, but particularly by the dancing swords of flame. To arouse the serene mood even more, I played some songs with my Tab. To my remembrance, the list was of 'Sunny' by Bobby Hebb, Bill Wither's 'Just the Two of Us' and more of the similar harmony.
Minutes seemed like hours, and how I wished these hours would be eternal. My father broke the peace with a remark, "너 많이 성숙해졌구나? 정신상태가 많이 차분해졌어. (You've matured, your mental state is calmer)".
My list of music probably had reflected my state of mind to him.
"예전엔 무슨 '뻑뻑뻑'하는 노래만 듣고 다녔는데. (Before you only used to listen to music with 'fuck, fuck, fuck'.)"
He went on and continued, "무슨 오리새끼나오는 노래만 듣고 다녔잖아~ (You used to constantly listen to music that sounded like duck-quaking)."
By then, I almost fell from tilted chair laughing hideously about his metaphoric comments about my past musical preference.
It was a pleasant, shameful, and progressive self-reflection upon that comment. Pleasant, because I remember delightful memories from the past. Shameful, because I know at that time I had this very bitter, pessimistic, cynical, twisted, and FTW mentality. Progressive, because I have changed of which at the past moment thought I would not change or couldn't imagine myself to be, but still am. Many thoughts intermingled as the warmth of fire greeted me with luxury of comfort to reflect myself.
'Yes, I did quit that 'duck-music' for good', thought to myself with an inevitable smirk.
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