Day 10: My most embarrassing moment.

I'm not one of those people who are kept up at night by their brain replaying all of their embarrassing, shameful moments.

Sike. I totally am. Er I think I was at one point, but not so much anymore. I'm not sure what changed, nor when it changed, but I just find great liberty in laughing at myself. Besides, if you can laugh at yourself, then they are laughing with you, not at you.

With that said...

I can think of moments that had me in absolutely ridiculous situations. The following are a few of them, because I really don't know which was the "most" embarrassing. 

• I was eight years old and my dad was trying to get me assimilated into participating in the scripts of regular social dialogue, such as ordering food. He had me order food by myself at McDonald's. I got the food in the bag, and the cashier was handing me back my change (I have no idea how we got the food sooner than we got the change back). As I held the change scooped in my hand and brought my arm back from over the counter, my elbow hit the bag of food and fries flew everywhere. My dad yelled at me and I cried, which made him yell even more. The employees felt so bad for me they gave me a second serving of food anyway free of charge.
• I was around fifteen or sixteen, and I was the accompanist at church for service on a particular Sunday. In the middle of the sermon, I suddenly got a stomachache. I rushed out of there (from where the piano was, all the way in the front) and hurried to the restroom, did my business, and then hurried back. In my haste, however, I hadn't checked to see that I was...decent. My dress was tucked into my stocking, and everyone could see my underwear. Nobody mentioned anything until after service, though.
• This was last week. I had too much dairy towards the end of my work day and lactose intolerance turned its ugly head on me. Let's just say you shouldn't park in the row near the exit of the North parking garage.
• My parents are super foreign, and their accents and broken English can be pretty embarrassing to a kid whose other classmates are all white/black. I realized in a few years, though, that broken English is simply a testament to that person's ability to speak more than one language. It's something to admire, not ridicule.
• I think I was either thirteen or fourteen. I was hanging out with the 'popular' girls, one of whom had a crush on this 'popular' guy in our grade. She asked him out, and he said no. So, in an effort of camaraderie, we all decided to ask him out one by one throughout the rest of the day so she wouldn't feel alone in being rejected. Though the point was for him to say no to the rest of us, I still felt rather abashed that the first time I asked a guy out was not even a genuine gesture on my part and that I got rejected by one of the cutest boys in our class.
• I was singing with my high school a cappella group and best friends, Bella, at some event hosted by WKYS 93.9 and Boys & Girls Club. We were singing "Bridge Over Troubled Water," and one of us didn't hit the right note. It threw the rest of us off. We all stopped singing at the same time, and although we were just supposed to be background noise, the audience stopped whatever they were doing and turned to look towards us on the stage. All four of us, 16 years old and embarrassed, looked at each other not knowing what to do, until finally one of us legit announced, "Okay, thank you, bye!" We all ran off the stage. As soon as we got backstage, we burst into laughter. The rest of the event, we were too afraid to come out from the backstage area, apart from one time when they sent me out to get their purses because I was the least embarrassed. We still talk about this incident to this day.
• Senior year, auditioning for a solo for the senior recital in orchestra. I was not prepared at ALL. I kept stumbling, and eventually it got to the point where my face was burning so hot I started crying. I was so ashamed that I was so poorly prepared for this audition. This happened again sometime last year when I was supposed to be the pianist for some recital and I had no time to practice at all due to personal issues and two other jobs I was working, so come dress rehearsal, I sounded like crap and the director was incredibly angry with me and basically pushed me off the bench so she could play the songs herself.
• Gong show, junior year. I got gonged and then booed off stage.

The cool thing about embarrassing stories is that they end up redeeming themselves as really amusing anecdotes.

Day 09: What defines you?

What is this prompt even asking..?

Is this like, what is my defining trait that everybody knows me by, or what gives me and my life meaning?

For the first, I would say a lot of people know me for a few different things. I'm either the girl that hogs the hookah, the girl that can sing and play piano, or the girl that can eat a lot. I am also known as the girl with the natural bitch face, the girl that's being way too loud, or the inconsiderate and rude and arrogant girl. Whoops.

As for the second... I'm honestly not sure what gives me and my life meaning, but I would have to say the answer lies somewhere in my relationship with and respective to people. I would say my life has no meaning if there is nobody else around to live through it with me, i.e. nobody else whose life concurs with mine that I can then share my journey and whatnot with. If my life is unobserved and untouched by other people--and if I have not observed or touched others' lives myself--then what's the point?

As a Christian-turned-agnostic individual, the foundation for the essence and definition of my life shifted from divine proclamation to something more autocratic and, admittedly, arbitrary. Or maybe it's not so arbitrary. But if I am to believe there is no afterlife nor prior life nor other type of nirvana-transcending-time-and-space, then what else could count but this life? I think what gives me comfort in suffering from the idea that there is no God or afterlife is the idea that at least we are all suffering together. Our stories may be forgotten in the shadow of greater individuals and notable events later in the future, but at least they are all unfolding now, in the present, intertwining with others'.

So, yes. What defines me is my place in this world--that is, what and whom I indulge in, along with the when, where, and why of it all.

Day 08: What are 3 passions I have?

I don't even know. I have hobbies, I have things I like to do, I have things I do often... but I honestly don't know if they are passions or not.

I love singing, and most people know me for singing. I have to admit, however, that I have an actual passion for piano. It challenges me in a way singing does not, as the latter comes almost too naturally. I can't really build upon the skill level I have now as a singer, apart from nailing a few difficult runs and maybe increasing my vocal range. There's only so much I can do. With piano, however, I can always study more compositions and techniques, and it's something I actually have to practice.

Another passion is art. I don't know anything about art in the technical or scholarly or disciplined sense, but I do know that I lose myself when I start drawing. Hours can go by, and I wouldn't know. I don't think I am good enough to call myself an artist (at least, not a visual artist), but I can capture a pretty image on paper decently well.

My third passion is perhaps nature. Everything about nature--from its aesthetic values to the symbiosis of everything to greater schools of study like biology, chemistry, physics, and astronomy. My favorite place to be is anywhere near a body of water, and I love living things. Life and living things in general are such radical concepts to me.

Day 07: What is my dream job, and why?

Oh, god, I have so many dream jobs I would like.

Firstly is anything in performance arts. Broadway, acting, singing. I've only done school productions of acting stuff, but holy crap, acting is fun. Delivery, timing, chemistry between actors, and of course, outtakes. I think I would actually enjoy it more than being a performer (i.e. music). But my ambitions ever since I found out I could sing always rested in being a performer. Singing and dancing on stage gives me a rush that nothing else can. Same with playing piano. The last time I played piano for an audience (without just using it as self-accompaniment) was in college, and man, I miss it. Piano requires a precision and agility of the hands that demands a kind of concentration that singing just doesn't...

Secondly is anything in taking care of animals. Not veterinary sciences--too technical for me. But if I could, say, train the dolphins at aquariums, or look after penguins at some environmental preservation park, or feed the manta/sting rays in the waters of the Bahamas, I would absolutely love it. Animals are so much better than humans.

Third is somewhat related to the former. I would love to do something in marine biology. We know more about outer space than we do about our own oceans, and I think that's so wicked. I would love to know what kind of crazy shit lives miles below sea level.

Fourth--which is probably the most realistic--is something in intelligence analysis and/or criminal investigation. I love putting pieces of puzzles together and drawing correlations and conclusions.

Fifthly, I would love to be a writer. Whether it's in journalism or writing my own novel, I've always considered the demonstration of exercise over language a trait to be revered. I want to create characters and tell stories that gets readers involved and invested.

Also if there's a job where I just get paid to try out food, I'd love that. A professional eater.

Day 05: Five things that make me the happiest right now

• When my food is ready to be eaten. Whether that means I've finally finished assembling the food on my plate to look as pretty as it is yummy, or the hot plate or bowl is being carried my way... The salivation, the sensory experience, mlarghhh.
• Performing. I haven't done any performances in the past month or so, so I'm quite looking forward to the next ones coming up: Fundraising for the Philippines on March 29, National Cherry Blossom Festival on April 10, and maybe a performance for George Mason University's VSA (Vietnamese Student Association) on March 20. As cliche as it sounds, performing is so liberating in the sense that you are vulnerable and people still accept you. What can I say?; I live for the applause.
• Hanging out with my best friends. Jen, Min, Riz, Ann, Dan, Patrice, BLPCS (Jam sessions! with Broke Life / Pshew Crew Studios singers Jan, Tim, Chris, and Alex)... and whenever I can see them (since they're still in school), Casey, Liz, Chau, and Ashley and others I'm probably forgetting. I also love skyping with long-distance friends (Matt and Jimenez, lookin' atchu). Whether we're baking or smoking hookah or watching That 70's Show or talking about some real struggles, I get most of happiness from just being around friends.
• Pens that write really well. I don't know why, but something about pens that bring out my best penmanship just make me happy and inspire me to write more. I like writing in general, I suppose.
• Going to my cousin Tom's house. I didn't really get to know my extended family when I was younger, but now that I'm out of college and have my own car, I get to hang out with them whenever I want, albeit under some bittersweet circumstances... Also, the cutest puppy in the world.

Day 04: Five things I would tell my 16-year old self

1. Don't think about things in terms of "good enough" or "inadequacy". Everything is a lesson to be learned (or at least a memory to be made and look back on), and these are the lessons you must learn in your life; these are the days that must happen to you. You are simply not 'right' for something (or someone), but don't think that that means you are insufficient. Keep moving, because you are getting closer to what (and whom) you are meant for. Life and life choices can just be processes of elimination sometimes.
2. Save yourself for someone who deserves to know you that intimately. Don't judge other girls who do otherwise. It's their body and their choice, just as it is your body and your choice. Sex will be much more enjoyable and meaningful this way for you, though, and it will cement the distinction between whomsoever you choose to be with and the others that aren't right for you. If anybody incessantly tries to put you down for it or even change your mind, tell them to go fuck themselves. Don't give yourself away to make a boy stay or because you are afraid he won't like you otherwise. You can do better than that. 'No' means 'no,' by the way. Don't ever let someone make you feel guilty just because you know what you want (or don't want) for yourself.
3. Look into majoring in marine biology or astronomy, not economics and/or business. BUT do retain a music minor; you'll make some of your best friends this way. 
4. You will appreciate your mother much more and actually miss her upon moving out of her house. Cherish your time with her, even when she's temperamental. Especially when she's temperamental. Remember that her behavior finds root in her care for you. If she didn't yell at you, discipline you, and make you feel like shit about your bad choices, it would mean she doesn't genuinely care about you; be thankful, then, that she does, because you will know many people who have indifferent or even deceased parents. Furthermore, she is allowed to be selfish and self-centered and ignorant and oblivious. She's not just your mother. She's human, just like you and everybody else that makes mistakes.
5. There will be times when you are completely alone... suffocatingly, asphyxiatingly, excruciatingly, hopelessly, helplessly alone. People can't always be there for you, despite how many friends you have. They have their own issues to deal with, and you can also be overbearing sometimes. Don't take it personally, though. Remember that people can have moments of selfishness and inconsiderateness that has more to do with them than with you. But other people simply will abandon you, flake out on you, turn on you, refuse to help you, or otherwise make you realize that you've had the wrong people in your life. These people had to be removed from your life to make room for better people--the ones that understand you and can listen to your stories over and over again, the ones that will support you even if they don't agree with your choices, the ones that are here to stay rather than just be a temporary band-aid on some niche in your life. Some people leave because they can't bother to stay in touch; don't take it personally. 

Day 03: Greatest amount of physical pain I've endured

• When Min shot me with a BB gun. What the hell, Min.
• Duodenal ulcer. I can't believe I forgot this when I first published this entry. It just feels like a ton of acidic gas is stuck in your stomach and it just keeps building with no escape. You bloat, and you can practically feel your stomach acid just dripping and corroding your stomach lining. It's just a constant burn.
• Getting bubbling peroxide in my eye. Didn't see the warning label (because there wasn't one. Thanks, Clear Care) and so I didn't know it was one of those solutions that you keep your contacts in for six hours. I thought it was 'regular' contact lens solution fit for direct contact on the eyes. Nope. As soon as I put the lens in, my eyes welded shut and it took two hands to pry my eyeball open to take the contact lens out, and my eye was crying for three hours and I flushed it with water for about half an hour. There's irony for you... the natural defense reflex was actually what was hurting me here. I hope I don't have corneal ulcers/burns...
• It was August 25, 2005, and a red Dodge Ram 3500 rocketed into my side of the modest Honda Odyssey we were in. I recall having the wind knocked out of me and not being able to breathe. I ended up blacking out, but I could still hear everything going on around me--my best friend Elizabeth reacting in horror to the blood and her own pain, screaming my name trying to wake me up. I eventually could open my eyes again and immediately went hysterical and started bawling. I could feel the glass lodged in my forehead, the tingling in my left arm, and I feel like I had just gotten thrown around. I miraculously didn't break anything, though I did get a lot of contusions/concussions and bruises.
• It was third grade, and we were playing some catch-up game where opposing teams started out in opposite corners of the gym, and we had to run to try to catch up with the other player. I tripped and got rugburn. I don't know why, but I just remember that being one of the most startling pains ever. I still have the scar, too (inb4 some of you make perverted jokes about how I should be used to rugburns by now. I hate you all).
• I was 16 and I went to the swimming pool with my mom. I have no idea what happened, but I suddenly got the bends. I wasn't even in deep water... but I got charlie horses literally all over my body--my hands, arms, legs, abdomen, neck, feet, toes, fingers, chest. My muscles didn't stop spasming, and even my facial muscles were contracted to the point where I couldn't speak or breathe. Parademics said that the muscle spasming could have reached my heart if I didn't get helped in time. I don't know if that's quite true but it's odd to think about.
• PERIOD CRAMPS I SWEAR THEY ARE GETTING WORSE WITH EACH MONTH
• I was a stupid four-year old and I wanted to see if staplers worked on skin as well as they did on paper. 
• I got a UTI when I was in fourth grade because I wanted to see how long I could hold my pee in. 24 hours, by the way. I ended up having to go to the ER (neither my mom nor I knew of UTI's so we didn't know what was wrong with me), and got a catheter put in me. That shit hurt.
• Root canal. It wasn't as bad as I expected, but certainly one of the worse pains I've experienced just because it was so uncomfortable.
• Using "Kanka" on a canker sore. Worst pain ever for a ten-year old.

Day 02: 3 legitimate fears I have

"Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and describe how they became fears."

Butterflies.

No, this isn't some bashfully unsubtle confession about being afraid of falling in love. I am legitimately afraid of the insect itself. Alright, they're pretty from far away. I used to love butterflies. In fact, one of my favorite pastimes as a kid was to chase them around with a butterfly net, or even catch them with my bare hands. But there was a time when I was about 8 or 9 years old that I had caught a bunch of them and kept them in a jar. My teacher told me to let them go at the end of the day, so I opened the jar. They all flew out, and one flew right into my fucking mouth. As soon as I inhaled for a scream, it went down my throat and I nearly choked to death. It was painfully ticklish, and I couldn't stop coughing for a good hour. And then I cried the rest of the day about how I killed a butterfly by eating it. Nonetheless, I was traumatized, and since then I've been really scared of butterflies. They're frighteningly spastic too. And why are their wingspans so giant in proportion to their tiny-ass bodies?? Unnecessary.

Being a mother.

There was a time when I very much looked forward to being a mother. Starting in high school, I started writing in my diary in the hopes that my children would one day read it and learn from it. As of today, I have 3 full journals for them. I know what to do during pregnancy (what vitamins to take, what to expect, what foods and shit to avoid, etc), and I actually looked forward to it--even the labor. I plan on doing a natural birth, so I put up with cramps every month without taking any Midol or birth control to ease the pain because I want to prep myself for it. I'm realizing in the past few years, however, just how difficult motherhood is. Maybe I've got a stunted perspective on it because I myself was an only child raised by a single mother who struggled to get by in a foreign country. I can't begin to understand how difficult it was for my mother, nor how she managed to raise me by herself. I also know what a horrible little demon-child I myself was, and I don't know how the hell I would handle a child like myself. Nonetheless, I never did drugs, I am responsible with sex, and I turned out pretty decent in general. What if I fail as a mother and I raise a menace to society? What if my child doesn't respect me? What if I don't respect my child (i.e. as an individual)? What if I become the overprotective, micromanaging, suffocating mother I told myself I never wanted to be? What if I can't provide for my child the way I would want to? What if my child ever goes missing, or gets a terminal disease at a young age, or starts hanging out with a bad crowd? What if my child has some sort of disability that I'm too impatient or ignorant to understand and accommodate? What if my child ends up resenting me and pushing me out of his/her life--the life that I helped come into fruition--the way I've observed my half-brother resent our dad? With these worries, I start to think more and more each day that I am undeserving of and unfit for motherhood.

Losing my singing voice.

I'm not worried enough about it to the point where I would stop drinking alcohol and smoking hookah altogether (after all, I'm starting to get the sultry smoky sound), but it does frighten me that my most prized livelihood could be taken away from me. I fear for it every time I am recovering from illness and my voice isn't back to normal. I had swine flu in sophomore year of college, and that was probably the longest time I'd ever gone without singing. You know how muscles work--use it or lose it. When I started singing again after recovering from good ol' H1N1, my voice felt unfamiliar and wobbly. I've also got some unfounded belief that if I can't sing anymore, people won't like me anymore. It's almost like I believe that that is my only redeeming quality (I'm fairly sure a lot of people would agree. They could say they're joking, but I'm not so sure...). I've met so many people from singing (e.g. from performances, audiences/listeners that become friends, etc) that I believe my friends will be gone once the reason for our initial friendship is gone. I think ultimately, then, this could probably translate to a fear of being alone more than a fear of losing my voice itself, if it were not for the fact that singing in itself intrinsically gives me much happiness. Hearing my voice harmonize with songs, being able to sing along with the radio, it all makes me feel... fulfilled. I've been singing my whole life. I can't imagine my life without it. I would rather be blind than not be able to sing.

Day 01: List 10 random facts about yourself.

1. My middle name, contrary to what it used to say on Facebook, is not JWoww; it's Joon. My family decided that Joon should not be a part of my Korean name because it was to be assigned only to the males of the family (e.g. my brother is Hee-Joon, cousin Tom is Sung-Joon, cousin James is Il-Joon, etc). But go figure, it became a part of my name anyway, and I am the only female in the Park family for this generation. Perhaps that explains my masculinity?


2. I can make a tendon in my right ankle move in isolation. Ask me about it next time. It's my party trick. I'll do it for ya.


3. I zone out rather frequently, and my tongue usually pushes out of my mouth when I do. If you're talking to me and I'm looking at you but my tongue is sticking out of my mouth, there's a very good chance I'm not even listening to you. I'm sorry, friends.


4. Almost all of my dreams are lucid. There was like a 3-week period of time recently where they weren't lucid, and it was just so... dull and frustrating. Like your face.


5. If I didn't major in Economics or Psychology or Philosophy, I would have liked to major in Marine Biology, Astronomy, or Music.


6. I'm allergic to alcohol and usually can't have more than 2-3 "drinks" before swelling up and getting hives everywhere. Basically, I'm DD by genetic default.


7. My childhood dream was to become an astronaut. My interest in astronomy was first sparked by a big book of our solar system given to me by my mom.


8. I was born in Arlington, Virginia, but my first (and only) language was Korean for the first 4-5 years of my life. It took me a long time to get assimilated into the American school system.


9. One of the earliest memories I have is sneezing into my hand on the playground, seeing the snot/mucus spread out all over my palm, wiping it on my pink fleece pants and continuing to climb some pole to chase after some kid while playing tag.


10. I was thought to be autistic when I was younger because I had high intelligence but very, very poor social skills (and yes, you can argue that I still need to work on my social skills. Shut up). I regularly recited scripts from movies to myself (my favorites were The Lion King and The Little Mermaid and Hercules--and yes, I memorized the movies in their entirety), stayed away from and never joined my classmates during play time, and felt incredibly detached and ostracized.