Expressions We Only Thought Were Literary

Dear Google,
In the past, I used to think elegant literary phrases were just that - literary.  Little did I know that many of them were actually accurate descriptions of reality.  For example, today I'd like to reminisce about my experiences with the phrase...

"THE NEXT THING I KNEW..."

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back.  The next thing I knew, I woke up face-down on the sidewalk.  You hear things like this all the time in books and blog posts or wherever.  I thought it was just a nice phrase to get the point across that something happened very quickly.  Surely, if someone was falling, they would be aware of the falling sensation, right?

Well that's what I though too, until it happened to me...

"...I was flat on my back."
I was at a church young single adult activity.  We were playing an intense game of capture the flag.  My team was doing pretty great, and, as one of the quickest and sneakiest runners on my team, I found a chance to capture the enemy flag and bring it home.  I was bolting towards the flag, running in a wide arc that would bring me around the flag and right back into my team's territory.

But as I closed in on the flag, I caught sight of one of the guys from my team charging towards the flag from the opposite side as me.  There was nothing either of us could do.  We reached the flag at the same time, and then it happened.  Boom. THE NEXT THING I KNEW, I was flat on my back.  There was no falling.  No bracing myself.  In the same moment that I slammed into my teammate's solid body, I also found myself flat on the ground.  And yes, I SAW STARS too.  Another fancy phrase I thought was made up.  (In fact, it was almost a full 5 minutes later until they left me.  Stubborn little things.)

"...I woke up face-down on the sidewalk."
Yes, this happened to me too, just the other day.  No, I was not intoxicated with drink or high on drugs.  I just ran a bit too hard.

So this is what went down.  I was running along, just like any other day.  I supposed I was going a bit quicker than usual, and, just because I felt like being lazy, I stopped at a patch of grass next to the sidewalk to stretch.  But I must have bent down a little too quickly, because I started getting woozy.  I tried to walk it off, but soon gave in to the darkness and knelt down, clutching the grass and trying not to vomit.

THE NEXT THING I KNEW, I woke up face-down on the sidewalk.  My cheek was pressed up against the concrete and I had to uncrumple my fingers, also smashed up against the ground, to push myself up.  A lady had pulled over and was about to get out of her car to help me out, but I waved her along, confident that there was nothing wrong with me.

I got up and ran along like nothing happened, but gradually began to realize how strange that little incident was.  First of all, how did I get from the grass to the sidewalk?  Second of all, why did my shoulder hurt?  (I took a peek - yep, all scratched up.)  Thirdly, why was I breaking out in hives everywhere?  And finally, how long was I out?  It must have been longer than I thought if I'd managed to rub my face in noxious weeds,  move all the way to the sidewalk, and fall hard enough to bruise my face, shoulder, and jam three fingers.

It's a mystery. A total and complete mystery.

But both of these experiences were really exciting.  Gotta say.  I hope you all get to experience a NEXT THING I KNEW moment at least once.  But be safe, please.  Until next time!  BYEEE Google!!      



      

Star Struck

Ok.  As a computer, this is nothing you can comprehend, Google.  But I'm telling you - being star struck is the strangest sensation ever.  Now, I've led a surprisingly celebrity-free life so far (it's unfortunate) but the few times it has happened...well, I'll just tell you the story.

STORY #1
This was a gift from above. My very favorite band in the world, Lifehouse, was coming to my hometown, and I was NOT going to miss them.  But if they had come one day sooner, or one day later, I would have HAD to miss them and then be depressed for the rest of my life.  Because one day sooner was Sunday (not on the Sabbath!) and one day later, I would basically be leaving for a 18-month mission.  No go.

But luckily, things worked out, and my cousin and I claimed a great spot on the second row (standing) with an un-obscured view and nearly within arm's reach of the stage (thank you general admissions!).

The opening acts came on, and after I saved Kris Allen from falling off the stage - go me! -  it was finally time for Lifehouse to come on stage.

Now you have to realize, that I'd never met or even seen anyone really, really famous before.  So somehow, my mind had not 100% grasped the concept that these people actually lived and breathed in the same world as me.  So the moment when each member stepped on stage, I literally couldn't believe it.  Here, in flesh and blood, these idols stood right in front of me.

I'll admit that I kind of went out of my mind.  But fortunately, I managed to get a semi-decent grip on myself and spent the remainder of the concert soaking up the scene.

And THEN - at some high point during one of their classic songs - Jason Wade, my most adored, admired celebrity in the world, reached down and grabbed my hand.

In one fell swoop, the whole world disappeared.  Everything: sound, sight, smell... gone.  The only thing I was aware of was his hand.  I have no idea what song they were playing; I don't even remember seeing him crouching above me (which really is a shame).  But for days after, I could still feel his hand.

It was the strangest sensation ever.  Who knew that a person could become so awe-some to another, that a simple touch could literally obliterate all other senses.  It was insane.  Star struck.  Who knew?

STORY #2
Now this second star struck scenario wasn't even with famous people.  It was with one of my BFF's family.  She is from Europe and her "exotic" family flew in for her graduation/wedding.  She loved her family and talked about them and to them all the time.  I'd seen pictures and heard stories, but never met or talked to any of them.

But then I pulled up to the wedding and saw her father and brothers pass by.  And it happened again. I was completely entranced all day long, but too terrified to try to talk to or even make eye contact with them.  I don't know how or when they transformed into stars in my mind, but it happened.  

So, moral of the story - I acted like a complete idiot around them all day, and now they probably wonder how their posh daughter could possibly be such good friends with me.  Oh well.

LOOKING FORWARD TO NEXT TIME
Even now that I've experienced the whole star struck thing multiple times, I'm sure I'll act just as stupidly the next time it happens.  But that's why it's so great, right?  What's the point of even having celebrities if we don't get to enjoy the out-of-your-mind, loosing-all-control, insanity of star struck-dom.  I sure wouldn't want to live in such a boring world.  So bring it on!  

The Kindness of Strangers

Is that a cliche?  Well, if it is, it's a nice one.

Today, I'd like to share with you, Google, the nice things that some random strangers have done for me over the years.  Mostly just because it makes me happy to remember those times.

EDINBURGH
A few years back, my friends and I were wandering groggily through the streets of Edinburgh, looking for our little hostel.  Suddenly, a doorman working in some random building on a corner we were passing came running down the steps and asked if he could be of any assistance.  I didn't think we were being that obviously lost, but this nice, old fellow must have had an eye for people in need.  Not only did this gentleman point us in the right direction, but he stayed on the street, looking after us to make sure we turned down the right street.  As we turned the corner, I looked back (quite the distance at this point), and saw him nod contentedly, no doubt still smiling kindly, as we disappeared around the bend.

SANGGYE
One cold, winter evening, my companion and I met a middle-aged woman on her way home from the market.  We said hello, and she responded to us like we were her own daughters.  I'd never met anyone so kind - and I couldn't even understand anything she said.  As we said goodbye, she opened her bag and handed us each a small bag of chips, insisting that we take them home with us.  She didn't buy those chips just to give away - but she did without restraint and with joy.  But to us, the gift of her genuine kindness far outstripped the value of the chips she so generously gave.

VIENNA
It was Christmas time in Vienna (which means November...they start celebrating early).  Some locals and I had just gotten back from ice skating under the stars, and we were wandering happily around the Christkindlmarkt.  There we were, casually looking at some of the beautiful little ornaments at one of the stalls, when the old man tending the shop leaned out from behind a curtain of glass balls, wooden stars, and paper angels and handed us each a tiny little angel ornament.  "For the beautiful girls," he said, smiling kindly, and retreated back behind his baubles.  He didn't expect us to buy anything and he certainly wasn't flirting.  He was just being kind.    

LONDON
Now this was a very unexpected display of gallantry.  I suppose "gallantry" would be a strong word to some, but I like it.  Some girl-friends and I were sitting in a restaurant which boasted the "sexiest fish-n-chips in Notting Hill."  There was a group of semi-drunk young men at a table across the room, getting a little boisterous.  They got up and left just a minute before we did, and were playfully(?) fighting right outside the building.  We opened the door and nearly walked into the middle of the whole thing.  But the instant they caught sight of us, all six of them stopped immediately and parted to each side, and apologized with a "sorry, girls!"  We walked safely through the pack, and once we had gone a safe distance away, they returned to their squabble.  I don't know about you, but I like trouble makers with manners.    

OREM
Kind acts don't always happen abroad either.  Even in my own neighborhood, strangers (but more often friends and neighbors) have reach out to do simple, kind things as well.  One instance of when a stranger went out of his way for me happened when I was just a little girl.  I was playing out in the driveway when I fell and scraped my knee.  I was sitting on my front steps, crying, when a police car pulled up in front of my house.  I was afraid I was going to be arrested (just because), but instead, the policeman squatted down and handed me a little stuffed bear wearing a police department sweater.  His kindness swept away all my fear and pain and put a smile back on my face.

Don't you feel good now?  I sure do.  Thanks strangers.

Tales from the Streets of Geumcheon

Heya Google,

Here's a story.  One of the happiest times of my life was spent in the most ghetto area of Seoul our mission would send sister missionaries to.  It's pretty tough to find real "ghetto" in Seoul, but as far as I knew, Geumcheon was as close as you were going to get.  And it was a trilling place to be.

Now, it's important to know that Seoul is one of the safest cities in the world (officially - that's not just me being biased).  Never, ever did I feel unsafe wandering its streets (although to be fair, we were never out past 9:30 pm, so...).

Anyway, my point is, "ghetto Seoul" was basically "quirky Seoul"; and it lead to a lot of great adventures.

Like most districts in any big city, Geumcheon had its upscale parts and trashy parts.  One of my favorite things to  do was to walk through the street that lead from a huge upper-scale apartment complex, through the ghetto-ish part, then out to another classier area.

Every day, my companion and I would, of necessity, traverse this path.  And every day, we'd run into something wacky, that you would only ever see in Geumchon.  And here are some great shining examples, for your reading pleasure:

The Four-Wheeling Harmonie
In Korea, there are a lot of wrinkly old grandmas (or Harmonie) out there, chasing after children, selling vegetables, dragging cart loads of recycling, or shopping.  Most of them prefer to walk, which is perhaps why they are so skinny.  You'd rarely see them in a taxi and never on a motorbike like many of the men.

But - there was this one gem of a Harmonie that we would run across every few weeks.  Unlike her traditional counterparts, she was pretty darn chubby (basically, fat, but it's rude to call grandmas fat) and she had a very unique form of transportation: a four-wheeler. (The only one I EVER saw in Korea.)

She would plop herself down on this growling vehicle, and as the wind blew wildly through her short curls, with a smug curl of the lip and a twinkle in her eye, she would ride through town all, "That's right. Look at ME!" 

We would always wave as she roared passed, and she, very pleased, would nod gracefully back.

Gumbitch Park
Already you're laughing, aren't you?  We sure did once we saw the poor romanization of what is really a beautiful name, meaning "golden light."  As odd as its name, this small park sat right around the corner from our church building.  It was a great place to meet drunken people.  Or mothers with young children.  A strange mix of demographics.

Every day, you could walk past and see something spectacular.  Go by on a Thursday morning, and find six drunken people (both men and women) sprawled across benches, flowerbeds, and pathways, chunks of fork-skewered-watermelon scattered about them.

There were several amusing aspects of this scene.  First of all, it was clear they opened the watermelon by smashing it on the ground.  Second of all, who uses forks in Korea?  No one, that's who.  And finally, who drinks so early in the morning that they are fully drunk, have managed to slime up an entire park with watermelon remains, and then pass out - all before 11am?  It's a wonderful mystery.

The Shark Lady
Perhaps my favorite sight of all, was the day that we walked past the street market and got an eyeful of something spectacular!  This market was nestled in a diagonal alley, squashed between some old, brick apartments and a line of nice shops, including a pizza place, a beauty shop, and a bakery.  The end of the market would spill out onto the corner in front of the bakery.

On that corner was a lady that would sell seafood from a large tub of water - mostly clams, muscles, and occasionally little crabs.  But one day, we noticed people veering off in her direction, with puzzled looks on their faces.

Now, it took quite a lot for people in Geumcheon to show real curiosity.  So, we too started in her direction, only to see her sitting on her overturned bucket as proud as a queen on her throne, with a foam box of ice at her feet.  On top of that ice lay a 4-foot baby shark, fully intact with a piece of ice wedged between its jaws, like a hog with an apple in its mouth.

We stared, stunned.  Question number one: where did she get this thing?  Question number two: who on earth would buy it?  But it was gone the next day, so clearly, someone did!

Just Your Average Day
These memories were some of my fondest, although you can be sure they are just the tip of the ice berg.  From a re-incarnated Elvis (outfit, motorcycle, and all) to an angry woman chasing a man down the street with a bloody knife in her hand (somehow, that wasn't alarming?), the adventures never ended.  I'm grateful for the time I spend in this quirky area, with all it's insane people, drunk people, but most of all kind and wonderful people.  (Perhaps their stories will come at another time.)

So in conclusion, I'd like to say thanks, God, for sending me there.

A Short Burst of Pet Peeves

Hey Goog, what's up?  Today, I'm going to complain just a bit.  It'll be fun!

NUMBER 1: when white people try to be Asian

This is one of those things in life that tears me in two.  Being half-Korean myself, I am trilled when non-Asians love Korean culture.  It is truly amazing and deserves to be loved by all.  But at the same time, I am totally creeped out when white people try to be Asian.

Chubby, mousy-haired white kids learning Taekwando; blond, blue-eyed girls crying "oppa, oppa!" to K-pop stars; non-stick-like white dudes piercing their ears, growing sweepy hair, and wearing form-fitting pants.  Just stop.  Please.

(Fortunately, dear mission friends of mine, this excludes you.  Somehow the years you spent living the Korean life made you so, despite your whiteness.  You are Asian in my eyes.)

Do I have a solution to this problem?  Yes.  But no. You already saw my solution above: just stop.  Please.  But my humble plead will never change this sad reality - there will always be white people who try to be what they aren't.

NUMBER 2: the paradox of summer

Summer in Utah is H.O.T. hot.  Which is fine.  Because there is no humidity.  Thank HEAVENS.  But what irks me about the summertime, is that I spend most of my days freezing.  How is this?  I think we've all been there.  It's because of the stupid office who tries to overcompensate for the heat outside by blasting the AC inside.

I seriously have to wear a coat in the office to keep my face from turning purple.  And it usually turns purple anyway.  Everyone complains, but the thermostat never changes.  Curse them!

NUMBER 3: school zones

Now don't get me wrong, I'm all for school zones.  Keep those kids safe!  But what does bug me, is that person driving in front of me who thinks they need to slow down to 20mph (or slower) when the flashing sign comes into SIGHT, not when they actually approach it.

So I sit there, crawling miserably behind some giant SUV that I didn't even know was capable of going that slow, panicking unnecessarily about the whole minute this slow-down is going to make me late for work.  It's a lose-lose situation.

NUMBER 4: overflowing hot cereal

It ruins my morning every day.  Doesn't matter what it is: oatmeal, cream of wheat, gritz...it will ALWAYS overflow the bowl in the microwave, wasting my precious food and making me clean first thing in the morning.  You'd think I'd learn to stop and just eat cold cereal.  Well...one of these days...

IN CONCLUSION

So, that is my current list of pet-peeves AKA hastag first world problems.  Fortunately, I will not spend my life miserable because of these pet peeves, because I know how to overcome them.  Pres. Uchtdorf told me how: stop it! Besides, I've got a great family, fabulous friends, Kpop, Kdramas, religion, savings, my water bottle, an education, youth and health.  So I'm good.  *Sigh.

Lovely Germany, Lovely Austria

Dear Google - you already know this (because you told me), but some soul in Germany viewed my blog, probably by accident, but it happened!  I find this particularly serendipitous because I. love. Germany!  I lived there, after all.  For 3 months.  And if you count the time I also spent in Austria, that makes 6 months in a German-speaking country.

Now don't you worry, all you Germans and Austrians who may stumble across this post - I certainly know the vast difference between the two of you and don't clump you together as one giant nation like too much of the world does.  I appreciate the differences, the rivalries, the strengths, and quirks of each of your separate nations.  And I love you both, with different portions of my heart.

But since it was a German who "checked out" my blog, here's a tribute to you first:

Germany is basically the coolest country ever.  (But, I say that about a handful of other select countries as well.)  But here is my reasoning for Germany deserving the title "Coolest Country Ever."  First, they are super stable.  Germany is never in a panic.  They saved Greece, they stabilize the EU, Angela Merkel is could be the queen of Europe, and they have the best football (as in soccer) leagues on the continent.  And their pastries just can't be beat. Aaand President Uchtdorf is German, so what up world.    

Germany holds the part of my heart that loves power, confidence, pride, and street-smarts (all in the best sense, of course).  Because that is what Germany is all about.  They know what's going down around them and are ready and confident to take face it head on.  But they still know how to party, how to be romantic, and better than anyone - they know how to rock the grunge look.

Hats off to you Germany, Sie sind am Beste!

And now for my lovely Austria,

To me, you are elegance, charm, class, and romance.  When I think back on my time in Austria, everything seems to be hazed with a glimmer of gold.  The lovely people I met, my beloved host family, the beautiful elegance of the architecture, the calm evening atmosphere, and the mystic spirit that floats out of the opera halls, museums, and cafes.

Your natural scenery is equally as stunning as anywhere else in Europe, or the world, and the ghosts of romantic histories seem to enchant the old palaces, cathedrals, woods, and vineyards.  There is a timelessness about you that cannot be found ANYWERE else.

Austria, you are the seat of charm in this world, and I will always feel your loving touch on my heart.

And, that is that for this post.  I'll not bore you with the novels of over-dramatic experiences, memories, and thoughts of my European life.  Although I'm sure some will pop out in the future.  Keep an eye out if you're interested.

So, in conclusion, thank you random German person for stumbling across my blog.  Alles Gute!  Auf Wiedersehen!


          

When Serendipity Asserts Herself

Serendipity, Lady Luck, the blessings of God.  Basically all the same thing, just worded differently for romantics, gamblers, and religious people. (For the record, I'm actually a fan of "blessings of God," but I didn't want to risk sounding sacrileg by accident - because I tend to get a little carried away when I write.)    

So, today, Google, I'd like to tell you about a time when Serendipity made a great effort on my behalf.

Once upon a time, I was in Germany, studying abroad.  We were having a fabulous time, even though it was rainy, like ALWAYS.  Once, while we were prancing about the damp gardens of the Palace at Potsdam, honoring the fallen hounds of Fredrick the Great, a couple of friends and I were like, "Hey!  Let's go to Scotland!"

And so it was.  A few weeks later, we jetted off to the mystic moors and crumbly castles of Scotland.  There was nothing to disappoint.  Beautiful weather, hilarious tour guides, breathtaking scenery, delicious food, and a trip to Hogwarts.

But even more thrilling than stealing water from Loch Ness to preserve in little Scottish whiskey flasks, was the moment Serendipity decided to pull out all her stops.

On the last day of our trip, my friends and I had decided to just wander around the beautiful, ancient streets of Edinburgh and see what kind of adventure we could rustle up.  As we casually strolled down Kings Street, we heard some commotion from down below.  We hurried down to see what was up and received the thrill of our lives.

Unbeknownst to us, it was National Arms Day.  Do you even realize what that means?!  Well, let me tell you.  It means a parade of hundreds of men in uniform.  It means lots of kilts, bagpipes, drums, and NOBLE PEOPLE.  Noble people with gold chains, walking sticks, large hats, and glory.  Lots of glory.

Needless to say, we just about died.  We claimed a front line spot and nearly overdosed on the glory.  The parade ended in the square underneath the towering Edinburgh castle, where military men, musicians, nobles, and commoners mingled.  A few minutes later, the parade participants entered a courtyard-like place surrounded by a large, green hedge.

My friends and I peeped over the top of the hedge, watching like creepers.  Then a kindly military man tapped us on the shoulder and told us cheerfully to go on in and "have some cake and tea."  Truly, Serendipity was working overtime on our behalf.    

Trying to suppress our utter thrill, we graciously accepted.  We entered the courtyard of heaven.  After hovering nervously a few hundred feet from the large tent where the "cake and tea" was being served, we finally saw another "pedestrian" go over to partake of the goodies.  So, we took a deep breath and headed into the swarm of uniforms.

And let me tell you, those Scottish gents are unbelievably charming.  In the bustle of the refreshment tent, I accidentally bumped into a kilted man's bagpipes.  But before I could even begin to apologize, the man turned and said, "Oh, I'm sorry love!"

I was struck speechless.  I think I managed an appropriate response, but I don't really remember.  After all, a Scottish bagpiper just called me "love."

A few seconds later, my friends and I were struggling towards the orange juice table, when a noble who had just picked up a glass of juice turned and saw us.  He instantly offered his cup to my friend and said something completely charming that I honestly can't recall.  My "wow" factor had already been blown into outer space.  

Dazzled and giggling, we made our way back to some seats and enjoyed a couple of hours listening to the Lord Proverst of Edinburgh speak, watching traditional folk musicians perform, and taking creeper pictures of good looking soldiers and nobles.

We finally left, happy and ready to die.  But first we ate a pulled pork sandwich (actually watching the meat be pulled from the haunches of a roasted pig in the window).  Then we died of ultimate happiness.

Serendipity, thank you.  I hope we meet again soon!

Meet my Dragon, Wang Tae-Yang (왕태양)

Good day Google.  Today I'd like to introduce you to someone very special - Tae-Yang.

I came into possession of Tae-Yang last winter, when I was down in Arizona for a wedding.  While there, I met up with a friend who I hadn't seen in over a year.  He insisted on buying me a Christmas gift, so we started wandering around the store wondering what we could possibly chose that would be special and unique.

Then it came to us: pointless figurines.  

My friend was born in Thailand, so we got him this amazing sliver and bronze elephant that had broken shards of mirror scattered across his back to form a gorgeous, sparkling ornamental drape.

I, on the other hand, am half-Korean.  So when we saw Tae-Yang crouching there, tucked behind a giant figurine of a tiger, we knew he was waiting for me.  It was like he had deserted his post guarding the steps of Gyeongbokgung, the great palace in the center of Seoul, to come offer his life to me.

Tae-Yang is completely silver, but with that antique, ink-like color carefully smeared into the crevices.  His front claws are perched on an oriental ball, which would be made of stone in real life.  There are flames springing from his back legs as well as his tail, which swirls straight upwards.

His mane also reminds you of flames, swirling and spiking all around his head.  Smaller flames rage around his jaw and out of his nostrils.  Even his eyebrows flicker dangerously.

But the true magic is locked in his face.  His eyes are cold and un-distracted.  His mouth is frozen in a roar and you can tell that he is fierce and dangerous, but at the same time, fiercely loyal.  He protects what he watches over.

Originally I brought him in to the office to inspire my writing - but that is clearly not what he was made to do.  Instead, he sits as a guardian over my kingdom, protecting my computer, my phone, my bag, my water bottle, and me.

But as for his final, an most important quality - his spiked, flamey mane doubles as an excellent hand scratcher.

Jealous now?  I bet you are.      

Why this blog exists

By royal command of the collective body of copywriters here at my job, which shall remain anonymous, personal blogs are now on the weekly agenda.  I dislike writing personal blogs.  Ironic, since this "personal blog" thing was totally my idea.  I sometimes suggest things in meetings without thinking...

For the record, I'm not quite sure why I have this huge aversion to personal blogs.  I think it's because I'm going through a social-media hating phase.  Probably for life.  There's a good chance I'm a might be part-Luddite.

I just prefer personal, two-way conversations over mass-produced one-way ones.  So I hope Google's crawlers are the only things reading this.  But if you do happen to be human and would like to read - help yourself!  I get it.  Some people like these things.  

Well, if I had ceremonial scissors and a giant ribbon, I would cut it, in honor of launching this pathetic blog.  But I don't.  Bummer.  (See - this is another reason real things are far more fun than the internet!)

Anyway, thank you Google for reading this blog, and thank you everyone else for not!