my 엄아. why i stumbled on a green plastic cup

i always thought they hated me. that she hated me.
picky. super particular. willful.

"stop asking 'why'! 그냥헤!"
but, i can't. it just doesn't make sense. just... why? 왜?!

that little green plastic cup flew from the second landing and into my head. there was blood everywhere. it didn't hurt really, kinda like when you get a baby tooth pulled--but the shock of seeing that uncontrollable maroon flow is reason enough to start any child screaming bloody homicide.
and i did.
i did at varying ear-shaking intervals until i was around 10-11.
God. tantrums. it's embarrassing.

and then, emotional implosion. internalizing all that bad stuff. it still sticks. i was always the bad kid. well, always the one who got caught w/ the parental authorities for anything. but, i know i'm lucky. i wonder how different my life would be if i actually got in trouble with the law for the juvenile things that i did. these days, any kind of record will ruin anyone's chance for a productive life.

i'm sure many can say this, but i should've been roofied and/or raped and/or beaten and/or had any number of awful molestations inflicted upon me based upon my unsafe behaviors.
or dead.
i should probably be dead by now.
isn't this sad societal commentary?--and personal commentary, i suppose.

there were fights.
the endless stream of brutal words that could never be taken back. those dark purple bruises. that torn flesh that is scabbing, but beginning to heal; you know exactly where those sore spots are because of your time engendered intimacy. tearing into it w/ deadly precision. there is kind of lovely grace with which you strike. wounds and deep deep scarring.
why do we do this to the people we are bonded to?

the screeching ripping. the tearing down. and it would feel so damn good to be in this carnivorous state because i knew i was right. my cutting arguments were based upon principles--even their principles.
that exquisite twisting invalidation.

there was screaming and violence.
the occasional "fuck" or "shit" would exit my lips, which was preposterous--just impossible, from the Korean daughter.
porcelain little doll run amuck.

and in the aftermath. surrounded by the relational carnage. feeling so dirty and hopeless at my unrelenting ruthlessness. this is the stuff i was made of. probably still am. i would cry and cry and wonder why i am like this? how could i say those things? why do i have to ask "왜?" all the fucking time? and why can't i fit? why don't i fit? my hair and eyes and cheekbones match. what the fuck is wrong with me?

for these reasons, it wasn't until i was halfway through my 20th year that i had this revelation.
in the hazy summer heat of my apartment.
i watched the dust lit stripes cutting across the air in front of my face as i twisted the phone cord with my toes. i carefully held the phone away from me while i lit smokes.
...
i don't know 엄아... that's basically what's going on. work's back-breaking, it's hot--i'm not turning the AC on because it's too expensive...
"no air 콘?"
no... can't afford it. life of a college student. but it's nice to be here w/ my friends, i guess.
"그래? 그런데, wish you were home. 보고싶어."
really? you miss me? but there's always so much fighting while i'm there.
"메리야. dear 따레미... 그래도, 보고싶어."
really? 정말 보고싶어?
"of course. my dear 따레미. of course."

self-imposed sentencing

obsessing is probably not going to make it any better. however:
today, i took a break outside in the slowly changing tides between the Winter and Spring. Spring comes earlier in Korea than i'm used to. i love this time of year. i feel like i'm getting a sweet gift--one that i had forgotten that i had been longing for, but got early.
the receding chill meeting and then mixing with an advancing wave of warm breathing. when the Winter buds begin to break. the flora with all of it's amazingly designed cells, differentiating and pulling into form. petals and leaves. unfolding, unwinding outward. slightly damp leaves like the soft perspire on sleeping cheeks.

my ever-present iPod was playing the same 4 songs i've been playing for the past 2 weeks whenever i've wanted to isolate and drown myself in music that makes my heart beat faster and my feet involuntarily stomp the ground.

i'll miss the apple blossoms this year. sad.

lighting a smoke, i enjoyed the rich burning sienna on my tongue. the sharp inhale and oh-so-good sear hitting the back of my throat. why does this taste so delicious? under this misty Korean sky? contemplating the Spring with such hyperbole?

i watched that enormous red crane swiveling clockwise away from me. another measure of time.
i was struck with a terror.
a panic.
this must end. this will come to an end.
and worse, this will be intentional. my deliberate choice.

damnit. for a few gold coins.
well. and for my health.
95 more days.
i have taken the liberty to count them.

lost sleep. wasted thoughts.

this will be fatal

boxer shorts and 3,456 dinners and hot baths with a book
pastel bath salts, pink sea green lavender ocean blue
freesia
inspiring the afternoon
hills like pink elephants
they rose and fell
sighing
itching fingers relieved by stubble
soft
water streaming down pale skin
soaking hair streaming
curving smiles tracing tasting glowing goodnight kisses grazing
beige shirts shirts laundered
dark turquoise folding pants folding in
sauntering by round green pools gazing
endlessly

this was fatal

the brightest yellow day
the warmest of autumn days with blazing brilliant leaves
they fluttered and flattered themselves
sun kissed
ironic.
this incredible paradox.
why are these terrible days always so damn sunny?

those unfathomable green pools
watering

itching fingers
unrelieved

turquoise lullaby

checkered beige and dark brown
walking on marble
for years
clicking marble on a slippery surface

i quit smoking and swearing
and dancing
i did
i forgot
while i dreamed

marble cracking
it shattered
i wish i had shattered it my Self
with that rusty hammer
nighmares

and vivid dreams
bright, sharp dreaming
wasn't it?

it was
is

walking on grainy balsa wood now
moving plastic pieces
smoking again
and swearing like a sailor

and i'll forever dance until my muscles fail me
and sing until my throat is raw

meandering again

today, i had to take a walk. i took the long way home from work.

thru the crowded now-familiar streets of Shinchon
i paused to smoke and watch people
my eardrums were blasted with waves of those collective voices and instruments i can't even identify

umbrellas of every single color and pattern imaginable protecting these individuals--these precious ones, against the lightly falling snow
dark navy, pink, barberry, oh Hello Kitty
why am i here?

canary yellow, blue stripes, another barberry
tramp tramp romp hop
uneven beat on uneven brick through a sea of winter coats
purple plaid, kelly green, dark green, evergreen
like a forest
i'm lost in a forest. how did i get here?
black black bright red polka dots?

bouncing lightly, skipping three steps and people stare
a smile and a raised eyebrow, eyes meet
tell me why i'm here.

orange, checkered, stripes, galore
swirling snow caught up in slices of streetlights
into open mouths, wide with laughter
my frosted eyelashes

twirl, skip, smile, brief curtsy
you're here b/c i want you here.

colored umbrellas
colored eyes
auburn ones that change colors next to vintage shirts
big childlike sweetly asymmetrical eyes
the bright blue ones
the dark dark brown ones
those guarded pained ones behind glasses

ah. right. but i want more answers.
when you're ready.

out of the masses. just me and music and this lopsided conversation. my body warmed while i trudged uphill. i enjoyed the light flapping of the faux fur fringe on the outskirts of my vision. the dark campus was a little friendlier as the snow brightened the night forest floor.

i flipped down my hood and breathed in the slightly green smells
fresh sharp winter on my cheeks

today. i'm really happy today.
just love. and be happy.

damp little cold kisses on my face
melting in my hair

disorganized ramble backwards and on

since i've been able to think outside of this box of my body, i have had existential crises on nearly a quarterly basis. i know this is ridiculous to say so casually, but i'm often too fuckin' serious and it comes up. often. well, usually about a couple times a year.

damnit. i wish i could be a little more blasé about life. but i'm unable to go for too long w/o questioning my existence on this planet--you know the questions:

why am i here?
is there a purpose? a plan?
is there a unique Plan for ~my~ life?
these things that happen, these people that i meet, things that fall apart--is there meaning in all of this?
can i get some fries with this bittersweet shake?

there is no rest for the wicked. none. you know i'm an insomniac.

these metaphysical pangs
this damnable existential crisis
but i had yet another conversation (among dozens) that reminded me for the second time in two weeks, it's a process:
(why can't i ever get it straight?)

i don't know if i could do it. i don't know if, in the face of... such... horrible.. what is the word...
brutality?
yes, brutality... i would've given up. i've heard these stories about God and endurance through the worst of the worst... and then i hear how they still stood. they stood up despite pain and...
crushing agony?
yes. and you using these words to describe what you went through... i can't even imagine standing up. i would be lying, blown away. you said you dealt with those horrible months--what June through August?
huh. you remember i said that? ...yeah. it was... unbelievable... torturous at times.
maybe i would've said, 'screw you God'
maybe.
but i hear these stories. many of them lately. you guys surviving the unimaginable. and then you have an even stronger belief in the Truth. like you knew that despite the daily reality--i mean, everyday you knew you'd be dealing with horrible pain--
devastating. abusive. humiliation. no hyperbole.
indeed. i can't even conceptualize. but something was more Real than that. that you knew...
... i knew... ...the reality of pain was less real than God.
...again, i must ask: is this what God requires of us?
i don't know. sometimes. maybe no times for some. you know that whole 'God never requires of us what we can bear'--i was convicted. there was ~nothing~ inside of me that wanted to try to keep my marriage together. nothing. even w/in the first few weeks. i was completely toasted. torn apart and then chopped up and deep fried and then smashed into a pulpy mess with a grimy piss mop on the dirtiest men's bathroom floor. in China.
(smile, chuckle)
i had already taken my wedding ring off--i was grudgingly wearing it around my neck. even then, it felt like a fucking choking leash. but, during that conversation i had w/ P Min, i heard God speaking to my heart. i knew that He knew what i could bear. and then i cried and cried and cried. i couldn't believe what He was asking me to do.
see? i couldn't have. i wouldn't have.
and so, you might not have been asked if you were in my position. but He knows us. He knows what we can bear. what we could handle. apparently, He knew i could handle some fucked up shit... and that inevitably, it would only bring me closer to understanding Him and His character.
i just can't imagine what that would've been like.
well, it wasn't all torture. it was a crazy awful, but amazing time. there were these moments when i was hurting so bad and i didn't even know what i needed. i just wanted to die and then talk to Jesus in the clouds about how He promised all that vengeance stuff... but, something always seemed to happen when i was going through that. there would be a Scripture that would sing to me. people would randomly call me--even @ 2:30 in the morning while my face was in damp puddles on the carpet. my brother swung by around 4am one time to pray w/ me. it was just enough. always just enough to get through to the next second, the next minute, then pockets of hours.

email 7/9/08:
...i couldn't sleep last night (for various reasons) one being that i feel like God is doing something amazing in my heart. i cried my eyes out when i woke up yesterday morning, but after i had a chance to meet God last night, this afternoon when i got up, i was filled w/ a joy and peace that makes absolutely no sense. God is good to me. even though Chris said he would be home over an hour ago, and now doing who knows what, God is still really really good. i read this psalm today and it's making me cry:

"I lift my hands to you in prayer. I thirst for you as parched land thirsts for rain. Come quickly, Lord, and answer me, for my depression deepens. Don't turn away from me, or I will die. Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you." [Psalm 143: 6-8]

the rest of it really good--of course, but you can read it yourselves. thank you all for your prayers, support, and listening to all of my sarcastic commentary about my messed up life. God is really really good.

mucho love
Mary
***

i just want to affirm you... that i can see God infused in your life.
uh. huh? like the cigarette i'm smoking?
you know that means nothing.
you know i'm being facetious.
it's... inspiring? i don't know if i could do what you did.
ugh! stop it. that sounds awful. i don't like those kinds of words to describe something i didn't do. but, God-infused? hmmm... that's... i'll have to think about that... are you having a crisis of faith?
not anymore than i usually experience.
i'm on the verge of one. but in a different way from you, i think. very uneasy about that.
i know you're going to get through that and the next one and probably figure things out w/ even more clarity.
clarity. sounds almost magical @ this juncture.

the prettiness in busyness: people are beautiful IV

i'm sitting in my glass office blogging again. this job makes me crazy. bored. monotonous brain-numbing screen work for 8 hours a day. well, i had been duly warned before i started.
i've just been assigned nearly a 100 odd papers to determine the future educational process for a 100 odd incoming college students. it's crazy to imagine that this sandpaper on my eyes will have longer-reaching effects than the 4 minutes it takes me to assess them.
this actually is important work people.

but i can't really complain. i love that i have a job that i can get paid to take breaks to catch up on news and emails and write.
(yes news, darlins': like i said while out on December 28th, 2008. i will also dance for the rest of my life. follow thru is actually occurring. what a marvelous sensation!--this is what it feels like to be a person. a real aLive person.)

some of the busyness i'm speaking to is the lifestyle stuff. because everything is on foot or by public transpo, there is only so much a person can do on a given day. everyday there are errands to run or bus or subway.
dinners shopping language exchanges relationships to invest in advice to receive, give gossip groceries--oh crap--that reminds me. i need some 멸치 and 버섣

this is mixed in w/ the fact that there has been a non-stop flow of visitors.
wonderfully, fortuitously, i've spent some real time w/ visitors that i've been invested in or have been curious about or have shared a mutual personal interest w/.
(and damnit. there have been some grudging obligations)

but it's been fun, sweet, sometimes somber
pleasantly stretchy
i love people. i love people. the life stories. life!
bah! it is good.

the things learned and unlearned b/c of road bumps
and the miracles and the bliss
the car accidents
the mistakes made and remade and then--one more time! let's make that mistake just one more time so that we can clearly see some reddened sensitive scar tissue
or burn marks

the small rounded moments and the derailed trains
the smudged eyeliner that a friend licks her finger to touch up,
soft touches on your face
the major crises and then the rising epiphanies
and fuck. the continuous tragedies of love lost or lost vision or health problems
does that cover most of them?

Seoul is the perfect place to receive visitors--for me in particular, i think. everyone that comes out here has ~some~ reason--generally pretty fascinating. most people i know are from Chicago or someplace in the Midwest--usually ones from what i can now call my "past". history.
only the more offbeat ghosties and ghoulies invite themselves to haunt. this really accommodates me.

two moments:
*
my darling friends
we laughed and giggled and anthropomorphized a stuffed monkey
smokes. wine. pics. pjs. reminisce. wonder. plan. confusing relational life stuff discussed.
there were surprising bewildering tears for me at some point--not the deeply cathartic kind, but the welling spill
dear to shed in this refuge of near affection

where are we going?
dunno.
but you're coming w/ me, wherever that is.

**
an old friend? there's history.
he's part of another context that few who know me in Korea are really privy to
a connection based upon mutual consideration, esteem, estimation, regard
and curiosity about the bizarre and strange things that come out of one another's heads

loud chortles of merriment. always. sometimes when i'm not even trying to be funny. it's funny. so, despite all of the running around and busyness, making time was worth it.
Korean food, complex vocabulary--(i believe i got to use the word 'acrimony'?), tea, sorrow shared, tears, pizza, chortling, ridiculous stories, and discussions about music and Archie comics

*
like i said before
there are so many many of these beautiful people
helping me to unfurl and grow and learn and believe a little more about life and love and what it means to be a whole person

God. i am thankful. i am blessed.

every single day, there are more

people are beautiful III: three

she sometimes asks me if i call b/c i need her to be my conscience.
i tell her no. though we place our hope and trust in the same things, we catch light fragments differently through the droplets. she sees dark oranges while i see bluish-greens.
she's sensitive and blunt. there are few boundaries between us. she's often warm and cuddly with words. often giggles nervously when i force her to intertwine fingers w/ me.
i know she loves it.

she worries a lot. deeply. too much, actually.
when tragedy strikes, she shivers and trembles. but there is inner Strength and Grace. i think she's surprised by this. she prays.

her 'daddy' just had a stroke.
pressed in on all sides, but not crushed. perplexed, but never in despair. persecuted, but not abandoned. struck down, but not consumed nor devastated.

at times, the crystal shifts. our views align. virtually clear.

***
said that it'd be hard to come up w/ 100 words about him. i've just written 17.
sincere. thoughtful. honest. kind. claims that he doesn't desire power over people, but delights in the idea of subtle (let me call it subversive) influence. the Mole.

맨날 놀려, claiming 농담, but i don't always 믿어.
observant. notices when i sigh or laugh or frown or say something he doesn't agree with. and then he'll debate his point articulately. it's uncommon. unusual. insightful.

"how can you hate sin?"
you're right. you cannot. i cannot. but He transforms.

growling monster in his belly sometimes crawls into mine and then back again. for some reason, there is only ever one monster.

humorous. stories. snobby Belgian, conversely respectful. likes to share smokes like i do. attentive. sweet. "prickly". happy. melancholy. hungry to understand.
feels uncomfortable when i call him intelligent. but he is.

***
sister. she is.
love her. spirit. Spirit.
beautiful. generous. loving. open arms. honest.
cries easily when He's around.
texted me verses for our commission.

i'm pretty sure she was involved
the last two times i fell apart with mirth,
till tears formed in the corners

we both think eating 떡뽂이 on the street is fabulous and strangely adult. in delayed rhythm, we threw up our hands and wondered: what the hell are we doing here? when we shared, we were amazed about our distinct and similar revelations about where Home is.
it is here. Here.

what it means to run. and walk. and search. or how hard it is to not fidget while waiting silently. why are we surprised that our answers share the same purple thread? there is always resounding affirmation, resonating.
beating in our blood.

ramble forwards, sideways, migraine on the left side

i'm meandering.
there is tension in that for me.

i'm living in that overly chronicalized humdrum world of "freedom".
eh. overly chronicalized or not, it's where i'm at.

it's that cheesy cliched kind where i feel a sudden joy as the perfectly chilled Spring wind hits my cheeks. where music sounds sweeter, more exciting, more beautiful, more interesting; voices, harmonies, harmonics, syncopated beats playing loudly in my ears as i stomp purposefully down crowded streets to nowhere in particular.

no one to answer to.
it's glorious in it's own way.

will i smoke another smoke? yes. as a matter of fact, i will. b/c i feel like it. i will lean against this dirty building in downtown Shinchon and light up another cigarette. i'll stare you down as you stare me down. and then i'll smile. and surprised, you'll smile back, maybe ask me for a light, and then give me a discombobulated look because you can hear my English accented Korean. but, i'll continue to smile and maybe brashly wink b/c i know it might make you feel slightly disturbed--but in a friendly way.

let's mix up those emotions, shall we? let's taste those different combinations of flavors. pain, joy, confusion, sheepishness--and then let's mix it up with a few bad choices and fortuitous occurrences.
but let's have no regrets.

but, then i'm also experiencing a sense of being lost.
flashes of panic.
sometimes.
i suddenly think i'm waking to a living nightmare; what am i doing on this street? nothing familiar among these shoulder-to-shoulder crowds, thousands of grim faces. how did i get here? living in a teachers' dorm overlooking these dreary hills and ramshackled homes, criss-crossing power lines. where are my feet planted?

this impermanence. these constantly shifting changes.

or do they need to be planted someplace? is that what i should be looking for? am i just torturing myself w/ these questions? should i just be enjoying this hiatus? should i simply revel in being lacksidaisical and happy that there are no fetters? no specific drive to be intentional and deliberate?

blah blah.
so there's this dumb tension.

it's really about nothing.
or maybe it's about everything?

people are beautiful II: fugue

i can't keep it in
it'll make me explode

so my darlings,
my close folks
you beautiful incidentals
and the dear adventitious rabble from the past and future

if you don't want my guts all over you
stop asking relevant questions
because i cannot lie
because i will not sugary candy coat my fucking life
melting mass of Alexander the Grape
bleeding piles of synthetic confection

in my dreams
swinging bottle
shattering burst of light
skull reverberating with a loud crack
sometimes i can still hear it

but i'm filled with Love somehow
Grace.
there is no other word
disbelieve if you will, but it was my choice
it is my choice
and that's why such a thing as Love can truly exist

and then a decade later
crying,
kneeling,
wailing on dirty brown carpet
the deep aching flexing in the pit
murder pushing outwards against my ribs
tearing
it ripped out
ruptured chambers of flesh
it all spilled out
with boiling slippery coils of intestines
bloody bile soaking deep into synthetic fibers

but there was still Love
a deep deep Love
unimaginable

***
so, there we were
a member of the dear adventitious and i
a cup of jasmine and a cup of peppermint
sipping gingerly, i spoke gingerly and laughed

'despite the circumspect nature of our conversation, i'm still fascinated', i said
a burst of laughter, "circumspect! it is circumspect, isn't it?... i'm curious, but i want to be respectful and not ask personal questions unless..."
'i'm an open book to anyone who can ask a real question. i wouldn't eat dinner and have tea with someone i would mind being straight with. ask me.'
"fair enough... so, you've said you think you can move forward, you can move on, that you have moved on... how can you possibly move on?"
'i... well... i hate to use this kind of language, but it was "redemption"... i can no longer be circumspect. can you handle it?'
nodding, he affirmed.
deep breath. i recounted:

*
spoken love,
the words hung outside of our bodies
his green eyes spoke them to me,
they reassured me
they promised me

but a switch
flipped

sharp knife
abuse
enraged fists pounding,
they never stopped pounding
deeply
into the bruising bruising apricot in my chest
pulp
homicide
those hate-filled eyes

and then, there was the call to Love

but Lord, i can't! i can't!
but I can. I can. you can.
but i can't! You're asking too much!
do you love Me? do you love Me enough to trust Me?
...i trust You. i hurt. but i trust You. there is nothing else i can trust in.

tear soaked brown carpet
slamming doors
sleeping outside
I HATE YOU.
but i love you
furious foot stomping tantrums: BUT I HATE YOU. DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND I HATE YOU?
i do understand. but i love you.
ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY? I HATE YOU.
i understand.

Lord. am i crazy? why am i doing this?
do it for Me. I Love you. I Love you.
You Love me?
forever.
forever? tears. forever.

and so it went.
for two and a half months
it went and went and went and went
it went
silent screams
forever Lord?
I Love you forever.
forever. tears.

forever.

this pain. this grief. i began to understand what He knew. what He endured.
and then i began falling apart. my seams began to loosen.

i cannot do this anymore. i cannot breathe. i can't breathe.
my child. darling daughter. Mary. I Love you forever. Peace. take this Peace. let go. it's time to go.

this unimaginable Love.
i let go.
*

cold soaking jasmine and peppermint leaves
my calm voice recounting
but his spilling tears, "is this what we are called to endure? is this what we need to go through to understand His Love? His Grace?"
'honestly... honestly. i know it'll sound crazy for me to say this... but, only if we're lucky.'
shaking head. he continued to wipe tears.
'i'm not saying i'm perfectly whole. i'm not saying my life is together... i'm saying that i feel fortunate to have lived through this all, and have come to a deeper knowledge of Love and what His Love for me is about. i feel lucky to have that glimpse of the divine'

we had to run through the refreshing chilliness to catch the midnight train

"there are still echoes of your pain", is the last thing i remember he said.
***

though i was convinced he was kind of wrong
it gave me something to think about

journal: 2.3.09

i'm the kind of person who thinks she's always in touch w/ what's going on internally. i process my process w/ the external world; i can't keep it in. i will talk to people, journal, chat online, type until my vision gets blurry. at nights, i lay on my side, curled up in sheets and a turquoise blanket, talking to God as the late late evening blends into the early early morning.
sometimes when i can't handle it anymore or just can't talk about it, i get this itch to self-medicate extensively. i can briefly forget and be distracted. it's ugly.

sounds exhausting? it is. i don't know why i'm built this way. i wish i could stop being so expressive and not wear all of my emotions all over my sleeve and down the front of my shirt and into a puddle at my feet. i'm thinking that i should try to use these crazy tendencies for good rather than all that other stuff. i believe even my messy is somehow redeemable.

lately, i've been wondering what good could come from a person like me?--not so much in a self-deprecating way. this is more of an exploratory question than anything. 2009. i'm sure i'll get some more things figured out this year. i'm really beginning to enjoy this semi-painful process of getting older.

but, as life has been unfolding--even as i've been becoming familiar w/ Korea, the intensity of my emotions has not yet been dulled down by the daily grind. i like it, actually. too long have i been experiencing life as a tepid dream. i think that's what it means when He said: "I am making everything new" (rev. 21: 5). i really want to live in that sentiment. somehow.

all of that is to say, as of late, i've been having a series of surprise reactions to my emotions. sometimes my responses haven't been what i expected them to be. or i've had these moments where i'll be hit w/ pain or pleasure or confusion or some other feeling and not be able to identify where it's all coming from. i'm hoping it's menstrual. i should probably keep better track of that.