Changes

There do need to be some changes in my life. I mean doing things I actually love. Simply put, doing less of the meaningless things and more of what I find meaning in. 


Right after diving into the Mediterranean Sea!

I used to think ‘changes’ meant transforming my environment. Getting rid of exterior things like people that didn’t really serve much purpose to me(ouch), looking for a better job, transforming the way I look. But I came to realize that those things, although they may help, can only be refreshing for a certain period of time. What’s really mind-changing, life-changing, is people and love and passion. 

I always loved stories. Especially stories of people. I loved to be able to place myself in someone else’s shoes for even a little while, and it would give me an exciting sense of liberation that nothing else in the world could offer. I was more interested in the decisions people made throughout their lives and what events influenced them to make those decisions, rather than the things that they owned as a result of those decisions. Stories are a continuous process, not a result. 

However I am sometimes blinded by expectations. In my life, people have always expected a lot from me. I also always expected a lot from myself. I expected a lot of success, a lot of money, a lot of experience, and a lot of love. I could feel my own greed outgrowing my skin, as I struggled between school, jobs, trips, friends, the social scene, family issues, lovers, and more jobs. I needed the crazy nights as much as I needed the part time jobs, and I couldn’t let go of school but I did still want to do my own projects outside of the restricting boundaries of a school curriculum. Although it took time to admit it was a sort of abusion, I now definitely see that it was an unhealthy process of self-harm.

Me dancing with a completely random dude at a boat party.

However I am sometimes blinded by expectations. In my life, people have always expected a lot from me. I also always expected a lot from myself. I expected a lot of success, a lot of money, a lot of experience, and a lot of love. I could feel my own greed outgrowing my skin, as I struggled between school, jobs, trips, friends, the social scene, family issues, lovers, and more jobs. I needed the crazy nights as much as I needed the part time jobs, and I couldn’t let go of school but I did still want to do my own projects outside of the restricting boundaries of a school curriculum. Although it took time to admit it was a sort of abusion, I now definitely see that it was an unhealthy process of self-harm.

Ibiza taught me about happiness. For most of my recent years, I was on a quest to be as superior as I could. Better grades, better looks, a better paycheck. But Ibiza truly liberated me. I remember one of the waiters in a restaurant in Coco Beach referring to us as ‘friend’, laughing with us and trying his best to communicate to us using a language that he wasn’t even obligated to use. Cashiers paying us extra compliments even though they got nothing out of it. People at clubs, on the beach, taking the time to simply make conversation just for the sake of it. ‘Where do they get the energy?’ I thought. As a student with many jobs in Seoul, I never had the spare energy to look around or even care about my surroundings. It was hard enough trying to take care of myself, but now I think, ‘What for?’ If I’m miserable at the end of the day, when will I ever be successful enough to make myself happy?

Coco Beach, Ibiza. The food was great but the waiters were pure gold.

Humor, humility, and sincerity are all things that I overlooked because I was too proud to admit to myself that I was not the superwoman I once dreamed of being. I was afraid to let go of that extra job, and it killed me inside to fail another class because I was forcing myself to multitask day and night. Eventually everything became stressful, even the things I love. 

Bora Bora, Ibiza.

Now I carry the spirit of Ibiza in my heart. I know that the fun-loving, energetic girl is inside me somewhere. I need to make sure her voice isn’t muffled by the noise of daily life. This means doing more of what I love; less of what I don’t actually give a — about from the bottom of my heart. It means I need to slow down, and not beat myself up whenever I realize that even I can’t do five things at once. I need to love myself more, and know how to make fun of myself but also be my own best fan at the same time.

What if you’re not good enough?

I need to stop being so apologetic about myself. I feel so sorry for myself, sorry that my waist isn’t as thin as I’d like it to be; sorry that I can’t see or even contact my boyfriend because he’s away for most of the time(I see him about 4 days a month); sorry that I’m lazy; sorry that all my high school friends are off doing their own thing now. As if I’m the most sorry girl in the world.

Being sorry about everything automatically puts me in the submissive and takes the grounds for my confidence away. It squeezes the zeal out of you and slows you down.

That’s exactly what’s happening to me right now. Exams have just ended(my first uni exams!) and it’s time to get back on track with my upbeat, hectic life. I have people to meet, business to do, stories to write, studying, and myself to take care of. Yet thinking about all the things I need to start doing kind of puts me off from doing them. Yes, it’s probably partly because I’m a lazy bum, but a thread of thought that keeps winding around my brain is ‘What if you’re not good enough?’

“What if you’re not good enough?”

I knew, from the moment I decided to take the route of fashion as an under-experienced, prep-school student surrounded by prep-school friends who pursued lives indulged in studies, politics, or law, that the path I had begun to stroll along was going to be anything but easy and stable.

I know that some people still don’t approve. Whenever I hear about people that know me talk about my blog or my efforts as ‘asking for attention’, I think, ‘well… technically I am asking for attention, but the right attention’. I write (almost; sometimes I just don’t give a shit, I need to let out what’s on my mind and that’s all) every single post hoping that someone out there, in the fashion industry or outside of it, will be able to resonate with what I’ve written or at least feel something. I hope that it catches someone’s eye and maybe that someone will view fashion in a different light than they used to before.

songhajump

(Being free. Denim, red, and flowery patterns. Took this two years ago.)

Business itself isn’t a virtue, but I believe it can be a tool to get to bigger things. I need to get myself back on track. I need to work on my eBay affiliate work and business, but mostly I need to focus on being a creator; thinking in depth again and expressing, rather than pushing down, my emotions. Guess this post is a start to a new term : )

 

Obsessed with words?

I love words.

words-blue

(not only powerful but delicious too)

I always have. I think it’s one of those unknowingly abiding relationships that sort of just linger in your peripheral vision until you suddenly realize how deeply and profoundly you’re in love the subject, whether it be a family member or dancing or music(like in EVERY cliche young adult drama). For me I think it’s words.

When you look up ‘love of words’ on Google, you get-

“logophile”: someone who loves the correct usage of various words in communication

“dictophile”: someone who loves dictionaries

-neither of which even begin to describe me at all.

Firstly, I don’t think a ‘correct usage’ or words exists (although of course it depends on the situation-we wouldn’t want Dante’s ambiguity on an FTA paper), at least not in every single context. When I write I like to think I’m creating something genuine that conceives a certain feeling, not that I’m just using my keyboard as a means to transmit knowledge or information. Sometimes it’s like art, where rules exist to be broken and familiarity exists to be crushed. A single, ‘misplaced’ word can make a huge difference in how a reader interprets the whole passage, regardless of it not being ‘appropriate’ in its place. Nuance can be everything, or it can be nothing. Easily put, I’d rather have my word choices be grammatically incorrect than essentially insufficient.

Secondly, I don’t love dictionaries and never have.

And it’s not that I’m obsessed with vocabulary; I despise having to memorize words for exams. I just love how each word tastes on the tip of my tongue, or the way it looks carelessly scribbled in a sentence on a used page in a notebook, or simply the unique sensation each word gives me. I love words. I feel like every word has its own identity (obviously) and I want to be able to really feel it and control it in my writing. I want to make something that raw; I want every single word in what I write to reflect me and imply my thoughts or feelings, so that when I sit back and read what I’ve written I can relive each moment my mind was experiencing at that time.

I’ve been told that I don’t seem to be afraid to write, since when I was working on essays for university applications, I would just come up with all these different (mostly useless) ideas and immediately turn them into drafts on paper to see if each one would work out. It’s one of the (personally) best compliments I’ve gotten, and I can confidently say that I’m much prouder of the fact that I’m fearless as a writer than any kind compliment that I’ve ever received on the quality or content of my writing.

Having been identified as the ‘cautious’, ‘calculating’ one in the family for most of my life (compared to my sister who is always just head-first in anything she does), I feel like playing with words has granted me a new ego that reflects the audaciousness I’ve always envied in other people.

To finish up my sudden blast of random thoughts on how much I love words and writing, I leave you with my favorite quote of all time, from Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card.

“In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves. And then, in that very moment when I love them…. I destroy them.”

  1. This perfectly describes me, and human nature in general, in that intimacy/familiarity with a person or a certain object brings about love/attachment. The more I know, the more I (often times dysfunctionally) like. (i.e. how I am still obsessed with my old broken smartphone and refuse to dispose of it and buy a new one.)  (i.e. basically every love/hate relationship.)
  2. Does this have anything to do with my destroying grammar…?!

image creds: thewordchef.com