the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
8.16.2006
My Alter Ego-Waffle
A year or so ago, I came upon a girl at my school living in my dorm who almost, almost shared the same first and last name as I do. We are separated by just one vowel in our last name. We're both Korean, but neither of us relate with our cultures of families or peers all too well.
But instead of hitting it off instantly, linking our arms, and skipping while shouting, "Shlemiel! Shlemazel!" (well, I guess for us Koreans, it would have been more like, "Hung-bu! Nohl-bu!"), we instead fumbled about awkwardly, trying to figure out whether we wanted to be friends, strangers, or what have you. And the fumbling soon became a strange tension that lasted for quite some time and alienated us from each other.
Lately, however, I've been trying to make new friends -- or at least try to reconnect with the old ones that I've been shitty to, or have neglected for some time. And Miss P. and I have been working on that, commiserating as only down-and-out, bitter Asians can do. And though we're not the closest of buds just yet, she wrote this little passage and sent it to me, and I think it is just beautiful:
I had a dream about you a little while ago, and we were navigating in a different time and place. We were 10 years old, and we went into the woods and you showed me a passageway that led to a hidden enclave, a cave buried deep within the brush. I'm always trying to get back to that time where it's easy to hang onto people, where you don't ask for very much at all. And yet I still see burning bridges.
I've been on antibiotics this past week or so, and it makes me really cranky and curl up into a ball because it makes me feel nauseous.
I was hanging out with a few friends downtown the other night and I had taken one of the pills, and my dad called. He is notorious for making very, very long phone calls (I think he physically writes down a very long list of things to talk about to make sure he gets them all out), and I was tired and cranky and nauseous.
He realized I was out and told me to call him when I got home. He then proceded to call me like six or seven times in the next half hour to see if I had gone home yet.
So pretty much, I answered his call and mouthed off to him a bit. I felt really bad, so I emailed him the next day apologizing for being so mean on the phone.
What I love about emailing my parents (something they've only recently started doing) is that they're forced to communicate with me in English. He sent me this wonderfully Eng(r)ish-heavy response, which I must share with you:
Patricia, I just open e-mail,I found you had bad condition. I wondered something had happened to you. (drank some wine ? sorry for wrong guess) It is good if you are OK now, but If you feel bad later time, talk to Mom,Dad,school nurse or doctor,Immediately.Remember Mom is Nurse.
Thank you very much for your this e-mail. I realy appreciately. dad
Dad, I "realy appreciately" that you sent me this very sweet reply. :)
[Peek-a-Foo]