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I write but not words come out – only tears, tears, tears.

I love you so very much.

May 31st, 2008.

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Dear Julia,

Of milestones in life – perhaps none will prove greater than today; a year later, celebrating an amazing 24th birthday. Don’t be sad for what’s been lost, but happy for what’s to be gained, and all the ones that have stayed with you along the way. There are hearts and minds around the world wishing you a beautiful, and happy day. I’m just one of many, and you aren’t alone, or on your own.

Love,
John

I got a year older.

Happy birthday to me.

I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  I hope this doesn’t take too much longer.

Bye.

loved this…from postsecret.blogspot.com

Shhh

It’s been a long time, dear blog. You thought I’d forsaken you – I had – but I thought I’d mention that I’d gone and come back from Korea. It was much too short, but still great to see my dear country again. I’ll write more later – perhaps even put a picture or two up – but for now, I must finish work and go to sleep; my body knows not wether it is night or day.

…there is a house – in the center of the first floor, a square opening with a ladder leading to the second. there, a bedroom with a soft, plastic floor – warm on my knees, dark wood walls surround me, and a mahogany bureau against the wall. i’m crawling on the floor, searching for my favorite – sugar cookies, hidden – someon comes in, and finds me, placating my child’s desire; the taste still sweet on my tongue, as i gloat over my good fortune.

suddenly…i’m crying, and don’t know why, and i’m held, and don’t know who. this house, with its ghosts, in my dreams, so fleeting – to focus on it, and it disappears into the threadbare wisps of memory, recedes into the dark corners of my cerebral maze…

is this all i have to hold on to? am i sleeping, or am i awake, dreams and memories dancing, intertwined in angry and wild colors, impossible to decipher, one in the same, the same in each other…

엄마 (mother), help me…help me remember…

Remember the teen drama of the mid 90's (1994-95) starring the impecably angsty Claire Danes?  Well if that's what you're looking for, then you're probably in the wrong place.

Having started this project once before in 2002, back when Xanga was THE blogspot of choice for the teen-something disenfranchised, and during the pick-up of online blogging, I can tell you that my posts will probably leave you as bored as I was when initially writing them.  That's my disclaimer for the evening.

With that said, I think it appropriate that I thank Julia for her motivated urgings for me to start my own WordPress blogger.  If it wasn't for THAT amazing woman, I think I'd probably still be lurking, blogging infrequently and randomly on my Xanga, various yahoo groups, and in my own personal journal.

Speaking of writing, it's appropriate to point out a few of my own viewpoints on the matter.  Even though I was adopted as a toddler, and though English was not my first language, I've discovered an inate joy in it.  Speaking it, and especially writing it, finding new ways of expressing the nuances and spectrum of human emotion is very satisfying.

I had the lucky opportunity to grow up in a family (with parents) who emphasized "entertaining ones' self", aka go read a book.  I began to read in nursery school.  I was still having trouble pronouncing many of the English sounds that do not exist in the Korean language, yet my mother was spending an hour a day walking me through a reading series.  I actually remember sounding out words and the pleasure of those sounds finding a unique place in my memory.

When I entered elementary school (1-4 grades), I began to read with a vengeance.  I had my own book to read, and all the while, my mother or father still spent time on my bedroom floor reading me book after book.  "Where the Red Fern Grows" was a poignant one, and tears still bubble up in the corner of my eye when I read it, and it is these moments in time that shape a lifetime in the future.  How wonderously sage my parents were.

I didn't stop reading, and I still haven't, though there are definite doldrums in the reading waters.  Genre was never an issue, though there were many years where I read, and I still am very fond of, fantasy and sci-fi/fantasy hybrids.  Every year, during library class through grammar school, I would listen to our librarian read to us a book that I had already read many times over, rolling my eyes, and or letting my mind drift to the book I'd be reading at home.  This may have added to my own false sense of arrogance (a topic that may be discussed in the future).

But to focus on the aspect of "writing" a little more, I sometimes wonder about the phenomenon of online journals.  Journals have historically had a secretive aesthetic, which obviously online journals don't really address.  However, I see an even more interesting dichotomy, and this is just my own humble opinion.  It lies in the fact that I see "writing" to be unapologetically and essentially a means of "sharing".  With sharing comes the fact that you must have people read it, for it to be shared.  Thus, journal and writing and certainly the added factor of online leads me to believe that in an effort of sharing the daily thoughts, emotions and tribulations of our life, we write online, a public journal.

So here it is.  This is MY public journal, and it will have a life of its own.  Winding, wandering, and entwining thoughts, events, and emotions, into an infinite log of a single soul of billions…I hope you enjoy, and I hope you might find something to take away with you..