Sunday, March 29, 2009

Ten Random Things I Miss about Chicago

I WILL NOT INCLUDE PEOPLE because then the list and what I miss about them would be 400 pages.

1. Devon Avenue. I need to thread/wax my eyebrows and other parts, and Korea just doesn't have Indian/Pakistani women who will thread me for five bucks.
2. Garcia's/Sticky Rice. I miss good, cheap, authentic-ish Mexican/Thai food. I miss BYOB and homemade salsa and Pad Kee Mau and Patron-margaritas after I break up with yet another bonghead.
4. The Grind. As strange as it is, I think I've spent a third of my year at that cafe, using their internet and drinking expensive coffee made by the same hipsterish baristas who remember me and ask me if I've cut my hair when I have!
5. Singing. Although singing loud rock-bandy songs wasn't exactly my cup of tea, I really miss singing and making music with a buncha rowdy boys.
6. Lake Michigan. Not just looking at it, but biking to it and riding the beachfront trail. It's almost majestic with the skyline in view.
7. Teaching at Lake View. Although I will never go back, and I like taking this break from teaching, I miss feeling tired and alive.
8. Chicago's Craigslist. I feel as if I interacted with craigslist at least once a month! Furniture, free teacher supplies, part-time jobs, tickets to Great America, finding an apartment, so on.
9. Thad's apartment. All the pretty sunlight in the late afternoon, the musical instruments, his kitchen, watching back to back movies then sleeping over and having a lazy Saturday afternoon.
10. Taking walks around Northcenter/Lincoln Square. Tree-lined neighborhoods, the Chicago River, Welles Park, Lincoln street.

A nice walk down memory lane. Instead of working.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Two websites


Here's an example:

The firm that I interviewed with decided to rescind their offer. I called my mom and she gave me a pep talk. Afterward, she sent me this text:
if one door closed try find another. still have window. still have roof. push them u will see the sky. sky is unlimited so are u. never lose your faith. not u. ur my chinese girl. love mom.

If you don't know at least one Chinese mom, this will not be as funny. This is my brother's wife's mom. Hilare. There are really funny tidbits on this website. Especially birthday cards. SO FUNNY. I just bust a gut laughing.


WHAT THE HECK!!! We shoulda started this blog. GOLLY. Well, her language is a bit flowery at times, but the points hit the mark.

Many of us were forced to drink this nasty concoction of mystery juice to cure ailments a simple Tylenol could have cured. Have a headache? Have some Hahn-Yahk. Oh, you're fat? Hahn-Yahk will cure that. A genital wart? Hahn-Yahk. You're short? Eat some spinach and wash it down with Hahn-Yahk. You're not married? Drink some Hahn-Yahk and pray to Jesus foo! This is why I never like to admit I am sick or am becoming sick. I am deathly afraid that my Korean Mom will find out and mail me a giant package of Hahn-Yahk. Guess what I have in my fridge at this very moment? An entire drawer full of Hahn-Yahk to cure pimples (see #19). Yeah. Pimples. The Hahn-Yahk should eventually cure me of my face. I love my Korean Mom.


Monday, March 9, 2009

Monday psalm

the sun
amazing warm touch on my face
brushing my cheeks
these subtle Spring kisses

today, my jeans feel snug
but for once
i don't feel unattractive or unlovely
i feel sexy
this taut fabric around my thighs
and curved hips
and my blinking brown eyes
blushed lips
earthy hints in my skin

this melancholy tune
reminding me
these bittersweet realities
together we breathe
of no grass green and empty streets
where the sun sets on us all

all of us
made of earth

we are not alone
we are all here
seeking for
everysingleone kissed
but not every one receives

let's hold hands
and feel and remember
let's learn of this
know of this
grow in this--all of This

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

suds and an Avian flight

sandlewood curling in the air
my screen tells me it's two degrees above freezing,
but open windows
it streams in
fabric sways
they stream out
i'm dancing to Bird's in this nighttime

enjoying the smell of lemony bubbles that mist into my face
upwards i climb
into this time
with heated hands
a sink full of nurture complete
i smile
it's one in the am--this is ok, right?
donning pink rubber gloves at one, two, or two and a half in the am?
violins violas voices lilting on
splashing stanzas
suds sing
bursting clink. this?
in the middle of the nighttime?

my ever familiar square black sky
downstairs trip twenty minutes ago--it was a stupid whim
스파크 still effervesces on my hands
but i love that i can choose
foamy stupidity
bah. at least another two hours to go
is anyone else awake in the world?
anyone else's hands have that fresh 스파클?
is anyone else listening to Bird's in this nighttime?

racing percussion
at times
piccoletting and a muted trumpet
there might've been a fiddle
or a eukele
and a darling alto
with some wistful whistling
harmonious melodious

tap the volume up
and open the windows wider
so others can hear
maybe someone will listen? bemused?
and maybe small smile
at Bird's
maybe they'll join this nighttime dance
my dance

or maybe they'll fly?