Strking my brother Feb 7, 2007 12:48 am Mood: sad, 1410 Views I slapped my brother a few days ago. Today, I saw a group of homeless people in front of Seoul Rail Station. One guy drew back and slapped another man in the face hard. His face was red from the burst capillaries. Blood coursed into his face on the inside. The victim seemed like he didn’t care though. He got up and a mob formed around them. I saw the slap. And immediately, my mind’s eye turned to thoughts of my brother. I slapped him, just like that. I was no more of an ennobled creature than these vagabonds soaked in soju, bodies rubbing into the harsh stiff cement of walkways, yelling unhearably hoarse words at the top of their voices. How was I ever different from them? I could not control my impulses. Me and them – them and me – my brother and me – me and my brother – them and my brother – my brother and them – what is the differerence? I had never before slapped my brother before. But on this evening, again, he was not taking his medication, and when I firmly told him that he should take his medication, he began to cuss at me. I heard he was violent to my parents the other night. This is why I was here now at my parents’ house, to help them to convince my brother to take his medication. I was tired. I was not thinking clearly. I wished to God that I would be given the patience of Job because I am no Job. He cussed at me a few more times, and I struck him instinctively. Stunned, he lost his balance momentarily, and a wave of fists and searing words came flying at me. I never struck him again, and for a moment I thought of giving up my body to him. Strike me as much as you want, my little brother. I am sorry. Mangle me. I thought – Dear God, if he were to beat me to a pulp, and by beating me, he is extricating the demons within him, and it would mean that he would come to his senses and lead a “normal” life, then I would gladly lay myself down and prepare to wake up or not wake up in the morning with however damage that my body may been incurred. I blocked his rapid attack with my arms. When it was all over, I had a slight pain in my left hand and my left ear hurt. But my heart hurt most. 9 Comments

boarding schools Jan 31, 2007 6:43 pm 1199 Views A couple weeks ago, my son, who is 13 years old, and I went on an interview trip to various boarding schools on the East Coast – Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Connecticut. We visited six schools. It took a week to cover all of them. We drove around like maniacs. We had a schedule and we were sleeping, driving, eating, interviewing and driving again. There were a couple of interesting things I learned. 1. It is very cold on the East Coast, even though I am originally from Philadelphia, and grew up on the EC, I felt the unrelenting cold viscerally. 2. It was a very good bonding experience, kind of like father and son going camping together, except, we were driving together endlessly for a week. I was pleased at how much my son had grown up just through this experience of applying and interviewing. It also warmed my heart that he appreciated the opportunity to see the campuses and to interview, but we genuinely had good times together, just the two of us. Fond memories. 3. There are many, many Koreans and/or Korean-Americans applying to boarding schools, so much so that I was embarrassed. In the waiting lobby in preparation for the interviews, there were always at least two other Korean children with their mom (always) and either a consultant or the child’s father. Last week, my son had an interview with a local representative from Hotchkiss (a very good boarding school), since we could not schedule an on-campus interview. She told me that 90% of the people she interviews in Los Angeles are Korean. This year she said she interviewed a bunch of Koreans, a Malaysian, a Liberian, and a Jewish boy from the valley. I was aghast. A local representative of another highly, highly regarded boarding school told me the same thing. The day my son interviewed with him, the interviewer told me that 100% of the students he interviewed that day were Koreans. And he had set aside the whole day devoted to interviewing. This news shocked and saddened me because this means that my son will have very little chance of making it to any boarding school. I had no idea that the competition would be so fierce. The general competition is fierce enough, where the acceptance rate is in the 20% area. But now, to contend with so many other Koreans – I am sure these schools have some sort kind of an ethnic quota. But even if he does not make it to any school I think the process was worth the effort, for the personally growth that it provided both for my son and me. 2 Comments

Mind-Twist Jan 14, 2007 1:41 pm 1482 Views I walked into a fast food restaurant (McD) and they had a special. Two hamburgers for two dollars. I asked how much would it be for one hamburger? She said "$2.12". Suddenly, it was too much for my mind to process. I asked, "you mean if I order two hamburgers, I pay two dollars, but if I order one hamburger, I have to pay $2.12? Doesn't this sound funny to you?" She was unfazed - as if this made perfect sense, which made me even more confused. "Well, we are having a special." "Yes. I know you are having a special, but what if I buy two hamburgers for two dollars, and throw one away, then I have one hamburger and I have paid only $2?" "Yes. You can do that if you want." "What's the catch?" "I dont' know. We give you the same hamburger." "Okay, I will have the two hamburgers." 14 Comments

Merry Christmas, everyone! Dec 22, 2006 1:22 pm 1387 Views Merry Christmas to everyone on KFF, whom I cherish. Acon. 4 Comments

Random acts of kindness or fee for services? Dec 18, 2006 9:11 am 1295 Views I was on a busy street in Pasadena last night. My car sputtered and puked out. I called AAA and asked to have a gallon of gasoline delivered. With the hazard lights blinking, I stood behind my car in the middle of the road. It was an education. Some people from far away got into the other lane. Some others came so close to me, I scrambled like a trapped squirrel – unsure whether the person would really drive into me, waiting until the last minute to swerve to the next lane. Typically, these were elderly women drivers with glasses. After about 20 minutes, a Hispanic gentleman pulls over and asks me if I shouldn’t move the car out of the middle of the street. I told him I thought it was a good idea. I parked the car in neutral, and he pushed the car into a parking lot. I felt much safer. I was very thankful. I did not give him any money. Should I have given him money? If so, how much? Should all acts of kindness be rewarded with money? 2 Comments

Tragic flaws Dec 16, 2006 1:16 pm 1270 Views We all have flaws, but some are simply tragic. They debilitate us and cause us to rethink about the meaning of life whether this one life was lived well, or even simply lived. I visited with my parents yesterday. They are both in their early 70’s. They should be in the prime of their lives, readying themselves to bask in the sunset years together, reflecting and memorializing their way of life to be handed down to the next generations. They should be justifiably proud of their achievements. As immigrants, they encouraged their children by their actions – instilled values and work-ethic, and faith – although the faith part was not readily absorbed as much as they would have liked. They sent their children to the best schools – Princeton, MIT, University of Penn. The children are grown now, and they contribute to the efficient workings of society . . . except my brother. And my parents focus on him as the deeply cutting thorn in the golden crown of their glory years. Of the three of us Kim children, he was the smartest, but now he considers most food to be dirty and tainted by unknown forces. He believes he cannot walk, so he walks side-ways. Sometimes, he misinterprets my words and twists them and works himself into a frenzy. I took him to a supermarket recently, which is a rare outing for him. He stayed in the car while I shopped. His one request was for a pack of baloney. He had to have it and a liter of soda. A week later, I checked the refrigerator, the baloney package was open and a single slice was eaten. I went to the bank yesterday, and I was suddenly met with a shriek coming from a boy - perhaps 12 years old. He was talking and wailing at something unseen to me. His cousin was there trying to control him. The cousin was a wonderful girl. She did not look much older than the boy. I loved how she approached him and admonished and comforted him. I fell in love with her - such an angel displaying calmness and love. I am heart-wrenchingly moved when a person has such deep understanding of the limitations of human beings. I watched mesmerized at the boy. My heart softened and melted. I don’t know why, but I just wanted to hug that boy. I wanted to tell him that it is okay to scream and wail. The world is a fine place even though society has not set up a system to give credence to his point of view. You are fully human and you deserve to be treated as such. Aren’t we all crazy or irrational to some extent? Perhaps he is lucid and I am the crazy one. Maybe he sees a glimpse of truth, which for me is obscured by the natural and artificial rules and stylized obfuscations that I operate under. I wondered what would happen to human behavior if there were no rules and no boundaries. Society would not function of course, but hypothetically what would it be like? Instead of the crowning glory years, my parents looked exhausted – end of the rope. My father flatly told me that he wanted to die. My mother wouldn’t hear of it – women are stronger. I left. And I was determined to get drunk this night. This is a feeling that I have never had before. I have never wanted to get drunk. In fact, I don’t enjoy drinking at all. But this night, I felt so alone. So infinitely alone in this universe. Isn’t it funny that there are billions of people on this planet, and yet it is possible feel as alone as this. I did not want any solace or comfort from my wife. She does not feel as I feel about my family. How could she? I do not blame her. But if there ever is dulling factor to any luster that we have in our marriage, it is an abiding sense I have that my wife does not respect or appreciate my family. This mindset eviscerates me so completely. In fact, sometimes, it is this aspect that causes me to contemplate divorcing her on occasion – which will never happen, of course, but the feeling of distaste is so pungent that my anger and disgust at such un-understanding makes me think much, much less of her. But I know that I have a family to keep, and I put these thoughts aside, and when my mind feels better about her, I again fall in love with her. I bought a bottle of whiskey – first time ever in my life that I bought a bottle of hard liquor . . . sipped a little . . . hated the taste, hated it again and again and drifted off. 0 Comments

Honesty and Integrity - Korean Version Oct 17, 2006 11:42 pm 1717 Views Lately, I have been thinking about what it means to be honest. Many years ago, when I was a poor graduate student in the biological sciences, I spent many long hours in the laboratory. I began to bring some useful things home such as a beaker for home decoration to hold flowers, or latex gloves for various kitchen uses, and sponges and so forth. I felt pangs of guilt as I would sneak them into my sack surreptitiously and bring them home and hand them to my wife and mother-in-law. Indeed, they encouraged me to bring these useful things home even though I felt very uncomfortable doing it. My wife and her mother are otherwise very sensible and generally honest people. But why did they not see that bring these things home was in fact “stealing”? There were times when my wife would not leave me alone. She would ridicule me and say that I was an inept fool, that I did not have any “yoon tong sung”, that I had chicken heart. And my mother-in-law, while not necessarily agreeing with my wife’s tactics, did not disagree with her. I felt trapped and I did the things that I was asked to do. Years have passed since those days. The other day, my wife and I were having tea and lounging on the couch reminiscing about the past and passing the time, when I brought up this subject, which to this day, is a sore subject with me. The question I asked was to the effect that I did not want to pass judgment. I just wanted to know the mental process behind goading me and encouraging me to, in essence, steal, and if this “situational ethics” is a prevalent thing among Korean-Koreans. I just wanted to understand the mindset behind it. She replied that she occasionally does think about those past days when she entreated me to bring home another package of latex gloves and so forth. She regretted now because those acts and thoughts destroy the spirit. And ultimately, gains obtained through those means end up being wasted anyway. She did say that Koreans have lived through so many disasters, scraped and clawed their way through life to the extent that survival is the only thing that matters to them. Koreans will treat other people’s things rather poorly, but will take very good care of their own things. Koreans do not necessarily look down on people who cheat to gain wealth. Rather, they ridicule the person who had the opportunity to cheat but did not. On the one hand, Koreans may vilify past presidents who skimmed hundreds of millions of dollars from the nation’s treasury, but if a completely ethical president were to leave office without having raided the national treasury, he would be considered a fool by many. “You were in office for five years, and you have nothing to show for it? What were you doing?” Paradoxes of paradoxes. Third world countries are rife with corruption. But since I am Korean and I have seen and experienced the Korean ways, I am disheartened at times with the lack of honesty and integrity in our people. It is endemic. Could it be in our genes? 11 Comments

Korean Form of Indigestion Oct 10, 2006 7:55 pm 1850 Views I suffered from indigestion last night. The typical Korean kind "chae hat da" or "un chut da". It felt as if the food was blocked from going further down the pipe. In order to relieve this discomfort, I tried to vomit (failed), and pepto bismol (mildly worked to relieve some of the acid). Eventually, my wife got the needle and punctured the backside of my two thumbs. And in due course, I began to burp deeply as if air bubbles were being released from within and I felt better. Koreans know exactly what I mean. I believe this is very common to us. For me, this usually happens when I am cold or my mood is not good, both of which were the case this weekend. I am curious. I do not know of any member of any other ethnic group experiencing this indigestion symptom that I just described. If you are a non-Korean, do you know what I am talking about? I have been curious about this from a long time ago. This would be a good opportunity to satisfy this trivial but nagging curiosity. 13 Comments

The pre-dawn zone Sep 18, 2006 9:20 pm Mood: amused, 1804 Views I guess my mental state must be out of whack. The day I returned from Korea, I slept a bit, and awoke at 2:00 am and drove to the office. On the way, I had a strong yearning for 7-11 bite size hotdogs, my favorite “bad for you” food, and a big size coke – all at the bleary eyed 4:00 am zone. I walk into my local 7-11, and I spot a man standing pouring himself some coffee. I bark at him, “I would like two bite sized hotdogs, please”. The man just stares at me. I bark again, “Yes. I want two, please”. The man pauses as he is pouring coffee. He says resignedly, “I don’t work here.” And then it occurred to me that he could not possibly work here since he was wearing a road crew hat and orange overalls. Dazed, I apologized, and I turned around to the counter, and I asked a man in a white shirt behind the counter, if I could have two bite sized hotdogs. He turned away from me and told me he didn’t work here either. But he could not contain his laughter. Momentarily thoroughly confused, I told both guys, “Okay, I am going to walk out that door, and I am going to come back in and we are going to do this all over again.” By this time, the tension had thinned, and I could sense that the road crew guy was now relieved that I was totally harmless. He must have thought I was a serial killer or something. Shaking off my crazy moment, as I was putting my favorite cheese and chili and jalapeno peppers on my hotdogs, an elderly Korean man wanders in, looks at me like a hound dog, and begins interrogating me. He asks me if I am Korean. How long have I been in America? He has a 28 year old daughter and wanted to know whether I was single. He said he was modern day Jeremiah, and weeps for the churches today. And he goes from church to church disrupting services and admonishing the congregation because all of the churches are corrupt these days. I counter that not all churches are that bad. There are really good churches that do not ask for money all the time and focus on the gospel. We argue for about ten minutes in the store while I am paying for my hotdogs and big gulp. And we take it outside to continue the discussion for another twenty minutes. I can only imagine the 7-11 worker in the twilight zone – wondering are all Koreans this crazy at 4 am? 4 Comments

Korea and Chicago Sep 18, 2006 9:10 am 1690 Views Whew! Last two weeks have been a blur. I just returned from Korea again. Met up with a fellow KFF’er, had coffee. It was nice to link a face to the beautiful words. It was indeed great fun and pleasure. This trip was a bit longer than usual, 7 days, as opposed to the de rigueur 4 days. Attended the BIO Korea conference, Sept. 6-8. Korean biotechnology industry is beginning to see signs of life (no pun intended). Like everything else Korea has put its mind to, it will somehow succeed in this particular economic and technological space. There are certainly challenges to overcome, and sometimes, it seems that Korea will never make any impact in global high technology, but if there is one thing that I have learned, it is to never discount the Korean mental toughness. Koreans are a steely bunch of people. They will make their mistakes and will sometimes look very foolish, but then wave after wave of them will come back with better and newer things, and eventually, they succeed. Koreans are the ultimate survivors. They are not very stylish in how they overcome and how they conquer, but they achieve their goals, and even in the matter of stylishness, they will work on it to eventually gain that aura. Sometimes winning is not about just winning. The trick is to win with style and polish so that others and other nations are mesmerized by the ease, fluidity and grace associated with the achievement. I aspire to it. And I think this fire burns in all Koreans. As soon as I came back from Korea, I dropped my travel luggage, and picked up another set and traveled to Chicago with my entire family to visit my second daughter in college. What a wonderful place, Chicago. The Millenium Park is simply a gem. Giordano pizza was problematic. One slice was enough to satisfy. Fine, fine pizza. We arrived back in L.A. last night at 11 pm. On the shuttle bus at LAX to our remote parking, I was sitting and saw a large Caucasian couple. I asked the woman, “You look tired. Would you like my seat?” She thanked me and sat down. At the next stop, another tired-looking couple comes aboard. My 13 year old son gets up and offers his seat to the woman. At the next stop, as the bus is now near capacity, three other able-bodied men get up and leave empty seats for other more tired people to sit. People come on board, and what was funny is that as a couple of women got on they proceeded to stand because everyone else was standing until one man told her to sit down on one of the empty seats. And gladly she sat. I was proud of my son that he got up to offer his seat and I think he was proud of himself, too. I would also say that it is not so much the women that I would offer my seat to, it is the person who in my estimation would most likely fall down and collapse on top of me should the bus jiggle abit. It turned out that all of these people were rotund women. 0 Comments

 aconfusedman

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