'On Friendship' & 'How to Woo a Girl'

I've thought a lot about friendship this past year, 

what it is

what it means

how it works, etc.

The only thing that I've concluded, thus far,

by this year's end

is that you cannot

have a friend

without

being a friend,

and being a friend is a lot of work.

It's not too much, but it is a lot. And much of it is about 

the silent contract

of being a friend.

And so,

what is a friend?

What does it mean to be a friend?

How does friendship work?,

especially in this Age of Social Media &AI, etc.

And this is when the bodybuddy/lifemate taught me how to woo a girl.

"I want to be her friend, though," I lament one day about a former private pupil of mine who is now a grown young woman. "You ask her stuff," he responds. "What? No way. I'm not gonna just ask her stuff," I scoff. "It's how it's done," he insists. "Like what kind of stuff?" intrigue building in my mind. "Present two options and have her pick one," he explains and continues, "That's what I did to you." 

vroop. vroop.

"What the fuck?" 

"What?"

"You did what to me?"

"I asked you so many questions when I was wooing you."

"Like what kinds of questions?"

"Oh, like super low-stakes questions at first. You know, stuff that takes zero effort from you, but I gain everything if you answer. Sometimes you wouldn't answer. Or you would just laugh. This is all stuff I can work with."

"What the fuck!"

"What!"

"You were just poking around trying to get answers out of me those whole three months we dated before moving in together?"

"Yea."

"Oh."

"How else was I supposed to get to know you?"

"Oh."

"You liked it."

"Liked what?"

"Having your mind probed."

"Yea, duh."

"That's how I got you."

"By penetrating my mind. Over and over again."

"Endlessly."

"Yea, and then we would fuck pretty hard."

"Yea." 

"K, fine. I'll just ask her some questions. Like an idiot."

"It'll work."

XXXVIII*

*not today, obviously, that would be so lame to spend any birthday day time posting lame-ass shit to the interwebs, barf, about a week ago or so.

True or False

Squirrels never get what they don't deserve.

[Untitled] Light Paintings V.I

The birds are lovers.

[Untitled] Light Paintings V.II

While living on the back of a sea turtle's shell, my wouldbe bodybuddy/lifemate swam (badly) from the net upon which he lived, onto the shell of my turtle, as my turtle swam by.

After a brief, quick sniff of each other,

we promptly fucked,

and then we lived, together, alone on our turtle for the rest of eternity,

paying rent by keeping our turtle's shell clean.*

[Untitled] Light Paintings V.III

*this is not an original idea, as we (the bodybuddy/lifemate and i) have started Planet Earth III, and in episode two, "Oceans," this is one of the story lines about a crab named columbus, etc. 

On Growing Older

When I was young, it seemed like there was nothing worse, to adults, than aging. 

Now that I'm no longer young but still young-ish, there is nothing more exciting to me than the prospect of growing older, aging, living a long life, etc. 

Nevertheless, my physical body is beginning to feel the weight of my age,

and with this feeling has arrived a newfound sense of ...

caution?

about "making it" to this next milestone. 

The days have grown longer, time is passing slower, as these last few days spin on toward the completion of another lap, lived. 

I feel old.

I like it.

I also feel a lot of things, in general.

And when do you know that hot flashes have started?

Cause, I feel like they've started, but that's crazy young, isn't it? 

Who knows. Nobody teaches you how to be an older woman, cause

well, who cares? Ugh.

Another feeling I've been feeling is consideration.

I've been considering a lot of things that I would not have ever considered this time last year.

And those things that I've been considering are mostly about my adopted-family issues.

But as soon as I begin to sit and really contemplate it, it's a hard no, still

because, 

well,

the Truth is that nobody in my adopted family really knows me

and it's so apparent

because they do not even know how offensive they are

how boldly they reveal they have no fucking clue who I am

and so,

obviously,

I do not allow them to be close enough to me to speak to me,

because every interaction I've had with them

historically speaking

has caused me pain and suffering

and so,

what sane person would willingly receive this sort of person into a life?

The reason why I am considering a pathway forward with my adopted brother is because

frankly,

we need him, in a professional sense.

As "Camas Siblings" we are both striving toward the same thing

riches beyond measure; for some odd reason,

we've come to the same conclusions about how one "ought" to spend this lifetime, etc.

not to be rich, so much as to survive this next very expensive phase of human existence on this planet called

Earth,

that will,

inevitably,

wipe out anyone who doesn't adopt this new-way of living,

one's ability to utilize the mechanism upon which this new-society

has been built

(however disastrously good or bad)...

capitalism.

The reason why I simply cannot stomach an interaction with him, still, is because he has proven to me, 

time and time again,

that he has a fundamental misunderstanding of who I am.

To be fair, I was a quiet child. 

Nevertheless,

we've spent enough time together, in person,

(we backpacked through northwestern south america in our very-early twenties for five weeks!

willingly!)

for me to feel like he dropped the ball as a big brother.

And instead of bringing us closer,

he refuses to get to know me,

because we used to see each other often enough for siblings,

but then he showed me that he refused to see me from my point of view.

When I tell him things,

he always has a mouth full of advice instead of a head full of listening,

and that advice always, always, revolves around how [paraphrased]:

"There's a script, and you're not following it."

First of all, fuck you.

Second, I KNOW THAT! 

My sole fucking purpose in this life is to NOT FUCKING FOLLOW THE FUCKING SCRIPT!

And the fact that he doesn't get this, is like so fucking offensive to me, I could cry. 

I do cry about it. 

Cause it sucks to be so wholly misunderstood.

Whatever.

But really, he's a really smart guy. 

Valedictorian, etc.

Yada. Fucking. Yada.

And yet, he's so fucking dumb about some seriously important shit. 

And even still, I am 100% confident that we are both going to obtain our $Bs.

He's doing it "by the script,"

and frankly,

he can,

because he's a man.

And I'ma do it the old school way,

through vertical progress, etc.

Either way, 

he's more of a salesman than I am

and so,

we've (the bodybuddy/lifemate/director of details and I)

recently realized that he would improve our business, etc.

barf.

ugh.

life.

why is it so hard? 

(that's not what "she said" cause what she would really ever say would be something like, 

"wow, it's really fucking hard.")

but it can't really be "hard" if "hard" is 

the status quo,

right?

ugh. again,

whatever.

 

On Death, Dying and Denying*

The trifecta of my Gotcha Day in early October, my Birthday in mid-ish December and then, the culmination of another gregorian sail around our sun at the end of December makes the last of the embers really reflective and introspective for me, as myself.

And so, I sailed the time tide a bit this morning and read a few writings from this time of the year during a different year in time. It was an enlivening read. Thus, as I exist a few days out from XXXVIII (which looks like it's gonna be one helluva kick-ass year in terms of the aesthetics of roman numerals, etc.), etc., the celebrations have slowly started to begin. For instance, my favorite food is on the stove (my kimchi jigae), and my favorite bunt is in the oven (almond poppy seed, courtesy of the bodybuddy/lifemate).

[Untitled] Light Paintings IV.I

 

As a reader of my website, it's no secret that I am korean. Literally, hangul makes up half the title of this thing. Nevertheless, in person, my specific east-asian ethnicity is a guess to most other people of east-asian descent, etc. White people, typically, don't try, because all they can think of is chinese, and that's embarrassing. The major consensus is that I'm japanese, a complete insult, if you ask me. Most koreans guess that I'm korean, and other types of asians typically guess that I'm chinese, just an obvious choice, cause, well, they're the most prolific, etc. 

In person, however, and especially around other koreans, I typically try to refrain from revealing my specific asian-ness. The reason for this is that koreans love koreans. As koreans, koreans absolutely adore meeting other koreans. Thusly, if I reveal myself as a korean, they begin to pry. And the obvious next question when a korean finds out that I'm korean is a question about whether or not I speak korean. 

None of this is a "good" or "bad" thing, obviously. I, obviously, have a point to make aside from these shallow poles. 

The issue revolves around why I do not speak korean. I have to then explain that I was adopted, and sometimes, koreans do not really know what I'm talking about, or they know exactly what I'm talking about but either way, the conversation becomes immediately uncomfortable, from a mental-health standpoint, cause it's a constant reminder about how I don't really fit in anywhere, being (as a friend recently, perfectly put it to me in an email) how it is that, "I'm a korean in america and an american in korea." There's no where for us. 

And so, koreans finding out that I'm korean is, as simply put as possible, exhausting for me, emotionally. It's tedious to, essentially, hash out my entire emotionally-fraught identity to a complete stranger, korean or not. But the perks of being "out" as a korean among koreans is that koreans love each other. And I've recently met a korean at my jobplace, and she recently learned that I am, in fact, korean, not japanese as she had originally assumed but didn't know, because, like I said, she never heard me speak korean (or japanese or chinese, so obviously, assumptions will be made). 

We were introduced because I heard the very specific, distinct sound of a KakaoTalk message while she was in the office from where I do most of my job, because every day, she needs to get a new battery for the handheld device we all use to accomplish our jobs, and I commented on it, the distinct sound of the korean-messaging app, Kakao. 

She is older than me by an age that makes the hierarchy between us obvious, and so, my rightful place as the youngster is not lost on me. For thanksgiving, she gave me a korean pear. One day, when I was sitting in the break room, she walked in and saw me, and on her way out, she gave me a granola bar. And basically, now, every time she sees me, she gives my arms or my back or my shoulders a nice gentle, friendly rub or pat and asks me how I'm doing. She also tells me when I look tired, that I look tired, lol. Ugh, koreans. You gotta love 'em, cause really, they're looking out for each other. It's not an insult to look tired. They're informing you that you look tired, and so, you should probably get some rest. Duh. 

I suppose that I could just lie and leave the conversation on a lie by saying something like, "Oh, my parents never taught me," but that would actually be the Truth—my adopted parents never taught me how to speak korean, nor did they care to nurture the amount of korean I already spoke when I arrived as a nearly-four-year-old child—but the jig is up once I'm definitely like, not "korea-korean," cause I like, well, I dunno, I wasn't raised by my korean parents, etc., so I don't really know how to "be" korean, and most "korea-koreans" would notice. 

Also, in my brief history of life on this planet, conversational lies are not how one grows closer to people, if growing closer is the desired outcome. Obviously, if I were hoping to never speak to my new korean counterpart, I would lie, and simply be a liar to her, but I'm feeling vulnerable, and, like, a friend looking out for me is never a bad thing. The price, my vulnerability.

Anyway. 

Honolulu is like the best-kept secret in america, imho. Obviously, the beaches of hawai'i and whatever, but there's a thing about honolulu that the every-person doesn't really understand unless you've lived here or spent enough time here to really "get it." And I'm, obviously, not going to divulge what that secret is, because it's a secret for the locals, the people who are here to enjoy it.  

*not really, but it is what the last post of my 2016 sail around the sun harped on, lol

some sun sailing

One of my larger reservations about moving here was that I have always lived where it's cold for winter, snow and all, &I have a deep appreciation for a crisp, biting holiday season, &c. 

And so, when we were thinking and planning about/for our move here, one of my greater concerns was about the weather, that it would be the same, sunny, bright, beautiful, beachy day, all day, every day, week after week, month after month, year, etc., etc., &c., barf, yawn.

Now that we've been situated here for nearly, exactly six months, we've experienced the height of summer as well as the turning of the season into a fall-ish-ness. I know what the locals mean when they say that it doesn't get cold here. It doesn't get like frigid cold, but it does cool off, quite a lot, at night anyway. Days still hit twenty-eight degrees (Celsius, duh)! Nevertheless, the season has changed, and as a first-time experiencer of it, I would describe the transition as a midsommar into early fall. And with the fall comes rain! 

It's been raining, an impressive amount, every day for well over a week. We've been drenched on our walks home from our jobs a few times now. Luckily, the rain has yet to drench us on our walks to job, and hopefully, our luck continues. *fingers crossed* 

Thusly, one of my greater concerns has been resolved, and I am concerned no more. As we sail around the sun from this geographic location, the sun does indeed dip low enough in the sky that the light changes, and I can feel that it's fall. I do not know, yet, if the temperature will actually reach anything that I would consider "winter," but until then, I am more than content to experience any sort of seasonal change, and experiencing it, I am. *sigh*

With the rain also comes fewer beach days, and so, we've started to bathe again. We used to take a bath every day as our form of literal bathing. This changing of seasons has brought the routine back to baths, and it's been great. After only two weekends, so far, missed on the beach, I already miss our dips in the ocean, lol, but this bathing situation is just as pleasant, and so, bathe we will (until we get through the next goal post wherein we travel to Seoul (bday spot) and then to Aspen (xmas + new year's) every year for that good 'ol crisp winter holiday feeling! Until then. *peace*). 

the day we got drenched
i got drenched the day before, all alone

a change in light is, apparently, all i need

we've (the bodybuddy/lifemate and I)
agreed that this is our favorite view
so far, by far

some fiction sketches re some prayer flags, when it rained, and the true meaning of christmas—love—the love of consumerism.

whisper whisper knowledge, whisper knowledge, whisper whisper knowledge

whisper whisper prosperity, whisper prosperity, whisper whisper prosperity

whisper whisper long life, whisper long life, whisper whisper long life

whisper whisper success, whisper success, whisper whisper success

whisper whisper peace, whisper peace, whisper whisper peace

[Untitled] Light Paintings IV.II

the primary colors plus green, cause there's a case—there's always a case—to be made that the color green possesses properties that are wholly unique, color-wise (and more, according to, well, Ladybug, obviously), etc. 

the five pillars of wisdom, because knowledge that does not bring about prosperity, long life, success, and peace is useless (luck or the lack thereof excepted). 

^..^

the first drop fell

and then it poured

for an entire week it rained

and then it rained more

^..^

they're taught, from a young age, how to decorate the tree,

put up the lights,

dress up the fireplace,

and then,

at some point, they learn

that christmas isn't free,

and then, the free gift of love is so rarely gifted

that the job of reminding them of what

the True meaning of a sham celebration IS

is left to the entertainment industry,

and that seems, hypocritical somehow,

until they realize that the true meaning of christmas

is love

the love of consumerism.  

jingle bells, jingle bells

another dollar made

santa came and took it from you

cause that's how santa's paid

A Quickie (or two*)

When considering the variously annoying behaviors enacted by the variously annoying customers who frequent the grocery store at which I job, THE most irritating of all of these behaviors is one that's hard to describe, and so, here's my first go of it.

Most of my shift is spent in some aisle of the grocery store. And so, when a customer is looking for an item, the most annoying thing in the whole world, to me, is when they're walking toward me, maybe somewhere in the middle of the aisle, and they are so butt-fucking focused on getting my attention, "Hi," waving for my attention from the end of the aisle, "Do you work here?" I wear a fucking name tag, dumbass, "Yes," I smile (from under a mask). "Can you tell me where to find deodorant?" the dumbass asks while standing in front of the only place where deodorant is kept in the entire store. I kindly, as humanly possible in this moment, point to his (it's always some guy) left and smile (people can see it in your eyes), "It's right here. Is there anything else I can help you with?" 

Does that make sense?

These motherfuckers fucking refuse to use their fucking brains for something as simple as finding an item in a well-labeled, well-organized by category, grocery store, and they're so fixated on someone helping them that they, like the dumbasses they are, walk their dumb asses right past the item they're so helplessly unable to find. Fuck you.

^..^

As city squirrels, the bodybuddy/lifemate and I live in a fairly small city, as far as cities are concerned, at a population around one million people, and so, it should be no surprise that if one lives in the heart of the city, it's loud. Not so loud that there's anything to complain about, in my opinion, but loud, nonetheless. And in this loud city, people drive their cars around with the volume of their music turned up insanely loud. This is not a frequent occurrence, maybe a handful of drivers in the course of a day.  

It was one of these drivers who gave me the idea for a random-ass Stories post to my 'gram (not currently active, for the foreseeable future) when said driver drove by with his (it's always a his) music so loud that I could clearly hear the unmistakable eight notes of the beginning of the song of my young adulthood. 

And so, I made a Stories on a blank, black slide with the following text in white:

Yea Yea Yea

Yea Yea

Yea

And one person liked this post. 

I was thrilled, obviously, because, let's be real, people suck, but it was awesome, because I always feel a bit like a crazy person when I post anything to social media, and so, to find that there exists a mind out there who got it felt good. 

^..^

The reason why I love the character of Mrs. George Russell is because she is American. That "can-do" attitude is what annoys the shit out of the rest of the world. 

*obviously, i lie!

I cannot imagine what a living hell it must be to have social-media metrics determine your economic livelihood.

Threads sucks balls, not because the platform sucks, but rather, because the people who use the platform suck, duh. It's pretty simple math, here, lol. 

I've seen about half-a-dozen posts with this general sentiment:

"I/She/They/We have X amount of followers! My/Her/Their/Our engagement (i.e. any of the social media metrics) has tanked since, blah blah blah, and waaah, how unfair, the app is BROKEN!" 

First of all, my heart goes out to anyone whose economic livelihood is determined by social media stats. Secondly, that's some stone-cold entitlement, sheesh, I almost cannot even talk about it. I shan't, not because I can't, but because I shan't. 

Third, I do not understand what people do not understand about social media. I simply do not know what happened. So, here I go, I'm going to try to lame-ass explain why social media sucks, in general. 

Social media is not the internet. One must be a "member" of social media. One creates an account, and now you can see everyone on that platform who is also a "member." Not everyone on the internet is a fucking member of this shit, and so, you're only ever going to get eyeballs from people who use the platform, and sure, it seems like the "whole world" is on social media, but it isn't. 

If I do not have an account with whatever social media platform to which one posts, I will not ever see that post. It may come up in a search, but then I'll have to log in. Maybe I'll get a glimpse of it, but I cannot interact with it unless I log in. If I'm not an account holder/member, I'm obviously not going to hit that link. And if I am a "member" of a certain platform, I will only see your post when I'm on the platform. There's no accidentally bumping into it if I'm not in the app. 

A website, however, is the internet. Nobody needs an account to see this post that you're reading, right now. This post is available to anyone who gets on the world wide web to search for shit. It's just out there, for any and all to see if they stumble upon it or if they search for something, and I've written something relevant about it, etc. 

This is not what social media does. When one posts to social media, your post is trapped behind login credentials. Your post is only being seen by others on the platform. My posts, on the other hand, can be seen by anyone, anywhere in the world, with an internet connection, no credentials, no login, my site is visible for all to see. 

And my stats are proof of organic growth. And I love it. Thank you for reading. 

And so, when I say that it must be a "living hell" to have any part of your economic well-being attached to your social media stats, this is what I'm fucking talking about. I would bet big money that there are zero social media accounts that look like exponential growth. They look like the opposite of exponential growth. Doom, in other words, in my opinion. 

Nevertheless, social media is fun. I think that it has a place in this world as a place to have fun. But this version of capitalism-as-usual has, obviously, ruined the fun of most fun things, and thusly, I would like to encourage any would-be users of social media to understand that to live on socials is no life at all. To job on socials is to participate in a game that is really a box inside which there is nothing else except others like you, all trying to do the same thing, make money off of eyeballs, the Great Circle-Jerk, if you will, lol. 

And then, with regards to Threads, and some of the threads that I've been seeing posted there, it's becoming blatantly clear that america, as a society, has come to the place of its final demise—the policing of language—free speech. 

In my opinion, american humans—as the current global empire—not necessarily humanity at large, could really use a good hard look inside ourselves and have a deep think about how we, american humans, are so rich and idle that our powers that be have the time to police language; the thing, in my opinion, that is the final sign of an empire about to fall.

And any powers that be, that is capable of successfully policing language IS, quite literally, the definition of dictatorship. Do NOT get it twisted. A power that is that can professionally ruin you is no victim but rather, the victor, exerting its power over the powerless. 

p.s. american is also an adjective, as, technically, if you respected the human behind the person, you'd refer to them as an american human. you know, like the way some people believe that since "female" is an adjective, one ought to refer to a human of the "female" sex as a "female" human, etc.  

Write &Live

DECEMBER in [potential*] WRITING

or

a Table of Contents for forthcoming writing that i've had to keep in my head for weeks and that can now be released into the world in the form of writing!

☺ On Why I always try to put off revealing my racial identity when around other Asians, specifically Koreans, because, well, that's what I've got to put to paper.

☺ The MOST IRRITATING customer behavior that just, like, it really just pisses me off, like so much. 

☺ "I cannot imagine what a living hell it must be to have social-media metrics determine your economic livelihood" 

☺ On Friendship & How to Woo a Girl 

☺ True or False

And prolly a fiction sketch or two re A Forest of Trees or A Field of Flowers, It Rained for One Week, and When you live on a tropical island, christmas really is one helluva sham, etc., etc. 

[added 02dec23 0221 {updated 03dec23 0134}] On Kim Kardashian (I know. I know. Just hear me out.) and my theory about Kourtney Kardashian Barker 

[added 02dec23 0237] When there was only one person who liked one of my Stories, this one time, and I had never, have yet to ever, felt/feel more respected than I did in that moment ^laugh-cry emoji^ plus, when men and women follow each other on socials, etc.

*[updated 02dec23] cause this list is getting pretty long, when considering my full-time job, barf, but i will, obviously, do my best ^..^