Melody Visits (Day 1)

Friday7.11.2008

Melody came to visit for the weekend (Thursday night-Monday
morning). Her leavings are hair (scattered liberally around the floor
of my 1-room apartment) and photographs.


My second morning SAT class.


These kids are all right.


Lunch on Friday.

A recurring theme of Mel's visit was her protests of my (allegedly)
inadequate bachelor diet.


Two minutes after taking this picture, we saw a lady back her car up
and ram into a truck also backing up. In the confusion of the
moment, Mel snapped a set of surreptitious photographs.




Copping a squat. 蹲。




Our supermarket. The soju section.

Koreans love their alcohol... in fact, this is the only
country I've been to where I feel less comfortable
drinking (for reasons of not wanting to misrepresent
my personal stance on drunkenness) than I would
in the States.






Delivery scooters for the Pizza Hut behind my building. These dudes
are on that straight hardbody Easy Rider. I have seen one cold wipe
out in the rain and push his joint to the curb. Forget fixed gear bikes,
scooters are where it is at.


Afternoon TOEFL class.


My building. Technically known as the "Ilsan Vista,"
it has the dubious distinction of being crowned with
large signs for the ground-level BYC outlet.

BYC is a lingerie/underwear store.




There is a giant convention center about a mile and
a half from my building.
On her first night here, we walked out there, after
watching part of the fountain show at Lake Park.


At night, the various exhibition halls of the center are lit up like a
vision from Final Fantasy VII... at least that's my opinion.

Come to think of it, playing Final Fantasy VII as a kid seems to have
informed my adult architectural aesthetics to an inordinate degree.


It seems as though the center is supposed to have a
pool of water lapping at its banks; but, for reasons
that I can only suppose are of water conservation or
an accidental drowning lawsuit, it was drained. We,
naturally, strode through, cold Moses style.


Then the rocks began to annoy our sandals, so we
knew the ledge.


A portrait of the artist as a young woman.


KINTEX.

Korea is the most innocent country, ever.

The Kintex center is... open to the public. Entirely
so; we saw some strolling couples walk right
through the main doors at around 12:30 AM, and
we wound up sneaking up a back stairwell by
accident.

In what kind of country can you sneak into a large
commercial center by accident?


Brought to you by Chilsun Cider. This stuff is great:
for 990 KRW (a bit less than a dollar), I can get 1.5
liters of it at the grocery store. Chyea!






Goyang-Si is building a quaintly commercialized 华城
next to Lake Park. But Korean developers were faced
with an alarming proposition: How might they ensure
their audience's knowledge that this area is the China
town?
Obvious solution: GREAT WALL = CHINA.
durr.

More to come.

Visions of Seoul

As I ran along the street in the 90-degree humidity, on the oversized t-shirt of a matronly woman walking along with her young child, I spotted the following bon mot:

WENT ON VACATION, CAME BACK ON PROBATION.

Item story: Headshots

A small plastic pouch bearing the logo of a photo store contains two passport-sized headshots of a young man. He wears a black tee-shirt over a white one. He looks grim, or possibly pouting, but sans flirtatiousness.



I had quite the "ah crap i screwed myself” incident Saturday:

Saturday morning, I rode the subway for an hour to locate a foreigner-friendly travel agency in Hongdae, an area in Northwest Seoul, in order to apply for my Chinese tourist visa. When I found the agency, an hour before they closed, I realized that I had forgotten to bring along with me the photograph required by the application, which I had taken a week before, just to be safe, and had set out in plain sight to take with me.

Fortunately, my friend Melody, who was visiting me, had a digital camera with her, so I ran over to a nearby photo store to print a picture that she snapped on the spot. But I was then informed that my white t-shirt was actually inappropriate for a passport photo, said photograph being required to have a regulation white background, with which my plain white Hanes tee would blend in too much.

So I had to run across the street to an outdoor vendor hawking some cheap joints and bought a 5000Won ($5) shirt just to take this picture.

But in losing I actually surreptitiously stayed winning: the photo store worker felt badly for me, so he told me the photos were his gift to me; and I got a t-shirt that says “PLEASE PICTURE WITH ME”. And I made it back to the agency on time.

This is grace: We lose, but only so that we can keep on winning.

Reflections on the Seoul morning.

(Adapted from correspondence)

A thought at 6:40 AM.

Just a quick thought, not really a devotional.

I was just walking along the street this morning alternately praying and singing quietly. The 6 AM street in my corner of Seoul is bright - a touch hazy - quiet and cool. Older men and women wander the streets, but I live in a low-traffic suburb so, by and large, I was alone with my thoughts and my God.

Walking along, I was struck by the way that God has constantly been using ongoing relationships between myself and non-Christian friends to continually draw me closer to Him.

It can be incredibly frustrating to see close friends go through recurring struggles with sin. But I can't help but be awed and astonished at how uniquely God reveals Himself through seeing my friends' struggles with themselves and their compulsive needs to rely on inadequate sources of succor. I see truth occasionally breaking through in moments of honesty and reflection, and this must be exactly the same way that God sees me struggling with myself and my foolish, contemptible pride.

The life of the Old Testament prophet Hosea is one of my favorite stories in the Bible, hands down. Dude was a prophet and God had him marry a mad um loose woman. Why? "The people in this land have acted like prostitutes and abandoned the Lord." Burned.

God had Hosea go out and marry an unfaithful woman precisely so that he would have a personal experience of sin, from the other side. So often we sin and see the grievous marks it leaves on our own souls and lives; sometimes, even, we get a glimpse of what it means to grieve God or the Spirit, and we get a jolt of repentance and humility from that. But to understand Sin, even if only briefly and vaguely, from the point of the person pursuing the lost, rather than being pursued as the lost, is also a great (and terrible) gift.

I'm not advocating going out and trying to fall in love with/marry/invest in the most tragic person you can, simply to have an experience of what it's like to be God. That sounds vaguely blasphemous, if not explicitly foolish.

But I think God does sometimes put us in situations where He desires to teach us some specific lesson about what it means to Trust Him and, yes, even to Be Him (this is the same reason that the "Dark Night of the Soul" and the stigmata are considered gifts in various Christian traditions: they are experiences that allow us to partake in Christ's suffering and share a deeper understanding of His spirit).

I've heard multiple sermons about how difficult it can be to raise children without the assurance that they will follow after the Lord.

In the same way, it can be incredibly difficult to be so deeply invested in a person, without any assurance that they will be able to bring themselves to care about their own future. There is a lot that I have seen friends do, see them continue to do, and know that they will do that grieves me personally and spiritually; and I can only imagine how deeply it grieves our Maker.

But if I myself have sinned as much as I have, and yet God loves me; and yet He loves me; and yet again He loves me; then who am I to not extend that same forgiveness? And, in extending it, I feel some of the joy - and deep tragedy - of what it means to love an as-yet unregenerate soul; I can only imagine what it is to be really in love with every one of those souls. I know I couldn't bear it.

So, it's a good thing that I don't have to; not alone, anyways.

A thousand times I've failed;
still, your mercy remains;
Should I stumble again,
still, I'm caught in your grace.

Everlasting, your light will shine when all else fades
Never ending, your glory goes beyond all fame

Bust Out! - Season 1 (STREET WE ARE)

I realized, after looking over the Bust Out! Season 2 pictures (posted
below) that I never catalogued our first season on here... so without
further ado I present the Bust Out! Season 1 ("STREET WE ARE")
line for archival purposes.

All pics stolen from my man Paco (欧子).


Season 1 logo caps.




It's all in the details!


You know she stay ridiculous clean.


Can it be???






Yes it is! Bust Out raw redline denim.


Bust Out tour tee. China X Taiwan, 北京 X 台北.


Season 1 logo tee (Slim Paul)




The four launch designs.


The Family....

到时候再说，爷爷 / Goodbye, Grandpa.

My grandfather (step-grandfather technically, but the only 爷爷 I
ever knew) died about a week ago.

Somehow, I am always off in Asia when my grandparents kick off
this mortal coil. (I'd like to think that they'd approve of my ever-
increasing activity in the motherlands.)

Last summer, my maternal grandmother died when I was in 北京,
and my mom didn't bother telling me until... December, I think it
was.

Sentimental family I got.

Anyways, the second funeral in half a year for my dad's side of
the family. Right before Christmas, my paternal great-uncle Fong
had a heart attack, so we went down to VA for his memorial
service (documented here).

I hope my 奶奶's doing okay. The old earth been through many a
sadness these last few days. But she is a pretty solid believer in
God's mercy, which loves and holds on to those He calls to Himself,
so I think she will keep on living proper-like. After all,

We ain't dead yet, is we???

"To live is Christ, to die is gain" - Paul, the Letter to Philippians,
Book 1, Line 21

Since I couldn't myself be at the funeral, consider this little joint on
the iNternets my tribute, catharsis, and respect paid.

All praises due to the Most High.




Grandma; Great-aunt.


Tori (sister); ma.

Every time I see a picture of her, I get surprised at how growed-
up Tori be looking. Man don't nobody be catching feelings or man
thoughts. I will straight up smack a dude, no games.

Photo credits: all pictures blatantly stole from Tori.


Grandpa.

I remember one of the last times that we were in DC (beginning of
last summer? Two Christmases ago? Spring Break?) and Grandpa
was still (比较) lucid and mobile.

We were putting on our shoes, grabbing all the mad food that
Grandma always insists on us taking home, and picking up our bags
to get out the door. As we left, Grandpa (already worn too thin and
easily tired to escort us downstairs, to our car) leaned in to hug me
good-bye.

"I'm getting old," he whispered in my ear. "Do you know how old I
am?"

"Ninety-seven, right?"

He continued right on, his hearing aid not picking me up: "Ninety-
seven. That's not bad. I'm very old."

I think he knew. No, of course he did; you don't live that long and not
know what's coming. You've seen it happening around you; I can
only imagine. The friends, the acquaintances, the familiar public
figures, disappearing one by one. The world growing young; un-
familiar.

I know he was tired, and I think he didn't mind, either. That's the
beautiful thing. Time to finally rest.


He loved that cap. For the last few years, every time
that we would go to visit him and grandma in DC, he
would be ailing to some degree. The wind didn't really
suit him no more in his last years, so he would usually
roll out with the ball cap on. I think it was an Army-
Navy game hat. Grandpa was a public servant for many
a year in D.C., which is why he and my grandma
wound up in Bethesda, MD.

Dead bodies always look thin.

One day we'll be filled up again.


儿子们 meet the 老朋友们.


My family's wreath.

Word is bond, though my dad was actually
Grandpa's stepson, dude was always real proper to
us. He was always real happy to see us when we
would roll through the area.

One of the things he was real proud of living to see
was me attending Yale. Ever since four years ago
(back when things was less hazy for him), when I
got accepted to the school, he started calling me
"Yale man".

(Of course, as dude had mad accent, it actually came
out more like "Yellow man" but that is all right too.)

I know he started losing a lot of things in the last few
years, including most of his English (you could tell...
as he regressed into second childhood, his first
language, 广东话, Cantonese, was his weapon of
choice), but one thing he always held on to was that
his grandson was at Yale. He told me (a couple times
actually... but that is also fine) that, sometime right
after World War II, he and his boss, also a Yale
graduate, visited Yale on some official business for the
State Department. This connection, the nigh-mythical
continuity of that Ivy League institution, was
something that he clung onto over the last few years.
It was a bridge for us, something we could hold in
common, even as reaching and tenuous as it was.


Uncle Jojo. As my dad's generation grows into their 40s and 50s,
I start to see them in each other.

Wonder how Tori, Sarah, Ryan and I are gonna look in 2040???


Aunt Mary, Uncle Fong's widow, and two of their girls.


Aunt Tanya; Sarah; Ryan; Uncle Jojo.


Ma, Tori, Sarah.

I remember that girl from when she was, like, 0 years old. The
fact that she now has an AIM screenname still bugs me out.




Great-aunt; Grandma.


Uncle Jeffrey & fam. I also remember Crystal from when she was
barely born. Snap.


You know how 中国人 do it... always gotta have the mad mad
crew up in the buffet. Birthday, funeral, after church, Wednesday
night, whatever!


Goodbye, Grandpa.

See you when things are made right.

This is LOVE!

(adapted from correspondence)

There is one thing that has weighed heavy on my mind over the last day or two, even though it's actually fairly silly: having arriving in Korea, surveying my schedule and financial situation, and weighing the costs and benefits, I am looking into going to Beijing/北京 for the week after I finish my job, to catch up with my rap crew and also several other close friends.

However, for several reasons (needing to move my initial flight from Seoul to the States back one week, needing to get a Chinese tourist visa, the costs of international flight, the stupid OLYMPICS [ugh], etc. ad infinitum), this is an incredibly painstaking endeavor. But God has been really using this intensity to teach me something. And this is it.


This is God's mercy and grace: if I lose all I possibly could, I would still have more than I could ever discover.


And this is why I've been thinking about this.

Making travel plans sucks, especially for me. I am a pretty frugal guy - some might say stingy, and they wouldn't be wrong - and when I get into the details of visa fees, airport taxes, scheduling flights, application paperwork, comparative shopping, et cetera., et cetera., et cetera., I am able to grow thoroughly obsessed with saving $10 here or $30 there. I hate spending money that I don’t need to: sometimes it seems that my absolute greatest nightmare would be to find out that, for instance, I booked a flight too late, and wasted $200 that didn’t need to be spent. So, for all of my free time today*, I was calling, researching, and emailing travel agents to find out who could get me the absolute lowest price on an air ticket. (*I used my phone so much that I ran out of prepaid minutes… adding another stress: wasting $18)

And it was thoroughly unhealthy. Why was I doing this? Not because I wanted to save money for God's kingdom: because I was, in a very real way, making an idol of money. The thought of spending $20 that I didn't need to began to seem like blasphemy to me.

For those who haven't seen me when I get really anxious or concerned about something, I grow amazingly obsessive about that matter, until it is either resolved or has passed (side note: these issues ALWAYS resolve, and always in my favor. God's track record in my life is something on the order of 13241451:0).

In such cases, I am a perfect antithesis of Matthew 6:25:

"Do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food?"

OK. I'm usually not particularly obsessed about food. But this is the nature of anxiety: when you are anxious about something, that one thing becomes the single most important focus of your life.

Imagine a man starving in the wilderness. His life, his survival, his continued existence, is reduced to one factor: food. If he finds food, even one morsel, he will continue to live; if he fails to do so, he will surely cease to be.

The psychology of anxiety, at least speaking for me, is such that, if I am anxious about something, it consumes my mind in this very same way (and I suspect it is so for many of us). I focus on it to the exclusion of all else: success or failure in this one arena becomes the be-all and end-all of who I am. It becomes, in a real way, my identity: have I beaten this problem, or have I been vanquished by it?

Isn't that idolatry? Yes, and I'm sure there are whole books to be written on that, indicting us for our blasphemy of God. But this is not what I am concerned with here; this is what I find so urgent in this situation:


If I truly love God, this anxiety is foundless! It has no basis.


I grow anxious over things - money, friends, a job, travel plans, etc. - because I begin to think, without this, I cannot proceed with my life. Why does someone worry when they might get kicked out of a house? Because life requires a place to live! Why worry when you feel that you don't have a single friend? Because life without friends is not worth living!


But this is the miracle of God's love: If I have it, and it alone, I still have more than I could ever know.


And neither life, nor death, nor things present, nor things to come, nor things in heaven, nor things on earth, not ANYTHING can take God's love from me! (paraphrasing Romans 8:38)

Ms. Joshu I Sky AKA elee AKA esta! posted a quote on her blog (sorry to blow up ya spot est) a while ago, from German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer: "The darkest of dark cannot extinguish the light of a single flame."

-So what if I don't get a ticket to China?

-So what if, for whatever reason, I get ripped off and lose all the money I worked all summer to earn?

-So what, actually, if I die, and never return to the States?

If my love for Christ is like a "single flame," then these darknesses will pass over it and never disturb the one thing that matters, matters more than I can understand!


This is God's love: was I to lose all I ever could, I would still have more than I could ever know.


Is that not great?

I wandered home from work today with a head full of neurotic wonderings: If I move my Saturday lunch appointment from 11 AM to 10 AM, I can be in Hongik by 1 PM, talk to the travel agent… If I work 3 extra 40-minute shifts for each remaining week, I will earn 3 shifts * 30 dollars/shift * 7 weeks more, which will subsidize X amount of travel… If I… and if I… and if I….

But then God nudged me: Who are you, to accomplish anything?

Yes, I hope to go to Beijing, and this hope requires me to be diligent in researching and understanding my options. But this endless speculation, this iterated mulling over of financial matters, this is not diligence: this is self-absorbed “chasing after the wind” (Ecclesiastes 1:17).

Ultimately, I will probably wind up finding a flight to Beijing for a fair price (also, a fare price.... get it? a ha ha.), going, having a good time, traveling smoothly back to Seoul, and returning to the States in time for the first week at Yale.

But what if every one of those steps goes wrong?


My life would still be fuller and better than I deserve, than I know, that my human hopes could encompass.


.


I love you all. Surrender to God. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and your journeys will be impossibly beautiful.

Your brother,
-jglc