02.26.1999
Why were we made just so, to find so many things that happened every day pretty? George Saunders, "Tenth of December" I revisited some old journal entries and came across one titled "Moments that brought me joy today" from about 2 years ago (That title was really vulnerable for me to share). Included in it… Continue reading one spring day
In the forest, every least thing’s important. It’s all threaded together, so you can’t tell where one thing ends and another begins if you really look at it. The little insects you can’t even see, they play a role as vital as the river. The dead tree is as important as the living one. There… Continue reading thoughts since watching Train Dreams
There are aspects of my personality that I’m currently wrestling with. A lot. I scare myself often, and lately, I’ve been despising aspects of myself that I used to love. As I grow older, the rosy tint in my glasses is wearing off, and what I once viewed as strengths are starting to look more… Continue reading INFP growing pains: on momentary transports
There is a scene that has stayed with me long since watching it. It’s from a 2000 slice-of-life Taiwanese film called Yi Yi. Although the film runs just shy of 3 hours, I left the theater wishing that it was longer. Many of the scenes from this film have continued to linger in my mind.… Continue reading on the longing we carry
1/13/25 - MondayFirst full day in Japan. Hasn't really sunk in yet. Train system was harder to navigate than I expected. Scary to not know anyone, nor the language. Train conductor guy was really rude to me, feel bad for not knowing Japanese. Currently on the train to Kamakura. Japan is so pretty. Love the… Continue reading journal entries: the week as a microcosm of life
Dear 엄마, I’m writing this letter because I have a lot to say, but I don’t quite have the courage to express them to you yet. As we’re getting older, I’m realizing that life’s too short to not express the way I feel when I feel things. But for some odd reason, I’m just not… Continue reading a letter to my mom
There is a fire burning before me. It is a good flame—sturdy and predictable. It undulates gently, crackling and popping in steady cadence. The crickets are joining in unison now, their song reverberating in the thin November air. As an immature and impulsive child, I would often make fires burn as big and bright as… Continue reading in some ways i have changed
Time passed in a flurry of blurred shapes and colors. When the train stopped, I stepped onto the cobblestone pavement. An orange cat greeted me bathed in sunlight. As I approached the forest, the cobble grew uneven, weeds growing in between. My hard, hollow steps turned into the rhythmic, soft thud of soil and foliage.… Continue reading a walk in amsterdam
The night sky was silver. My hands were stiff on the wheel. Where I turned, the moon followed. The heater blew cold before the road bent around the hill. Then it opened, and the sky was silver and the clouds were cold, but the hill had fireflies. The lights breathed like scattered coals. The windshield… Continue reading I-5 south
I recently watched Manchester by the Sea. It’s a powerful film about grief and one man's inability to forgive himself for his past actions. I loved every minute of it. It’s viscerally raw and deeply human in a way that resonates with anyone who's struggled with feelings of guilt and loss before. Since watching it,… Continue reading reflections on grief, grace, and repentance
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