Things I saw/heard/got tonight while walking down the street for a late night snack post your Stanley Cup win:

• A disgusting number of “woohoooos”
• An equally disgusting number of “Bostonnnn yeaaa”
• 1 “U. S. A.” chant
• Record setting number of highfives within 2 blocks
• 8 sirens blinkin
• 8 sirens deafening me
• 1 man puking
• 4 policemen on horses
• 1 german shepherd barking
• 1 really horny guy: “there’s gotta be at least one girl happy enough to have sex with me tonight…”
• countless drunk people
• 1 super cute old asian couple
• 1 hug
• 1 request for a lighter
• bundles and bundles of smiles
• 1 man on a pimped out boston bruins wheelchair
• And 1 sudden urge to stop thinking, start smiling, and join in on the fun…

The Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, and our very own Terriers have brought home a championship in the past 4 years.  Only fitting that the Bruins finally get one too before I leave this place for good. 

Thank you Boston.  You never fail to amaze me.

Simple, yet remarkably difficult.  Annoying, yet incredibly addicting.  A Facebook fad, and a timeless classic.  Tetris is arguably the most recognized video game in the past half century.  Created by some really smart Russian dude, the game has made its way around the globe in all forms and through all mediums since 1985.

My first experience with this rotating/dropping/stacking block game brings us back to the early 1990s, when I was still residing in Seoul, South Korea.  I was around 4 years old, when one fine day my father walked in with a brand new, original Nintendo gaming console.  I remember yelling, at the top of my lungs, like any little Asian boy getting his first gaming console would.  I hugged him, kissed him, and thanked him over and over again, not knowing that he didn’t bring a game home with it.  What a typical Kwang Yul Choi move: steak, but no grill; ketchup, but no mustard; and fork, but no knife.  I still played that evening, pretending like I was controlling the ridiculously big-eyed cartoon character on the kid’s channel.  

The following evening was just shy of….magical.  Tetris officially became the first video game I owned.  It was pure excitement watching the short-novel sized cartridge being placed into the mouth of the grey and black Nintendo console.  My face, my sister’s face, the TV….it all came alive.  The screen lit up with “Tetris” in deep blue letters.  The unforgettable minor-keyed tune swallowed the entire room, then engraved itself permanently into my mind.  My sister and I were frozen, our mouths open, eyes glued.  My dad taught us how to play, and we pushed those 2 red buttons relentlessly.  

Sadly, Tetris didn’t last very long.  The Super Mario  Bros. came to visit only a few days later.  The mushroom eating, coin collecting, Peach searching duo was so much more fun.  

It wasn’t until recently that I revisited my long lost first, when it plagued the halls of Boston University dormitories through Facebook.  A rendition of the classic game, Tetris Battle allowed you to “battle” your friends using the various attacking perks modified into the classic game.  Spin for the daily bonus.  Choose the 2p, 4p, or 6p option.  Then 3…2…1…Go!  

I. Fucking. Hate. Tetris. Battle.  

The phrase “You lost a star -1” became all too familiar.  I like my stars.  I like winning.  Tetris Battle…you are dead to me.  But in the midst of all this agony and pain, I came to recognize the uncanny parallels between Tetris and my life…

My resolutions:

7.  Travel:  Travel to at least 2 places I have not been to.  Go learn their culture.  Experience something new.  Eat their staple food.  Visit their local market.  Communicate and connect with the people.  

6.  Read:  Read at least 10 new books.  Pick up the newspaper and read actually read that shit 3-5 times a week.  

5.  Help:  Help people who are less fortunate.  Share more of my time, thought, money.  Go to an orphanage and help children at least once this year.

4.  Apply:  Translate the things I know and say into ACTIONS. Be less lazy.

3.  Professionalism:  Be more professional.  Be prompt.  Be more responsible.  NO unreturned calls/texts/emails.

2.  Drink Less:  Save brain cells.  Limit to drinking once a week.

1.  Take a chance:  Take a big big risk on something and someone I love. 

For this post, RELATIONSHIPS:

Before the 6th/7th grade, it’s the same for everyone.  Black, White, or Yellow, we all drift down the same path.  We start with the “I like you!!” point-and-run, squeeze by the koodies epidemic, then watch the 5th grade sex-ed video which leaves us with a poignant cross-gender curiosity.  If you’re the guy that laughed a little too hard, and got kicked out of this class….you have very high 40-year-old virgin potential.  

White Man:  6th-8th grade is a race around the bases.  Your relationships lack substance, because they stem from physical curiosity and attraction.  Hormones control your rationality, and you daydream about getting to first base (holding hands and kissing), then making your way around to third (please use your own imagination).  You’ll most likely leave middle school having hit singles and doubles with a few people.  Looking back you’ll realize they were nothing more than a fling.   

Korean Man:  Unlike your white colleagues, hanging out with the opposite gender still frightens most of you.  And the really hot white kids are strictly eye-candy.  You stray away from them, and end up sticking to your own.  You pick up on your Korean parent’s sharp tongue and keen hearing, and know that you cannot tell ANYONE ANYTHING directly.  You must beat around the bush as much as possible.  Your message must be passed from one party to the next getting skewed and twisted along the way.  The ultimate goal is to have the simple “I like your friend” so incomprehensible by the time it reaches him or her that it starts some major unnecessary DRAMA.  

White Man:  Starting from around the 10th grade, most of you will end up going out with a person only after a night of partying with them.  There is a fool proof “white man” system.  Two people like each other.  Knowingly, they go to the same party.  Mutual friends get them drunk.  They hook up, and it is very clear the next day: 1) it’s awkward, and you won’t speak of it again, or 2) you wake up still liking each other; you’re an undisclosed couple.  You follow this pattern; and ultimately, you will hook up with several, date a few, and get serious with a couple.  More often than not, when things end you will remain close.

Korean Man:  For years, all Korean dramas shared the same repertoire.  Relationships were always about a forbidden love, a love triangle, or a destined love plagued with sickness.  You rarely found a happy ending, and if you did, it wasn’t before it fully toyed with your emotions.  The central underlying theme of Korean dramas; emotionally buttfuck and exhaust the person you sincerely care about….Dear very Korean couples, most of your lives are not that difficult.  You are not that special.  Bigger things are going on than your minor insecurities. Don’t make things harder on yourself.  STOP trying to be a character of a drama.    

Korean American:  Initially, you are more attracted to white people.  You like their blonde hair, their beach perfect bodies, their super chill lifestyle.  You tell yourself you don’t like other Koreans, so you date whites, hook up with whites, and even turn culturally…a little too white.  As you get older, the brainwashing finally kicks in.  The early years of your father telling you to “only marry another Korean” has a nicer ring to it.  You try to have something with 1 or 2 Korean girls.  They end poorly because you’ve either strayed too far to one side, or the bitch is simply crazy.  However, you can’t go back to dating white girls.  You can’t fight the comfort of being with someone with the same background, culture, and mentality.  You wait….you wait and find someone just like you.  You find a Korean American.  

I effing lied.  In fact, I’m going to write a series of posts defining “the Korean” and “the American” in the loosely identified group known as Korean Americans.  I will examine the various cultural gaps and differences in perspective with my own anecdotes and observations (aka there is zero validity to this).  Even though my posts may lack merit, my stories are true, and my experiences real.

For this post, CHILDHOOD:  

White Man:  White babies are hands down the cutest looking babies.  And if you’re sprinkled with sky blue eyes and light blonde hair, you’re one of the lucky ones; every other baby envies you.  Unfortunately, this is the peak of your cuteness.  You will only get uglier as your baby years slowly wane away.  

Korean Man:  The stereotypical “you all look alike” cannot be more true.  All Korean babies look the same: untamed hair, small eyes (some smaller than others), and yellowish pale skin.  Your stare is unusually confused and dazed too.  However, the hair grows in, eyes peel open, and the paleness of your skin cries innocence.  Bam!! you’re evolving *pokemon music*.   You grow into your cuteness.  

White Man:  You start getting involved in sports very early on.  Other extra curriculars may follow, but soccer, t-ball, basketball, or football is a must.  Your dad will coach if you’re really good, hoping that you’ll play for the Trojans (USC)/Cardinals (Stanford)/Bruins (UCLA)/Bears (CAL) one day.  Your dad will coach if you’re really bad, building a false sense of security by subtly drafting you first.  Don’t worry if you’re average, you’ll undeniably meet some of your best friends playing sports.  Up until middle school, if you’re good at 1 sport, you’re good at all of them.  But sooner or later you pick 1 or 2, and play it throughout high school.  Few go on to play in college.

Korean Man:  You start doing math very early on.  You would think English would be the first thing drilled into your head, but your parents like holding onto that mantra…”Asians are good at math”.  Kumon ends up ruining the greater part of your childhood.  You may not know the difference between the subject and the verb until third grade, but your teachers are amazed/terrified that you do simple math faster than them….all in your head.  Your parents stick you into sports for 1 of 2 reasons:  1) They realize all the white kids play, and you must keep up with them.  2) You’re getting really fat.  Most of you are not very good, and never getting passed the ball frustrates your parents.  Do not fear, tennis, golf, or swimming is in your near future.  You will spend the little time left in your day playing an instrument.  Piano, violin, cello, and flute are the heavyweights, but some of you go rogue and end up playing the viola or clarinet.  All of this is done as your ticket into the most idolized league, The Ivy.  

Korean American:  You are the jack of all trades.  Good at a lot of things, but not great at one.  This surprises your white colleagues.  They may dunk on you, drink more than you, or get the hotter girls, but they’re the ones in “aw” when they realize you’re bilingual, or when you’re well dressed and playing the violin in front of hundreds.  You are welcomed into their circle.  You no longer make sure they don’t open the fridge, and get hit my the smell of rotting kimchi….you humorously welcome it.  You border the line of being a banana, and being a Korean simply living in America.  You hope that one day all parties will understand what it means to be a Korean American.  

Skipped class, flew home, and woke up to California’s REAL sunny weather….life is good

It was only yesterday, that I was waking up to Boston’s FAKE sunlight slipping through my blinds knowing fully that I would still need my scarf, hat, and jacket to go outside.  Today, I got out of bed, downed a cup of water, and walked outside in my pajamas -basketball shorts- and let Rancho Palos Verdes’ therapeutic ambiance hit me.  The long awaited warmth was short-lived, as I caught Willy, my dog, taking his morning shit through my peripherals; nevertheless, I’m forever grateful to call this place home.  

My day so far has consisted of (in no particular order): eating, playing the same 4 songs on the guitar, facebooking, basketball, bothering my mom, sister, and dog, and going for a jog….more or less a well spent morning/early afternoon.  But my unprecedented impulse to blog came from facebook.  Mikey Shean, a twisted New York native who humps people in their sleep, showed up on my newsfeed.  It read “i am mikeyshean”, with a tumblr link (mikeyshean.tumblr.com) under it, and the key words from the text preview were “Green Tea Hennessy” and “chinese bars”.  I studied in Shanghai a few years back, and although the little chinese I had learned has long abandoned me, the ungodly amounts of Green Tea Whiskeys and Hennessys I consumed have permanently stained my brain.  Naturally, I figured reading Mikey’s underground chinese bar bender would be the responsible thing to do.  

Well organized.  Well written.  Simple.  Funny.  Hauntingly accurate. 

It was the first post I had ever read.  My “blog high” was wading in dangerous waters.  Before I even knew it, I was on tumblr.com, and the big “The easiest way to blog” never seemed more welcoming.  Email, password, URL, “sign up and start posting!”….click.  Ironically, it wasn’t my first time blogging.  

During my junior year of high school, while preparing for interviews with various colleges and coaches, my advisor asked me what some of my weaknesses were.  I didn’t want to give an entirely raw answer, but I was honest.  I told her that sometimes during discussions and debates, I had difficulty translating all the thoughts out verbally.  She nodded, then asked me what I’ve done to address this weakness.  It took me a minute to realize that I hadn’t done shit to “address [the] weakness”, so I started to make stuff up….

“I’m joining the debate club and signed up for improv class next semester” (I ended up doing both).  I should have stopped there, but “I’m even thinking of writing down the things I don’t say” slipped out.  Of course that phrase meant diary for her, and she jumped all over the idea.  I told her I’d try it out, but the thought of a 17 year old guy writing down his thoughts and feelings in a dim lit room on a Thursday night had “Brokeback Mountain” written all over it.  I didn’t want to do it, so instead I went on blogger, and blogged.  Yea, it was still pretty gay.  This first blogging experience lasted about a week.

Now a good hour into my second blogging experience, I’m crashing from my “blog high” and am remembering why I don’t blog:

1.  The text is impossibly small for my legally blind eyes. HOW DO I MAKE THEM BIGGER?!?! HOW??

2.  I can’t format for shit.  Adding pictures or videos are completely out of the question

3.  I’m tired of this; It’s boring

4.  It’s significantly darker outside right meow

I finished this for no other reason then it will undoubtedly be my last post.  So much for Humble Beginnings….I feel like a Tumblr Basher.