I’m in the kitchen chopping up vegetables for my tofu jjigae when I glance over at the sliding glass doors to the backyard.
It is snowing hard, and windy as hell.
Five minutes later, it’s sunny.
It’s still sunny, like nothing happened.
Like life.
I’ve never experienced such drastic weather changes growing up. We get more and more of that every day now. Nobody thinks twice about it, other than to say, “climate change,” like sheep.
Is it though?
Who cares, right? Look at Kristin Cavallari’s ass. A little disappointing she goes there, thought she’d be different…better…but what’s a pretty girl to do after marriage, family, divorce, and social media humiliation, and barely a hint of crow’s feet pushing her 40s?
I’d be spread-eagled in the frozen foods aisle 24/7, giving ‘em all I’ve got.
Alas…I’m making jjigae, a childhood favorite. I still can’t get the portions right. This time, I mixed a bit of sliced onion in with the gochugaru and sesame oil with my hand, and seasoned each layer of ingredients with fish sauce, soy sauce, and Kosher salt. I even tried adding half of the rice water (used when cleaning rice to cook) with the dashi broth packet.
Better, but…next time, I think I need to add raw ground pork for more of a beefy umami.
I’m alright. Don’t mind me. I’m just processing…
Life’s a K-Drama
I finished “Hospital Playlist,” season two, and “Life” k-dramas. Both entirely different shows, despite a similar setting.
The former’s more upbeat, celebrating the hard work and devotion of doctors and nurses, like a cartoon musical. The other’s darker, with unlikeable characters that are hard to get to know, with multiple agendas all their own and multiple plots having little to do with saving patients.
If you’re looking for “ER,” or even “Grey’s Anatomy,” go fuck yourself.
Neither shows really got to the point in any linear fashion, or ended with any closure. But that’s the Korean way. Historically, because of the Chinese, Japanese, and American occupation, Koreans have had to convey intention, expression, motive subtly, indirectly.
It’s also how I prefer to write, when I blog.
Because of Cho Seung-woo’s (Mr. Gu, President of Sangkook University Hospital) multi-faceted acting (and the devotion of his secretary Ms. Kang, played by one of my favorite actresses Yeom Hye-ran), and innate warmth mixed with keen intelligence, I am now watching “Divorce Attorney Shin,” which promises to be a real tear-jerker.
Even better, Shin used to be a famous pianist living in Germany.
Hmmm. Germany…where have I heard that before? Oh yeah, my dream.
What a coincidence. Not.
As I hinted at in past confessionals (“telling”), I watch k-dramas to excess to re-immerse myself in my culture — mine as a birthright before my (adoptive) dad stole it and tried to imprint American on an innocent three year old Korean girl — and to enjoy pure entertainment that doesn’t discriminate based on looks and youth.
As a side benefit, I have something of my very own I can cling to, something real and raw and humble and beautiful all its own … when America, with its slick, Hollister cool-kids algorithm, tries to horn in and make me feel like shit.
K-dramas are my fortress from the Kristin Cavallari world, where I can pretend I’m not a freak and escape to my real home.
I can’t always find the right words to explain where my head’s at. I am a child of two very different languages, English and Korean, as well as their very divergent characteristics.
I am constantly struggling, stuck between saying what I mean and inferring without getting in trouble.
So, oftentimes, what I write ends up not making a whole lot of sense, reverting to a clumsy translation that always reads like bad Hallmark poetry. (See the subtitles of “Hospital Playlist” live stream concerts.)
Sorry/NotSorry
I’ll try to censor/edit myself less and just be who I am in the moment, whether I make sense or not.