truncated (to) day

tis been an interesting day, filled with random thoughts.

1. shakepeare is totally boring when you study it in highschool.
i mean, average 13-years olds havent had their life shattered yet properly (ex. real irreversible loss, irrecoverable mistake/fault, etc), and without that, how are you understand 'pain?' 
no wonder people (including me) all the sudden re-find shakepeare (and other writers/artists/musicians/dancers) well-after high school.

as march is full of snow flecks here, and im really thinking about packing my bag for the southern journey, all i can think of is: now is the winter of our discontent- (richard iii, act 1, scene 1)

2. i really dislike use of capital letters. especially the pronoun 'I.' what is the smallest letter in the entire alphabet series, with emphasis on the self, it elongates itself, thin and wispy, trying to become more visible than its friends: PICK ME ME ME ME, IT'S ABOUT MEEEEEEE

i really prefer seeing the smallest letter, 'i,' as that's really how big i am in this world. especially when i have good people around me.

3. after all that music education, when i am content, i hum mozart horn concertos. they sit at the right range, they are melodic and fun (like... never menacing, crazy or impossible to sing), and they are... quietly joyful. my horn kiddies agree they are nice to hum. i also hum much double bass music as well, for the same reason. they move at 'vocal' speed, unlike flute/violin/nevermind-the-piano.
for you guys who are missing out, here's a favourite:

4. i had a really nice end-of-the-day rehearsal. it makes it all worthwhile.
lucky kiddie i am, in this wide-world. 


(lack of) hair cut compliments

in last two weeks, i got real compliments on my haircut.
the truth is, however, that it actually havent had any cuts since... like... december.

i like my hair quite short, or rather, i like not seeing any hair on the floor (mine/others').  the weird yet expected hair bunnies in public places (in the hallways, staircases, subway corridors, etc.) kind of freak me out. as it must be composed of so many people's hair- hair that grew on/from the body, and now discarded, most of them unknowingly, and somehow, lone hairs finds one another, and form this mass of body that is big enough to... 'tumble weed' (yeah, like a verb...)


after that late-in-the-year cut in december, i usually leave my hair to grow. and it goes through phases. it mustve went through weeks where it looks untidy, no matter what you do with it.  the sides are too short, the front isnt long enough to stay out of the way, so things are stuck down with hair product to keep eyes intact, etc. 

but whatever you do during this period, it looks chia-pet-sh.

then comes the point where one's hair is long enough to obey gravity. the daily 'taming' with side parting and gelling finally convinced hair to stay out of face. it looks not-un-organized.

henceforth, the compliments.

aha. it must be near spring. 

usually, i will get a very short cut in the peak of the spring, as part of getting ready for the summer- that fun times.  and by then, the hair is so long that it may even be tied as a pigtail.  haha.

but for now, i say 'thanks' to the hair compliments. when they ask when i got my hair done, i mumble something about 'washing it' or 'not wearing a hat.' it's a funny thing, hair, i grow it, but i dont have choice in 'growing it,' it doesnt have any nerves, and it discard itself when it seems appropriate. and then it pops out at the weirdest places (prob with dust bunnies) and creep me out.  and everyone, EVERYONE grows hair. even people with alopecia universalle sprouts hair apparently- though unexpectedly, and that no one knows whether those new hairs will stay or not...

im off to a trip in a few days and i really want a hair cut.   i wonder if i would. after all, it's working at the moment so...


count. count. count.

i constantly measure+count things.
especially units-in-between stuff.

for example: there are 24 days left till end of the school year, and that is 16 work/weekdays.
that's 1 holiday (good friday), 2 sundays and 3 saturdays.
the end is near, whoo.

i constantly convert musical notes into numbers, to remind myself what the real differences are: 
for instance, if i go from triplet to quads, 
that's going from 1/3 to 1/4, 
meaning 0.34-0.25 = 0.09, 
which will almost round up to 10%. and when you are 10 dollars short of 100 bucks, in north america, you cant exactly bargain for impromptu 10% off.

when my music's in mostly 8th notes, i probably obsessively re-cut in 16th and quarters. i do like re-arranging all my basic units within one-degree difference (so for quarters, practice in half notes and sixteenths; for 16th notes, cut it in 8th and 32nds, etc).

i try to run 5k a day, 5 times a week.  
5 k is approx. 3.1miles, so for me to properly fit it into a half-hour session, i need to put out average of 6.2 miles/hr.  so sometimes i start at 6 miles/hr, and sometimes i start at 7 miles/hr, then play with the numbers on the three windows of the treadmill till i meet that 5k self-imposed distance.  5k usually works out to about 350-400 cal per workout, with bit of 'incline' play.

with money, i try to stick to spending cash in the 'little' wallet, and when i run out, i am out for the day usually.  and so there comes constant calculation for the total cost of the item-

-if an item has pre-tax price of 8.80, then we are good to drop a tenner,
8.8 *1.13 = 9.94
-if a lunch item (a sit-in), it has to be under 7.70, for me to tip a standard 15%.
1.13 (item with tax) +.15 (pre-tax tip 15%) =1.28, 
round to = 1.30.
-and this year, if i have a 5 dollars notes, i try to not use it till i have 20 of them, means... 100 free dollars (yeah yeah. i know it wasnt free but... lol).

 i count bars in my phrase (so that i can plan out page turns, breath, or just to be organized and be in sync), i count the times i have read books (there are annual re-read of certain book), and when i travel i log all the numbers - the departure hours, arrivals, travel time, estimation of cost, actual cost, etc.,

i check my pulse at times, just to see where my body is. when resting, it's usually between 54-56. when im 'hiking it up a bit' at the gym, i like to push right up to 160, and check how fast it falls back to 54-56.

i count changes, bills and coins i use.

i count my steps, i try to convert things into numbers.

i weigh myself whenever im at the gym, and when no one's watching, sometimes i bring the 'handweights' to the scale, just to see if they are accurate (usually accurate enough).

i read my credit card contracts (TD visa debit just up their foreign transaction fee*using TD debit on ATMS outside of canada, or buying thing susing TD debit card when outside of canada, by 1% up, from 2.5% after conversion of foreign currency at visa international rate, to 3.5%. which is... making me miss my no-foreign-transaction-fee amazon DEAD chase visa card already).

ive lived 14,161 days and no two days been the same.
of those days, ive been without my younger brother for 2876 days. 
we used to be 2 years, 2 months and 22 days apart. that's 814 days. 
we've grown apart by 350% (2876 / 814).

i have yet counted number of countries i have been, but im sure i will.

i count because it makes me see the distances between the things. and the distances i need to go. and the distances i can look back.

im constantly travelling in time and flux, and i count, 
just know where i am.


march is still cold

it's march and it's still cold.
it's always like that- frustrating.
hard to believe february passed us by already, though while it was here, it seemed to linger forever.

it's the light, it's the warmth,
that lets us stretch out our limbs and shake that stiff back out,
and sometimes, when the morning is bright and air is cold,
my little room becomes a hothouse, for the morning, the sun heating up the little room toasty.

i have book a random trip for next thursday departure. 
when i was booking it, i thought may be i am possessed- a trip away, in middle of the school year?

perhaps i am possessed,
a quest for the reminder, that life isnt always so cold and grim.
that there is an option, to get away, or even to get away in one's mind.

it's hilarious to see people shiver while walking down the street, simply because i assume theyve done the same that i have done- as soon as the day 'high' reaches 0-5'c, somehow, we overestimate its warmth and ditch our big coats.

the bare ankles with short socks and sneakers are dried-up white and there are deep circles under everyone's eyes.

aah winter, will you go?
i know you will go,
i will miss you when you are gone,
but hey, i am allowed to gently complain,
as your coldness makes us hardier.

and now, night gets shorter by an hour.
or is morning that comes an hour earlier?
perhaps it's everyone desperately trying to sleep earlier, as tomorrow morning will surely be rough for so many of us.

oh winter. you meanie.
daylight saving's our fault, though.


time that loses its walls

i dont know how it's already 09 march. in 26 min, it would become 10th! that means 33% of march is already done for...

on last hallmark holiday mark, on 14 feb, i was watching ian bostridge and julius drake weave magic with songs. i cant believe soon, that would be a month ago.

and today, i went to hear four teachers at the faculty talk about 'life' to the young'uns.  and i tried to imagine (briefly) how i saw life when i was in their age- when i was in 1st year, i wasnt even in music program. and it's literally 20 years ago that i came to university (in september though!). where did those 20 years go?

there are many ways to measure the time, i suppose. counting, generally works- how many degrees? how many cities have i lived in? how many places have i visited? how donuts have i eaten since i joined the university culture? how many recitals?

but i guess we count, because we all know that impressions of important days are too personal to make it an objective markers.

but it's the personal stuff we remember.

falling in love. screwing up in performance. forgetting that last page of score. losing passport. breaking up from serious relationship.  quitting. starting. crying. being at loss.  entertained. entertaining.  there are no shortage of these small markers, full of lovely people and events, some sad, some hilarious.

i cant believe it's already been a few days since i saw yayoi kusama exhibition.

her infinity rooms felt quite small. probably because of its hotness (like, everyone's body heat trapped in there with all kinds of human scents + the lights being on the whole day)- the radiating heat made it impossible to see it as an infinity. also the 20 seconds limit was just not enough to get lid of the 'box' from the experience.

but as the time passes along, i am feeling the physical limitation of the room less and less, and the vision field of that infinite reflections are growing larger in my mind.  may be, for the people who did not had the luxury of time to really get 'lost' in it (how long would that take? i wonder- a few minutes? an hour? a day?), this is the way that 'infinity room' infiltrates.

tis now 10 min to midnight. how crazy.
good night, world, as i put another check-mark on daily writing! HAHA.


womens' day and mom's soup

today, i get to have evening off to...

and knowing that i have to dot around the house, i bought some vegs on way home to make dinner.
i bought some big, fat, short korean radish, and some sliced rice cakes.

i diced the radish in big chunks, threw them all into the pot that is at least 20 years old, tossed in a chunk of beef that's been patiently waiting in the fridge for a week, one single garlic (bruised), two bay leaves, some potatoes, lotsa celery and threw in some water and fish sauce. put it on medium-low heat. lid on.

i sweep the floor and meanwhile soaked a handful of rice cakes in cold water.

by the time i finish sweeping, the pot is humming with scent. i open it up, toss in the rice cakes on top, so it will steam. turn the heat down to low.

i fold some socks that's been rolling around the bottom of the drawer. do some email.

and when i return to the pot, the dinner was ready. some sea salt and grinded pepper and i serve myself a bowl.

the mildness of the braised radish fills my mouth.
warm. savory.

and briefly, i am back in my parents' house back in south korea. a little kid, in middle of busy dinner table, two boys and parents and a granny all sharing from the whole table, so close to one another, sitting on the floor with cushions under our butts.  we shared our side dishes, but everyone got their own bowl of rice and soup.

and this radish beef soup is one of my mom's best.

she always did the simple soups best.

even as a little kid, i could feel the drool in my mouth, the savory smell making me even hungrier, as i dig into the soup with kiddie spoon, and though it's a little bit too hot, i still put the whole spoon into my mouth and silently say loudly in my head: mmmm!! so good!!!

and across the town from her today, while she is wearing an extra sweater and coughing and sneezing a little bit, i sip this soup for dinner. more like a stew, a bit more white-washed than her soup from south korean days, perhaps.

i dont think she knew about bay leaves. i bet she does not know about them even now.

she once laughed at me, a little child, closing her eyes with soup spoon in her mouth, going: mmm.

'is it that good?'
'okay, take that spoon out though.'

international women's day continues with my mom's soup in my soup.
thanks to all the women who took care of us, fed us hot soups, taught us how to nourish ourselves, in case they cannot/will not/wont be able to take care of us, because

women do give.
through their bodies, and through their lives.


repetition. many. no walls.

one day back in december, i was forever fidgeting with my phone during a meeting. terrible, i know. online. offline. online. login. reboot. check. recheck. sigh. repeat.

after 14 hours of that, around 2am, i got what i wanted: two tickets to art gallery.

but seriously, when was the last time a big town went mad about an art exhibition? well, this one, wherever it goes, it sells out. funny enough, once you start to pay attention, there are many exhibitions that sells out- i literally have to fight in line to get self into steve mcqueen, and i have followed exhibitions on their 'tour course.'  this was one of them.

today, me and a good friend embarked on the madness that is yayoi kusama: inifinity mirrors. the arts were playful, weird, and people were also weird, playful; perhaps more so than the actual exhibition.

her life is full of 'flashes of light, auras, or dense field of dots,' and talking flowers and morphing prints.

being one of the hottest artists, there are many interesting interpretations, theories and interviews to explain WHY-

just a few thoughts:

1. the scale and sheer number of these repetitions are bit crazy. like millions swarming over your vision field. like apocalyptic locusts. because there are so many, they kinda 'move' around, in that 3-D picture way.

2. so many people told me that this is the stuff of their nightmares. like the stuff theyve seen in their dreams/nightmares as a kid, and made them go cry and knock on parents' door. that kinda glob-like, so many of them, just repeating themselves, without defining what they are-
so what makes us like them so much now? or are we collectively lying a bit.... (hmm)

3. imma gonna try to get back in there again. the dimension of the inifinity mirror rooms are physically noticeable (with body heats of people in it all day, and various scents, noise, etc), and while i was in there, it was hard to overcome that and 'believe' that fields are infinite. 20 sec is too short of a time to forget all that noise.

but now that ive left, the rooms in my head are growing without walls. this is trippy.
i wonder if i can try to 'get into it' right away when/IF i return-

4. the conception of mirror room is quite playful. and the gallery has sticker room for everyone to participate at the end of the exhibition. and the idea is that you go put stickers wherever you want to. but when i asked the lady if i could rather take a sticker or two home (i have no idea why i wanted to), she said:


well, that is no longer so playful?

man, did i get a shade and a half. HA HA HA.
that was a bit hilarious, perhaps. the policing of dots politics.

good luck getting tickets, toronto. it's bit mad.