im still learning , and that is okay.

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A Thousand Day Stare

He recently asked me, “When you go through one of your depressions, when you crash what is it like?”

“Catatonic,” i told him “I would sit and stare at something and think, about thinks so much and so fast- until i can remember to ask my self the question.”

“What is the question?”  he asked.

“Can i make it tomorrow? Can i wake up tomorrow and get through the day?”

“What do you answer?”



“I think, yea. I might make it.”

“On a maybe you find the will to move on?”

“No. I don’t find the will to move on, i find out if i still have the ability to be optimistic.Without hope, why go on?”

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Books, Socks, and Mom Crying

I wrote this several months back for an editorial piece that was never published. Oddly enough it was also the first time I had written about my mother who had passed away five years ago.The theme was about home, and I really liked what I ended up writing about and thought that it’d be a shame if it just collected dust on my desktop. So here is:

Books, Socks and Mom Crying

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a tuesday poem

wow. I have been lately, having constant waves of anxiety and though i have been getting better at working and working towards a greater goal, there is always this sinking feeling that nothing i will ever do will ever amount to any good and there is a need to write poetry and a need to have this restless being inside of me to howl towards whatever-

but that line, wow, “the primal scream that is poetic utterance, that poetry- however you define it- can face the extreme.”

Stephanie Barbé Hammer @ Magically Real

Friends, last night I spoke with a cancer survivor about the primal scream that is poetic utterance, that poetry — however you define it — can face the extreme.

here’s a modest contribution.

unfinished poem

today I started a poem about 3 boys
who were murdered in a far away desert
but I couldn’t finish the poem because
as I was correcting the words, honing the language,
to make this perfect homage to these victims
some people murdered another boy
because of the 3 dead boys in the desert.
the 4th boy was just walking, but they killed
him because they thought revenge
was magic.
and as I was changing the poem
to reflect these new drastic developments
I read about boy #5 who died all alone — he just
died in a desert far away trying to come
here to THIS desert called America. clutching a rosary.
wearing jeans…

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i havent written anything on my blog in a long time.

a lot has happened.

bad things, good things but both things giving me this sense of feeling that i am exactly where i should be in my life.

everything might not be so great but i am exactly where i need to be and i am oddly ok with that.

i have been doing a lot of things. not just talking about doing it, but actually doing it
and that feels good.



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five FUN facts that you might not have known about me (for Leslie)

my new friend, Leslie recently read my other five facts you might not have known about me, thinking it was going to be “fun and cute” facts… what she got was a soul baring confession : / she wasn’t prepared, though the fact i am Korean should have been plenty of a red flag warning. So I scavenged my brain and so i got these facts. so without further ado:

Five FUN facts you might not have known about me

(for Leslie)

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