exploring, personal, Uncategorized

why words matter

The older I get the more I realize how soft my mother is to words. The last time I met up with her in Korea, she was so furious with my dad, over something he said in passing, that she ignored him for months and was on the verge of getting a divorce, when I told her to confront him and deal with it once and for all. They talked about it, best part is he didn’t even know she was mad. He apologized and she was all good after that. I’ve come to realize that my mom is not that steel hard wonderwoman I always pictured her to be. I remind myself to be kind and send some words of affirmation to her now and then, especially since we now live apart. I’ve done it countless times for strangers in club bathrooms. Reminder to be kind to those who matter the most.

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Uncategorized

School in Zimbabwe + AISA GISS 2013

I realized recently that I’ve been acting as someone I personally detest- a silent online lurker. A presence that is there, but is too cool to be out there (a person like me, who has the tendency to bombard media with personal crisis with artistic emphasis). Since I’ve been waiting for my mother to pick me up from school for the past thirty minutes, I might as well utilize this time for some artistic ramblings. 

Just two days ago, I returned from Kenya which was the fifth host of the AISA Global Issues Service Summit, a conference celebrating various service projects and innovative ideas in Africa; something I’ve been regularly attending since eighth grade. This year, it was at oh-so-sexy Kenya, where the are a lot of sexy boys. They’re like what impala is to Zimbabwe- beautiful, plentiful, and a damned natural resource.

Anyhow, besides the enjoyable scenery, there was alot to be learnt and experienced there as well. We got to attend a keynote presentation by Spencer West- a truly motivational speaker who had lost his legs at the age of two- yet continued to climb the highest mountain in Africa for sponsorship. His motivational speeches were driven by his enthusiasm and humbleness which really spoke out to me. He was so real, and really touched me, causing me to erupt in goosebumps every five minutes. So great. I don’t know if you can watch him on youtube or something, but definitely a recommendation.

Another key feature of this was dancing with some of the local tribesman there- the Masai Mara. The key point of this dance is jumping up and down rhythmically and bobbing your head repeatedly. This was rather awkward for two reasons – this was done in the middle of the stage, so in a moment of outrageous courage I jumped up and joined them for the world to see, and secondly, the tribesmen grabbed my hands and refused to let go whilst they continued to sing their local chants for a good 20 minutes.

Lovely.

I also enjoyed the social aspect as well- I met a lot of new friends that soon grew to be quite the personal favorite. I met a lovely girl called Heerim in my sustainability group, and we really grew close together as we danced the night away at the school dance. Which I personally thought to be a great breakthrough because my other friends finally got to see the other side of me- the side that likes to move to music. Also, I was able to make some advances onto this really cute beau by dancing with him. He was shy (a really attractive feature to me.) 

What a great night. Also, a Korean family friend who I had previously thought to be a total douche actually ended up being one of the friendly faces on the campus. His family invited me to dinner for the night, and being stuck in the house together actually caused us to bond together, establishing decent conversation and allowing us to mutually accept each other, something which had previously seemed impossible.

It was nice though, although it was a bit iffish when the following days, I was referred to as ‘Ilgon’s friend.’

It was nicely to get to know the people and break former prejudices. It was also slightly awkward going with a friend that seems to like me, but then it was okay and quite enjoyable when we got past the awkward silence.

 

My mom still isn’t here. Well, thanks mom, anyway. You’re the root of my poetic outcry.

 

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