Category Archives: Personal Reflection

03/7/12

Tuum Est.

In Latin, it can be roughly translated into “It is yours.” The University of British Columbia wears this motto with pride, displaying it publicly on signs and crests wherever possible. For a long time, I haven’t really liked this translation.

“It is yours” makes it seem like everything in the world is mine for the taking – as if I’m entitled to the best of opportunities out there. It takes out the element of hard work required in making those doors open for myself. It’s saying I don’t have to lift a finger to get ahead in life. “It is yours” takes my education and all my good fortune in life for granted.

The truth is: it isn’t “mine” – at least not from the get-go. That’s why I like opting for an alternative translation that seems to better encompass my UBC experience and the way in which I try to live: “It is up to you.” No opportunity is a ring presented to me on a velvet pillow – it is a door to be wrenched open, to prop open with the tip of my toe, as I make my way through life.  Studying at UBC – studying abroad – merely being present in these environments won’t accomplish anything. Such settings provide me new avenues to explore and critical examine and re-evaluate constantly what I want to do with my life.

So tuum est! The world is large and full of as many wonders as horrors. It’s up to me to find a way to experience as many of the former, while critical working towards dealing with the latter. No one is going to make that happen for me.

03/5/12

Lost in the clouds.

I remember back when I used to chatter on and on about my passions and dreams to any passing person as I stared up at the night sky full of stars. The words always came so easily as they rolled off my tongue, brimming with confidence and longing. It’s as if saying them out loud would bring me one step closer in reaching for those stars.

I think somewhere along the line I’ve forgotten that part of myself. Or perhaps, now that I have taken off the ground, I am now lost in the midst of misty clouds, unable to see the stars as clearly as I once did. I don’t chatter on and on about my passions any more. I’m not as confident in my words as I once was. It’s as if I left a part of me on the ground that day as I took off into the sky. What happened to that girl?

If I know myself at all, I’m sure she’s still there chattering away where no one can see or hear her, staring up at the endless expanse we call sky.

02/12/12

I wish I was an iPod so I could plug into a computer to recharge my energy battery.

Instead I spend the entire day basically resting up from the long night I had earlier. After a week’s worth of constant socializing, fun, and a night full of sushi, drinks, and good company to top off my week – I started to feel the effects of over-socializing. I’m not naturally a socializer – it takes a lot of effort on my part to talk to people. That doesn’t mean that I don’t enjoy being around people – it just means I need my own time to unwind and be off on my own to rest up, reflect, and enjoy my own silent company once in awhile. It’s taken me a lot of hard work to become a better socializer and now it’s much easier for me to do so and recharge afterwards. It’s a fine balance.

A lot of people don’t believe me when I tell them that I used to be very, very shy. I guess it makes me really appreciate the long-term friends I have at home who have seen me grow into the person that I am today. But coming to Norway and meeting new people every day has shown me just how much I have grown. Even I can’t believe that the girl who just three years ago was very much a guarded person could have done a complete 180 into becoming a social butterfly. And it’s not that I’ve changed my personality in a short couple years but the fact that I’ve opened myself up to others – to have accepted and be willing to show others who I am – that has brought me here. This me right now – this me is who I really am. Not that shy girl from all those years ago.

It’s amazing just how much you can soar when you learn to love yourself.

01/20/12

The Roller-Coaster Effect

I’m freaking out because I don’t feel at all prepared for this exchange. But the point is that I can never be prepared for something like this. I don’t know what it’s going to be like in Norway, or anywhere else I might find myself. I can’t plan out every detail to the T – all I can do is prepare for the worst. But I still feel like I don’t know anything – like a small child being thrust into the deep end of the pool when she doesn’t know how to float yet. When I went shopping today with my mom, I felt even smaller when she would mention important things that I had gone over but had forgotten, or even things that I didn’t even think about. In her spare time, she had read travel blogs and located places where I could cash in traveller’s cheques, etc. and here I was, still unable to quite remember what classes I had listed to take. When I told her how I would pack something, she would point out something I didn’t consider and give a better alternative and all I could do was sheepishly pout. I’m such a child around my mother.

But that’s the whole point of this trip, isn’t it? To leave my comfort zone. To stop being coddled and take care of myself. To take the leap into the deep end of the pool willingly and not drown. That means not knowing what I’m really getting myself into. That means being brave even though I’m exci-terrified. I’m finally taking flight with my own two wings.

I am sitting alone in the first car of a roller-coaster, the heavy clinking of the track chain pulling me up towards the top of the hill. I’m nearly at the top now, and every day that passes is another clink uphill. In four days, I will be at the top of the tracks, about to take the first plunge.

What will await me?

I hold my breath. I don’t know. The truth is, I won’t until gravity pulls me downward. I won’t know until I finish the roller-coaster ride and get off. What I am confident in is the fact that I chose to ride this particular ride and that with every roller-coaster I’ve ridden in my life, I’ve always said at the end:

“Let’s do that again!”

01/15/12

Strength and Love

Without either, I would not be the person I am today. Strength and love are what I have after almost three years of learning to love and rediscover myself every day.

Strength lifted my head high towards the clouds when I felt so alone on the ground. I grow stronger every day. With every obstacle I face, I trip and stand taller than ever – ready for more. And in those moments when I feel as if I’ve lost all my strength – when I have fallen – I have love. I receive such wonderful love and support from my family and friends; I can count on them to give me a helping hand to reach for when I have tripped and can’t get up on my own. They give me my strength. Love is what gets me through each morning as I stand before my bathroom mirror. The lifelong romance I have with myself my most valuable relationship in my life. It is with this self-love in which I build my self-confidence, bravery, and determination in the pursuit of my many passions. It is self-love that returns me back to my roots – my identity – and what I stand for when I feel lost. And through self-love I am constantly rediscovering and reinventing myself. It is through learning how to love myself that I grew to understand and embrace being alone. Self-love taught me strength and it opened me up to embrace the love of those around me so I didn’t have to always be on my own. Truthfully, I am never alone anymore.

This morning, upon waking, I looked out the window up at the winter sky overhead. An endless blue. So full of wonder and at night, so full of stars. The stars dazzle me with the inspirational people I have met and the precious experiences I have thus gathered. These are the things that shown me the beauty of the sky. But it is the expanse of clear day blue – so limitless and serene – that excites me most. I ask myself what is up there waiting for me. I’m almost ready to sprint as I spread my wings for the first time and take off into that beautiful sky, ready for anything to be thrown in my way. After all, with strength and love, I am unstoppable.

01/2/12

Hello and Goodbye

It’s the start of a new year, which calls for a moment of reflection of who I am and how far I’ve come – especially with the advent of my departure to Norway drawing closer every day. The fact that I’ve been planning this adventure for over a year and that I’m about to embark on it all on my own in just a couple of weeks is surreal. Classes in Norway. Backpacking through Europe. Field Research in Tanzania. I’m about to leave everything I know behind to explore what is unknown all on my own. The idea is exciting and terrifying at the same time. But if I think about it, anything worthwhile I have ever done or accomplished in my life has felt the same way: exciting and terrifying. This year-long exchange is no different.

When you know that you’re going to be leaving home, you start to appreciate everything that you have so much more. For me, it was a number of things: my favourite pair of shoes, being woken up to my parents chatting downstairs during breakfast, the jingling of my dog’s collar – even my brother’s tendency to tell me interesting facts and tidbits at inconvenient times. Even the routine of transiting to UBC or heading off the work and taking in the soothing smell of pool chlorine seemed all the more precious to me. I started to count ‘lasts’ in the latter months of 2011: last Imagine Day, last day of teaching swimming lessons, last Halloween, last day of classes, last time I’ll see my friends until next year. All of these little things in my ordinary life seemed extraordinary and I realized just how much everyone I’ve met and everything I’ve experienced have shaped me to be the person I am today. And as this person, I will grow to change even more with this new adventure.

I have never left home on my own for so long in my life. Two weeks were the longest I’ve been away just from my family. I feel like nothing more than a coddled child if I had to be perfectly honest. This exchange, if anything, will force me to grow up very quickly. I have had days where I would curl myself up under my bed covers because I was afraid of taking such a big leap out of the comforts of bubble called home. Often I feel like I know nothing and would have nothing to offer when I would have the opportunity to meet and work with people abroad. But then I stop myself to think about what I do know and what I have experienced. I think about the place that has shaped me and the wonderful people that I have met. And then I realize that I have nothing to be afraid of. Every person has different experiences that have shaped their identities and I have mine. No, I have not travelled extensively. But I’m about to. All I can do is offer the best of myself and that’s nothing to feel inadequate about – I should in fact be proud of it.

This coming year will not always be easy – even more so because I will be mostly on my own. And yes, I will feel small and ignorant at times. But I am willing to trip and fall over and over again in order to listen, observe, and learn. If I lose confidence in myself, I will remember that I chose to step outside my bubble and to take part in this exchange. By the end of this journey, I will have left behind new friends and new places I would have once called home. I will be a different person when I come back home to everything and everyone I know and love. So even though I might be scared of such a drastic change, I welcome it with open arms. I will be brave and step outside my bubble. I will get on that plane on my own. I will remember that I am following my dreams and living my passion. And then I will smile with my head held high.

11/26/11

Do I own all this stuff? Or does it own me?

Now that I’m officially in Travel-Packing-Logistics Mode, it’s difficult to look at everything I own. I used to say that I LOVED the idea of just having my passport and a suitcase full of the barest of necessities to set off on an adventure around the world. Pure romanticism, I know. My real feelings are sadly, another story.

Maybe it’s easy for some people, but for me, it’s difficult trying to limit myself to a few handful of tops and bottoms that will last me almost a year abroad. The first half of my exchange is fine: I’ll be stationary in a dorm room up in Norway from January to June. But once July hits, I’ll be essentially living out of a backpack for 4 months. I consider myself to be a pretty light packer when it comes to shorter trips, but I haven’t the faintest idea how to pack for both hot and cold climates, pack light and pack within flight luggage restricts for such a long period of time. It reminds me just how much I’m leaving behind. Which, for the most part, I take to be a good thing.

The decision to leave behind everything I know in my life – everyone I know, my job, my school, my beloved Vancouver – to take my first step in becoming a globetrotter hasn’t been an easy one. I still have mornings when I wake up terrified by the whole ordeal. What this packing challenge presents to me is this decision in the context of my relationship to my possessions. Material goods. Stuff. It’s testing me to figure out for myself just what is most important to me and what doesn’t.

To put it bluntly: what can I live without truly?

In terms of possessions, clothes pose the biggest dilemma for me, actually. I never used to care much for clothes, but in recent years, I’ve become comfortable with dressing myself with confidence – as yet another outlet for my self-identity. This is all fine and dandy, and I am so glad I managed to get over my earlier fear of clothes and self-esteem. But here is an opportunity to test the waters of who I am, stripped (figuratively, of course) of this outlet.

As for other things I could probably do without, but in the context of what I will be doing abroad that I will be bringing with me:

1. Laptop: for school classes in Norway/Tanzania as well as for independent research in the field. If it weren’t for the academic factor, I probably wouldn’t lean towards bringing the hassle that comes with it.

Although the fact that I can stay connected via Skype, Facebook, and blog on my WordPress and Tumblr still is an added plus.

Current plans for an Ultrabook… expensive, but light, powerful, and durable. After much debate with my mom, I’ve decided to go with the security risk.

2. Kindle E-Book Reader: I love reading, but bringing 50 books with me travelling is just not feasible. With the Kindle, I have access to thousands of books in the palm of my hand.

3. Ipod Touch: I need my music! Long hours of transit time will most likely bore me to death.

4. Cell Phone: just a cheap one – nothing fancy. It’s mostly for security measures more than anything else.

What can I say? I like to stay connected, even if I’m on the move. If I’ve learned anything about myself, it’s that these connections are very important to me and it just so happens that technology serves as a convenient means for me to do that. I’ve researched the most light-weight and space-saving ways of doing so because of this. As for toiletries: toothbrush, soap, small brush… maybe a little thing of hand lotion because I get dry skin. For my 4 months out of a backpack at least, I’ll be giving up on cosmetics and hair care (wouldn’t miss ‘em too much anyway).

This packing process is definitely teaching me more about myself. I can’t wait to see how I change once I actually depart.

(I do see the irony in buying packing/travelling gear in this resolve though.)

11/6/11

Home, yet homesick.

Nowadays, I wake up in one of two ways: I wake up wanting to hop on a plane to Norway that very morning or wake up being utterly terrified of leaving. Today, I was more of the latter.
I had my eyes closed, even though I had been awake for awhile, just listening to the sounds of the house: my mom washing dishes downstairs, my dad and brother chatting in the kitchen, the bell-like jingling of my dog’s collar as she explored the house – I realized in that very instant that in a little over two months, I wouldn’t wake to these familiar sounds. Suddenly, images of myself alone on the plane landing into Oslo crept into my head. At that moment, the mere thought of stepping away from everything I’ve ever known into cold, wide abyss called the unknown terrified me. I was reminded just how precious every day at home was to me; the thought never leaves my mind with my flight date drawing nearer.
When my mom fusses or nags over me, I let her without grumbling. And when I do get annoyed, I say it out loud and we end up laughing over it. I savour every bite of homecooked food, feeling my mother’s love inch down my throat to my stomach.
When my brother barges into the room like Kramer from Seinfeld, I let him babble. I retort back with amused comments and keeps going on and on about what he loves most: talking about things he’s read or heard about online (mostly to do along the lines of video games, movies, and technology).
When my dad asks the rare question or comment to me, I answer and make small talk. We never talk about anything and he’s never been a man of showing his affections in words. But on the days he picks me up from the skytrain station or when he asks me if I’m back after I’ve come back from work for a good hour, I dig deeply into what made him say these things to me. Small talk, routine greetings, and a willingness to fix anything that breaks on me – it’s through these actions that I feel that my dad cares about me. That and what I hear from my mother.
When I hear my bedroom door quietly open and hear the pitter patter of muffled little footsteps on the carpet, I shuffle over in my bed and let my dog snuggle up next to me. I give my dog a big smile when she comes running to the door to greet me when I come home, and balance her on my lap when I’m sitting in front of the computer.
There will be other little things I miss at home: from just sitting silently in the living room on my own with a cup of tea to walking around my neighbourhood to take in the fresh air. So here I am – at home but yet already homesick – before I’ve even said my good-byes.
One year is a long time.
10/19/11

Always Ask.

It never hurts to. Unless the worst thing you fear is rejection. For someone like me, asking was always a last resort. Asking for help was a sign of weakness. So I bottled emotions up. I kept to myself and didn’t let it show when I was frustrated or upset. I didn’t really let anyone help me. I broke down pretty easily.

Now, I ask. I ask even if it makes me feel stupid or silly for asking. It’s still difficult sometimes, but it’s getting easier.

I’ve found just ASKING makes my life much easier. Things I initially thought I couldn’t get around I’ve found ways to, just by asking. I’ve learned to rely on people. I’ve learned to recognize when I do need help.

I call for help when I’m feeling a breakdown coming along. I vent. I cry. The people who listen pat me on the back and set me straight. I feel lighter after asking for help. The burden lessened. It’s not weak to ask for help – it’s weak not to.

My life has gotten much more complex as the years have gone by, but I’ve overcome the challenges by asking for help when I need it. I’m much happier now.

It never hurts to ask. You’ll be surprised at how many doors open up for you when you do.

10/18/11

Past the road of broken dreams.

As I’m anxiously trying to catch up with my school work, my mom calls me downstairs. She has on her lap a stack of papers – a time capsule of important documents my dad has collected over his lifetime.

My mom hands me my child immunization record – double-sided in English and Korean – something I asked her in preparation for my trip to Tanzania. Measles, Mumps, Hepatitis B, and a entire slew of shots I had as a child came rushing back into my memory. She told me to thank my dad for storing such important documents safely in his office.

College transcripts. Immigration papers. My dad had saved absolutely everything. She showed me the English-Korean manual my dad had created during his time in the army – a tool that many soldiers found very useful during their time there. She laughed and smiled as my dad passed to her all of the national, school, and newspaper awards for excellence in art and poetry as a child. There were a good ten of them. All very large and prestigious. They dated back to the time when he was in preschool and primary school.

I smiled with my mom as I looked through all of these wonderful awards. My dad said that his grandmother had had him submit his art and poetry everywhere as a child but as soon as he had entered grade school, his father – my grandfather – never let him practice his talent. So I as I looked at the papers from my father’s past, I couldn’t help but feel sad. He had never been allowed to pursue his dreams by his father in his youth. Along with that, a variety of other reasons led to my father hating my grandfather.

I always knew my father was smart. He was talented, artistic, witty, and very well versed in the arts. He still is, actually. But he’s now a real estate agent and he’s not ashamed to say he became one for the money. When I look at my dad, and the stack of papers in my mother’s lap, I see a road of broken dreams. I see pain. I see sadness. And I see his perseverance through it all.

I’ve never been on good terms with my father. Although, I don’t believe I was ever as talented as my dad was in his youth, I did inherit his love of writing and the arts. Music and writing are my muses, and as a child, I was allowed to pursue them. I was never encouraged by my father. He never really made my recitals or concerts. He’s never read anything I read. He wasn’t very involved when I was growing up. But he was adamantly against either my brother and I pursuing a degree or career in the arts. Ever since I was a child, I was told nothing but horror stories about the dead ends in the arts. We had fights. I honestly believe that the fighting would have been a lot worse if I had been dead set on arts (which I’m not, fortunately for him).

I could easily hate my father, for not letting me take my life fully in my own hands, much like his father did for him. But I know his past. I know his talents. I know, as I stare at those awards, that my dad grew up to be a broken man. And since I understand that, I can’t hate him. He has his reasons. But that’s all the more reason why I don’t listen to him.

I have hopes. I have dreams and passions that I’m in pursuit of every day. It is my privilege – something I am so very grateful for. So even if my dreams right now aren’t what my dad had in mind, I am pursuing them. Because when I see my dad, I want to prove him wrong. I want him to see that I can make my dreams come true – that I can be successful and happy without sacrificing my passions. I want him to understand my passion and be proud of what I’m doing with my life.

I want him to know that even though he couldn’t pursue his dreams, his daughter is.