Pretty Face

Hi guys, as usual you can find a poem at the end of the post.

I’ve been so swamped with work I’m not allowing myself to write. It’s not writer’s block, nor am I stuck because I’m out of practice; I’m just unable to produce anything because of the looming deadlines and the stress related to those. Probably also the stress unrelated to those deadlines. Life’s hectic.

As such, anything I upload will be old. I’m honestly not 100% sure about this poem, whether it’s any good or if it even makes sense at all, so if you have any thoughts, please leave a comment. I could use some feedback (on all of my work, always, but now in particular).

As for good news, I’ve recently figured out my level in Korean, which is intermediate. Whether this means B1 or B2 I don’t know (though I suspect B1) but I’m happy to have at least some clarity. It’s just enough to keep me motivated. There are days when I think learning Korean is the most difficult thing I’ve ever endeavoured and there are days that I think it’s actually not so bad. I’m still not sure which it is.

For any of you who are also confused about their level, this is how I did it: I went through the TTMIK grammar lessons and realised 1-4 were easy, 5-6 were doable, and 7-9 were challenging; I had a cursory look at all the grammar on keytokorean and realised I knew 90% of their lower intermediate but only about 10-20% of their intermediate and upper intermediate sections; I checked TTMIK’s iyagi for beginners series and realised it was very easy; I received the ebook version of Real Life Conversations in Korean for beginners for the Blonote review in an earlier post and found most of it quite easy; and finally I noticed my listening skills have improved quite a bit by listening to Korean music (kpop, hiphop, punk, etc) and watching dramas, films, and variety shows.

But what really helped was watching one of TTMIK’s advanced lessons (election, praises, working) while downloading it to check the sound because I realised I understood most of it. It felt so goooooooood. Maybe it’s weird that I get such a kick out of learning new things, whether they are languages or other skills, but I don’t see the harm in it and I’m eager to continue this journey of self-improvement.

Btw, I recently found those little packets of gim/kim/ I used to get all the time when I was in Korea but which were seemingly impossible to come across here in the Netherlands. I was so pleased with myself and have since been recreating all my cheap student dishes. Last night for dinner I made rice with danmuji (that yellow Korean pickled radish), gim, and eggs sunny side up (but properly cooked through because I don’t like them runny), with a piece of salmon and some green beans because I can indulge occasionally, and it was so good. I’ve added sushi nori to my rice before but it just wasn’t the same because it lacked the seasoning or something, I don’t know. It’s great for sushi/kimbab though.

Anyway, without further ado, enjoy the poem. (Btw while proofreading it, Pretty Girl by Sugarcult started playing in my head, which makes no sense because they’re not really similar, aside from the ‘pretty’):

Pretty face

Pretty face, such a pretty face

Take one look in the mirror

Tell me what you see

Are you happy?

Are you free?

Those beautiful eyes

Do they speak of pain?

Do they speak of sorrow?

Have you suffered??

Tell me now

 

Oh what I wouldn’t give

To have that face

Even for a day

 

If I wore it

Would it change a thing?

Would I be happier?

Would I be worth it?

 

What are you hiding

Behind that pretty face of yours?

Let me, please

Walk in your shoes

Wear your face

That perfect jaw

Do they all swoon?

 

Your pretty face

If it were mine

Would it make a difference?

 

So broken, ever wounded

Is it just me?

 

Your fame, your riches

The attention that you get

Is it worth coveting

When I’m still me

Despite this pretty face?

 

In exchange, would you wear mine?

Would you spend a day

Living this life of mine?

 

That is my fear

My pretty face

Seeing it on you

Smiling, laughing, exuding joy

If you were me

Wore my pretty face

Would you be a better me?

A happier me?

Would it change a goddamn thing?

 

I am you, you are me

Will we ever be us?

 

So I don’t

I never take your face

Your pretty face

When it’s yours

You’re to blame

 

You’re you, I’m me

My misery my own

But never my fault

 

Be my safety blanket

This protective shield against change

It’s not me, it’s you

With your pretty face

Would it not be better

To simply kiss that pretty face?

 

The day I am worthy

I’ll be ready to wear your face

Knowing I’d smile

The way I saw you

When you wore my face

And I wore yours

 

That future day

If it ever comes

I’ll be a better me

So the need to be you

Walk a day in your shoes

Wear that pretty face

Will have disappeared

Like the kiss I left

When you weren’t looking

On that pretty face

That pretty face of yours

Forever mine

to be loved

to be missed.

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Primula: it’s finally spring

Poem at the bottom of the post (see bold).

Yesterday we were blessed with 29 degrees (Celsius) and I spent the entire day at the park. I’d been so swamped with work, I needed to take a break and meet up with a friend, any friend, to relax and recharge. It was wonderful. Today it’s 27 degrees and I am taking advantage of it because it’s bound to get rainy and blegh again soon. Summer, hurry up.

Lovely weather has such an impact on me; rain and darkness always brings me down, whereas warmth and sunshine lift my mood and do wonders for my complexion. My mum’s exactly the same way so we rejoiced when we saw the prediction a few days ago. I literally screamed YESSSSSS at my TV for a full minute. Yes, literally.

To celebrate, have this poem I wrote a few weeks ago:

Primula

You’re beautiful
Like the primula
In early spring

Remember when we used to pluck them when we were little?

You’re sweet
Like the primula
In early spring

But a drop of their nectar was plenty to satisfy us.

You’re intoxicating
Like the primula
In early spring

Their scent carrying for miles, long after we left.

I’m grateful
For the primula
For returning every spring

Long after you’re gone they remain, reminding me of you.

I’m alone
But I’m happy
For I will follow you soon

We will both be scattered there, where our memories lie, nourishing the primula for springs to come.

I miss you

It appears I forgot to post this.

I miss you

I miss you
Would you miss me
Had we met once more or less?
Not a day goes by
That I don’t regret
Would you regret?
I miss you
Would you miss me
Had you known back then and there?
But it’s not enough
For that pain to pass
Would you have overcome?
I miss you
Would you miss me
Had you been here in my place?
But it’s me alone
Fighting the same fight
Would you please lend me your hand?
I miss you
Would you miss me
Had you not killed yourself?

Foam

Poem at the bottom of the post.

My BTS CD finally arrived the other day and I’m so happy. I love CDs. The sound is so much better than any digital file. Even the songs I was kind of indifferent about (Dimple, Best of Me) sound good to me. Jimin’s Serendipity is the most beautiful thing ever. My favourite songs from the album are Pied Piper and Sea, which I already knew before I had the physical copy in my hands, but I love them even more now that I hear them played on my old radio. Aaaah CDs. Maybe once I get my next paycheck I can splurge and get Wings too, as well as Jonghyun’s Poet|Artist (or Artist|Poet – I can never remember).

I’ve been spending way too much money lately.

A few days I ago I received some books I ordered in Korean. One was waaaaaay above my level (though to this day I don’t know what my level is) but the other seemed doable. It seemed doable.

The first word that appeared was 거품, which I faintly recalled as meaning ‘foam’, but I couldn’t figure out why a book would start that way. It just seemed weird. As I read on, I came across the name Aphrodite and it all started making sense but by then I’d already mentioned foam to my friend, who’s also learning Korean. (Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, was born from the foam of the sea.) Only later did I remember it was a poetry book. Oops.

Knowing I occasionally write poetry, she requested a poem about foam. It was supposed to be a joke but I took it seriously. When I showed her the result, she was shocked so mission accomplished. I quite like it myself but you judge for yourself:

Foam

Fragrant, silky foam

Like a lover’s carress

Smelling of you

The strawberries you ate

I can still taste them

Enchantingly sweet

Treacherously soft

Luring me in

I’d almost forget

I’m here alone

With all this foam

Reminding me of you

What used to be

It’s time now

My time to let go

Enveloped in bubbles

One last breath

I let it take me

Then I disappear

And only foam remains

Honja (alone)

Scroll down for poem (written on the same day, within the same hour, as the previous post’s poem).

A little while ago I was having a good talk with my mum when she opened up to me. We’ve had difficulties with money for as long as I can remember, most likely from the time my parents split up. (I was 11, btw. I don’t have that many memories. My mind is filled with so much knowledge, it had to prioritise so it forgot most memories. I’m a bit sad but I can’t really help it.) Yet she told me that even though she worried about money she also had faith that things would work out well. She doesn’t have much to spend but she never worries too much because she trusts that something will happen to make up for the amount she overspent (which is never much because she’s very responsible but still). So far it’s always come true.

I’ve since tried her method myself. I still worry about money but I’m less desperate and more optimistic. The situation doesn’t seem as bleak anymore, even though I’m at risk of being unable to pay my bills. Balancing school and work is something others seem to do effortlessly but I’ve been having the greatest trouble managing it all. I was job hunting again but it didn’t result in much (except a new connection and more resilience) until I got a call from my former employer asking whether I had time to work tomorrow. I thought it was supposed to be over, though they did hint at seeing us again when we were leaving the company dinner we had last month, so it was an unexpected blessing. So far my mum’s theory is working splendidly. I do not recommend it – I don’t want to be held liable if it doesn’t work out for others – but I will continue to live this way until my luck runs out.

Anyway, enjoy the poem. Honja means lonely or alone. (Inspired by Jonghyun’s song.)

Honja

Alone, Together

Alone Together

A tear here,

A tear there

Without you

I’m still me

Are you still you?

I pushed and prodded

You improved

You got further and further away

I detached

For you

Without you

Is there me?

Back to square one

Push and Pull

Never share

Just me

Always me

I alone

No one else

Will you come?

Open me up?

Push and prod

Until I improve

No one else

No repeat

Success rate 1

Failure rate ∞

Infinity

Without you

Stars are just stars

Forever means nothing

Time is just time

Moments forgotten

All that we shared

Do you remember?

You are the moon

Changing my tides

High and low

Eb and flow

Take out the moon

Once disturbed

Never the same

Is this a high?

Is this a low?

Is neutral the new black?

I miss the old black

The warm darkness

Without all the thoughts

Now it’s all over

My head still works

Inside

That world

Safety

Break it

Please destroy it

Break me out

Save me from fantasy

Make me miserable

Together

Share my pain

I’ll take yours

Hurt me

Insult me

Yell, Scream, Bite

Silence is deafening

There is too much

Swallow me whole

Nothing is left

Just me

Without you

Alone

No longer together

Without you.

Ppiddakhage – written in a frenzy

As usual, scroll down to the bold part if you want to skip my thoughts. This time it’s a poem.

The other day I was browsing WordPress, randomly clicking people’s profiles to see how they managed their blogs. There were those with profiles that were hardly profiles at all, that literally had all the standard messages saved and showing (e.g. write an introduction to entice people to read on), and there were those with perfectly organised profiles, where posts were neatly organised into categories, where everything fit a theme, but there were also people like me, whose profiles were something in-between, chaotic in some ways but organised in others, where you could tell they were passionate enough about something to want to share it with the world but not motivated or skilled enough to learn how to work a website.

One blog in particular stuck out. I won’t name it but it was everything I wanted mine to be, in theory. This person seemed to have the same goal as me, or at least a similar one, yet their means of achieving it were so much more polished, so much more organised.

I was jealous.

I have long accepted my chaotic nature but this got me questioning my approach to things. Would I ever reach that same level of finesse? Was my writing up to par? Should I proofread and edit more? Naturally, I felt halted. Until I got these thoughts sorted out there was no way in hell I’d be able to be happy with anything I wrote.

I’m still not entirely sure whether I shouldn’t aim to be more organised, whether I shouldn’t put more effort into figuring out all the features of WordPress, whether my writing is good enough. Still, I found it in me to continue going. I don’t know how satisfied I should be with my output but right now I am happy with what I wrote. There’s a good chance I’ll hate it and only see the flaws in a few years – which is what happens with all my writing – or even a few months if I’m unlucky but I like it now. I really do.

The poem I’m sharing here today was written in a frenzy, while listening to G Dragon’s Crooked (or 삐딱하게) on repeat. Since I’m awful with titles, I just went with the romanised title of the song. I won’t ask you to listen to it, especially the first time you read the poem, but I do like the song a lot. While writing I kept in mind the lyrics, the meaning of the song, and the MV, but was mostly just focusing on the feelings and thoughts the sound of the song brought out in me. Enjoy.

Ppiddakhage

Break free

Unleash it all

Don’t hold back

It’s just me

Do it now

It’s the time

All of it

Let loose your hair

Do it for me

I’d do it for you

You’re everything

Show the world

They’re missing out

Under-appreciated

Recognised

But who are you?

Show him, show her

Consent?

Never heard of it

They want you bare

Naked isn’t enough

Show your all

Inside out

Who cares what you think?

They don’t

You don’t seem to

Do I?

Bad influence

Sure, if you wish

See me that way

Judge me harsh

Judge me right

Pay no mind

It’s all on me anyway

Do it

Do it now

Hard

Fast

I’m nothing

Beyond that point

It’s liberating

No secrets

Nothing to hide

Just me

All of me

Always

It scares them

Do I scare you?

Fear me not

I will bite you

They took it all

And I gave

I gave it all

Freely

As a promise

I didn’t need anything in return

They had nothing to give anyway

I’m rich

I have nothing

But it’s more

More than they ever will

All they took from me

Dignity

Shame

Respect

Love

Fear

I’m empty

Left with just me

In my purest form

Do you see me?

Flee while you can

I will take you

And drag you with me

There is no escape

Come here

Quickly

I’ll seduce you

By promising you nothing

There’s nothing left to give

So abandon me

Like they did you

Like they did me

I’ll live

I’ve succeeded so far

This empty shell

All me

Where are you going?

Road to nowhere

Versus road to hell

Or back to civilisation?

Warn the others

Of the monster I’ve become

The monster they made me

The monster I’ve always been

Set me free

Tell them and set me free

It’s the last warning

Tell them that

There will be no more

I’ll let loose

They destroyed it all

Fighting spirit

That’s all that’s left

Mine

All mine

So go

And don’t return

Never return

I’ll shatter you

Worse than they did

Why are you still here?

Flee

Don’t come back

This is my place

Away from all

The only place

Don’t disturb me

Please go

Please stay

Don’t look at me

See me

Before you leave

Just once

Remember me

And show them

See me

Demand they show you

Who I was

I know there’s proof

I assure you

You’ll know

I’ll show you

Who you will become

Given time

So go

Don’t ever return

Because I won’t be here.

He was right all along

When I returned

There was no trace

Not a single shadow

So I took his place

We were the same anyway

And the cycle continued

When I saw you

And told you to flee

While you still could

Because I’m the one

They warned you about

The monster

Civilisation created.

 

 

Flights of Fancy

I’m back! If you missed my last post, it’s because I forgot to put any tags. Yes, I’m an idiot. As usual, the short piece – this time a poem – is at the bottom of the post but I would appreciate it if you could all stick around for the entire post, as it will be pretty short and it will include some recommendations.

I have a love-hate relationship with rap music. I am naturally more inclined to listen to rock/punk/etc so rap isn’t always the first thing on my mind. Recently, that changed. My love for punk and rock remains but I also discovered some Korean rappers. I already knew about the great RM, Suga, J-Hope, etc but then I found Outsider. Holy shit. If nothing else, just give his song Loner a shot. I promise it’s amazing.

Then, yesterday, I found the iconic duo LeeSsang (리쌍) by chance and fell in love with their profound lyrics. My first introduction was their Tears of Pierrot trilogy, which I greatly recommend, though it’s very sad so be warned, as well as Painter/Song of Fire (화가), all of which can be found on Daechungpower’s youtube channel, with English subs.

Finally, today, I ventured into Big Bang’s territory and found T.O.P’s Doom Dada. It’s wacky and confusing and weird but also kind of funny and creepy and awesome. There are lyrics vids available for it, which I highly recommend, though they won’t clarify much, but the MV is worth a watch too. In fact, this song was my main inspiration for the poem in this post. Outsider made me feel; LeeSsang motivated me to write and change the world; and T.O.P inspired me. They’re all wonderful and deserve recognition.

Interesting fact: I came up with the title Flights of Fancy months ago, knowing I wanted to write something with that title. It’s the first time ever I came up with a title before I had an idea. Now, without further ado, I present to you:

Flights of Fancy

Flights of fancy,
on a spur,
whimsically this,
fancily flying,
fancy flights.
From day one
he beats a drum
freely, fearlessly
‘fraid of none
he beats his drum.
On a whim,
jumping up,
flying high,
burning bright,
burning out.
This and that,
zus en zo,
여기저기,
tu i tamo,
free to peruse.
And so he flutters
from one to the next,
always looking,
stuck with second best;
I wish this were the end.

From flowers to masters
to cheeses at night,
beers to piñatas,
no end in sight,
his endless plight.
Painting and sculpting,
even karaoke,
jumping and running,
fierljeppen out of spite,
never quitting.
his next pursuit,
forever forgiving,
singing lullabies to
crying babies
of the human variety.
Finally he found
a passion that stuck
and started writing
your favourite book.
These flights of fancy,
moments of spur,
looking lonely,
abandoned and dull.
And so he ends with
one last word.