I printed the first 6 poems on my poetry page (not including the poems I posted this August) for my grams to read. I asked her later if the poems "seemed like me". She was looking quietly out the window as she often does when she is lost in some story from her long history. She answered immediately a curt, "no". I was surprised because my grams doesn't usually tell the truth directly and often she doesn't tell the truth at all. She followed, "You don't seem lost to me." Shocked at her unusual show of insight I caught my breath. "Did my poems seem like that to you?" I asked her. We went on to talk about how poems are a release, a way to get negative and positive emotions flushed out.

But this conversation caused me to realize again how my grams doesn't understand how much pain I've actually overcome. She's also a professional passive-aggressive, emotion-ignoring enabler that doesn't know how to see life in full-color. No, it's one-dimensional black and white for her. She's redefined reality for a long time now and perhaps she always has. She's rewritten our family history for years. Ignoring the disease that has left the majority of our family in tatters. "I don't know what happened to Terry (my dad)!" Her convenient memory has forgotten that my kid-sized dad once asked my grams, "Does dad still live here?" because my gramps worked so much.

Her sudden words about being lost have stayed with me. How could she have felt that way when I said nothing about being lost in my poems and she didn't even see my really sad poems? Yes, that statement knocked the air out of me because I know that's what I am. And somehow she saw it through my art. I've seen it too reflecting back at me from the accumulation of my writing. There are themes in all of us and if you write enough you begin to see them woven through out your writing.

There was another person who blurted out a similar strange kind of prophecy. Years ago I was wandering around Union Square in San Francisco looking at the art on display and chatting with the artists. I don't remember everything. I just remember this photographer looking at me and appraising me with an artist's eye, "hmm...You look happy, but there's sadness in your eyes....like a child....a lost child." I just stood there. I can see myself clearly in my mind's eye: my short, chin-length hair, my dark blue hooded sweatshirt, my child-like eyes looking at the piercing, eccentric eyes of my prophet. What is he talking about....and yet I knew.

Originally uploaded by joyceat123.

"Joyce Lee"

I'm supposed to get up to an intermediate level in Photoshop by the time my cert. course starts in September. This is my first ever attempt at doing anything by myself. As you can see this tool is going to be dangerous in my hands. But first I need to get good at it then I'm going to have some fun...

Bruce Lee would be proud...

I have that tired, achey feeling that you have after you've had a good long cry.  My head is aching and my eyes are puffy water balls.  I had a hard talk with my sister today after I made lunch for her and her kids at my grams house. 

As she was packing her kids into her car I mentioned how her reading a novel during the pastor's sermon was discouraging for me.  We ended up getting into a big discussion about ancient misunderstandings between us.  Sitting in her car we both cried.  Jewliet's awakening understanding emotional pain was particularly poignant at this moment.  I remember looking back at her big sad blue eyes, her a face strained with child-like concern.  "What's wrong?" she asked a couple times.  It's no longer only June and I "the thompson twins" that are impacted by the hand we've been dealt.  And I have to admit that worries me.  I don't want them to inherit our legacy.

Later I went back to church for a praise and worship night even though I felt drained by my tears and June's criticism of the church.  I just wanted to be in God's house in the dark surrounded by the praise of believers.  I wanted to coil-up into a ball and sway and cry before him in some dark corner of the sanctuary.  I went and found a lonely pew.  I was relieved to find that the church wasn't packed and there was lots of space.  As soon as the praise started I cried and cried.  I was slightly nervous someone would mistakenly think I was "shaking in the spirit" (a practice I oppose for the most part).  I cried off and on for the next 2 hours of the service.  "God, just meet me here."  "Please, just reach into this situation." were the prayers that my heart mumbled.

Just a Sample of June and I's Conversation
"Facts effect me more than emotional simplistic sermons...  I believe in the Bible, I believe in God."

"But you're angry at him?"

"Yes, because he's never helped me or shown me he cares about me.  I cried out to him so many times but nothing changed.  ....I'm tired of trusting people and being made a fool.  And many of those times were with God.  I trusted him and he made a fool of me."
***later in the conversation***
"What could he do to show you He's real?"

"I want to see him on earth, I want to see a miracle, anything to show me He's worthy of my trust.  I can't deal with speaking to the wind.  People say God spoke to them but they're just making it up.  How can I believe them?  Maybe God worked in the New Testament times or he works in other countries but there's no evidence of God's work here.  Non-Christians have lots of good things happen to them, too." 

I protest, "God is working.  What do you think has happened in my life?  What about other's lives?  How can you say that?" 

"I wish I could believe like you do, like Andre does.  But I can't.  I've been down that road and if I try to believe I feel I'm being someone I'm not."

It was aspects of this conversation that I was crying about through out the night service.  It pains me so much to hear her say that she cried out to God desperately and yet felt she was only "left with air".  What can a person say to that?  That's what she experienced.  That's how she felt.  I know that God passionately loves her but she's heard that a million times.  And she simply doesn't believe it and feels her circumstances have always confirmed that belief.

For most of my life my sister's pain was my pain and in many ways that's still true.  I've had to trust her to God through out these years because it was beyond me.  It hurts me to finally see the abandonment she feels from God.  The God I trusted to take of her made her a fool, wasn't there for her?  I see it differently.  I see God's providence in her life.  But where I see providence she sees abandonment; where I see his love she sees rejection.  That hurts and also baffles me.  Am I only seeing what I want to see? How can such adverse perspectives about the same life co-exist?  
             *****************
Well, more tales of living back in San Diego to come.  Including thoughts on the helicopters that keep on flying over my house.  Maybe they're having a practice drill at 1 in the morning?  Or maybe they're looking for an escaped convict on my street?  hmmm....  I vote for the former simply cuz it makes me feel better.

The “I have no friends (in San Diego)” Anthem
(sung to the melody of “He’s a Cold Hearted Snake” by Paula Abdul)

I have no friends (He’s a cold hearted snake)
In San Diego (Look into his eyes)
Oh-ohhhh

I have no friends (He’s a cold hearted snake)
In San Diego (Look into his eyes)
Oh-ohhhh

Lots of sunshine and palm trees
Looks like a peaceful, fun haven
But it’s more like an empty movie backdrop
(make up your own melody for this part.  I suggest “Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over candle stick”)

I have no friends (He’s a cold hearted snake)
In San Diego (Look into his eyes)
Oh-ohhhh

Yes, here I am in San Diego, CA.  USA.  I just want to say to all my Korea friends that I love you very much and I am alive.  :-)  (And hi to all my friends in the US.  Thanks for your welcoming support)

There's so much to say as you can imagine.  Sorry I've been a major email lame-bo but that is changing as of tomorrow.  I'm emailing everyone back tomorrow as well as pouring out my heart on my blog about how detached I feel from American culture and how I have no friends in San Diego.  

However, there are things to be excited about such as how the Interactive Media Certificate course I'm going to be taking is so perfect!  I'm also going to be participating in a Community Economic Certificate and that also looks perfect.  In that area I'm really amazed so far.  

In contrast, in the church and fellowship department I'm discouraged so far but I really shouldn't be-I've just been here two weeks.  So chin up, Joyce!  Put on your boxing gloves!  Umm...  Go, fight, win....and all that stuff...  Anyway, I need your prayers right now and I'm praying for you guys as you transition also.

Okay, tomorrow I'll be writing more.

I CAN'T believe this!!!!!!!!!! Now I know why I haven't been able to access any blogger site! The Korean government has censored blogspot along with other sites because of the beheading of Kim Sun-il in Iraq. I can't believe it!

"As some of you may already know, a wing of the South Korean government, the Ministry of Information and Culture (MIC), is currently clamping down on a variety of blogging service providers and other websites. The government is attempting to control access to video of the recent Kim Sun-il beheading, ostensibly because the video will have a destabilizing influence."

Ro and I found other Korean bloggers going crazy about it through a search on google. Good thing we finally started to look into things. However, the whole ordeal has been helpful in some senses. It put me in touch with other Korean politically minded bloggers and it's taught me one way to get around blocked sites. ha,ha So next time I'm in a country that censors perhaps I can get around it. So I can finally read your sites and read my own!!!! Finally!!

Want to read more? Check out what these bloggers have to say:
http://marmot.blogs.com/korea/
http://jeffinkorea.blogs.com/
http://aboutjoel.com/
http://oranckay.net/blog/
http://kimcheegi.blogs.com/
http://gopkorea.blogs.com/flyingyangban
http://rathbonepress.tblog.com/
http://blog.woojay.net/

Well, it's time for the unveiling of my plans-for you my eager readers. (You're out there- right? I can't read anything because blogs still can't load anywhere in Pohang or even in of all Korea as far as I know. Can you believe it?)

I've gone through various emotions today then finally came back to "ya know, it's going to be OK" I was reading about globalization and development issues most of the day on opendemocracy.net And this spurred me on to research once again the different graduate programs I'm interested in. Which caused me to eventually start questioning myself again. Should I go into Education? Or should I go into Intercultural Studies, Anthropology, International Policy, Development? No, that's too theoretical, well, maybe that's too narrow... What if I'm not smart enough, not academic enough? What if I get married? What if I don't? What if I get there and I realize that I hate the subject?

Welcome to my mind.

The good news is that I'm not in charge of my life! Thank God! Look at that wishy-washy mess. :-) The one thing that I know for sure is that I'm following Him and that I want to work together with Him on this earth. So with that said it looks like I'm coming back to San Diego to work on certificates in Web-design and Community Economic Development while I apply to go to grad-school in 2005.

The main reason I'm waiting a year instead of going to grad-school this year is because in this last semester I've come to the conviction that I don't want a MA solely in TESL. Therefore, I need time to research the schools I want to apply to and write the essays for the applications. (which takes forever I might add)

Sometimes I see going back to San Diego as a wonderful development in my life because I can help my ageing grams, hang out with my sis and her adorable kids and get certificates in programs I'm highly interested in for almost free. But about half the time I'm terrified at the fact that I'm going back in a time machine to a place that often signifies for me intellectual/spiritual stagnation and emotional drainage. I was telling my friends a couple weeks ago that going back to San Diego is like getting the "go back to start" card in the Monopoly board game.

All that negativity aside I also feel excited to go back because I do love my family and friends there and I really do believe God's going to guide me. Not to mention that no matter what I'm so privileged to have the opportunities I have-especially when I think of my beautiful, hard-working sisters and bros in the developing world.

By the way, I finally bought my ticket back to the US. I'm leaving July 10th!

It's so weird. For the last four days or so neither Ro nor I have been able to view our blog or any other blog. I can post an entry but I can't view my blog even inside the blogger interface. Everytime I try to look at a blog I get the message, "This page can not be displayed." I thought something was wrong with their server so I was just waiting but then I began to realize something was weird. Then Ro talked to her mom yesterday in Japan and her mom can see our blogs-so what does that mean?? We can't view any blog on any computer in Pohang. Does that mean blogs can't be opened in Korea right now or is it just Pohang? I can reach any other website just as normal. So I tried to email them about it but the blogger request form said, "internal error" whatever that means. (Maybe the same prob is not allowing me to email them through their help form.) I'll try to email them again but just in case it doesn't work could you email them? If you're one of my friends in the States and are familiar with blogger could you email them about the problem. You can give them my blog address. So if you left me a comment...sorry, can't see it.

I was reading about the movie Fahrenheit 9-11 and it reminded me of how crazy America is sometimes. It was slowly coming back to me. Later I was reading a discussion about the movie by some Christian movie critics and one of them went on to talk about how he feels like he has to step away from politics sometimes to keep his sanity. This statement brought to mind a compilation of off-hand comments made to me by various people. In an email from my friend in reference to my returning to the U.S., "...welcome back to crazy, crazy America...", another person replies to my comment on one of Sandy's entries about the U.S. Middle Eastern policy, "But the world is getting crazier, Joyce, and it's getting crazier and crazier."

As everyone knows America is at quite an interesting place right now (and so is the world for that matter) and the culture war is getting more intense as the election draws nearer. But that's not the only thing that makes me sometimes feel that I'm coming back to a circus. It's also that sitting on this side of the world America looks more contrived, manufactured, artificial, hypocritical, swollen, self-indulgent, self-interested, self-loving, self-serving, pretentious and superficial than ever before. Just to name a couple adjectives that come to mind.

Yes, I'm beginning to brace myself for the splash of cold water in my face, that strange awakening from a quiet Korean dream...

I was trying to write the vision statement for the ministry page I'm making and I realized I still don't have it. Some people describe me as a person who knows where they're going and knows what they want. But most of time I feel like that's the farthest thing from the truth. Most of the time I'm just holding onto one truth, "He's a light unto my feet" so I'll take one more step and I can't see much further than that.

Testing...
Let's see if I can link this pic...



This picture was taken after one my classes attacked me with heart stickers on the last day of class. This is a class I had a couple semesters ago. I've since coined this class my "happy class" because they loved each other and me so enthusiastically. When I walked into our last class they covered me with heart shaped stickers with sweet messages. This is the class I hung out with the most outside of class because they were always organizing "class reunions".

I'm going to put up some pics of my classes this semester later...

I was adding some links to my blog and suddenly my font size got huge. I have no idea why. I didn't touch the font attributes! hmmmm...annoying. Maybe it will just go away. Do they seem big to you?

It seems like an eternity since I last posted. I'm sitting here in my dimly lit living room while the rain complains outside my window trying to process the fact that the final exodus from Handong Global University has begun. HGU our warm womb, our still pasture, our quiet remote sanctuary. We are being spit back out into the real, wild world. Yes, the time has begun. I'm speaking, of course, of Sandy leaving Handong permanently yesterday. The four Pohang girls are now beginning to officially disband. (Joanne just seemed to be temporarily absent since she visited a couple months after her departure)

I've also just finished grading and feel a little bit misplaced with out a ton of essays stressing me out. It's like I've finished with all the stress (or most of it...I've still got to screen phone calls from grade-obsessed Koreans once they receive their grades) and now I'm looking out at an ocean of uncertainty and ambiguity as far as my next step goes. However, even while I say this I'm excited for what God's going to do because I know that as I follow Him one step at a time He's going to lead me.

There's a lot more I would like to say about all these things but for now I will leave you with my current inspirational thought:
Don't say to God, "Where..., who..., when.., how...?" but "Show me, God, one moment, one day at a time and whatever You say I will do it."

Ok, now I'm finding something. Remember my child prostitution crisis a month ago. (May 3rd if you want to look it up in my archives) Well, now “the answers are coming, Neo.”

Check out these sites about organizations that are doing something about the problem:
Worldvision

Justice for Children International

My Last Class at Handong Global University...
I walked into my slightly muggy office after saying good-bye to all my dear, cute Freshmen, turned on the fluorescent lights and looked out the window at the rainy day that was coming to a close. Then it dawned on me that this was the last time that I was going to go through this routine. I sat down on the dirty little couch in my office and began to read some of the comments the students wrote on a poster they gave me.

"I don't speak English well. But I feel your kindness and faithful."

"Thanks for your passion to us and I hope you achieve your vision. And thanks for your kindness also."

"I miss you. You are my first foreign teacher. I remember your ability and love."

And the sweet messages go on. Reminding me once again what a beautiful, mysterious thing teaching is. Maybe it's kind of like being an older sibling in the sense that you only get glimpses of the impact you have had on your younger bro or sis in special moments. I think it's the same way in teaching. I've been reminded of this as students that I thought were indifferent towards me were on the edge of tears as they said good-bye.

As I gaze at that bright yellow poster covered with imperfect English expressing their love I can't help but think of grace. Despite my selfishness and frailty, I was still actually able to touch another human being's life. Grace. Grace lovingly protected me in Europe. Grace rescued me from myself. Grace brought me to Handong despite my own willfulness and apathy. Grace gave me the job of my dreams. Grace gave me a coveted position for which I was technically unqualified. It was grace that knew what I truly wanted and needed. It was grace that gave me more than I could think to ask for. It was grace that gave me the greatest fellowship of my life. Grace believed in me and made me great despite the truth that both Him and I know. That I'm just a small, weak child in the hands of a powerful Magician. That anything great in me is mostly an illusion and the power really comes from the great gracious Magician that holds me in His arms.

Until my last class I had been in "get the semester over with" mode. But when I walked into that class and realized it was my very last I knew I had to thank God for the love and grace he had shown me through these last two years at Handong. So I prayed the longest prayer I had ever prayed in a class and I thanked God for pouring out His blessings on someone who really hadn't deserved it. I stood in front of that class full of Freshmen and together with them thanked God for His beautiful...

grace to this child.

well, it looks like I've changed my template. It might be a while though before I put links and comments up because i tried but it didn't work. So that means it's going to take some brain power to figure it out and i doubt i'll expend brain power on anything but grading/essay stuff for the next two weeks. But Ro feel free to break in and try to figure it out if you get the inkling.

escape from myself...
i remember looking out my classroom window at what seemed to be a bright picturesque painting. serene, inviting... out that window there seemed to be nothing but rolling green hills, plush pine trees. it seemed to be so close, so all-encompassing. i've been haunted by the same urge that i felt that day when i was looking out that window.

i want to just step into that painting. put my toes on the sunny ledge of that window and just step into that peaceful, green scene. all my self-loathing and self-doubt would evaporate as I was absorbed into that ethereal, pastoral landscape. i long to just disappear into that clear blue sky...

i've been listening to so many lies lately. i'm being beat to the ground by the accuser. who's the accuser? me or satan? probably both. I have no idea.

please help me, God. i want to be free of the walls that close in on me, of the limits that bind me...

I'm high on a yummy overdose of Cinnamon cappuccino, so hyper with ideas it's hard to type and totally wired from an amazing time with my small group. On top of that my emotions have just been extreme lately. I've had the urge to vent anger, frustration in exaggerated, sarcastic ways lately. (mostly in poetry or blogs) Today I was listening to Alanis Morrisette's angry emotional song, "You Oughta Know" and longing for that kind of venue to let out frustration and pure unadulterated emotion. To just be able belt out at the top of your lungs your hurt, your shame, your anger to an awesome beat. Can you feel it? Doesn't it just make you want to go into a forest where no one can hear you and just shout your brains out?

Recent inspiring thought: "I'm most myself when I'm walking in the Spirit because I was made for fellowship with God." a rough quotation of Pastor Young-ho

I've been under such a weight this last week. Mostly feeling pain over how my job has become something to get done instead of a way to love and serve people. I came back from the church B-B-Q and took a nap perhaps trying to avoid facing this load of sadness. But when I got up I knew I finally had to face it...what kept me from really plowing through it earlier this week was the excuse, "It's too much to work through right now. I'll pray about it later." That excuse just causes more problems and it seems to be a frequent excuse of mine. So after my nap I spent a couple hours journaling and praying. I think I worked through it to a pretty satisfactory point. I really wanted to cry though because I know I needed to. But for some reason I wasn't able to hit close enough.

I think I've decided that I hate writing essays for grad-school applications. I suppose it shouldn't be but it's so mind-numbingly boring. Yes, that would be one of the key words I would use to describe my day: tedious, boring and inefficient. I've been sitting here in my living room all day trying to type out my vocational goals in a coherent and professional manner. What's so hard about that!!!! I have no idea. Please give me a call if you know. Because it takes me stinking foreverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!! I suppose I have about two paragraphs more to write for it but this is just my rough draft and it needs a lot of work. *very annoyed sigh* The bummer thing about this is that I could have written this essay a long time ago had I realized during my winter vacation that I would be this serious about Biola. It makes me wonder was I just not listening to God? I remember being close to filling out the Biola application but then I thought, "na, I'm not that serious about that program". It also didn't help that at that time I was in work visa HELL trying to work out the very strange, elusive problems with my work visa. Well, whatever the case I have come to feel very sure that SIT is not the right program for me and as far as I can see Biola is ideal.

It seems I always get inspired to write poetry at the most inopportune moments. I often become pensive and over-flowing with emotion when I'm grading or doing office work. Countless times I've scribbled poems all over the back of some student's old homework or an old department notice as I work. Ironic-isn't it? That I get inspired while I'm doing something I despise and that is totally contrary to my nature. I'll be working away and then unexpectedly I start sinking into some emotion that I haven't had a chance to dig into. Then suddenly there's a direct line to my heart and I can try to squeeze the juice out of that feeling while it's in me or I can go back to correcting grammar. So often I end up grabbing a piece of paper and jotting down what comes out. Case in point. Here's today's spillage from grading boring paragraphs...

E G H
I once knew a man
what a conundrum
a stern, illegible face
unflinching stability
the absence of emotion

but in his eyes you could see the secret
eyes that smolder like coals
giving away an intensity well-hidden
under layers of cold, sheer rock

a fountain of surprises
perched in his tower
surrounded by ever expanding green rice fields

can you see the warm light flooding out of his round window?
he's pouring over his books late into the night, no doubt
grasping for his image of stability, of approval, of success
with his unquenchable, quiet passion

can I climb the never-ending spiraling staircase
up and up to where you are?

there you are in your white tower
studying in the golden light of your womb
immersed in the black ink of the sky
in your solitary tower

putting out the fire that burns in your soul
throwing sand on the unpredictability of who you are

you are E G H

oxymoron, contradiction, paradox

the one I always wanted to reach
but still I stand alone
in the echoing darkness of the rice fields below you
always outside your tall tower
gazing up at the warm light of your window