it's been a good long while.

i forgot how to write, it seems.

passion is a necessary catalyst for the reaction. perhaps that is the essential muse. the element that allows what already exists to coalesce, and fuse into product, without ever having entered the equation. i wish sometimes that i hadn't taken such a science-based course of study all my life. perhaps my text would be more readable, more effusive.

but what has been done, has been done.



today will be brilliant. absolutely brilliant. so help me god.

post-valentine's day self-examination.


jessica, evelyn, zoe, serah, jae, jackie, tia.

nan, emily, helen, carolyn, sarah, rachel, janet, angela, jane, rosa, yeoni, jessi, alarice.

list #1.
the girls i've fallen for.

list #2
the girls i know who have loved me.


the problem lies in the entire lack of overlap. dear lord, i am a jackass. stupid beyond words, physical expression cannot convey the depth, the magnitude of my ineptitude, my simple inability to find happiness for myself. they say even a blind pig occasionally stumbles upon an acorn. i cannot compete with the blind pig.

Rachel, it seems, has found peace in her life. I am entirely jealous. Not of her joy. I would never begrudge her that. I am envious of her fiance. That could have been me. Unfortunately, I made some stupid moves. It's so sad. I look back and see that I could easily have infinitely happier.

Except I'm an idiot.

How did you end up like this? He was overwhelmed by a sense, no, a suffocating stench of failure. He had also been watching too muc "Jerry Maguire". He wondered how he would manage to find hi sway out of the miserable fog he found he was entangled within. But life would go on, right? He'd make his way out. Somehow.

He found himself in the middle of nowhere. How he ended his wanderings out in the middle of the desert was beyond him, yet seems such an appropriate outcome. Sarah is another. She's pretty. Her friends are gorgeous. How appropriate.

He was so very stupid.

But it was decision time again.


Jackie or Jessie.

a happy valentine's day.

i didn't even realize it was the fourteenth of february until well past midday.

i wandered about the city as if lost, looking desperately for something.



what the hell am i looking for?



love? i gave up on that nonsense some time ago.

happiness? as each day goes by, i realize what a futile pursuit this is.

money? perhaps that's what the goal should be. after all. isn't that what everyone wants?




but i don't care for it. i'll be good with a middling salary. but everyone else invests so much worth in the almighty dollar. and so. again. everyone else decides how my life will be led. give me a reason. give me a reason. give me a reason. a reason. a reason. a reason.

you need one to live. you need one to survive. drifting aimlessly is the most tortuous way to die in the ocean, i've heard.

it's been a long time. perhaps too long. but it seems i've lost my muse.

i haven't written a thing in some time, and all of the words that used to circulate and swarm and aggregate in jumbles have all dissipated, washed away into the ether.

what has happened?

where am i going?

who knows who knows.


and this is costing me.

easyeverything.

questions. answers.
to life. to live.


where are you going?

to the end of the world.

why are you going?

to find something.

what do you hope to find?

i don't really know.

then why do you go?

because i don't know what else to do.

are you lost?

i can't really tell.

how is that?

to be lost i'd need a destination.

so you're wandering aimless?

i believe so.

that's a poor way to live life.

agreed.

so what are you looking for again?

a sense of peace?

is that right?

no.

then what is it?

happiness?

really.

no. not really.

then what?

i'll know i've found it when i do.

Changbangs: jeebus i hurt.
Alex: haha
Alex: dave hung over i believe
Chang: no shit. got him too.
Chang: heheeh
Chang: ow
Alex: ?
Chang: i moved my head
Alex: haha



last thing i remember from last night... 10 shots in, mostly unintelligible, barely conscious, telling some sketchy chick no, i'm alright. and i didn't need to go home with her, coz my friends were "over there". made it home safely, thank you.

goals for last night:
'drink like a fish?' check.
'avoid sketchy std?' check.
'party like a rockstar?' check.



well then. i guess i'm a rockstar.

partied like a rockstar last night.

Chang: dood. need food
John: how was yesterday
John: dave is passed out
Chang: cant remember
John: haha
John: nice
Chang: yes.

my head hurts. my stomach is raw. i ache all over. when did i get so old?

We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, "O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life? Answer. That you are here - that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse." That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

dead poets society.

the sun is brilliant. fucking brilliant. the morning poured in through my window in dazzling streams, softened by the occasional cumulus skittering by. the new light energizes, filling me with a pure white energy, the invaluable byproduct of intrastellar fusion.

and i am bourne anew.

do you believe in true love?

the sort that is written about in countless fairy tales and trash romance novels

the stuff that only soulmates can find within each other's hearts

the unimaginably rare variant of that common emotion everyone partakes in at least once

the bright flame that is born again, reincarnated every lifetime, as a phoenix

because two people love each other with a heavenly passion, an unreal devotion, a superhuman conviction


i believe in true love too.

i guess i'm just slow.

but let's keep the emotional fallout at a minimum?

i don't think it's healthy.

you should learn to trust.

but have you not noticed that those who beg your confidence are those who least deserve it?

i had longed for you to tell me you trusted me.

i never thought you did.

but you did.

i didn't deserve it.

forgive me, dear. please.

i will come back for you someday. i just wonder if you will be there when i return.



you made me happy.

emotional investment. a risky venture where the capital is humanity, the reward is supposedly sacred and the probability is unlikely.

why do we do it? why did i do it?

someone please tell me.

...ñýäñ(Áö¾Ö) - À¯¿µÁø

i've been thinking of this song for days now, with the lyrics wandering through my head. the title and singer came to mind just now.


i believe he speaks for us.

¿ì¸° ´Ù½Ã ¸¸³ª¾ß¸¸ ÇØ.

i've just had the strangest dream.

i was at a supermarket. no, a grocery store, along the lines of dean and deluca. in my basket, i had all sorts of exotic and rare foods. wandering around the aisles, i come across a section of pornography. even my subconscious is apparently in the gutter. i shy away, as it's not something i look for while shopping for food. but the curiosity is getting to me, and i do wonder what sort of pornography is in a grocery store. i manage to stay away, mostly because there are people milling about the section, but as i go to pay, someone has called the store, and is looking for me. the loudspeaker goes off, searching for 'chang', 'kang chang'. the cashier looks at me, and goes, aren't you "'kang chang'?" in korean. and i say no. i don't really know why i deny it, but i do. i tell her, my name is 'kang changbum', but she looks at me with a strange look on her face. she insists it's for me. so i take the call.

on the line is a girl's voice. one i recognize from somewhere, but i can't place it. she tells me she can't believe she's talking to me, and she uses the tense and tone of lovers. i speak in stiff, formal korean, and ask who she is. she's obviously hurt, and there is a palpable pause, but she just tells me to wait there, and that she'll be right there. i ask her to identify herself again, in the formal tense. she keeps telling me she's so happy to hear my voice, and that she'll be right there. i drop the stiff tone, and pretending like i remember her, i ask where she is. the phone dies. absolutely no sound out of the handset. i hold on to it for a moment, but the cashier takes it back. i wonder who she is. her voice is one i remember. one i've heard before. and yet...

and there i wake up. while i sit up and think about it, i realize how many girls i've hurt with my obtuse and insensitive behavior. their emotions were such a hassle to deal with, especially when it was blatant and embarrassingly obvious. i've never been good at dealing with another's affections, especially when i receive the unrequited sort. a childish little boy i am. and i am sorry for it.



tell me of your dreams, darling.

today, i sat alone and thought about the people i've been surrounded by.

everywhere i've been, i've had some wonderful friends. the endless hours entertaining ourselves with alcohol and women and stupid people, the countless times consoling each other from the pain the world deals out, the mindless moments amusing each other. friends for life.

all my life, i've been loved by spectacular women. strong, beautiful, proud women. some were girls when i met them, only to grow into the form of goddess. some were older, wiser, and startling. you'd not believe the women in my life. they're the stuff of fairy tales, romantic comedies, and tabloids.

my family is textbook. solid, good-natured father. attractive, strong mother. pretty, overachieving sister. i am the apple of my grandparents' eyes, the loving recipient of my aunts' love, the pride of my uncles, the golden child in a heavenly family. an angel with wings.


take a look around. realize you are blessed.


i am truly blessed. and i don't know who to thank.

i called my mother.

i told her i was happy.

she cried.



what sort of life was that?

"girls never do get over their first love."

"nah, I'm over it." an innocent smile formed across her lips as she lied through her teeth.

"that's what you say."

"I'm just acknowledging the fact that I'll never feel quite that way for anyone else, 'cause that was what only 15 year old girls could feel"

I remembered my first love. "You'd be surprised."

Matter-of-factly, she watched deep into my eyes as she said, "Boys are the ones who never get over their first love."

I cracked. I had to look away and smile.

"You'd be amazed how many boys have told me the SAME story about their first gf in high school, as you have to me, recounting the memories, sweet and bitter, with amazing retention and attention to detail."

I could only laugh. "So maybe men are guilty too."

"Yup. It's got more impact because you wouldn't expect it of them."


hahah.... everyone falls in love at least once. everyone.

what have i done. what can i do. i'm falling apart.

something has to change.

life cannot go on like this.

life cannot go on like this.

happiness is just around the corner, the sun will come up tomorrow, blah blah blah blah blah.


"perhaps it would be wiser to tell our children that happiness, just like anything else on this concrete expanse of city, is earned. through diligence, hard work and perseverence."

"but they're children."

"they deserve the truth."

"the truth? our children should live pleasant lives, coddled away from the more painful aspects of modern civilization. don't take away santa claus and magic and fantasy. you grew up with it. i did, too. we turned out fine, didn't we, dear?"

"the magic? the cinderella fantasy? who does it come true for, honey? who?"

"it must have happened for someone. after all, we all still believe in it."

"we all? i gave it up a long time ago."

"aren't you happy? you and i, we live a good life, don't we?"

"it's all good and dear, honey. but we worked for this. hours upon hours of our lives, that's what each piece of furniture, each appliance, each bill represents to me."

"hours we spent together, in our store, working and sweating, tired. i cherish every moment. you and our children made every second worthwhile."

"my high school friends didn't have to work 16 hour days, 7 days a way, 365 days a year. i married you because i loved you. more than anything in the world. i still do. but i don't ever want my children leading this life."




dreams. tell me yours. and i'll tell you mine.

"The other women, whatever.
"I was thinking that, they're just fantasies. You know? And they always seem really great, because there are never any problems. And if there are, they're cute problems, like we bought each other the same christmas present, or she wants to see a movie I've already seen. And then when I come home, and you and I have real problems. And you don't even want to see the movie, period.
"There's no lingerie.
"Oh yes, you do. You have great lingerie. But you also have the cotton underwear that's been washed a thousand times and is hanging on the thing, and. And they have it too, It's just I don't have to see it because it's not part of the fantasy.
"Do you understand?
"I'm tired of it. Of the fantasy. Because it doesn't really exist. And there are never really any surprises and it never really ... delivers. Right. And I'm tired of it. And I'm tired of everything else for that matter.

"But I don't ever seem to get tired of you."

-John Cusack



Watched High Fidelity again. Thought it set a proper tone for the rest of the blog.


I had once vowed never to keep one. Things change - the one true thing there is in life.