Without Substance

I stayed in for tonight and thought would get some rest.
Sure, I did rest if you'd define rest has lack of strenuous activity.
Yet my so-called rest consisted of watching meaningless videos online, little clips that are meant to be sardonic, sarcastic, funny, whatever. It's quite likely the producer and certain viewers appreciate the effort and wit in them. They just did not have much meaning for me right then, yet I still sat like a potato and let me brain soak into the numbness of blankness.

I should seek for wholesomeness in whatever I do, whether it be work, play, rest, friendships, romance, and even-or especially, SLEEP.

And with that, good night.

Thanksgiving '08

Things I'm thankful for on this year's Thanksgiving Day, in no particular order of importance:

1. I am living out my aspiration that I had about a year ago

2. Dark chocolate I had after dinner tonight

3. Being able to sleep warm despite the cold weather

4. My laptop

5. My family

6. My friend

7. My other friend

8. And the other friends of mine

9. Mercy, Grace and Love

10. The Thanksgiving Lunch I had yesterday

11. Peace

Naked Love

Regardless of the current, or perhaps, the long-lasting (and often mistaken as contemporary due to our innate desire to feel special, albeit whether the cause be good or bad) malpractice of sex without true intimacy (in terms of a certain emotional, mental, and/or spiritual quality), human coitus remains the final stepping stone of “inter-human” (the details and differences of this term in comparison with “interpersonal” deserves further inquiry in a separate piece of writing) relationship.

In the most “traditional” form of intercourse, a man and a woman intermingle … woah, intermingle is a real word, huh- I mean, Microsoft Word is actually underlining the word “woah” with the formidable red zig-zag line, and even the word “zig-zag”, but not the word “intermingle… - I digress. Where was I.

Oh. Intermingle.

Yes, when people have sex, make love, procreate, fuck, “get to know each other”, they strip down to their birthday suits and come to physical (and often mental, emotional, spiritual for some, etc) union with his or her partner.

In many ways, including physical, mental, figurative, symbolic, yadayada, sex is the epitome of human union, which I would here define as love, or “getting to know” someone. Perhaps “intimacy” is also a word worthy of this intent.

“Getting to know someone” goes through various stages. I.e., there are levels of intimacy which can be defined by the intensity and comprehensiveness of the exposure one reveals to the other party.

When the first man and woman of the bible were created, they had full union with God and each other. They were naked and felt no shame. With the Original Sin and God’s judgment of the sin followed, the shame of the sin and the illicit knowledge split man from God and each other (Adam and Eve). A barrier was placed between the Divine Creator and the partner of life given by Him.

Ever since then, regardless of whether or not you buy into the whole Garden of Eden story, the progression of human intimacy necessitate the removal of such barrier. The figurative undressing of each other, and fully embracing the revelation of each other’s flaws, and beauty, of their increasingly naked beings. And when such nakedness become complete, the final union, the ultimate intimacy is achieved, much like how people engage in the final intercourse after the removal of their clothes.

Our naked beings, even to… or especially to ourselves, may come off quite ugly in some ways. Often it is more alluring and seductive to keep some parts of us hidden as partial nudity is more enticing than full blown out nakedness that may appear disgusting and vulgar. Still, lovers find perfection in the imperfect naked bodies of their partners. Likewise, as humans become increasingly intimate with each other, and discover the imperfection in their history, behavior, and character, they learn to cope and tolerate them, or worry for them, but nonetheless love the person for who they are.

That, if I dare to say, is called falling in Love.

Let it Snow

The first snow of the season fell yesterday. It brought a moment of euphoria as I reminesced about those wintry days back on the Hill. I also remembered that one quiet winter night when Luce Bella and I ceased to break the snow beneath our boots to listen to the subtle whispers of the falling flakes. They sounded like the pleasant sparkling of little stars twinkling in all subtleness in the most secret corners of the heart.

Luce Bella and I are now too far apart to listen to the snow together, and we've passed along a long and windy road towards an irreplaceable friendship. Perhaps we shall be listening to the snow holding a different person's hand in the coming winters, but I know we will both hold the memory dear to our hearts, not to live in the past, but because it reminds us of the beauty God has placed in nature and within us. And I know we can and will use such beauty to love the others that may enter our lives.

Winter is cold indeed, but it is during the coldest times that one can truly discover and appreciate the warmth that often go unseen in the sultry heat of summer. Maybe it's because we yearn for it all the more.

drunkn munky

drunkn munky

That's what the tag on my white beany reads. I got this "head condom" in the freshman year of college. I think I bought it for a dollar at TJ MAXX. Reflecting back on my first year of college brings a slightly sweet yet nauseous feeling to my stomach, if that even makes sense. It marked the beginning of the long journey through which I mostly wandered in a helpless effort for self-discovery. Perhaps I overestimate myself when I say self-discovery, for I can honestly, albeit embarrasingly, admit that the discovery was mostly unintended. It was a process in which the means procured the end, without the latter being a clear motivating factor or objective for the former.


I shall perhaps continue on this subject, but for now, words seem too evasive for me to pin down on this cyber parchment.

Fleeting Symptom, Temporary Remedy

Today I felt a little blue.
Perhaps that's an understatement.
Then again, the queasy feeling of uneasiness that washes over once every now and then is usually rather exaggerated in one's mind. I wasn't sure how to spell "exaggerated" so I just ran a spell check, and voila, it was correct. At least according to this computerthingamajig.

I bet if I ran that spell check again the spell check would say thingamajig is a misspelling.

Well, apparently thingamajig is not a misspelling, but computerthingamajig is. What kind of dictionary does this function use as a reference anyway?

Eh, I digress.

So I was feeling rather blue after an epiphany-- well, perhaps it would be a rather silly thing to say that it was an epiphany, as it appears to be the truth -- about how dumb I was. Not only have I dulled my natural capability through various means, but I have also deterred any possible chance of growth through indolence and negligience.

Sigh.

And I suppose I've been feeling rather lonely lately. Of course, I have more to be thankful for than to complain about, but since when was melancholy rational? Not in my book, it ain't.

Thus I was drowning myself in another set of blues and woes, but I had a calm realization of my current state of being. I don't exactly feel much better, but I know better.

It's but a passing feeling. A fleeting symptom, if you may. Perhaps human beings have been plagued with a permanent disease, the symptoms of which surface from time to time. For such symptoms we seem to seek temporary remedy in order to ameliorate any pains, sorrows, or loneliness that we may suffer. Yet the disease itself goes uncured. If you may ask me, it's incurable in the first place. Sure, you may turn to religion or other sources of power higher than yourself, and not to discredit those sources, they will not cure the problem for you. As humans we were born into a life of suffering, sin, or however one may express it. At the end of the day, we were born into this mess and must bear it through until we expire.

What, then, can be done for this?

Though we strive through this uncomely mortal coil, we can still reach out higher for a dream, hope, and perhaps even, a vaccine. The disease cannot be cured so long as we live, yet we can lead lives that cures the disease. Life is not in stages, but a neverending progress, and it's just too soon to be let down by one moment or sentiment.

Outlet

I need to clear my mind.
I have definitely lost the sight on my goal. My motivation has been depleted, evaporated, leaving no trace but a sickly yellow stain of unfulfilled ambition.

Word Blot

I created a new blog for posting poetry and other non-bloggish writing.

I thought about posting all my past poems up, but was to lazy, so I only posted up my most recent one. Eh, it's not like they're worth reading all the much, but I figured it's something I can do. Maybe I'll post up my past poems one by one when I can't come up with new ones.

Ladeedah.

Hrm.

I do wonder how many ppl actually read this?

I have a bunch of ideas boiling up inside me, all mixed up, ready to be organized and put into writing. However, I feel that there is a missing ingredient and cannot proceed just yet. Perhaps I need a little romance in my life? I don't know.

It seems that my sense of sentimentality shriveled to death while in training camp. I suppose this new endeavor would perhaps resuscicate some of the good ol' sticky mushness I had once upon a time... although I suppose it got me nowhere.

Kawphy

I heard this from Mrs. Telke, my sixth grade teacher who donned a peculiar wig, almost as curiously strange as her husband's hearing aid. Mr. Telke was also my sixth grade teacher, so I had couple teachers. Mr. Telke would make us sing "Good Morning to you! Good Morning to you! We're all in our places with sunshiny faces for this is our way, to start off the day!~" and I'm afraid I never really got the tune down. As matter of fact, I'm not certain if any of us did. He was rather going deaf in the later years of his blessedly long life, and I suppose his sense of tone was not entirely Mozart clear. Once he asked a question the answer to which was Mexico, and my classmate answered "Canada?", and he said, "Mexico! Bingo!" .... So that pretty much says it all. After singing, or moaning along, we'd all stand up and do jumping jacks with Mrs. Telke's guidance, with her wig tumbling off and her body jiggling up and down along with the wig. Speaking of jiggly old ladies with scary hair, I just saw You Don't Mess With the Zohan starring Adam Sandler. In the film, Sandler plays an Israeli commando who goes to America to become a hairdresser and begins to fullfill his dream while serving haircuts and coitus to old patrons frequenting a salon in the Palestinian area of NYC. Mrs. Telke and Zohan. ... Okay, enough with that.

I was talking about Mrs. Telke's coffee story. There was a university that really wanted to recruit a football player to the school, but the student's grades were far too subpar to be eligible. Hence the coach begged and struck a deal with the administration to let the boy in if he spelled one letter in the word "coffee" correctly. And he spelled it: K-A-W-P-H-Y

I began writing this entry because my friend asked me if I drank coffee every day. In college I had a quotidian habit of consuming my caffeine-packed concoction, a mixture of coffee and cola, a special beverage which apparently only my friend and I enjoyed. There was a commercial effort to market the said drink in South Korea during the late 90's but it quickly disappeared. "Coffee-Cola". The marketing effort and the idea itself weren't so bad, but the product tasted as gross as the critics' imagination of the drink. Yet I made the landmarking discovery of cola-guiness, by mixing instant coffee with coke. Such mixture resulted in rich lathery foam carpeted by dark, thick caffeine juice. I continued my drink in college years, except by using fountain drinks this time. Anyway I'm glad my friend at least enjoyed the drink with me.

It seems that there's a lot more we had in common than we believed there were. I suppose we focused more on differences when our minds were set on bridging the gaps that were set between us from time to time. But when I look back, we had a lot more in common than we suspected. Sorta like how a mosaic seems all fragmented from upclose, but the big picture is actually whole and complete.

I wonder if I'll ever meet someone like that again, someone who appreciates my quirks finds the strangeness of it all amusing. Someone who can share my thoughts so much that we speak each other's words right before the other does. I certainly appreciate the time I have had with my friend, and am grateful that our bond continues though perhaps at a slightly different spectrum than before. Perhaps it's circumstances, as consequences of my actions, a change of heart through time, or any combiation of these elements. Whatever the case, we still remain connected, at least in terms of appreciating coffee-coke.

I don't drink coffee every day nowadays, but I do enjoy a nice cold cup of iced americano once every hot sleepy summer noon. I had a cup with a burger today, when I swept by Lotteria (a Korean fastfood chain) to grab a bite before climbing on the busride home.

Speaking of relationships (albeit a paragraph away) I was browsing through my Korean blog site groups for dating or relationship sites. I think it would not be a bad idea to start seeing people again now that I have settled in a bit. Time's passing by and soon I won't have the youthful leisure to see people as opposed to rushedly securing a candidate for marriage. Anyway, one group's name was identical to my name, even in its spelling, which actually deviates from the orignal source of my name. Perhaps, a sign?

Then again, not big into signs.

Romans 12

I've been rather irritable lately, and I opened up the Bible to find Romans 12. It had everything that applied to my status, everything that would help if I kept them, and that I was having trouble by not keeping. I must admit I am still not keeping true to its message, but I suppose blogging about it may help, and at least prompt the reader to check it out too.

Goats

Initially I intended to write a morose entry along the lines of self-pity and existentialism but decided to scrap such grotesque mental vomit. Instead, I shall write about goats.

Goats are good to eat. Yes indeed.

They also make great pets.

So. You can eat them and play with them.

They get kinda annoying when you pet them too much b/c they start neighing for you when you leave them.

If it gets too annoying, you could always eat them.

Kids are particularly cute.

And tasty.

Hrm. Now I sound like a cannibal. Why do they call human children kids, btw?

There's a lot of goats in Africa. I suppose they're easy to raise in such arid climates b/c they can stomach a wide variety of flora including thorn bushes. They also fancy paper.

This, if I dare presume, is the dumbest post I've written yet. However, I don't think it's any dumber than whining and drowning in self-pity on the internet. There's gotta be better ways to console oneself, don't you think?

Goat droppings resemble these little Korean pills called Jeongrohwan. Strangely enough, the said medicine smells much stronger than goat droppings. So becareful as to not touch them with your hands when you take them, lest the smell stain your fingers. They do, however leave your breath smelling not entirely pleasant. I suppose you could take the relatively new variant of the pill which has a pink sugar coating. Well, I don't know if it's sugar, but you know how some pills have a sweet hard coating, not unlike M&M's?

Goats symbolize the devil, but I don't find anything demonic about them except for the fact that they bang everything when in heat. But then again, don't most creatures bang everything while they're in heat? Humans bang everything, including goats, even when they're not in heat. So. I don't know why the goat became metaphor for the devil, but I suppose you could wiki it up if you're really curious enough.

Goat cheese is quite good, but not for those who dislike strong flavors. The same goes for goat meat, I suppose. Heidi becomes strong after all that goat milk. You know, the fictional Swiss gal from the Alps.

Eh, I can't seem to cook up anything else to write about goats...

Billy goats have peculiarly long beards. My Calculus professor in College had such a beard, leading me to dub him 'Goatman.' Of course, I did not call him that to his face. That class was somewhat awkward as my ex was in it pretty much right after the break up, as in the most awkwardly uncomfortable stage when you couldn't be more aware of the person's presence within 100 ft, but manage to act like the person is not there. Yeah... that was weird. Hrm, I wonder how that gal is doing nowadays. I suppose she's graduated by now since she was a year below me, and it's been more than a year since I've graduated. Wow, how time flies. I recall that she liked creamy Italian food. I wonder if she'd like goat cheese. Do they use goat cheese in Italian cuisine?

Huh, it's been about four years since I've had a tete-a-tete conversation with that lass. Funny how human relationships come and go like summer rain. It seems to cover the entire world all of a sudden, then disappears with equal spontaneity. I'm not sure if I spelled spontaneity right, but you get the drift.

Goats are not entire spontaneous creatures, I would say. They're fairly predictable, as they like to graze and neigh all day. However, they are more aggressive than sheep, and an annoyed billy goat my puncture a few holes in your tush.

I'm sitting in a PC-bang waiting to meet someone, but perhaps I won't after all. Perhaps I'll just end up going home after blabbing about goats.

Staog. Goats. Staog. Stag. Sag. Tag. Gat. Get. Gut. Tug. Mug. Shrug. Pug.

Pug. I saw a pug in a pet store just last evening. We were walking by the store after having dinner at a local seafood buffet. The food was alright. Oh right, pug. It was sleeping soundly. I think it was sick or something. But it was cute nonetheless. My aunt had a pug, but I think my uncle may have eaten it. Then again, pugs are too small, so I think it probably avoided the dooming fate of Korea's controversial summer cuisuine.

Goats make excellent substitute for the said dish. In the US, since it is almost a crime to cosume canine flesh, goat meat is used instead.

Well, I got the phone call after all. I'm bailin'.

Jack and Jill

They say every Jack has his Jill. In Korean, we have a similar old saying, "Every shoe has its pair." Well, it appears that some of us are neither shoes nor Jack (or Jill). The former is most likely true because you are a human being, and as for the latter, I guess it's because you're not from an Anglophone nation. I suppose you might be Jacques or ... whatever the equivalent of Jill is in French. OK, so I started babbling a bit. Back to the subject, then, shall we?


I'll save my breath for this posting, for I suppose it's a topic only too commonly discussed among the billions of lonesome singles out there. I guess the aim is to babble about my current status and just leave off some sort of uplifting comment just so that I can make some good out of this blog. But really, it's pretty much pointless.

For me, one of the most compelling reasons that makes me crave a relationship is not simple loneliness, but a form of insecurity. In a relationship, one has someone to count on for encouragement and intimate interest. It pulls you out of the gray myst of negligence from the all too cold and ignorant society. However, such motivations for a relationship, ironically enough, can become a prime cause of the said relationship's failure. In this case, my insecurity will begin to create a gap between me and my partner, as I grow unsatisfied by my partner's level of encouragement and interest. As a result, our patience would grow thin, and the relationship will come to a crumbling end.

The above was merely an example that I can cite from my previous relationships, upon a brief analysis. The motivations behind everyone's longings may differ from one another, but I suspect that there is a purpose behind the root of every single person's "loneliness". It may be healthy or not, but be aware that if your motivation for seeking and entering a relationship are not dealt with wholesomely, you may come out hurt and disappointed.

I suppose this entry was more to console myself than others, but that's the very purpose of blogging, don't you think? It's a paradoxical method of simultaneously talking to yourself, to nobody, and to the entire world.

Identity Crisis

I've rather been a bit confused lately regarding my personality. I think there is conflict between who I am, wish to be, strive to be, and appear as to others. I'm not sure if the preceding sentence was grammatically sound, but let's forget about that for now.

It's somehow both unfortunate and relieving that I can get this off my chest by blogging. Unfortunate, because I don't seem to be able to find someone to talk about this in person, and relieving, because I can type it all up on the web and at least someone would read and understand. I would like to believe that Luce Bella, at least, would be able to read and sympathize with me, or at least, give me a silent nod. It's crucial that one has someone to just nod and listen to the internal struggles which one must untangle by admission and sharing.

In the past few months, I've nurtured a closer relationship to God, as He revealed many blessings for me. I say revealed because I believe, or like to believe, that God bestows blessings upon us all the time, but we lack the insight to recognize them. Anyway, that's how I have been recently, optimistic, hopeful, and courageous about where I am, and where I am headed.

Such personality, however, began to crumble when life became a little more comfortable again and I had the luxury of individualism yet again. You see, in my past few months I had little time to think for myself and make my own decisions. It was mostly filled with following orders and keeping myself in a rigid attention posture. I suppose I did make the choice and the decision to obey with a positive attitude, and to learn to grow from the experience. Such decision, however, somehow dulled my wit and sentiments and dampened my previous funk.

Then again, perhaps there always was a good amount of rigidity in me. In my recent interactions with my colleagues I was surprised to discover how conservative I am, or have become. I always thought that there still was that little bit of crazniess inside me that kept my sense of humor moist enough to attract a lass, but alas, I'm as dry as Kalahari.

Thus I am confused about my true personality and character, and whether one is the ghost of another; have I been merely pretending, or was there a true change of substance? Perhaps they are all a part of me that I must somehow fuse as one whole being.

I feel that I am suppressing a certain vibrancy inside me, that fantastic burst of energy that I would enjoy exuding on the spotlit stage. I wish to speak, but my words buzz inside like bees trapped in a jar, suffocating in their plight for flight. Yet when I release my frustration in relatively vulgar manners, I then come to question the sincerity of my stance in this divine relationship. I have come to a crux of self-identity, a broken bridge to my future.

After today's service, I suppose I have found some answers that can patch this crack, but the quandary is far from over. I think I do have the answer to this, but am not so sure how to actually approach and execute it. I fear that my employment of the said solution will suffer from my flawed undertaking and lead me back to the origin, keeping me in a hamster wheel.

Yet again, what's one to do but live on? Indeed, the important thing is to keep trucking on.
As Kungfu Panda's Master Oogway so eloquently put it:

"Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present. "

Aight, gotta RTB. Like. NOW.

Inertia

Inerntia: in·er·tia
Pronunciation:
\i-ˈnər-shə, -shē-ə\
Function:
noun
Etymology:
New Latin, from Latin, lack of skill, from inert-, iners
Date:
1713
1 a: a property of matter by which it remains at rest or in uniform motion in the same straight line unless acted upon by some external force b: an analogous property of other physical quantities (as electricity)2: indisposition to motion, exertion, or change :

as defined by Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary

Or, as I learned in junior-high physics ("Physical Science"), laziness of motion.

An object in space would remain put unless exerted by an external force, upon which it continues to move in that direction or manner. The reason there is no complete inertia on earth is due to other factors that influence objects' movements, i.e. friciton, gravity, etc.

I'm no science buff, so I can hardly say the above paragraph is completely accurate, but I would like to use it as a tangent point to lead into my entry. I do rather believe that the same rule of inertia applies to our behavior and activity, not only in the physical aspect, but also in mental, emotional, and spiritual realms.

Simply put, I find myself sitting on my posterior all day long unless I exert some external force upon the idle mentality of my status. Of course, the "external" force is actually internal because the mental process happens within my psychic perimeter. However, its externality does have its validity in that the effort to shift my inertial state of being derives from a source beyond the indolence pervading my system. Indeed, the effort itself is something new to the body in rest and it is that very unfamiliarity that stimulates change, like a catalyst in a test tube. Hence it is that much more difficult to instigate action among indolence, for the energy to fuel the effort is absent from the state of being.

IOT, it's darn hard to get off my arse once I sit on it.

Hrm, I did write an entry about the importance of succint writing, and I seemed to have defied it by the above two paragraphs. Or! Have I rejustified myself through the latter paragaph? Sigh, I think all I did was prove that I am simply overexerting myself to use every vocabulary word and expression I can conjure up, because I feel that much more braindead nowadays. I suppose the appropriate solution to this predicament would be to expose myself to good writing, but all I've been doing, as I hinted above, is sitting on my arse, staring blankly into the computer monitor.

And here I've done it again with my grandiloquent verbosity. <- Even this sentence itself is quite ridiculous.

Ok, so here is a relatively succint summary of my points:
1. Once ya sit on your ass, you're stuck.
2. It takes extra energy to move yer ass in that case, obviously enough.
3. So try not to sit on yer ass.
4. If you do, get off it, cuz:
5. Once you do, inertia is still in effect and:
6. It'll be easier for you to maintain your momentum unless:
7. You sit on yer ass again.

Although I am certain that I am well capable of arranging the above ideas in much more eloquent manner, the inertial state of my brain sits brick-heavy like stale mashed potatoes.

I suppose I can elaborate on point 4-7, because 1-3 is covered well enough in the preceding paragraphs.

So here we go: the second part of inertia is that once objects are in motion, it remains so unless affected by an external force (the reason it doesn't happen this way on earth is because of friction, etc, as I mentioned before). Likewise, once we manage to drive ourselves toward a certain goal or activity, there's no stopping us unless we run into other obstacles. Sounds obvious enough, but I think we often forget the fact that we have the inner force, the inertia of motion, that provides the innate source of drive. The very same principle that kept us on our asses can also help us keep running. And once we hit the highway, it's that much easier to stay on the path. Of course, external forces and obstacles may keep us, but remember that it's easier to keep going once we're in motion. Exert that extra little force to keep yourself on the road and cross the finish line.

That being said, I'm gonna exert myself to go to bed and hold stilll in laziness of sleepy motion until the sun pokes me awake for another day.

Pushups and tire belly

I have a beer belly. It's a haunting fact that strikes me everytime I look into the mirror. All the physically intensive training is pretty much over now, so I'll have to pick up the pace independently if I wish to burn the calories that plague my libidinous abdomen. I didn't even lose much weight during the training, and have packed up a few chunks lately. Must be all the American food I've been eating at the base, i.e. Charley's philly + fries.

So I believe I must remedy this situation somehow. I suppose I could go through the whole routine of dieting and exercise, but I'm uncertain as to how long I can retain the self-discipline required for the endeavor. Also, I don't know how effective a few hours of daily workout would be for me. Until only about a month ago I used to do thousands of pushups and run a dozen miles each week. Even so, my lovely belly fat sternly refused to bid farewell. Hence I am not completely confident that a minor enhancement of my quotidian habits would make a dent. I suppose I'll stay fit, in any case, so there's nothing to lose. Still, the issue at hand is regarding my belly, which I suppose must be resolved through liposuction if the need arises.

What, then, is the exact reason that I would like to slim down my waist? I suppose it comes down to two facts. 1. It looks hella ugly. 2. It's a sign of my physical well-being, or the lack thereof to be precise. The first reason, I suppose, is obvious enough, but can be easily addressed by just not giving a hoot about it. I guess I may be oversimplifying the matter, but let's move on. The second reason bears more integrity in the nature of the predicament, I believe. Although my effort to workout may prove futile in serving the first purpose, it is certain that working out in itself fulfills the second reason, whether it rids me of my doughy pot or not.

Well, then. We shall see how this unfolds.

Words and weeds

Well, here I am starting up another blog.

My most recent exploits in life yet again neccesitate exquisite mastery over the written and spoken word.

I spent over an hour attempting to craft the sentences of this entry, only to delete them repeatedly. I suppose succint rhetoric is difficult to achieve, as verbosity often accompanies my failed attempts at eloquence.

--

It's been nearly a month since I've been commissioned, and I find myself alike a flat soda. The will, grit, fortitude, and sense of purpose I fostered over the past three words have diminished. This introspection brings me to an analogy I discovered back at OTU while uprooting weeds on the weekends for "beautifying" our fieldside park.

-Weed plants must be uprooted completely in order to avoid regeneration. Even the smallest piece of neglected root will soon regenerate the entire plant. Likewise, self-discipline requires a complete clensing of the self. IOW, Old habits die hard.

-Weed plants must be uprooted consistently. Even the most thorough weeding cannot outdo the pertinacious survivability of a weed plant. Repeated uprooting will increase the probability of complete removal and thereby reduce the number of weedings required. This correlates to the consistency required for genuine introspection, discipline, and transformation. Persistence.

-The weed roots intertangle with surrounding soil and the roots of other plants. This results in gaping holes that need to be patted back in after weeding. Self-discipline and refining can often be a scarring process, sometimes inducing collateral compromise of desirable elements intertangled with the undesirable. Do not hesitate to make the compromises. Follow up with healing.

-Some weed plants boast pretty buds as to suade the weeder from its doomed fate. Likewise, some things are just plain difficult to do away with. However, we must remember that the apparent charm of the weed does not alter the true value and fate of the weed. As long as we recognize the fact that the weed is a weed, we must not be distracted by the flower.

Writing all this took me more time than was neccessary, and this draft pleases me no more than the previous deleted ones. I suppose I have lost my English writing abilities to some degree, as I find my order of words awkward and even "Koreanized." I really need to work on refining my writing and thought organization.