Teachers

I met a woman long ago
Her hair the black that black can go
Are you a teacher of the heart
Soft she answered No

I met a girl across the sea
Her hair the gold that gold can be
Are you a teacher of the heart
Yes but not for thee

I met a man who lost his mind
In some lost place I had to find
Follow me the wise man said
But he walked behind

I walked into a hospital
Where none was sick and none was well
When at night the nurses left
I could not walk at all

Morning came
And then came noon
Dinner time a scalpel blade
Lay beside my spoon

Some girls wander by mistake
Into the mess that scalpels make
Are you the teachers of my heart
We teach old hearts to break

One morning I woke up alone
The hospital and the nurses gone
Have I carved enough, my Lord
Child, you are a bone

I ate and ate and ate
I did not miss a plate
How much do these suppers cost
We'll take it out in hate

I spent my hatred every place
On every work on every face
Someone gave me wishes
And I wished for an embrace

Several girls embraced me, then
I was embraced by men
Is my passion perfect
No, do it once again

I was handsome, I was strong
I knew the words of every song
Did my singing please you
No, the words you sang were wrong

Who is it whom I address
Who takes down what I confess
Are you the teachers of my heart
We teach old hearts to rest

Teachers are my lessons done
I cannot do another one
They laughed and laughed and laughed and said
Well child, are your lessons done
Are your lessons done

Leonard Cohen

The Island

An island is there in the midst of the people.
I want to go to the island.

Hyen-Jong Jung

The Only Poem

This is the only poem
I can read
I am the only one
can write it
I didn't kill myself
when things went wrong
I didn't turn
to drugs or teaching
but when I couldn't sleep
I learned to write
I learned to write
what might be read
on nights like this
by one like me

Leonard Cohen

I'd Like to Read

I'd Like to read
one of the poems
that drove me into poetry
I can't remember one line
or where to look

The same thing
happened with money
girls and late evenings of talk

Where are the poems
that led me away
from everything I loved

to stand here
naked with the thought of finding thee.

-Leonard Cohen

Poems

I finally found my website. I used to post my poems and essays there. Oddly enough, I forgot how to do it. I don't know how to access to it and don't even remember html that I used to use for the site.

So I'm turning into my blogger to post poems and favorite quotes. I don't want to write my personal feelings or things happening around me anymore, but I still need to write. I'm a person who cannot figure out anything if I don't write. Whenever things happen, I always turn to writing poems or journals. I don't think I'll post my own poems here. My poems are personal, and I'm shy.

Murakami Haruki once said:

If you're satisfied only with living everyday life, you don't have to write. Something lacks inside of me. That's why I have to write.

I Hate Waking Up Early in the Morning

It sucks waking up early in the morning. The dream I had is still vivid, and I know the dream indicates what I lost in my life. It's kinda sad to realize how unhappy I am.

I want something permenant in my life. I want to have some place to go back to. Somewhere I belong to...

Suddenly Realized...

I've suddenly realized that I have nothing to hold onto.

I'm ultimately free.

Where will I go from now on?

Will I stay here? My legal status is insecure.
Will I go back to Korea and get a job? I've been there and done that. I wasn't exactly satisfied with it.

Will I go to some other countries?
What about China? I can probably get a job there.
What about France? Well, maybe I can resume studying French.
What about Norway? It's kinda cold there, huh?

I can go everywhere, yet, have no place to go.

When I was a teenager, I complained that my life would be bored. Everything seemed to be set up for me. I was horrified by the secure path. What was I thinking? I should've held onto what was provided to me.

All the paths that I took, running toward to the end of rainbow, looking for the blue bird, got me nowhere. I'm still standing where I originally began 20 years ago.

Where should I go?

A Frog Gets Killed

We have this proverb.

A frog gets killed by a stone that you throw with no intention.

I don't want to talk about in detail online, but my god! What were they thinking? My whole life dream has vaporized by the stone.

Don'tDateHim

Check this out. How funny this was posted on Korean Newspaper on Internet.

http://www.dontdatehimgirl.com

What are we, ethnographic researchers?

OK, you get emotional sometimes when you work in the field. You sometimes break down. I mean, we're all human. When I worked at an NGO, I got through the same thing. Facing all the horrible things that I had never encountered all through my life, I cried every night. Then, I ran away to where I belong. Was there any research done on the activists who gave up on their movement and returned to the typical middle class? NO.

It broke my heart to hear the story of the girl who was isolated because of her disablity and was going through a hard time in today's class. It got me worried thinking of what she would have to go through facing the real world with all her vuneralibity.

Yet, I'm more mad than worried.

What are you, ethnographic researchers? How could you guys quickly turn the issue of the girl into your learning experience as a researcher? Come on. Refer to articles and other ethnographers' experiences, and recommend articles to read? Talk about how to deal with our own emotional issues? I call those people, Boomerang. They're so absolved in themselves that all they think of it is themselves whatever the original issue is. Could we talk about what we could do to make a change to help the girl?

Didn't we talk about "empowerment" for 3 hrs in the beginning of this quarter? Didn't you guys read three articles about it?

Even if you're working on minority groups, that doesn't mean that you're one of them unless you place yourself there. What do your papers about marginalized groups mean?

What are you, ethnographic researchers? I'm ashamed of a group where I belong now.

Carlos Said...

Right before Marianne's class starts:

K; Hey Carlos, what costume did you wear for Halloween?
C; I didn't wear anything for Halloween.

Damn, why didn't I go to the lab on Halloween? I would've had a chance to check your black, long thingy.