Omgawd… it really MUST be the scariest night of the year, it’s 8pm and I’m in bed hiding… from all the children… candy crazed children, running wild in the night… *shivers*

…jk. No child would be brazen enough to mount my darkened steps. The last time a child knocked on my door, I answered it with a knife in my hand.
…actually, I heard the monsters coming and whipped the door open right before they knocked. With a knife in my hand. They actually ran screaming. 😁

Hashtag: Anyone Need a Babysitter?

Gawd. When you finish the last page of a wonderous book, and it just lingers on your tongue like the last bite of ambrosia. And you sit, holding time tightly like you can stop it from moving foward. Hold this moment, this feeling, for even were you to read and reread and reread, no other time will ever be your first again. No other moment will ever be this very moment, this new and haunting taste left in your mouth. This is what reading is. This is what magic is…

…when the night begins to win over the day. when the air begins to grasp at your skin. when the trees start to turn, growing gold, then crimson, as if infected. then drop their leaves as if seeking to blanket the Earth, keep her warm, keep her safe. safe from the ghosts that slowly drift in the dew light, from the shadows that yawn and stretch in the twilight…

My wisdom hairs normally come out this sort of interesting blonde colour. But this morning I looked in the mirror and there was one so silver I nearly had to shield my eyes from the glare. And honestly, the whole idea still confounds me. I looked in the same mirror yesterday, and that hair wasn’t there. Did the colour just fall off in my sleep. Did grey hair gremlins attack me in the middle of the night? Are the wisdom hairs actually the super hairs of the head, with the power to grow overnight?
You know the first X-men movie? Where Rogue is strapped to the Anti-Mutant machine, and her body undergoes so much stress you see the grey just sweep down a section of her hair like a waterfall? Sometimes that’s how I imagine it. Only, minus the Anti-Mutant machine…
I generally allow my wisdom hairs to hang out. But this one I plucked. …for the safety of others, you know? Don’t want people getting into car accidents from the extreme shine in their eyes…

Hashtag: Damn You Gorgeous Shiney Hair…

On to better things.
I found a prereleased copy of one of my favorite authors upcoming books. Official release date, sometime in the next few months. I feel a little bit secret, a little bit special, the word “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped across each page of text.
I am both excited, and dubious. This is the start of a new series based off one of my absolute favorite series. But she also butchered the ending of said series, and I quite promptly discarded the last book and forever pretend it never happened. More disappointedly, her next book, a stand alone, was… tragic. I enjoyed it only slightly more than I enjoyed the last book I just read.
So I feel this book is walking a thin line. But I have so much hope. The series it follows was written with so much magic and dreaminess. I legitimately fell head over heels for one of the characters. I wanted to live in that world. I wanted to smell the trees. I let out a sigh each time I had to pull myself out of the world and put the books down.
So this journey is a gamble.
But what fun would an adventure be, if you knew exactly what you were getting into?

Bicycle Uber!

Sometimes, I have these really brilliant, stupid ideas..

The other morning I woke up and was like, “Bicycle Uber!” Like Uber but on bikes. You know, for like shorter distances. Like, “Oh no! I’m gonna be late for class on the otherside of campus!” Or, “Oh man, I’m so drunk I can’t walk the four blocks home.” Or even for those who need a ride, but just love the environment too much. Boom! Bicycle Uber’s got yer back!

But then I started really thinking about it…
“Oh no! I’m gonna be late for class on the otherside of campus! Better call a Buber!” 🙈
“Oh man, I’m so drunk I can’t walk the four blocks home. Maybe I’ll just Buber it!” 🙉
Worse yet… “If you’re an enviro-nerd and don’t believe in cars, but still need to get places in a hurry, Buber’s got yer back!” 🙊

I shelved that idea for now…

My American Dream

I’m not opposed to people who post political things. And I’m not opposed to people who voted for Trump. I am a strong believer in everyone having their own opinions and I’m not going to tell you they’re right or wrong. But I don’t want to see your open Trump support on my facebook feed. I don’t want to see comments like, “Build the Wall!” because you don’t understand what that phrase really means.
95% of my facebook friends are White Americans. 95% of my facebook friends have absolutely no idea what it is like to be descriminated against. They have no idea what its like to wake up every morning and not know what someone is going to say to you today. Half the time I laugh it off, because whats the point in making a big deal? But I guess I’m finally making a big deal, and I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.
Out of like 30 dayshift staff on my unit, there are 3 who aren’t White Americans, including me.
Whenever I work with the man, patients are constantly commenting on how we would be a cute couple. When I work with the woman, patients are constantly asking if she is my mother, we look so much alike. We aren’t even from the same countries. I laugh it off, because working in my unit begs a strong allowance for stupidity. But 90% of my coworkers won’t ever have to experience that.
The majority of the people in my life will never understand what it’s like to wake up and immediately have people treat you differently because you’re skin isn’t white. To have people offhandedly tell you that your English is really good. To have someone start a sentence off with, “I’m not trying to sound racist, but…” To have someone actually recognize that you are Korean and then tell you that they’re the worst race ever. To have someone spit the word “Gook” at you in the middle of a crowded room. To ask you if the Sweet and Sour Chicken they had for lunch is just as shitty where you come from too. “Where you come from.” The m
ajority of my friends will never have the phrase flung at them with such distain. I met a man recently. He was a law clerk in Forida, but packed up and moved here. He wanted to open a restaurant, so he did. A small hole in the wall with one table. He was telling us how just the day before a man was walking down the street and saw him. The man yelled at him to pack his things and go back to where he came from.
America used to be a country that the rest of the world looked at as a land of Hope and Opportunity. It promised people the chance at a better future. And in essence, I, myself, came to America for the chance of a better future. For Hope and Opportunity.
What people don’t realize is, even if I went back to Korea, I would never be fully assimilated and treated as a Korean, despite being born there. For 3 decades I have been an American, and I will always be an American. But I clearly will never be fully treated as an American. So where are people like me supposed to feel at home, if even a country built on immigration and the American Dream, can’t fully accept us? I guess all men AREN’T created equal, with the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Isn’t THAT what “Make America Great Again,” should REALLY be about?