233: 100TAM 2.0 (Work In Progress #4)

This is the fourth installment of the second list. This one, let me tell you, is long overdue. And I promise it won't be as wordy as my other list.

1. I'll start with a secret. Shhh, don't tell anyone, but I'm... an American.
2. I don't look it, because, well, I come from a Korean stock. (It's a fancy way of saying I was born in Korea.)
   
3. So, I'm a Korean-American. Oh, by the way, did you notice the hyphen?
4. Since no one ever asks, I'll just go on and share: No. 3 is one of my many reasons for this barely noticed humble blog's moniker.
   
5. And it pains me to acknowledge this but... It's shocking... I've an accent.
6. But no, no, no. All but the first three years of my schooling from kindergarten to grad school was in these States.
7. It's just that (and let me use my favorite excuse) I've been for a good few months in the latter part of what I call "transition years" a mute. So the language center of my brain, undergoing a tremendous amount of stress (and I'm using my highly acute skill of diagnosis), failed to develop normally.
   
8. When I did regain my "voice," the Korean I spoke was tainted with an American accent, and I spoke it poorly. Compounding further my language impediment, as those who've met me will attest, Me don't speaks the Engrish very good.
9. Yes, growing up, I've been called by many snooty American-born Korean- and other Asian-Americans a FOB. And when you can't kill 'em, you join 'em. I am a FOB, I'll remain a FOB, I shall die a FOB. The irony is, though, a lot of them were homo-ethnics (a new word I am coining now; homo-ethnic [noun]: a person who tends to socialize exclusively with those of the same ethnic or racial background, out of convenience or out of racism.)
10. While we're on the subject of "homo," Je suis un homosexuel; Soy un homosexual; 私は同性愛者である；나는 동성애자 이다; I am a homosexual. (Eh! Sounded too formal...) I'm a fag. (Hmm... a little derogatory, no?) I'm a gay man. I am gay. (Ok, better.)
    
11. It seems when you're gay, you need to be able to disclose certain information like... like... like your sex life depends on it. Such as: "Hi, I'm 5' 10" (You say: Okay, that's a good height), 150 lbs (Ooo, a little on the skinny side), just turned 30 (Yikes! But that's okay, as long as... you know... just remember always to subtract 2"), and I'm a down-to-earth, average guy (What?!) looking for the same (*silence*)."
    
12. But the thing is, I'm not just gay. Okay, huddle in closer. Are you close? Okay, I'm not sure how to say it delicately, so I'm just going to say it. Oh, God. Okay, hoo-hoo-hoo. I'm ready. Here it goes. I'm... I'm... Imachrisyun. I'm one of those "Is Jesus your personal Lord and Savior?" Christian.
    
13. Hello?
14. You okay?
15. Did I lose you?
    
16. Well, I was. I am. Well, no. I should clarify: I'm a "Jesus is MY personal Lord and Savior" Christian. I would never impose my beliefs on anyone.
    
17. Look, it's not like I'm saying that I'm a Republican.
18. What?
19. No, no, no.
20. I'm NOT. I'm not a Republican. Believe me.
21. Speaking of the Republicans and their having moved this country in the wrong direction, I've been moved around a lot during the "transition years."
22. The "transition years," I've mentioned in #7, are the first two years I've spent in America, where I was constantly uprooted, living with my relatives instead with my own family.
23. At first, Mom and I fly from Seoul, Korea to Honolulu, Hawaii, to briefly settle with my maternal grandfather. But the stay is all too brief.
    
24. Mom and I find ourselves, next, in the armpit of America, New Jersey, where Mom is hired by her cousin to be the nanny for his two bratty, want-for-nothing children.
    
25. But as soon as I settle, Mom decides to send me to her brother's in Los Angeles. She doesn't join me.
    
26. My aunt grudgingly agrees to watch over me, provided that Mom take me back at the year's end. Yet Mom, finding herself incapable to hold her end of the bargain, sends me instead to my dad's sister's place in Tacoma, Washington.
27. I live there, practically ignored by my guardians and my cousins, until the end of school year. Soon thereafter, I rejoin Mom in New York, in our own place.
28. Mom tells me the boy I was before and the boy I became after the "transition years" are different. She wasn't talking about the height I gained or the number of childhood teeth I lost. Mom has apologized to me. Whenever she recounts our stories, she expresses how she still feels bad.
    
29. I believe Mom shouldn't feel bad at all. It was the situations and circumstances we were in. Hindsight: it's always better than foresight, isn't it?
30. I admit, my biggest fear in life is rejection.
31. So, I don't want to wish my worst fear onto others. It's the hardest thing for me to do, to reject anyone who has found a place in my heart.
    
32. That means, it takes a lot for me to let anyone get close to me.
    
33. But don't get me wrong. I want to be more open, more giving. I'm not an island. Hell, I can no longer stay to be one anymore.
    
34. I hope, though, that those who've gotten to know me find me as their loyal, reliable, and devoted friend.
35. Yes, I want to be known as Caring...
36. And Kind...
37. And Loving.
38. But not Nice. Let's never describe Yours Truly as nice, okay?
    
39. Did you know that the simple philosophy of paying it forward appeals to me.
    
40. If I practice it, live it, maybe I can say that I brought a little bit of Kingdom of Heaven to this world.
    
41. What can you say? I'm naïve enough to believe in world peace.
42. I blame my Christian upbringing.
    
43. Seriously, like the song says, all you need is love.
44. Are you laughing at me? Are you?
45. Eh. Moving on.
    

To be continued...