Well. This has been an interesting week.
My book came out this week! And while I’m tired of talking about (and am in constant anxiety that I’m talking about the book too much), I gotta keep plugging and plugging away. I have a certain goal I want to reach. After I reach that goal, gonna take it easy. So 6 months from now, if I’m plugging away still, then know I did not obtain my goal. Yet.

Secondly, I made a quick video about the “satanic panic” that Sam Smith caused amongst conservative Christians.
I didn’t think much of it. Did it while walking back and forth at PCR (Pearland Coffee Roasters, to the uninitiated) to check up on my son waiting for trains. And yes, I dabbled in the what-aboutism I so dislike. But it was to make a point. Why are we (Christians) so outraged about a pop-star (whom I presume shock-value was part of their intent) while ignoring the real ‘evil’ that lurks within our own churches and what not? the video’s, what, like 40 seconds?
Well. As of now, it’s at 2.8 million views and I want it to hit 3 million. Why? I don’t know. Why not?
I have been, though, staying off Tiktok because I don’t like notification badges. Every time I open up the app, there’s a 99+ (the highest the count can go) badge waiting for me inside the app (I turned off all notifications to the phone a while back). And every time I clear it, 99+ appears right away. More than the comments that gives me anxiety. I did try to keep up with the comments — like the ones that were sharing the spiritual abuse they’ve experienced. But in trying to wade through for those comments, I have to read the trolling ones. You know… the ones calling me a heretic; a satan worshipper; things assuming I’m a Catholic priest; which again… doesn’t mean a thing to me because more than the comments that stupid 99+ is what I want to avoid.
It’s wild. And people are fascinating. And even more when they have the safety of anonymity.

But that’s not what this post is about. and before we begin: brace yourself for grammatical errors ahead. I regained the itch to start writing again. I think the book took a lot out of me…but I want to get back in the habit, and this blog is a way to do it. On top of that, I have this idea… again… and I’m tinkering with it to see if I can turn it into something. Anyway, apologies for the errors you’ll encounter because I stopped self editing as writing has been the goal for me, not coherency.

One of my favorite songs that came out recently is Astronaut by Jin of BTS fame. It’s a song that Coldplay gifted Jin.
I saw the video of them performing it together in Argentina:

There’s a moment closer to the beginning of the vide where Jin is running towards Chris Martin’s open arms and Chris says “My boy” as Jin is caught in Chris’s embrace.
That moment has been living rent free in my mind.
When I first saw it, it was overly lovely and emotional.
That’s the thing I’ve noticed about me as I’m getting older — I’m getting more emotional over things.
Perhaps, my view on the world and life gets softer as I get older.
I no longer feel as jaded towards … the world than I did. Maybe it’s because I’m getting too old to get riled up about anything and everything. Or maybe with age, I realize there truly is beauty and love abundant in this world, if I just look for it. Or maybe a mixture of both.

The song Astronaut was on the fringe of it being an ear worm for me.
But then I saw Coldplay perform it on SNL and saw that Chris Martin was wearing a patch on his shirt (and coat) that was a reference to Jin’s version of Astronaut. That, too, tugged on the heart strings. Jin, for those that may not know…or care, is serving his mandatory military service in Korea.
I forgot how much I liked Coldplay.

Once when we listening to this song my wife asked me (I don’t know if it was in jest or seriousness): who do you think about when singing this song?
Uh… Jin. And Coldplay.
That’s who I think about because that’s who sings it.

Not many songs are associated with people.
Say Something the Pentantonix version will always be associated with my friend Dae-Shik. Every time that song comes on, I resist the urge to text him.
Sometimes by Britney Spears always reminds me of my friend, Spencer.
And any time I hear a song that makes me think “that’s stupid” I think of my brother. Cuz he’s stupid.
Bon Iver’s album For Emma, Forever Ago reminds me of my friend Jeremy. And he sent over a record — and when I listen to that, that band and that album will forever be associated with him. I know why the first two songs are associated with those two friends… I don’t know why I think of Jeremy every time I listen to Bon Iver. But I have been listening to them a lot these past few weeks, because Jeremy and his family have been in my thoughts and on my heart a lot lately.

It’s safe to say — and I mean this sincerely and genuinely — there are no girls associated with songs.
Expect one, actually.
What’s Up by the 4 Non-Blondes.

See. We Koreans love noraebangs (literally, singing rooms — our word for karaoke). Check that. I don’t want to overgeneralize. The Koreans that we knew in seminary loved to go to noraebangs.

We all went to the noraebang one night — I’m pretty sure it was our first trip (of many) as a group.
During this time, there was this girl that I think I liked but wasn’t quite sure. I had no idea if she liked me. She was a little bit older than me.But I was in this… do I like her… or am I just lonely… does she like me or is she being nice…

Then it was her turn to sing.
And when she belted into the and I say Hey -ey -ey/ Hey-ey-ey/ I said Hey, what’s going on?

Damage. Was. Done.
Feelings were caught.
There were no longer ifs ands or buts about anything anymore.
I can’t really recall the timeline that followed because there always been an argument of when/what our first date was.
But. 2 years later, we got married.
and 19 years later, I was able to dedicate a book to her:

Every time that song comes on, I pause for a second (or longer) and think about that time where this pretty girl belted her heart out and I sat in stunned silence, confronted with my true feelings for her.

The rest, as they say, is history.