aerial view

Every night before I drift off to sleep, I have all these ideas and thoughts about what I want to do the next day. I’ll make an exquisite and healthy breakfast smoothie, make this DIY craft to decorate the living room walls, cut my bangs like this, invite people over for homemade mojitos, take a photo from an aerial view of my shoes and pants while I’m walking to my local pie shop. Possibly tipsy from homemade mojitos.

What really happens? I slumber to the bathroom when I wake up, sleuth back into bed for another hour, skip breakfast, walk from the bathroom, bedroom, office, and living room 37 times, aimlessly, then stand in between the bathroom and bedroom and think, There was something I was going to do today…

This article, among everything that was said, got me thinking about how much, and how quickly, we desire things to have meaning. We’re trying to “inject the present moment with sentimentality,” as Wampole puts it. The present moment — all the posts, pins, and pictures — may, in fact, be very sentimental. But never as sentimental as an aged memory you share at the dinner table. Never as sentimental and meaningful as being present and then letting time take over.

Yesterday, after 27+ years of labor, my parents were able to/had to let the restaurant go. And with barely any business these last few years, scores of customers came to have their last meals and say goodbye to my parents and the business. One faithful patron cried, so my mom cried, and then my sister cried haha. Out of happiness and shared sentiment. My dad said those moments throughout the week made all of these years worth it. Day in and day out, sometimes with only a handful of customers to pass the time, stressing about rent and income, my dad cooking and hosting, and my mom serving — time hadn’t been wasted.

I think about how their lives, their presence, impacted the community they lived in, and it blows me away. People shed tears knowing my parents were shutting down. We want our lives to be meaningful — that’s a good thing. But can we just let meaning be what it is and take its course without forcing ourselves on it? Sometimes I feel a slight pang of anxiety when I have nothing to share, or seemingly nothing to share. No recent pictures or check-ins. Am I going to be obsolete and irrelevant? I think that’s when I start dreaming of the things I’ll do the next day. Things that can be appraised by a vast audience to acknowledge my life and give it instant, obvious meaning. I think my parents, the older generation, know something about being present. Being in God’s presence. Believing in who God created them to be, believing that alone has sweet meaning, and believing it for others. Maybe every task won’t have instant significance, and every move won’t foreshadow revelation. It didn’t for my mom while she walked around an empty restaurant, listless from the lack of customers. But that doesn’t mean purpose and meaning aren’t there. Maybe it’s just a matter of time and being faithful.


ROFLooking like a fool

Strongest urge to chuck my laptop out the window as hard as I can, and then run outside and grind the pieces into the ground with my feet.

Feeling a bit disheartened today. Gulp.

I laid on the floor for 16 minutes, said every curse word in my head that I knew of, stared at the ceiling with my eyes half closed, and got back up. What else can you do but get back up?

I tried Chinese water torture on Stan last night using my finger to tap his forehead while he tried to sleep. The key is using an unanticipated pattern. Needless to say, I won that round. At least I won that round.

what can i say

“I had noodles for lunch. I found the udon in the fridge,” he said smugly. Then a frown gently creased his eyebrows and he asked, “Is it just the noodles and soup base? Doesn’t it come with vegetables and stuff?”

“Hm? I put those veggies in there…I cut it up and put it in there for you….”

“Oh. I thought it fell out of the pack. I thought I dropped it somewhere….”

Sweet, sweet man. My throat feels scratchy from practicing my batman voice.


Jay Park was confident he’d debut in America in two years. “I don’t believe that the important thing is choosing which artist to work with, knowing the trend or how to promote. I think it’s the sincerity. I believe I can make people feel my sincerity when I make music in America…. Two years; and that’s looking at it long.” That was a statement he made more than a year ago. I think today was the first time I’ve heard of him through Stan. Maybe Jay Park’s name popped up somewhere in passing, but it wasn’t significant enough to remember.

Just one month ago, PSY released the music video for “Gangnam Style.” Today, it has more than 50 million hits.

Perhaps there’s something more to this phenomenon than PSY entering back into the music scene at a time when K-Pop is breaching the American sound barrier. Can America embrace the smooth, fresh, Bieber-esque qualities of Jay Park over the comedic, flamboyant, and chubby musician? Is “Gangnam Style” the work of a true musical genius? Or is America still only comfortable with the blundering, seemingly asexual, Asian male stereotype?

I don’t know. But I know Jackie Chan never got Jennifer Love Hewitt. Romeo surely died with the awkwardness between Jet Li and Aaliyah. Hiro Nakamura was like a comic book character and never got with what’s her face. Oh oh! John Cho and Gabrielle Union were slightly successful in Flash Forward. Anyone watch Flash Forward? Anyone? No? Bueller? Point is, “Gangnam Style” is kitschy and catchy and mostly kitschy, PSY is short for PSYcho, and Jay Park…well, we’ll see where that goes. Do your thing, kid.

a conversation in the sonu household

Me: Since we’ve been married, is there anything you think I do that’s weird?

Stan: *looking around for the trap* No…

Me: No, really, tell me. Like, I’ll give you one. Sometimes I’ll eat over the sink so I don’t have to do dishes. Did you know I did that?

Stan: Well… you paint your nails for no reason. And sometimes, you wear the same shirt 3 days in a row. And you approach showering like an 8-year-old boy. And you get ready in the morning faster than anyone I know. Like in 3 minutes. *still looking around for the trap*

summertime na na na na na na

It’s a gorgeous day outside, and I’m inside sitting shiva under the natural sunlight of our energy-saving bulbs. They hurt my eyes. I’m hunched over and squinting. And…mourning the loss of my youth because I sound like an 80-year-old Jewish grandma.

Every time I get motivated to go out and do something, I linger around at home for too long and lose my mojo. I like to play it safe and comfortable. Or maybe safety and comfort are playing me! Damn those fools.

I think this happens when you let yourself get used to a way of living. All the unimaginable colors of heaven are subdued into imaginable ones, controlled ones. I’ve been thinking lately…that it’s hard for me to do anything that will rock the boat. I don’t want any unnecessary stressors until previously had stressors disappear. But I’m pretty sure this will never happen because Asians like to stress about not having stress. Always have to feel productive. And I don’t think it should happen anyway. I just want my attitude to change. I want my spirit to change.

Moving here was tougher than I thought it would be, and I kind of gave myself that justification as to why I didn’t want to rock the boat. The boat was friggin’ full of suitcases, furniture, appliances, old photos and old memories. It’s been a year now, though, and I think I need to stop lingering around trying to hold everything steady. Everything will come and go. I feel a new season coming. I feel the waves gently rocking.

Maybe I should chug one of Stan’s Goose Island Summertime Ales. Liquid courage. J/k. It actually just tastes delicious. It tastes like going to the lake-beach and you’re starving and you’re waiting for someone to give you the next grilled hot dog and someone gives it to you topped with ketchup, mustard, relish, and crumbled potato chips.

Okay, I’m going outside now.

One day he got into a boat with his disciples, and he said to them, “Let us go across to the other side of the lake.” So they set out, and as they sailed he fell asleep. And a windstorm came down on the lake, and they were filling with water and were in danger. And they went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we are perishing!” And he awoke and rebuked the wind and the raging waves, and they ceased, and there was a calm. He said to them, “Where is your faith?” And they were afraid, and they marveled, saying to one another, “Who then is this, that he commands even winds and water, and they obey him?”

phil 2

This past year has deepened and strengthened the meaning of three words in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

I love you.

Here’s to all the rest.

You are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you.


The following sequence of words should not exist:

You look really good! Did you lose weight?*

This sequence, and any variation of this sequence, should be banned from public speech.

*Disclaimer: It may be allowed under the circumstance that said person was morbidly obese and intentionally tried to lose weight. Maybe.

It’s no wonder why women are afflicted with distorted self-images.

blast from the past

dollar bills
caffeine thrills
dirty cars
bianca and lars
tissue box
missing socks
lightning showers
hide and cower
smoggy air
truth or dare
roaring lion
someone’s spyin’
a fit of laughter
a thought thereafter
figure eights
telling time
did that rhyme
circles, squares
i’ve had my share
camel’s back
short stacks
magnolia blossom
damn you’re awesome
stay up late
stand and wait
question, answer
reveal your cancer
let it go
accept it slow
deep blue ocean
fluid motions
seed is growing
keep it going