Coulda shoulda wouldas: blueprints for a future picturesque

Missing opportunity while thinking bout myself, not exactly outputting the best


Frank… *smh*

my only


As I offer Kunsang the Doritos she just sighs and shakes her head, lightly she expels “frank” from her lungs…  all as she reaches in and takes a chip.  Yup, I am the corrupter.  Laugh out loud, I did.  Too funny, she is.

As I bite my tongue, I’ve made the best choice without a say

Time to reflect on myself, and the hypocritical moments of the day

A chance to move on, so I let the past go

In the attempt to maintain a solid dharmic flow

So be it that one may get upset, yet until that one introspects what can they expect

The meaning behind what we say: Abstract

Pulling the strings of our hearts and minds, problems with language

Wish everything could be settled, by a pat on the back

It takes more after a tussle: verbal attack

Keeping track, as if preparing for a court case

What is the point, I am never going to win if I have been replaced

Keep the number one in that top place, or be nothing more or less than a familiar face

To study or to write, what a goddamn plight

Both could go well into the dead of the night

Screenplays stories etcera running through my cognitive web

So I lamely sit at my computer and add them to the internet

Art, it is awesome.  To be an artist must be exhilarating.  Relaxing and new, intention for days, racking through your mind in an artistic haze.

Toilet Run

Wordless Chorus, listen to it.  Awesome song.


Sauerkraut.  Awesome food.  Nothing better than a chedder brat with sauerkraut, except perhaps a good beer brat.  I’ve always liked it, kraut, the perfect condiment for such a food.

I remember trying to make a point of how much I liked it at one point in time.  At that moment, to me, it was a source of identification as a Wisconsin resident and as an American of the North.

Somebody said to my friends and I as we walked the streets of La Crosse ‘Welcome to the Great White North’… well thanks but I have been here for a while.  South-East, granted, butttt still.

I spent extensive time (in my view) at my cabin in the Northern Woods, so, I’ll be sure to welcome that gent up there as well if he doesn’t already have a cabin.


Anyhow, back to the Sauerkraut.  Yes, I found it as a way to identify as American and I was pretty proud that I was such a fan.  That was short lived.  I still enjoy it, but it is just a bomb condiment to me now.  

I can’t describe how I felt though, it was a naive attempt to find some identification.  Do I identify as the foods I like?  I love food from all over, so shall I identify as a citizen of the world?  Build more ego or let it go; ought I simply identify as Franklin?  I will for now.


For now.  We’ll see what happens.


E-mail came from the adoption agency, awesome.  I gotta call the American office tomorrow.  Turns out it is located in Appleton, that is where my Aunt and Uncle live.  Awesome place.  Can’t wait to see what is next.




Stay well

First steps

#4 #3 #1 #2

So, I have my original certificate of adoption (or whatever one may call it), and it is somewhat interesting.  I like the vintage look to it, but it also reminds me of how ephemeral things can be.  I do not want this piece of paper to deteriorate, nor do I want to solely have it’s image on my computer.  I like holding it, it is a tangible part of my past.  That, and my stuffed rabbit velvet.  Both are from the beginning of my life, for the most part.

I will attach an image or two of it so you can see what it looks like.

I wonder… my parents were both short, according to this.  I am basically six feet.  Me and a lot of my friends seem to be taller than our parents.  I wonder if my children will be seven feet tall if I feed them right.

One thing we have in common is being introspective at times, who isn’t though.  「 I am trying to not use conjunctions, but ‘who is not though’ does not sound right in the context of ‘who isn’t though’ 」Interesting.  Her father died of T.B., tuberculosis, and I have latent tuberculosis.  Yes, perhaps there is a correlation…Good to know.  Yup.

A day after my birthday I was sent to the 진주 branch for adoption, pretty quick turnaround 엄마.   Sooner than later, right on.  I feel ya.  Studies are important, so I will take mine seriously as well.

I guess I never made the weight gain.  I made the height, but not the weight.  I have always been lighter than my friends.  Those who are of all heights seem to be heavier than I, except those real skinny guys.

정숙자, thank you.  I hope that you are still doing well, I figure you are 67 at this point.

I received an e-mail from my adoption service yesterday.  I made it pretty clear what I wanted in my initial e-mail to them, hopefully they will be able to help me.  The e-mail was asking what I wanted from them, so, I will make my request a second time.  Third, actually.  A few years ago I started this process, I can’t recall why I did not finish it though.

Hm.  I have to give a speech in speech class soon, not bad not bad.  I hope I do not sweat, usually I am fine talking in front of people.  I will think of it as a conversation with the class, a one way conversation.  Not so one way, because body language is a language, isn’t it?

Okay, stay well.  I am going to try to limit how much I post, so it isn’t all bullshit.  I want this to be a more legitimate blog, not a twitter feed.  There is twitter for that….. #ohreally

wait, one last thing.  I searched 정우수 on facebook and added a random person, he sort of looks like me and seems to be the right age.  Chances of this being my 아버지 (I will use Korean to reduce ambiguity), pretty slim.


Sudden deaths are surreal. It is bizarre that upon the news of someone dying the conversation can delve into stories of crazy deaths/killings/suicides/videos we have seen of decapitations. I choose not to participate anymore. A moment of silence for the gentleman who committed suicide in La Crosse the other day, and for everybody else who has died in such a way.

Do not decapitate anybody else, nor your own self.

Too bizarre.

We’re all writers of our own story

First, I was going to title this entry “Night Night Night Night Night Night Night”…….  Guess what the subject is to be.   Anyhow, a friend of mine sent a story and it ended with “We’re all writers of our own story”; this seems appropriate for a third entry title.


Also, I have been using to-do lists each day, recently things haven’t been getting crossed off.  I am not sure what is up with this, it is a little disappointing.  At first I was discouraged, but this is not the kind of thing I want to just forget about and stop using.  Instead, I am going to make a new list tomorrow and delete the old, only holding onto items which I have on multiple lists.  Those will be my priorities.

At the recommendation of my friend Ayush, I am going to be tutoring.  Tomorrow is the first day of orientation, the only actually.  It is from 2PM till 6.30PM.  Wish me luck…


….Back to the night, once again.  As happens every 12 hours or so…..

The nights that I miss, that I long for.  Out of grasp, or right in front of me?

What is better than playing video games with the amigos when the sun is setting and the windows are cracked.  The scent of cigarettes lingering from my friends as we crack jokes and play zombies.  The excitement of the weekend building as the workweek draws to an end.  Friday, time to have some fun.  Not too much, however, for there is always more work to do at Cornell.


The nights so cool and so bright.  Is night dark?  Yes, but our laughter brightens the atmosphere.  It sure is dark, no doubt about it.  No headlights as we zoom down Tokay Hill, a big mofo.  I was timid, I’ve always been freaked out by the thought of hitting a pothole.  Best way to get rid of fears, to overcome them.  Time to bike at full speed over a giant pothole?  I’ll reconsider this actually.


Chilling in the nang after a full day full of adventure, after playing at the park, walking with Amalamala..  watching Hindi movies as the sleepy haze draws over my eyes, like the oven curing bread into a fine golden specimen.  Well, raw bread, that dough.



“Put my fist up when I get my dick sucked”, listening to Earl Sweatshirt with the homies as we are sitting around the house, facing the interior and freestyling.  That was the shit.. winter doesn’t motivate me as hard as the heat.  The cold slows me down, physically and mentally.  Surprise surprise?

Not even.


Walking in the alleyway, feeling the ground as I walk in the ruts.  Ruts created by the cars driving through each day, exposing the scalp of the earth.  I enjoy how the scab-like condensed snow and ice feel, but I miss the gravel sticking to my feet and the smooth moist grass sprouting between my toes.  The warmth of the sun brings me an optimism that hasn’t been felt since my friends and I tried acid.  That was an ephemeral happiness, a reminder of how great the world is.  The stuff I normally realize, when there is warmth.


I feel like an infant who has been thrown into a bucket of ice, except not at all for I haven’t experience that…. I imagine that it is exhilarating as well as mind boggling.


We’re all writers of our own story, so I’ll be honest with mine.

As Kunsang asks “do you want your parents to know you took acid”, I say not necessarily, but I sure do not feel a reason to hide the truth for them.  As far as I am concerned, they have been honest and open with me.


Thank you Mom, thank you Dad.


Thank you for providing me with parents who can teach me to be open.

Thank you for instilling intellectual freedom into me.

Thank you for helping me thus far on my journey to find my birthparents.

What must that feel like for them, both the searched and those who are sending me on this journey..  I wonder.  Well, I thought I would be able to tell you how it felt to be searched, nothing.  I say this because I figured they don’t know I am looking.  Likewise, I do not know if they are looking, but for all I know they have been searching longer than I, and to no prevail evidently.  I just do not know.

Pause.  Think.  Sigh.


Who knows.

Hopefully some day I will be able to ask.

Sooner than later please.  I do not want this to turn into a test of patience, an amalgamation of anxiety and wallowing.  That has not been the case for a while, though out of the blue this happens once in a while.


Hmm.  Time for bed.

My random 道德經 only seems appropriate, thus I will post it.


The Tao is like a well:
used but never used up.
It is like the eternal void:
filled with infinite possibilities.

It is hidden but always present.
I don’t know who gave birth to it.
It is older than God.”