current playlist>>elton john's "goodbye yellow brick road"
concurrently competing with everybody loves raymond

woof! I'm stuffed. I went with April to the Cloister...cheese sticks, chocolate soft serve, chicken tenders. The flatulence and re-emerging of each in the form of quite unpleasant burps are in full force. We are so lucky. We, meaning most Americans who have more than we could ever possibly need, can have Papa John's at the push of a few buttons (342.1213). God is good...all the time.

Anyway, so I was thinking. Words are funny. These manmade "things" are so perplexing. I mean, really, what you're reading right now are words. Wow. Perplexing, eh? We, meaning not us, came up with these words. I often misuse them; in fact, there was a whole discussion of my inappropriate use of the word plush today. Apparently, the trees on campus aren't plush--they're lush. You know what I say..."Tomato, Tomahto." In addition, there are so so so many of them. Longitudinal. Idiosyncratic. Lovely. These are merely three of what seem to be an infinite amount of words. You know, knowing every word, that would be a sort of a cool superpower. You know what I mean? That question, "What superpower would you have if you could have one?" I mean the power of flight is pretty nifty, but how does that compare to knowing the meaning of every single word (and to be able to use them appropriately)? I mean, I admit, it's pretty geeky and dorky, but it could especially come in handy when it you really want to insult them. Instead of calling someone a dork, you can say, "You're such a ... a ...." Blasted! See, I don't have anything great to insert here. And I wouldn't have to use Alt+F7 so much when typing a paper.

In addition, I was also thinking lately how important culture is. I feel very uncultured sometimes e.g. the best years of my life are being spent in Mobile, Alabama (no offense, native Mobilians). As many of you know, I'm Korean, adopted by honkies (who I adore, mind you) at ripe ole age of 6.5 months. Kim Lewis called me a coconut, jokingly, of course. A coconut? What? This all stems from Noah, Jen and Kim's cousin, the cutest baby (toddler, now) ever. (Jen Lewis is my best friend [these details may seem insignificant, but 1. Any plug for Jen as my best friend makes my day and 2. I like to fill in as much background in stories as possible]; Kim is her younger sister.) Anyway, Noah's black (not African-American; he did not migrate from an African homeland, ever. He was born in Richmond (I'm pretty sure that's where)). I might be giving too much information now. So...yeah, jokingly, of course, Kim calls him an oreo. Why? Well, as you may have figured out, he's black on the outside, but "white" on the inside. And, I'm a coconut, as she so wittily quipped a few summers back--I'm tan on the outside but whiter than (un-peed on) snow on the inside. I don't mind. It doesn't phase me. It just makes me think about culture. Had I not been adopted, I wouldn't be here; heck, I wouldn't be typing in a language any of you could understand. Would I be more cultured? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I don't really know if I have a point, per se, but embrace your culture. Sure, sometimes it seems all we have to offer are multitudes of episodes of reality television and greasy, unhealthful food. Yet, it's important to remember where we came from. I fully intend on a great travel in my future to explore the country that is my native one, South Korea (my birthplace was Seoul, the capital, whose modern technology, on average, exceeds that of the U.S.'s...see I'm spreading culture and knowledge as you read). Fun Times. I'd like to learn Hangul (the Korean Language) and even eat the food--it's really, really spicy though. I think mild salsa has a kick. Yeah, I'm a sissy. Maybe it's just me, but because I am Asian, I feel like I am more unconnected to my roots. I know next to nothing about Asia, much less Korea. Another fact: I do know that Kim Jong II is the dictator of North Korea. He's the #1 worst dictator in the world. He's a very bad man. He forces some of his citizens to work in the worst sweatshops ever. But to continue, most of you are mutts. That's right. You're all of mixed blood. Yuck. How do I continue to befriend all of you? I'm sorry, I didn't mean that...please don't hurt the minority. (Well I say minority but apparently we're not underrepresented. That's right, Asians don't qualify for minority medical internships nor do they qualify for any minority sholarships...affirmative action, my FOOT!) I mean, do we ever sit back and think about all of the great things we have? I don't. As an American, I should be more receptive to the finer things of life. An example? More theater. Granted, the choices are limited here in the deep South. That, in conjunction with the fact that I'm a poor college student, leave me thirsting to deepen the richness of my artsy-fartsy knowledge. I did attend a "free" preview performance of the Japanese opera, "The Mikado" a few days ago. That was nice. I literally shuddered though when they said, "Come out and see the performance at the Mobile Civic Center...it's only $15 for students." 15 dollars! What are they smoking? Whatever it is, I think I want some. Baby steps, I guess. I'll take what I can get, that is, if it's free or incredibly cheap.

In conclusion, I offer you this: learn more words and become more cultured. Each of them is quite important. It's extremely attractive to hold a conversation with someone who has the ability to engage you with their words. Dude. Cool. Uh, yeah. Doesn't do much for me. More culture: learn an instrument, go to the ballet, make your next illegal download a violin concerto. There's endless possibilities. I guarantee if you have Vivaldi playing in the background while writing your first original dark dramedy, there's sure to be someone's interest whose peaked. If I'm around, mine sure will be.