I was just looking back on all those writings that I spilled onto my blog this time last year: about Llion, about Seoul National University, the rejections, the feelings, the dreams… Gosh, everything seemed so romantic back then. Or maybe it’s just time smoothing out all the rough edges. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but be thankful to myself for writing all those thoughts and feelings down. They help me remember how I am here today, who I am here today. And it inspired me to return to that time and write a post this late night.
Friends from the States are visiting Korea a lot this particular summer. Probably because most of them graduated high school this year and are coming to see their families before they venture of the strange college-land. Meeting up with them, just talking about the past, catching up on trends in America, hearing where they’ll be going to school for the next 4 years, seeing how they’ve changed… this all makes me think a lot. It makes me think of that one craaaaaazy time when I decided I wouldn’t go to New York for art school, that one insane whim, that one impossible chance that I decided to take, that one unidentifiable desire, that one ridiculous dream. That one crazy decision that made all the difference.
Did I make the right choice? Do I regret making that decision?
Of course not. I love it here every second, every day.
I work at Llion now. I find that so fascinating. All those teaching assistants that breathed on my neck, telling me that I was doing everything wrong, all the while somehow fueling my fire instead of dampening it; I’m one of them now. I look at all the students and just wonder; wonder if they feel what I felt, wonder if the girl sitting in the seat I used to sit in will get accepted this year. I feel so young and unprepared to teach other people, yet I wonder if my teachers felt just as unready and unsuitable for the job.
I remember when I was a little girl, high school students and college students were like creatures from another race. They were undoubtably ‘adults.’ No matter how childish or immature they were, they were still ‘adults’ to me. It fascinates, yet scares, me when little kids who are the age that I used to be look at me with eyes that seem to think the same thing. I wonder where all my ‘adults’ are now, what they’re doing. I wonder if these little kids will think the same exact things as they look into eyes of little kids when they are ‘adults.’ It scares me that this cycle has happened millions of times before mine, and will happen millions of times after mine.
