killing time. literally.

it's funny how we miss the simplest things of our past, or in my case, a part of me that i don't embrace too often - my korean side. i had been meaning to take a trip to the korean market to alleviate my craving for korean food, but only just had the opportunity to do so on Friday. my longing for korean food has gotten stronger over the years and if i had my choice, i'd have my mom prepare me something homemade because really, nothing compares to her cooking, but given the circumstances, i settled on the store bought stuff. unfortunately i never adopted my mom's talent for cooking and i regret not paying closer attention in the kitchen. z isn't a big fan of authentic korean food, but i admit that it's partly my fault for not presenting the opportunity to his taste buds more often. when you're living with someone who is picky with what they eat, you tend to lean more towards something safe and knowingly edible. i wouldn't say that i'm the riskier eater, but i can eat almost anything, so i usually leave it up to z to decide on what to have for our meals together.

nostalgia hit me again last night while i was driving up the 5 from carlsbad. feeling the ocean alongside the freeway, it brought back memories of my solo night trips to the beach. back when i first started driving and had trouble sleeping, i'd hop in my car with my poetry book and head to the beach. i'd sit on the steps under orange street lamps and just write whatever i had on my mind so i could silence my thoughts. i couldn't see the ocean in the darkness but i loved the smell and i wrote a lot about the peaceful sounds of the water rolling in and out. sometimes i wouldn't even stop and just drove up the coast until i was tired and drove back home. once, i took a friend with me and he thought it was weird that i did that - "uh.. that's it? you just drove here and now you're just going to drive back?"

i miss it - before all the responsibilities of adulthood came crashing on to my little head and when i actually had time to reflect on my dark and romantic thoughts of love and life. why does it feel like it wasn't too long ago? does becoming an adult happen that fast? i really can't believe it sometimes.. that i've come so far, yet i feel that only little time has passed. Martin Amis wrote in one of his novels, "Sometimes I feel that life is passing me by, not slowly either, but with ropes of steam and spark-spattered wheels and a hoarse roar of power or terror. It's passing, yet I'm the one who's doing all the moving." how amazingly true.

xoxoo