Little Shop of Mary

I found a beautiful place today. A little store that sells banh mi. I love banh mi. 

A kind of cleanse

After moving out of my apartment and back into the home I grew up in, 

I've never felt more exhilarated throwing out stuff. A lot of stuff. Stuff that 

I haven't been able to let go for a long time. I feel good. 

Farewell #123

I bid you adieu, apartment #123. You were a fun neighborhood; ten minutes 

from The Grove, fifteen from downtown, twenty from Pasadena, you were the 

perfect spot to live at. I will not, however, miss traffic jams that would make 

a patient girl like me grunt and shake my head. 

There is no one in the world I hate to love more than my sister. We are so 
different—probably wouldn't be friends in life if we weren't sisters. Personality, 
interests, style, approach to matters, music, temperament, humor, hobbies, 
they're all very different, it's hard to believe we came from the same people.

Sandwiches are my thing, and the Spicy Salami from The Curious Cheese Shoppe at 
3rd Street Promenade is one to forever linger in my heart. 

Floors

Here I am, on the floor, as usual, because I love floors. I like to sleep on 

the floor, relax on the floor, lie flat like a starfish on the floor, do nothing on 

the floor. There is something calming when I lie on the floor. 

One afternoon, I was lying on the floor and fell asleep. I woke up to my sister's 

frantic voice calling my name. Apparently, she was passing by my room, saw me 

on the floor, and thought I had collapsed. Me sleeping on the floor also looked like I 

was unconscious on the floor. I totally get my sister's reaction. It was funny. 

Not to her of course. I've yet to meet anyone else who has this 

unusual mannerism. 

That sweater, by the way, is one of my favorite sweaters I have ever owned. 

It's comfortable and it's Radiohead. I wear it around the house all the time. 

There's a phrase on the back that makes no sense. I got this in Korea so 

that explains it. I still love this sweater anyway. 

Because

Mind wanders

Today, I woke up disoriented. My dream was almost parallel with reality. I couldn't 

tell if that was actually a dream, if I even slept, or what I was doing in my room 

because the dream felt so real. There were people I see everyday, and I was 

doing normal activities I would do any other day. Man, waking up to these are 

perplexing. And it's only Wednesday. 

Do you ever imagine yourself doing something somewhere else? Not exactly 

day dreaming but just picturing yourself in a different location. I do this quiet often 

when I'm driving to work. Dangerous, I know, but my commute is so repetitive 

and engrained in me, I sometimes do not remember how I get there. Anyways, I'll 

just nonchalantly imagine myself walking around the boroughs of New York, eating 

a sandwich at a park, or sitting at a cafe on the streets of Paris, people watching, 

letting the day pass by without a care in the world. I'll just picture myself anywhere 

but here, walking and exploring. My appetite for travel has evidently gone 

to my head. 

Analog

It terrifies me knowing that kids as young as elementary are being required to 

purchase laptops. Technology undeniably has its perks and strengths, but I'm a 

strong believer in the art of writing. Writing has so much history, so much 

personal character, and enriches your brain on so many levels that digital 

outlets can not. 

For me, there is also a sense of comfort when I have something written on paper 

—a kind of reassurance through something tangible and lasting. Unless I 

lose, burn, or throw away that piece of paper, I'll have it with me for as long as I 

can. Though blogs and websites can save information and leave digital 

footprints, I can never whole-heartedly trust technology. There can always be a 

sudden wipe out, crash, glitch or a permanant deletion I can not have control

over unless I am a tech wizard. But since I am not, I don't trust it. 

Writing is also human. I feel a sense of reality and connection (corny, I know) 

when I write or read hand-written notes. It just feels natural and right. 

I always keep a notebook and pen with me. I jot down thoughts and ideas that 

pop into my head. Sometimes I'll be driving and have this idea, and I literally 

have to assert myself that I can not drive and write at the same time. 

All the time, I'll meet someone and get really curious about their handwriting. It's 

weird. I will try to catch glimpses or seize opportunities where their handwriting is 

exposed. I can't explain it, but I just like to see the way people write their letters and 

words and put a name and face to it. Sometimes I think I know what to expect, and 

then I'm completely surprised. They're all so different, unique and personable, I love it. 

There's actually this moment every time I see someone's handwriting for the first 

time, I pause for a second and smile inside, sometimes my smile shows on my 

face, sometimes it doesn't, but I smile. It's a beautiful thing. 

I can go on about my love for analog ways, but I'm full and tired. Pardon the 

botchy flow of this post. Work was long. 

Photo: quotes I love and love to write for memory's sake. 

This noise

A quiet moment, on a busy Sunday evening. This noise is just what I need to stay afloat. 

SOMM

I learned new information today from watching SOMM, a documentary film 
about Master Sommeliers and the process candidates must take to become one. 

1. The title "Master Sommelier" means he/she is a bona fide wine professional.
2. How intense and rigorous the exams are to become one. It's unbelievable.
3. It's like a whole other world I never knew existed.
4. They can name flavors, fruits, spices, age/year, country, region, climate etc from 
smelling the wine. Smelling. 
5. There are less than 200 Master Sommeliers in the world in the past 40 years. 

As crazy as it is to see how much time, studying and stress goes into becoming an MS, 
an ultimate wine expert—something many people wouldn't understand the purpose or 
meaning of—their passion and knowledge for it is plain admirable. 

Sony Music Timeline

Better quality on Vimeo.

Ode to Black

Black is modest and arrogant at the same time. 

Black is lazy and easy—but mysterious. 

But above all black says this: 'I don't bother 

you—don't bother me.'

-Yohji Yamamoto

Serious problem

I have a problem. It's pretty serious. 

I love drinks—non-alcoholic, thank goodness. I can be having the worst day 
ever and a simple iced vanilla latte, preferably from Peet's, can turn my day 
right side up. You might be thinking "not so bad" but it's bad. I've gotten to 
the point where I buy a drink every day of the week. If I start my day with a good 
drink, the horizon is looking good. Let's say I don't start my day with a drink, 
I'm grumpy until I get one. It's terrible. As if that wasn't bad enough, I get 
drinks so often that when I don't have a drink, I still reach for one, like a phantom 
drink. Holy cow, that's serious. 

One time, I was with a group of people. I did not have a drink with me, someone 
else had a Starbucks drink on the table. I reached for it, without hesitation, 
thinking it was definitely mine. I grabbed it, looked at it, then realized, oh 
wait, that's not mine. It happened again today. I was in my car with my friend. 
I did not have my drink with me. I instinctively reached for my cup holder 
until I realized I did not have a drink. Wow. 

I love drinks, but this is bad. They say the first step to rehabilitation 
is accepting and knowing you've got a problem. I totally have a problem 
I need to fix. Yikes. 

Zzst

via ffffound

Current-ly

A smooth sea does not make a good sailor. 

Yep, I can believe that. I am admist a hurricane, and it's wild. 

Good Girl Dinette

Spicy Fries and Pork Baguette.