Do you ever worry about forgetting the small details about your life? Do you wonder maybe ten or twenty years from now, if you'll still have the memories you cherish now? When I remember a minute detail from my past, I often find myself raising these questions and sometimes do feel as if they may never come to my mind again, essentially being forgotten forever. This is just a small page to write down some memories that may pop into my head.
12.13.02 :: A Real Model Minority
Last year at around this time, I was down in the SoHo area with Johnny, doing some holiday shopping. We stopped by at a Pottery Barn and I picked up some stuff there. The girl at the cash register was a very pretty Asian girl, and as I waited on line, I crossed my fingers hoping I would be received by her. Luck was on my side, as she called next, and I happened to be in that most fortunate position. She took my things and checked them out, but seemed to have trouble calculating the total. "Are you guys Chinese?" she asked me and Johnny. I was instantly offended and corrected her, as any Korean would when mistaken for a Chinese. "Cool, I'm Korean too," she replied, that statement somehow making her even more attractive, "You know, I suck at math so much. That's why I'm having trouble with this thing." She then leaned over, as if to let me in on a secret: "When I was in high school, all these heuk-inns (black people) would sit near me and try to copy off me during math tests, and when they got their tests back, they were like - what the fuck?" Nevermind that she was an aberration to the model minority stereotype - sucky at math and working in retail -- I'd take a pretty face and a sense of humor any day.
12.12.02 :: Rec Ball
In fifth grade, I joined the recreational basketball league in my town. I was on the same team with Paul, who lived two blocks from me. I was a decent player - taller than most kids at the time because of an early growth spurt - and I played center and got all the rebounds. Paul was really short and wasn't that good at ball. Anyways, my favorite part of being in the league wasn't playing the game, it was getting to the game. All games were on Saturday mornings, so I would go to sleep really early on Friday night and have my grandma wake me up around 7:00 am. I would eat my microwaved oatmeal (because it would be winter) and walk to Paul's house. We would go down to his basement, which was the main chill-spot, and play NBA Jam on Super Nintendo for about half an hour before walking to school. On our ten-minute walk, we would just joke and talk about stuff. I remember one particular morning, when it had snowed just the night before. As we came around the small path onto school property, we saw the entire field covered in white and with the sun out, the sight was extremely bright. I remember squinting hard and seeing Paul squint also -- two little Korean kids walking to their Saturday basketball game.
