December is particularly fun for me because it's my partner's birthday, my birthday (although typically not necessarily "fun" but just an excuse to be extra nice to myself), Christmas, and time for reflection-- perhaps because it's a close to a year of living as well as my personal year of age whatever.
Reflecting on 2018:
After an epiphany during my March visit to Portland, I felt a resurgence of my identity. My identity as a Korean American woman, as an ally, as a reader, as a justice seeker. In my rather insular New York network, I felt I had lost myself. In addition to my anxieties, my distancing was an attempt to preserve what little I had left of my authenticity. I realized that minus one or two people, I don't have anyone that shares my passions. I questioned what I even passioned. Why do I use my energy and time, the things that I value so much, with people I can't connect with anymore?
Ironically, my job as a clinician fulfills some of the connection that I lack, at least on a one-sided level. Which sometimes is just enough. A lot of my meta-anxiety about how I am was relieved in 2018. My job, my extreme introvertedness, my value of quality time, all of that started to make sense.
Although a lot of the March-Portland sentiment has simmered (in the subsequent three months, I read 8 of the 13 books I've read so far this year), I feel more assured of myself and who I am. I think my passions in college were real, and I unfortunately lost it once I moved to NY, being caught up in the clinical field and my own mental health issues. Reuniting with my passions means facing some of my fears, expanding my community, and educating myself. It will be 10 times more challenging at 29 than at 21.
That was in the spring.
In the summer, it was at home work outs (very new to me), wedding planning, and Angela's wedding in Atlanta. I don't actually remember anything else about the summer. I went to California and was annoyed by fireworks. I walked to and shopped at the unnecessarily luxe Whole Foods a lot for groceries, rather than our usual delivery services. But the summer was just a lead up to my wedding, so I don't remember much of it. Oh yeah, I got legally married at City Hall in July, in front of my best friend and a couple of my new in-laws.
The wedding was so enough that it wasn't really even a question to throw yet another party for Cliff and my birthday this month (also, after a slew of mid-twenties birthday parties for like, three years, it feels that in your late twenties, there's less of them). Cliff and I share the sentiment that it feels like a big relief to have gone through a wedding and now watch as others suffer through planning a large party using a lot of money (well, maybe they're not suffering). We have some married friends, but significantly more single friends.
Going back to the books I've mentioned, I tried my best to read mostly Asian American female authors, and if not POC, then at least female. I tried to avoid white authors, but it was inevitable.
In order that I read them:
- Come As You Are by Emily Nagoski. I read it for professional development purposes, but an excellent book for women (and men).
- The Drama of the Gifted Child by Alice Miller. Recommended by my therapist lol.
- Pachinko by Min Jin Lee. Not really into her writing and not really into historical fiction, but appreciated the relevance of Korean Japanese identity to the Korean American experience.
- Too Much and Not the Mood by Durga Chew-Bose. Read it for a defunct book club. Hated it.
- Free Food For Millionaires by Min Jin Lee. Knew about it as the only Asian American novel besides Joy Luck Club for several years, but story seemed too frivolous for my taste. Good feelings in reading it, so was happy to have read it. Though, I still disliked her writing and hated several characters.
- Pygmalion by George Bernard Shaw. I needed to understand why I was called "Eliza" in high school. Proud to know Eliza's character development and female independence.
- Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng. Even though I despise the author for her subconscious Asian male hatred (see: Twitter controversy), this was my favorite novel of the year.
- Standard Deviation by Katherine Heiny. Did not love the book, but was fascinated by my imagination of the characters, so, bravo to Heiny.
- The Border of Paradise by Esme Weijun Wang. Didn't think I'd like it as I was reading it, and took me a bit to get into it, but actually liked it overall.
- Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto. Okay, but not very memorable.
- The Leavers by Lisa Ko. Enjoyed this, and would put this in second place to Little Fires. Gave me empathy I lacked for the Chinatown Chinese.
- The Incendiaries by RO Kwon. Similar to The Border of Paradise-- didn't feel I was into it, and then liked it overall at the end.
- Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. Gifted from Lillian, who was curious about his Nobel Prize, then recommended it to me. I was not into it for most of the novel, was bothered by the characters' diction, but then learned the brilliance of his intentions in creating this story. I understand why he got the prize, but personally, not my cup of tea.
As you can see, I'm difficult to please.
