On God

Falling in love with God is like falling in love with the most incredible piece of art. You love God for often reasons you do not even know.
Why do you love that artwork?
There are many explanations, but in the end it comes down to a core feeling, a pull, a connection with the soul.

You love God more if you endeavor to discover and learn more about who God is.
You appreciate art more if you know the history, the references, and its effect on its surroundings.

Looking at the art work too frequently and too routinely wears down its allure.
Loving God is not a routine or a habit. It grows, and honestly, it shrinks as well.
There are moments you revisit your love for God out of happiness and there are moments you turn your head toward Him because you "have to".

I've been to several different churches lately. The first church I tried talked about why it is important to give more money to the church - not a warm welcome. The second church talked about how happy and cool it is to be in love with God - I am trying to be happy and cool, but not there yet so I felt I wasn't included in the "cool crowd". The third church spoke about not knowing the Lord and yet following Him. OK, you got my attention. Still, I felt not included when it came time to wish peace on to others. Everyone hugged their loved ones and said peace, but barely anybody turned to strangers to wish the same. The half waves, stares, smiles came my way and I wondered, "When was the last time we sincerely, really sincerely wished peace onto one another?"

Tradition and prayer is one of the most beautiful things about mass, but perhaps those habits I mentioned earlier, are what we need to revisit to remind ourselves why we do the things we do. What makes the painting so beautiful and how can we enhance that beauty?

The title of this post is quite a statement, "ON GOD". Perhaps a more suiting title would have been, "ON ME". Afterall, isn't that how we understand God? Through our relationship with him? I challenge you to wish at least one person this week peace - very sincerely and wholeheartedly. Wouldn't it be beautiful to be the one receiving that grace?

May peace be with you,
Jo

Night at the Museum

As promised before, here are some of my photos from my amazing experience backstage at the Museum of Natural History. Jack Cesareo gave Michelle and me the most wonderful tour of his workplace and studio.
Here is our Untapped article.










Jack Cesareo

Neckties for Human Lives

I have only one intention for my visits to Korea - to visit my relatives. I grew up here in the States and so I do not have much attachment to the country of my Father's. My relatives used to visit me, but now I fly out and see them because my grandparents are too elderly. I wish I knew the value of their visits as their child.

I remember distinctively that I was laying down in my room when I was a child wishing I could have my own space back, wishing so many relatives weren't around in my house. Right then, my Grandpa walked in and took my hand and placed a $5 bill into it. He gave it to me thinking it was worth a couple hundreds, but didn't realize the currency difference. He said, "Thank you for being patient with our stay. I hope you use this wisely and save the rest."
I immediately felt regret for the prior thoughts... To me, that $5 bill was worth a few hundreds. He rarely spoke. He always had a stern look on his face and replied in short, succinct answers. He never showed his emotions or expressed his pain - just like my own Father.

Now, I visit my Grandpa in the hospital when I go to Korea. He is no longer strong enough to speak his mind or walk freely. However, now when I visit him, he greets me with a warm smile, holds my hand, and gives me kisses. This is my Grandpa now. I see in his eyes the same regrets I have. We both wish we could have expressed our love for each other more often when we had the chance.

I frequently ask my Father and Uncles about my Grandpa. What was he like? What did he wear? How did he meet Grandma?? One day, I ran across a photo of a man dressed in a fancy white suit and matching fedora. I asked my Uncle, "Who is this?". He replied, "That's your Grandpa." Then, the search began for me to discover his past.

My Grandpa met my Grandma before the Korean War. They were engaged to be wed, but because of the war, he was sent off to fight. Since my Grandpa was one of the few that spoke Japanese well and was educated in business, the Japanese army spared his life and instead made him a translator for business transactions in Korea to transfer profits to Japan. Little did they know, my Grandpa was undercover. He was paid very little for his work, but with every bit of money he saved up, he bought neckties. Yes, the ties you wear around your neck when wearing a suit.

Japan was the first Asian country to be exposed to Western culture and to begin wearing Western suits. Suits were a symbol of status and luxury. Therefore, my Grandpa bought neckties and instead of wearing them, he traded neckties for Koreans held hostage for cruel human experiments. It is incredibly saddening and disturbing to think that human lives were worth as little as neckties, but to Japanese guards, neckties meant a lot.

I don't know how many people my Grandpa ended up saving, but even saving 1 - just like that $5 bill - is priceless. His letters to my Grandma were loving and thoughtful. His stories even more deep and meaningful. My biggest regret is that I couldn't ask these questions to him directly when he was able to answer them. My Grandpa still resides in Korea, but far from his hometown in a hospital. I ask you to please say a little prayer for him and all those around us that inspire and love us everyday.

Missing Bob

It's not a secret that I am a big nerd. I used to beg my Dad if I could stay up past my bedtime just so I can watch the British Parliament debate on CSPAN2 or catch the end of Book TV. I recorded speeches by Hillary Clinton and spent evenings imitating her pronunciation to perfect my English.

So, when I was on the train this morning I thought about how awful it was that television seems to have gone downhill. Sure, there are the few cable channels such as Discovery, Nat Geo, History... but other than that, what are we watching? The esteemed news channel CNN is going entertainment. I get more news off of watching The Daily Show with Jon Stewart than rolling my eyes at Nancy Grace and begging the Lord to step in and and help this awful woman.

PBS still stands, but barely. They are more than ever relying on the telethons and viewer contributions. Thank God Arthur is still on. What happened to Zaboomafoo, Mr. Rogers, Bob Ross, and Julia Child?

I love eating and unavoidably cooking. When I first saw Julia on American television my jaw dropped. "Mom, look at the size of that woman!" I exclaimed. After the initial phase of getting over her height and presence, I began to admire her cooking. You can't taste or smell through the television, so it was never about how well she cooked. It was her joy of cooking (title of her cookbook). She talked to you as if you were in the kitchen with her. She wasn't a perfect chef. Her mistakes were all right there on television and I laughed along with her. "Just use your hands to marinate this chicken. There is nothing better than using your own two.... OH~~~! That's a cold chicken!"
I don't use 1/16 of the amount of butter she uses in her food. However, I try to always emulate her happiness and adventurous cooking in my own house.

When Mr. Rogers passed away, I was in high school. My friends and I dressed up in cardigans, parted our hair to the side and plastered it to our skull. When homeroom time came around, we took off our shoes and changed into slippers. It was a silent tribute to the dear old man that taught us how crayons were made and how candy were wrapped.

Every Saturday morning, I sat in front of the television with my bowl of cereal and flipped the channel to none other than PBS. I fell in love with this visionary artist named Bob Ross. I've never seen skill or hair like his. He always painted the most perfect blue sky and fertile dirt. Then, he picked up his landscape knife and placed a dark dab of brown-black paint across that perfect sky. Every time he did that, I almost dropped my bowl of cereal and yelled, "What are you doing, Bob?!" I was convinced that he had ruined the best painting of his career, but he always seemed to gain my trust back toward the end of the show when he began to paint "happy trees".

"Shoo, shoo. swish....." he would say as he painted every little happy tree.

It made me smile.

Not to pull a "You've Got Mail" moment, but can we save PBS? Does good television still exist? Are we forever stuck in the Real Housewives, and voting competitions era? Or, can we save true, educational, happy television?

Okay. Back to my ramen.

Like a Man

Ciara's song: Like a Boy
Beyonce's Song: If I were a Boy

Women have always had an obsession with wanting to become a man (or a boy). Every fall season, there is a new "masculine" look dominated by suits, grey trousers, and wide shoulders. Mulan disguised herself as a man in order to stand up for her family. Female geniuses such as the Bronte sisters, Louisa May Alcott, Nelle Harper Lee, and even Harry Potter's own Joanne Rowling used men pen names to publish their works.
I hear women wishing, "If I had a d*** for a day. I'd show them." What, we can't stand up for ourselves without one?

I have stressed in the past the importance of signifying female role models. That history courses in the educational system include "herstory" curricula as well. I have had the fortune of growing up with amazing women around me. My mother received her MBA while pregnant with me, my sister is a recognized vicious fencer, and I have learned so much from my current boss (also female).

I'm not a crazy feminist an no, I don't burn my bras. But, as an appreciative daughter older sister, an possibly a future mother, I can't help but wish at times women (including me) would have more courage to go after their dreams and stand up for what's right.

Why do women rely on their sex appeal to get their way? If you use your intelligence or aggressive persistence (like men), people perceive you a a cold-hearted beast instead of a go-getter. Even women judge other women the same way! I know too many girls who consciously make an effort to look prettier, or pull their shirts down and skirts higher when meeting with male clients, or bosses. Is it a lack of self-confidence about our abilities or is it a societal issue as a whole? Our perception of self worth should not be determined by the sexual attention we get. Makes sense... So, why do women continue to actively seek and provoke it?

The blame extends to men as well. If it weren't for their constant interest in purely physical attractiveness perhaps women wouldn't try so hard. Come on, how many relationships have lasted solely based on looks?

1 in 3 South Korean women get plastic surgery. Sharp increase from 1 in 5 since 2005. This was a consequence of women not being hired in the work place if too ugly, or too fat. No matter how impressive their academic resume was. Their marriage, career, and societal status depended on the way they looked. Now that all of the women are becoming increasingly attractive in this country, they have become the judges of men's worth. Today, the percentage of men receiving plastic surgery and going on diets have skyrocketed in Korea due to their inability to get a girlfriend. I'm not promoting going under the knife. In fact, I am highly against it. However, I cannot believe it took this drastic of a change in the community of South Korean women to come out on top.

I've learned that self-confidence is not just based off of the things you are good at, but also recognizing your flaws and accepting you just don't know certain things.
"When you've come into your own as a woman, there's a real presence, and that shows" - Aymeline Valade.

Becoming your own as a woman includes experiencing hardships, failure, joy, pleasure, and recognizing yourself independently from external context.

I don't know where this post is going. It's turning a little too much like Carrie Bradshaw's Sex and the City article for my taste (another show about women I despise). I've thought about posting this for a long time, but continued to edit it. Not because it's a fine piece of writing (obviously) but because I did not want this to seem like I am criticizing other women, or ignoring the feelings and mentality of men. Please don't take any offense, but I challenge you to truly think about it.

I'll leave it here for now.

Fame or Name

My grandma is one of the most amazing mentor and role models in my life. She prays for me daily. The prayer, she admits, is mostly for my health and well-being. However, she confessed that she also prays that I will live like Charles James and die like Picasso (minus the scandals of course).

Most of you are familiar with the legendary painter Picasso and his life story of living in poverty and nameless status until his death. He was never witness to the fame and credibility that he has today. He didn't live with fame, but he certainly left his name.

On the other hand, Charles James immersed his life with riches of the old-money crowd of New York City and bathed himself with compliments he received from others. He became a legendary designer at a young age and purposefully surrounded himself with aristocrats such as the women of the Vanderbilts,Hearsts, Perettis, Pons, Rogers, Steins, and ... you get the idea.

He used his fame to live his life any which way he wanted. Even his clients had no choice but to give up their dresses, which they rightfully paid for and owned, whenever he wanted it back. One day, when dressing M.E. Hecht for the opera, he insisted she wore one of Millicent Roger's old dresses. Not any old dress, but the dress hanging in the collection at The Brooklyn Museum. James's cab pulled up to the steps of the museum, he walked in, and walked out in 10 minutes with the dress in hand. Hect suffered a night at the opera in the prized viewing box under strict orders to sit up properly, not breathe too heavily, and to NEVER turn her back to the audience. (That was because Millicent Rogers was 30 pounds lighter than Hecht and they had to alter the dress quite a bit).

He was a cocky as any man could be. When asked what he thought about Schiaparelli, he said, "Without Dali and a dead fur animal, where would he be?"
Of Valentino, "Imagine building a career on one colour"
Of Chanel, "After her use of jersey, what else has she produced?"
Of Dior, "He appears to think shortening and lengthening hemlines constitutes fashion."
Of Courreges (whose design he liked), "Well he's been trained as an engineer, and you see how good is the result. But has he done an evening gown?"
Of Pauline Tigere, "Who?"

Charlie lived his life this way (which was to live it any way he wanted) until he realized a little to late that through his superfluous spending of money and lavish necessities, he soon found himself broke and without friends. He died in a run-down Chelsea hotel deserted by those he thought would be in forever gratitude for his designs.

So, I began to think. If I had to choose between fame or name, I would rather live my life pennilessly, but leave my immortal name as Picasso did than to live extravagantly but to die deprived of happiness. I have no intention to live striving to leave my name in legacy, but I certainly hope my grandma's prayers do get granted that I live like Charles James and die like Picasso because both men lived and died doing what they loved. They were passionate in their own ways. I once read that "If you find work that you love, you'll never have to work a day in your life." That's all I ever hope for.




credits to Vogue

Free Range Turkey

Do you know who Zelda is? My co-worker introduced me to Zelda last week. She is a wild turkey that roams freely in the Battery Park, Battery Park City area. She has been living here in southern Manhattan since 2003 and get this... she walked all the down from the Bronx to get here.

This famous turkey's name, Zelda, is after Zelda Fitzgerald (F.Scott Fitzgerald's wife). Apparently then human Zelda had a nervous breakdown one night and ran several miles away to Battery Park where she was later found.

Once in a while, the turkey Zelda wanders up to Tribeca or Greenwich Village, but someone eventually returns her to Battery Park. This turkey, famous for her ability to roam freely on one of the world's most expensive real estate - Manhattan, even has her own fan club, Wiki page, and postcard.

She was found next to my work last week in the Ritz Carlton courtyard and a few months prior in the basket of my boss's bicycle. (she's still convinced it was a peacock, not a turkey). If you happen to see Zelda, please tell her, "Joanna says hello".

World Water Day

water changes everything.


See how you can make a difference charitywater.org

design

I found this product design firm - Springtime of Amsterdam - through the 4th Bin competition. It was worthy of being reposted ASAP.
Their designs are simple, functional, and absolutely stunning. You know what I think about function and form. I couldn't have said it better than their design, so I'll stop typing and let you admire :


Nike O-ring

Nike weight set



CPH Bike Share station




PAT baby convertible seat

the 4th Bin e-waste Exapandable Urban Recycling Center

Art or Football

"I have to decide what I want to do with my day - Art or Football" - Clare

Thought process:
Tomorrow is Monday; therefore, I have to get back to work.
I have my Architecture project due on Wednesday.
NFL Playoff games are today.
Should I do art or should I watch football?
FOOTBALL.

You would think I can multi-task between the project and watching football, but I can't. Not because the project cannot be completed with the television on, but because football deserves undivided attention. After a nice potato salad brunch, Clare wondered whether or not she should buy a canvas and paint with a friend, or relax by watching football with her brother. I'm hoping she chose the latter (it selfishly makes me feel better for choosing the same). In the end, Football is Art... right?

PS - I HATE the Steelers. GO GREENBAY!

Forming VS Transforming

I went jacuzzing at the house I grew up in today. I was sitting there with my mom and I had a flashback to my childhood. I remembered sitting my the pool edge with my pack of 'jellyroll' glitter pens and a pad of paper doodling nothing and writing something not because I had a lot on my mind, but because I thought that was the 'cool' thing to do at the time. I wanted to be the character in the movie I was directing. There were so many 'movies' when I was young. Different lighting, different scenarios, but all happy endings.

Nowadays, I still dream and direct my own movies in which I imagine myself as the character. But, the dreams are different now for several reasons. They all have the same lighting, the same scene (on stage usually), and mostly involving a boy :)
The biggest difference now versus then is the fact that I just dream about it - I no longer act it out. Maybe I find it embarrassing, or maybe I just lack the initiative to do something about that I dream about.

LIVE THE LIFE YOU HAVE IMAGINED
I was surprised to see this quote on the cover of a random sketchbook last week since this is what I always told myself. I wanted to buy the sketchbook, but it was 15" x 15". I would never carry something that big around! So what happened to the ambitious little me?

I wonder why the lighting is always the same in my movies now. I wonder why it's always about me becoming some successful woman (details I refuse to disclose) instead of small desires, little moments, and off-stage scenes. Do I only have a one-track mind now? Have I become formed instead of transformed? Everything seems so certain now, so set, and pre-written by someone else other than me. Is it supposed to be like this?

The New Year

Happy new year?


I went to New Year's mass at church and as I sat there, I was surprised that I was not filled with hopeful, joyous thoughts, but thoughts of so many people and events that has let me down in the past year. During the homily, Father John also mentioned that he, too, felt a moment of letting down a few days ago. Then, he felt the voice of Christ say to him, "Am I not enough?" It was then I realized, I can't put myself down for all of the world's mishaps and holding such high expectations for the world to be peachy. I'm not being negative or pessimistic; I'm simply being more realistic and less naivete. I can't hold such high expectations for everyone in my life and feel so let down when its not met, then continue to place that blame on myself. It's not fair to others and mostly to myself. I want to find more satisfaction and peace in the most purest and simplest thing in life - Christ's love.

I decided to be BOLD and dare to set a few New Year's Resolutions.
1.
Jeff: If you could have anything in the world, what would it be? A Plane?
me: no, too big and high maintenance. I don't even know how to fly it.
Jeff: A house?
me: no, I want to be able to pick up and move anytime I want.
Jeff: Then, what?
me: An Cybex Arc Trainer :)

I'm UNDERWEIGHT. I am not one of those girls that prides themselves in fitting into size 0s and being able to stroke their collar bones. I'm thin and not happily thin. I don't want to run to a McDonald's and fat myself on Big Macs. I want to gain weight the right way - by gaining more muscle. I lost 10 pounds this semester and I want to get is back in muscles.... so I am getting on my Cybex Arc Trainer (not personally mine, but at the gym).



2. I want to eat more of the foods I ENJOY eating - not just something that fills me up. I love eating, I love cooking, and I love good company. Therefore, I vow to take the time to cook and eat around people I love more often this year. I started off on the right foot on the first day of January by cooking my favourite - PASTA - for my mom and sister. Fresh ingredients, best company - who can as for more? Well... the taste needs work, but it wasn't THAT bad :)