I turned 35 two months ago, and I have to admit, it has somewhat soured the entire summer.
Now, I was not bothered by the reminder that I am old. I have been "old" relative to my peer group for about 12 years, so that's nothing new. Being called "old" is like being told water is wet.
Nor do I blink at the fact I am officially in my mid-thirties. I went through that phase 10 years ago, when I fretted about being closer to 30 than 20. I mean, you do remember when you're supposed round up and round down, right? It's nothing to get psyched out about, it's just math.
I also place no blame upon my sister (aged 37), married in April, or my cousin (aged 36), getting hitched in 10 days, for destroying my buffer and leaving me this as the oldest single cousin on either side of the family. It's not like I've ever listened to hectoring adults, and it's not going to start now.
Nope, my melancholy is due to no less than the entire world losing interest in me.
Now, how do I know that the planet doesn't care about me anymore? It's simple exercise of deductive reasoning. America is the greatest country in the world. America is great because it's influence is great. America's influence is great because it has the largest economy in the world. You with me so far? OK. Now, America's economy is driven by massive corporations. These corporations maintain their dominance thru advertising. Thus, the people they specifically target thru advertising are the most important people in the world. You still following this?
Now, who do these corporations advertise to? Ask the AC Nielsen Company. You know, the guys that measure TV ratings, amongst other things. If you follow entertainment and business news, you'll notice that it isn't the overall rating that matters, it's how you score in the key demographics. And the demographic that matters above all else is males 18-34 years old.
In other words, the demographic that I have belonged to half my life, and my entire adult existence.
The world used to care about me. It used to woo me. Buy video tapes, it asked. Get CDs, it pleaded. The global economy is riding on your shoulders, it cooed. Apple wanted me to buy its computers. Nike wanted me to wear its sneakers. MTV wanted me to watch its videos. Burger King wanted me to have it my way.
Now? We've gone from DVDs to DVRs. My music now exists on outmoded technology, and it's not even Classic Rock, its Oldies and Nostalgia radio. The world doesn't need me anymore. Apple tells me You're not hip enough for an iPod, and you can't even figure out how to use an iPhone. Nike says Just don't...you may injure yourself. MTV says Hey loser, we don't even show videos anymore. And this freakish, big-headed King says No Whoppers for you. You better start paying to those commercials about indigestion, acid reflux, male pattern baldness, and erectile dysfunction. That's my demographic now.
I think I'm still alive, so I'm updating. I have a facebook, which now gives me two things to ignore.
What do you do when you're sad? Today I went grocery shopping at Jewel and skipped thru the aisles and thru the parking lot pushing the grocery cart. I like that a lot. I remember when the former Jane Chae caught me skipping thru County Market once.
Tomorrow when I'm still feeling sad I will get a haircut. I wrote an entry 3 years ago about how Haircut Day would always be after an especially bad test. I would link to that entry, but it wasn't a very good one. Well, I'm not in school anymore, so Haircut Day is now for days when I feel blue.
OK, xanga stalker programs were cool like, what, 2-3 years ago? But I still check mine regularly, because, well, I'm a regular guy. And you what weird thing always appears on my stalker program? I mean, something that shows up every couple of days, whether I'm posting regularly or silent for a month? Someone always gets referred to my page from Google after having searched the term "haeny yoon". And its not the same person, well, probably not, because it's always a different IP address.
note: I don't have any actual pictures of Haeny, and "how rude!" would it be for me to put up a picture of the Olsen twins.
No, seriously, right now my most recent page visit is from someone who was googling "haeny yoon". Try it yourself; I did, and my xanga came up as result #4, after a Daily Illini article about CFC summer school and two pages on the CFC website, and just ahead of kennykim.com! In fact, "haeny yoon" is such a common search term, that if I type in enough letters in my Google toolbar, it will suggest "haeny yoon" as a search term. Just to make sure, I tried typing in "jong ho", "mi ryung", "jin bae", "jinbae", "jiehae", and "mirhee" and got no suggestions. Meanwhile "sojin" will suggest "sojin kim" and "sojin chung" but not what I was thinking of ("sojin yi"), and "mijin" gives you "mijin park" but not anyone I know ("mijin chung" or "mijin kang").
What does all this mean? Well, apparently Haeny is quite a popular person, and I like being nosy via Google (see the paragraph in italics, and the one preceding it).
Speaking of stalkers, The Police just played a couple concerts at Wrigley Field. When was the last time you heard of a musical act playing Wrigley? You need a stadium, you go to Soldier Field. I don't know, maybe it was already booked.
I find the Police to be a very interesting musical act. Firstly, they are hard to categorize by genre. That's why I heard them all over the radio this weekend in honor of their reunion tour hitting Chicago. They were on Classic Rock, oldies, variety, and even comtemporary stations.
Second, most of their greatest hits are actually creepy stalker songs. No seriously, examine the lyrics from the songs on their Greatest Hits album:
Roxanne - stalking a hooker Can't Stand Losing You - stalking an ex-lover, becoming suicidal Don't Stand So Close To Me - stalked by a Lolita Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic - stalking covered up by cutesiness Every Breath You Take - classic stalker song
And the other songs don't get much better:
Message in a Bottle - abject loneliness Walking on the Moon - finally found a girl, creepily over-devoted De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da - always thought it was a happy song, but then you realize it might not be about someone he's in a relationship with King of Pain - and just why is he in pain, you think?
Then you have the two political songs (Spirits in the Material World and Invisible Sun), which are probably the two worst songs on the album. And finally you have Wrapped Around Your Finger, which despite the suggestiveness of the title is not a stalker song, just an obsession of a different kind.
The third thing about the Police is, I don't know which of their songs is my favorite. Now, this is a tremendous concern. As you well know, my life is built upon the foundation that I can rank, order, analyze, and prioritize anything. When I try to explain heart motives, my mantra is "everything is based on preferences." With any other band that I have any liking towards, I can name you my favorite song, maybe even a top two or three. It's very clear and easy to choose in my mind.
But not with the Police. In the end, with much thought and trepidation, I would say maybe King of Pain would edge out Synchronicity II, with Every Breath You Take, Roxanne, Can't Stand Losing You, Don't Stand So Close to Me (original), Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, and Wrapped Around Your Finger still in the picture. But it's not a very decisive choice. Unlike these:
Iron Maiden - Phantom of the Opera Judas Priest - 1. Electric Eye, 2. Love Bites Metallica - 1. For Whom the Bell Tolls, 2. Master of Puppets, 3. Ride the Lightning, 4. Fade to Black Kirk Hammett solos - One Jimi Hendrix - Voodoo Child Van Halen - 1. Panama, 2. Why Can't This Be Love AC/DC - 1. You Shook Me All Night Long, 2. Big Balls Black Sabbath - War Pigs Led Zeppelin - Heartbreaker Pink Floyd - 1. Time, 2. Wish You Were Here, 3. Have a Cigar The Beatles - 1. Hello, Goodbye, 2. I Am the Walrus, 3. A Day in the Life The Rolling Stones - 1. Sympathy for the Devil, 2. Satisfaction, 3. Paint it Black The Who - Substitute The Doors - Light My Fire Bruce Springsteen - 1. Glory Days, 2. I'm on Fire Michael Jackson - Beat It Madonna - Dress You Up Prince - Raspberry Beret U2 - I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For Billy Idol - Mony, Mony KISS - Rock and Roll All Nite Def Leppard - 1. Photograph, 2. Pour Some Sugar On Me Motley Crue - 1. Wild Side, 2. Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away) Poison - Every Rose Has Its Thorn INXS - What You Need (see below) Public Enemy - Bring the Noise Anthrax - I'm the Man Megadeth - Peace Sells The Strokes - Someday
So one of the big local stories this summer concerns the reemergence of the seventeen-year cicada. Which is of interest to me because 17 is my favorite number.
Now, 68 years ago, in 1939, the great-great-grandparents of this current generation of cicadas emerged from the ground, apparently in honor of my father's birth: May 30, 1939. My dad just turned 68 (Happy Belated Birthday, Dad), and though he is not an insect, he does make loud, repetitive, annoying noises, not with wings, but with his nasal cavities, as he sleeps.
The great-grandparents of today's cicadas emerged 51 years ago, in 1956, most likely in honor of my father's 17th birthday. That, or the Hungarian Revolution. Of course, I have no idea what my dad at 17, but it must have been supercool, because the cicada's were there to witness it. (Well, not really. They were in Northern Illinois and Dad was in South Korea, but I'm sure there's still a connection.)
The grandparents emerged 34 years ago, in 1973, in celebration of my father's 34th birthday. My father, in turn, decided to give something back to honor the cicadas, so as they spent their brief weeks of adulthood procreating like mad, my father had himself a son, on June 11. (The point being, that day is today, and that boy is me.)
The parents of today's cicadas came out 17 years ago, in 1990, molting their final layer of skin, chirping away to the annoyance of mankind, and making lots and lots of babies. Certainly they returned to celebrate many happenings in the Kim family. My father turned 51 on May 30th, I graduated high school on June 2nd (though I was not there at the ceremony, as explained a few entries ago), I turned 17 on June 11th, and I finally got my driver's license some time that summer.
1990 would be a peak in the life cycle of the cicada, and it would represent my physical and academic peak, as well. It was the peak of my Math Team career (as noted ad nauseam in recent entries), before all the failures of college, and in August my brief ROTC career led me to a one-week boot camp that got me in probably the best shape of my life.
Well, it's 2007 and the cicadas are back, although they could use a good publicist. I had no idea they were coming back until they actually got here. If they had a good agent, they could have hyped this thing a couple of years in advance. Given my family's long history with the cicada, I would surely have prepared something spectacular. Maybe I would have had a big wedding this summer. Or even better, I could have gotten married last year and then popped out a kid just in time to welcome the cicadas back. If necessary, I would have had a kid without the whole marriage thing. (Oops, I always take things one step too far. I hope you're not offended.)
Yes, it's official, I can now blame all my relationship problems on the cicadas.
Well, since I can't come up with anything big on the relationship front, I guess I will celebrate the return of the cicadas by leaving my parents and purchasing a new townhome. Hey, I just did! So come August, you may be among the very first to visit my in my new place, right off I-355 in Lombard. Unfortunately, all the cicadas in my backyard (we did the home inspection today) will be dead by then. In the meantime, enjoy this NSF award-winning video about cicadas.
The last entry was kinda sucky, so we'll try to do better.
When people ask me about the difference between Champaign Central and Naperville North, I think there is an expectation for me to rejoice that I left Central. Of course, I am supremely delighted to be at North and suffer from the highest job satisfaction of people I know, and everyone knows Unit 4 is poorly managed and in bad shape, but I would never diss the people at Central (on purpose, at least).
And then people ask me about the kids. Of course, rich suburban white kids will be different from poor Central Illinois black kids, but they are no better or worse. Case in point, last year my low-income, low-achieving, mostly African-American geometry class started calling me the 40-Year Old Virgin.
This year, at the Math & Science Awards Night, my high-income, high-achieving, mostly Chinese math team seniors got me the following as gifts.
See, kids are kids wherever you go. They will sniff out the weakness in a teacher, and then exploit it without any sense of shame or propriety. I wonder what kids think is wrong with me? Is it the running joke with 2nd period that my girlfriend is from Colombia, I met her online, she looks like Miss Universe, but I've never met her in person? Why wouldn't kids think I'm a perfectly normal, unattached, soon-to-be 34-year old?
Of course, the juniors on math team are much nicer. They try to set me up with all the cute, available teachers they know, and promise that if I catch one, next year at the awards ceremony they'll get me Marriage for Dummies.
