This week has been monumental for me: I finally got to see the over-anticipated, extremely hyped Broadway musical, “Hamilton.”

After weeks and weeks of monitoring resale ticket prices on StubHub & Ticketmaster (and countless times of being rejected from the daily lottery #NewYorkProblems), I decided to take the plunge and purchase $300+ tickets (I know non-Hamilton fans would say that’s insane, but for me, they felt like a steal considering how ticket prices shot up to $1K+ during Tony season with the original cast).  And though I’m bummed that I didn’t see the show with Lin Manuel Miranda, Daveed Diggs, and Leslie Odom Jr, I figured hey- the music/story is still the same, so it’ll be worth it.

And oh, how it was worth it.

I enjoy watching broadway musicals, and for me, the perfect musical will have the combo of clever lyrics, catchy songs, great production, and a touching story.  Up until now, “Into the Woods” and “The Book of Mormon” were at the top of the list for me.  Though I never saw “Into the Woods” on broadway, I first became familiar with the show through our high school production (and my best friend Joyce’s amazing performance as the Baker’s Wife); I loved their songs and the way it brought a dark twist to the fairy tales we’re so familiar with. The opening of “The Book of Mormon” coincided with around the time I moved to New York, and I finally ended up seeing it on one of my birthdays as my friends generously gifted tickets to me. It was hilarious, crass, and extremely smart.

But I would have to say “Hamilton” is just on another level.  It’s storytelling at its absolute finest. Not only has Lin Manuel created a score that is unbelievably catchy and with such “tactical brilliance” (incorporating rap battles, R&B love songs, and pop ditties), but he created a story with so much heart. He created a story of an underdog (a small fry) that so many people can relate to.  A story of the rise of a man. A story of the fall of a man. A story about the hardships of marriage and the redemptive power of forgiveness. A story of unrequited love. A story of the heartbreak of parenting. A story of competition and bitter rivalry.  A story of freedom, correcting injustices, and living for something bigger/greater than yourself.

I honestly don’t know what to say that hasn’t been said before.  But when I wake up in the morning, I listen to the soundtrack and it energizes me.  Before watching the musical, the opening song “Alexander Hamilton” would be the song I start my day with. I listen to “Non-Stop” as it amps me up for law school.  As I jog, I run to “Guns & Ships.” Every single song in the score is a stand-alone masterpiece, and I would advise anyone going to watch the musical (and even those who aren’t) to listen to and digest the whole soundtrack.

My favorite though is the finale song.  At this point of the musical, I was practically bawling as it just hits on so many levels of emotion: the sadness of a life lost, the overpowering love of a sacrificial marriage, and the strength of hope from one man’s story.

And no, I’m not referencing the Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen movie. It’s been six years here in this city, and it all went by in a flash. When I first arrived in NY, I wouldn’t have imagined that I would be here for 5+ years, let alone nearly a decade (at least that’s how long it’ll be once I’m done with school). I thought the city would swallow me whole & spit me out and I would (at some point) be crawling back to LA with open arms – but alas, I am still here. To celebrate my 6th year anniversary, I thought I’d share my six most memorable moments (or phases?) in NYC:

1. Brooklyn Half (05.2011, 05. 2013)
The longest race I ran before moving to NY was a 5k (Turkey Trot!) and even that was an ordeal, so I never fathomed I would be able to run a half-marathon. But for a pretty decent period of my NY life, I got caught up in the running culture that seems so prevalent here. It all started when my small group, for some insane reason, decided to run the Brooklyn Half together, and we made it a mission to meet weekly to train together as our friend/running coach would guide us through a strict regiment. Though it was physically grueling at times (I especially remember that one miserable time we ran in the rain… ugh), it was so rewarding and memorable to work up to something together with a close group of friends. Also I loved training and getting acquainted with Central Park and Prospect Park, while listening to my springtime running anthem. And then for a few years (2011-2013), I caught the running bug and ran a handful New York Road Runner races per year. Since that time, my stamina has dropped down to barely even being able to run two miles, but maybe one day, I can build myself up to a full marathon (even as I type it, it seems a bit incredulous to me, but we’ll see).

2. Linsanity (02.2012 – 03.2012)
I’ve never been a fan of any particular NBA team (was never a fan of Lakers or Kobe, which might be a shock and an anomaly since I’m from SoCal), but what happened in 2012 with the rise of Jeremy Lin was truly made-for-movie greatness (except the irony is that it is unlikely that a movie would feature an Asian-American star but that’s a whole other topic). Anyway, Lin’s Cinderella tale was an underdog story dreams are made of: a small, Asian-American guy who was dismissed and overlooked, getting an opportunity of his lifetime and running with it. I remember feeling the thrill of anticipating and watching his games: the game where Lin scored 38 points against the Lakers, which was even more satisfying after Kobe’s haughty remarks and the Valentines Day game against the Raptors when Lin scored with the game-clinching shot at the buzzer. Truly magical.

3. Hurricane Sandy (10.2012) & Operation Blessing (11.2012 – 02.2013)
After the underwhelming aftermath of Hurricane Irene, we definitely didn’t anticipate the force that was Hurricane Sandy. Coming from a state where my natural disaster memories consisted of sporadic and harmless earthquakes, I didn’t think we would really be affected. But oh, how wrong we were. Parts of the city were flooded, lost electricity, and were pretty much out of function – which led to a temporary shutdown of most businesses/offices. Though it was a bit scary, our part of Queens came out of the experience pretty unscathed and it was actually a lot of fun being sequestered with friends as we cooked meals and watched forgotten movies together.

Relief efforts were just as memorable. Our church partnered up with Operation Blessing, a non-profit Christian humanitarian organization focusing on disaster relief, and we went on Saturdays to Breezy Point to help homes that had been impacted by the hurricane. There was something very “human” about the experience in the best sense possible – working with a group of “marvelous comrades” as we helped fix these homes and connecting & hearing the stories of the families we were helping. And there was something really fascinating and maybe even cathartic about physically stripping and breaking down these homes and witnessing the deconstruction of it all (as you can probably tell, I haven’t done much manual labor up ’til this point in my life).

4. Astoria (05.2013 – 07.2016)
Moving into my Astoria apt (Princess Rita) was monumental for me as it felt like a somewhat shift to adulthood. Before moving to Astoria, I was always sharing rooms (whether it was in LA or NY) and at times even sharing beds. When I initially moved in with my roommate at the time, Nina, we really made an effort to make it feel like home as we spent a few, back-breaking days, painting the walls a more inviting color. This has been the longest time I’ve spent living somewhere (post-college), and I’ve really grown to love the apartment & the neighborhood. For the past three years, I’ve become familiar & friendly with the local vendors and have spent time exploring the popular food spots (though not as much as I would like). I’ve become a huge Astoria evangelist with my friends as I’ve been constantly encouraging them to move here (though my efforts have been rather unsuccessful). And I get really sad and nostalgic knowing I’ll be leaving in a month… but here’s to making the most of it!

5. Banksy (10.2013)
I was already a fan of Banksy (I grew a fascination with graffiti art via David Choe and not to mention, “Exit Through the Gift Shop” was one of my all-time favorite documentaries), so when he was doing his tour of NYC, I couldn’t be more ecstatic. For those 31 days, I was participating in a city-wide scavenger hunt, as I was frantically searching twitter and refreshing his blog to find the next location. There was an exhilaration and unexpected joy to tracking down his next public piece and finding a group of dedicated New Yorkers all clamoring & trying to take photos… I felt like I was part of an artistic movement. And this sentiment is what I feel generally about this city – that I’m a part of something huge and grand… that I’m a part of history.

6. Bryan Stevenson + Law (12.2014 – beyond)
Since moving to NY, I would make it a point to attend these random author talks around the city, and my friend suggested I go to this “Brooklyn by the Book” event with author/illustrator Maira Kalman and Ira Glass. I didn’t know of Kalman, but I’ve always been a fan of Ira Glass, so I decided to attend. While I was at the event, I was looking at the brochure of Brooklyn Library events, and that’s where I came across the name Bryan Stevenson as he was doing a book talk the following month on his new book “Just Mercy.” I quickly read the synopsis of the book and thought the event might be something I’d be interested in, but because of a scheduling conflict, I wasn’t able to go. I did end up purchasing his book, and like I mentioned in an earlier post, that’s when I seriously started considering law school. I am a strong proponent of fate (es muss sein!), so I truly believe I was in the right place at the right time (and my heart was open as well). I also think that being in NY helped shape my path to law school as I was surrounded by lawyers and law students, and there was so much access to information/resources.

So three cheers to NY, a city that has kept me grounded yet challenged, humane yet resilient. I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

In hope to get some inspiration for law school, I decided to watch an old-time favorite Ally McBeal.

Yesterday, I attended an event hosted by Redeemer Presbyterian Church featuring a conversation between renowned Redeemer Pastor Tim Keller and my own personal hero Bryan Stevenson, author of “Just Mercy” and founder of the Equal Justice Initiative.

I have been looking forward to this event for months, because I view these two men as my spiritual mentors.  Through their books (and Keller’s sermons), they have guided me in my life, both personally and for my vocation.  I participated in numerous book clubs for Keller’s books (“The Reason for God,” “The Meaning of Marriage,” and “Every Good Endeavor”), and he’s helped shape my outlook on my faith, marriage, and my career/calling. And as I mentioned before, Stevenson’s “Just Mercy” spoke deeply to my heart on the topic of social justice and was one of the main drivers of considering law school.

Though I heard Stevenson speak last year at the Brooklyn Historical Society (and I’ve listened to his numerous talks/interviews online), I still felt moved and inspired hearing the same stories that I’ve heard before. He told the familiar, but still gut-wrenching narratives of condemned death row prisoners he’s helped to exonerate and the ones he couldn’t save.  He gave us applications for our own lives to help and serve those in need as he spoke to the power of proximity, changing our deeply ingrained narratives, placing ourselves in uncomfortable situations, but ultimately staying hopeful through it all.

When it came to the book signing portion of the evening, I was so nervous and excited I could hardly contain myself.  I couldn’t believe I was finally able to meet the man who had such a deep impact on my life.  The last time I met someone I truly admired (Poet Billy Collins), I acted like a bumbling idiot, so I knew I had to be focused. When it was my turn to get my book signed, I feverishly shared with him how his book had changed my life and how I’ll be attending law school because of him.  I also told him I’ll be attending NYU and will be taking his courses/clinic; I didn’t just tell him I hoped to… I said (very definitively) that I would.  He was very kind and gracious to my frantic clamor and sent me off by saying “See you in class!”

Some excerpts from Stevenson’s book:

“Proximity has taught me some basic and humbling truths, including this vital lesson: Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done. My work with the poor and the incarcerated has persuaded me that the opposite of poverty is not wealth; the opposite of poverty is justice. Finally, I’ve come to believe that the true measure of our commitment to justice, the character of our society, our commitment to the rule of law, fairness, and equality cannot be measured by how we treat the rich, the powerful, the privileged, and the respected among us. The true measure of our character is how we treat the poor, the disfavored, the accused, the incarcerated, and the condemned.”

“There is a strength, a power even, in understanding brokenness, because embracing our brokenness creates a need and desire for mercy, and perhaps a corresponding need to show mercy. When you experience mercy, you learn things that are hard to learn otherwise. You see things you can’t otherwise see; you hear things you can’t otherwise hear. You begin to recognize the humanity that resides in each of us.”

“The power of just mercy is that it belongs to the undeserving. It’s when mercy is least expected that it’s most potent—strong enough to break the cycle of victimization and victimhood, retribution and suffering. It has the power to heal the psychic harm and injuries that lead to aggression and violence, abuse of power, mass incarceration.”

This past week has been a huge sigh of relief.

God has answered so many prayers as I got accepted to NYU Law, my top choice school, and received a surprisingly generous scholarship.  Not only will I stay in the city that I wasn’t ready to leave, but I will also be (fingers-crossed) studying under the professor who has inspired me to pursue this career path.

After my friends have been congratulating me about getting in, I graciously cheered along with them and asked (semi-jokingly), “Wait, does this mean I actually have to go to school now?”

I started this journey, looking towards each step as a short-term goal in isolation for the sake of not getting overwhelmed.  First step was taking (and doing well) on the LSATs, the following step was applying to schools, the next step was figuring out all my financial aid issues, and now I’m at the step of getting accepted.  Accomplishing all these steps, I didn’t have too much time to dwell and get freaked out about the thought of actually attending school.  And now it’s hitting me hard. All the doubts are seeping in full-fledged speed as I’m going to endeavor the hardest years of my academic life.  But even in the midst of my concerns and anxiety, I felt affirmed and convicted this week as I had some pivotal conversations with people in the legal field who are loving their work (I found this a rather rare disposition among lawyers) and were extremely encouraging about my upcoming career shift.

From today’s John Piper devotional:

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” (Matthew 5:5)

Meekness begins when we put our trust in God. Then, because we trust him, we commit our way to him. We roll onto him our anxieties, our frustrations, our plans, our relationships, our jobs, our health.

As I start to pursue this career, I should keep these words in mind and carry them close to my heart.  Most people probably wouldn’t associate the characteristic of “meekness” with lawyers. And though law school might carry my head into lofty territory, I have to keep humbling myself to a place of surrender.  I didn’t get to where I am merely out of my own strength and aptitude. Ultimately what I do with my career, the people that I meet, and the ways I can help them are not (at least entirely) in my control.   I can only put my best foot forward, and God will take care of the rest.

These past few months have not been easy, but something I’ve really come to appreciate are my friendships.  Throughout all the moments of emotional anxiety and heightened neuroticism that I’ve displayed, my friends have been nothing but loving, encouraging, and gracious.  I really don’t know what I’d do without them.

Out of their care & concern, my friends spent a full night of this past week dedicated to my upcoming decision. One of my more “mathematical” friends decided we should, in true consulting fashion, lay out all the different factors that could potentially affect my decision and rank/score them for each school.  I was reluctant at first, especially considering I’m someone who makes decisions based on my gut and thought such an exercise would be futile.  I argued that this might just be like that one Friends episode where Ross was making a pro/cons list on Rachel vs Julie, and his “not Rachem” factor outweighed all others.  But my friends insisted that even if this exercise will help me come to my “not Rachem” epiphany, it’ll still be helpful regardless.

So I obliged (whiteboard, spreadsheets, & all) and it was admittedly very helpful to be able to sort out my thoughts and concerns. And though I didn’t land on a conclusion (quite yet), I think delineating all these considerations helped me figure out what factors were most important to me and physically seeing the computed scores helped me see things more clearly.  Maybe I’m more of a numbers girl than I thought?

Its frightening how our wildest fears are being realized as Trump is ensuring his candidacy as the Republican nominee.  This is supposed to be the type of incredulous unraveling of events that occur in a popular Netflix series or an outrageously satirical political film – not real life.  But I guess fact can seriously, and scarily, be stranger than fiction.

With all this crazy election drama happening in our midst, I can’t help reminiscing about happier times. While I watched Obama’s speech at his White House Correspondent dinner this year, I couldn’t help but mourn the departure of our composed and charming POTUS.  Yeah, he’s not perfect and I didn’t agree with all of his policies, but he was likable, intelligent, and sincere.  And given his background and upbringing, his story felt like a true underdog tale.  I remember reading “Dreams from My Father” and feeling inspired & hopeful, reading about someone who overcame and rose above a challenging, fragmented past.  He was the president of my adulthood, and the first & only president I voted for.  In late 2007, I was living in Seoul at the time following the campaign news & updates, and I remember feeling a strong urgency to move back to the US to rally for Obama and eventually see him get inaugurated.  I still remember driving back from west LA during rush hour to my hometown of Hacienda Heights to vote for him at our local polling place (Good Shepherds Church on Colima Rd).  I remember going into church with my grandma, who was also voting for Obama (simply on the rationale that he reminded her of our grandpa) and being filled with an almost naive sense of pride and patriotism.  As his campaign so effectively branded him, Obama embodied hope to its fullest extent.

Aside from being the relatable, congenial person that he is, Obama’s presidency stood for something bigger than himself. Like Larry Wilmore said in his “roast” during the WHCD:  “I always joked that I voted for the president because he’s black. People would say, ‘Do you agree with his policies?’ I’d say, ‘I agree with the policy that he’s black. As long as he keeps being black, I’m good… But behind that joke is a humble appreciation for the historical implications for what your presidency means. When I was a kid, I lived in a country where people wouldn’t accept a black quarterback. Now think about that, a black man was thought by his mere color, not good enough to lead a football team. And now, to live in your time, Mr. President, when a black man can lead the entire free world. Words alone do me no justice.'”

Oh how I’ll miss you, dear president.

A dear friend of mine gifted me with this book (in preparation of law school), saying that she had to read it in her pre-law course:

I have always been a fan of Clive… As a wide-eyed child, “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” introduced me to a fantasyland and always made me peer into closets with secret hope & wonder.  “Mere Christianity” and especially “Surprised by Joy” helped build the foundation for my faith as I related to his own spiritual journey.  I became more vigilant to the insidious, sneaky ways of the enemy through “The Screwtape Letters.”  “A Grief Observed” offered me a sense of empathy and taught me it was okay to go through cycles of grief and mourning for loved ones.   All these books came at the right stage of my life, and this book was no exception, considering I was talking about moral relativism just two posts ago!

This book, like his other books, was short in length, but extremely dense in content. I feel like I have to reread it in order to understand the depth and breadth of his argument. In this one, C.S Lewis addresses and criticizes those in academia who wholly reject this idea of universal truth and those who put a sharp divide between reason and sentiment.

“It is the doctrine of objective value, the believe that certain attitudes are really true, and others really false, to the kind of thing the universe is and the kind of things we are.  Those who know [this] can hold that to call children delightful or old men venerable is not simply to record a psychological fact about our own parental or filial emotions at the moment, but to recognize a quality which demands a certain response from us whether we make it or not…. No emotion is, in itself, a judgment; in that sense all emotions and sentiments are alogical.  But they can be reasonable or unreasonable as they conform to Reason or fail to conform.  The heart never takes the place of the head: but it can, and should, obey it.”

“The head rules the belly through the chest – of emotions organized  by trained habit into stable sentiments.  The chest-magnanimity-sentiment -> these are the indispensable liaison officers between the cerebral man and the visceral man.  It may even be said that it is by this middle element that man is man; for by his intellect he is mere spirit and by his appetite mere animal… it is not excess of thought but defect of fertile and generous emotion that marks [these academic men] out. Their heads are no bigger than the ordinary; it is the atrophy of the chest beneath that makes them seem so.”

I thought by the end of this month, I would have a clear direction & answer.  That I would know what school I’d be attending and what city I’ll be living in.  If I would feel assured of staying in NYC or if I needed to prepare my heart for the cross-country move.  But nay, as fate’s cruel hand would have it, this torturous season of waiting has been extended.

A huge part of me wants to kick & scream. I can be a pretty impatient person; I have this strong sense of urgency when it comes to my plans and even my day-to-day life.  I need to take action, make strides. And this state of uncertainty has crippled me in regards to moving forward with my life.

So what can a person do at this point?

Since it’ll be a more heartbreaking decision to leave NYC, I decide to assume I’ll be leaving as a default. So as I spend (what could be) my last months here, I try to find reasons to hate this city (which actually has been pretty difficult due to the glorious weather).

The subway is taking forever.

Ugh, Duane Reade wastes too many plastic bags. (Eco-friendly markets in LA would never do this.)

A latte & rice krispies treat breakfast almost cost me $10. 

Cockroaches. Rats. People. Everywhere.

But even as I pointedly complain to myself, I find my own efforts unconvincing.   Almost like if there’s this dream guy who doesn’t really express interest in you, and you just try to feebly make reasons to dislike him though you know deep inside, these are just micro flaws that you’d wholeheartedly overlook if he’d just have you.

So since this isn’t working, I decide to make the most of the last few months here (though it might make parting that much more painful).

Well, here’s my (growing) bucket list so far:

1. Brooklyn Botanical Gardens
2. Outdoor movie nights!
3. NYC rooftop views (Top of the Rock, Empire State Building?)
4. A Central Park Summerstage show
5. Late Show w/Colbert
6. Comedy show (this particular one that my friend has been raving about)
7. Hamilton!!!

There have been instances where I find my friends/coworkers getting slightly irritated with me, because they say I don’t give definitive answers to their questions.

For example:

Q: What’s your favorite movie?

A: Well it depends… are you talking about the movie I can keep seeing over and over again or a movie that has had a longing impact on my life?

Q: Would you divorce/break up with your husband if he was caught cheating on you?

A: Well it depends… how often/long has he been seeing this other woman? Does he love her? Does he want to leave me? Do we have children?

For me, nothing has ever been black & white; everything has always been grey. That’s what I am – subjective in my thinking, almost to a fault.  I’ve been around people who are fiercely objective. Rules are rules. Principles are principles. No if, ands, or buts.  And these people are also the ones that probably find my “wishy-washy” perspective as weak, fickle, and void of strong convictions.  These people are the ones who are strong proponents of absolute truth. After all, isn’t my faith supposed to be based off of an absolute truth? And that’s actually why I struggle and wrestle with it at times. This is what is true to me, but is it true to everyone?

But as my mind broadens, I’ve come to realize that rules are not just rules. And what you see isn’t all that’s there. There are layers of complexity behind each unique situation.  Yes, that person might’ve acted out irrationally or physically, but it might be due to years and years of being horribly treated by cops.  Yes, those cops might’ve been a bit rough or presumptuous, but it might be due to years and years of violent reactions from their perpetrators. I acknowledge there is some danger associated with this relativist plane of thinking. Then you’ll start excusing all types of disruptive behavior and attribute it to a bad childhood or past.  But how much behavior can be pardoned by a rocky past and how much cannot? Where do we draw the line? Being in the grey is trickier, more complicated – but sometimes life can’t be defined by clear lines.

I wondered if this type of perspective would make me a bad or good lawyer.

edit:

How did Kimmy Schmidt know I was going to write about this?

Weird.