Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh

Tag: writer

  • Prompt 44

    What’s your favorite cartoon?

    Cartoons and animations are different. Cartoons are thematically episodic and satirical. Animations are a superb vehicle for realizing the ideal to the real that human actors could have awkwardly contrived. Animations effortlessly manifest feelings and emotions to the maximum effect. Hence, my favorite animations. 😃

    The Adventure of Sinbad: A story of young sailor Shinbad who decides to see the world with his sidekick Sarah, a bespelled princess in a bird’s hide. The opening song is still my number-one cartoon song of all time.

    Anne of Green Gables, aka the red-haired Anne: This is the most faithful adaptation of the original novel by Lucy Maud Montgomery. This is one of the first animated films by Hayao Miyazaki during his time with Nippon Animation’s World Masterpiece Theater. Hayao and other artists who created this brilliant animated version traveled to Prince Edward Island and visited the story’s original setting. So, watching this animation alone will amount to reading the novel.

    Kiki’s Delivery Service: Not every witch looks the same with a sullen face and unapproachable ambiance. Kiki is an unlikely witch in training who prepares herself to enter adulthood by moving with her black cat Jiji away from her beloved family and settling in a coastal city. She gets a job as an assistant at a bakery, delivering customers’ orders on a broom with Jigi. It’s a charming and thoughtful coming-of-age animation. Moreover, Kiki and I have things in common, such as similar temperaments, looks, and, most of all, our black cats.

    Howl’s Moving Castle: The original story by Diana Wynn Jones is fantastically transpired by Hayao Miyazaki and his artists in this unforgettably mesmeric animated screenplay. Love is ubiquitous and universal. Forgiveness is abundant, and Magic is real. I am sure the original novel’s author would love to see this stunning visualization of her creation of the make-believe world with a standing ovation. Lost in translation? Not an iota.😉

    My Camille

    In light of the above, I prefer animation translated from novels made by Japanese artists because they are skilled in detailing the characters and backgrounds of stories based upon the study of the original stories empowered by a wide arch of imaginativeness. 🤓✨🧚‍♀️

  • prompt 35

    If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time?

    A deprivation of sleep would be a nightmare to me. Sleep is the most natural and safest palliative to forget worries, however temporarily it is. But if there should be any other props for this natural medication, I could keep my promises.

    I want to read and write as much as I should after returning home from work and generally at home. I used to work in an office where I could write during the lull, but for this year, the cognitive processing activities have been reduced to about 10 percent of my daily life because I have been feeling mentally exhausted. It has become psychosomatic by preventing me from sitting at the desk when I am home. My best regular place has become a sofa bed, watching YouTube continuously. I don’t even play with my cats as much as I should because of this sense of powerlessness combined with the weight of existential despair. When writing – which I am doing now during my one-hour lunch at my workplace – I feel so much better with the fogginess of the mind cleared and the heaviness of the spirit relieved.

    Therefore, engaging in activities that use the body and the mind would be the best thing I should do during the extra time because, as the ancient Greeks called it, Mans Sana in coporore Sano. (“Sound Mind, Healthy Body”)

  • ‘Trail of Crumbs’ by Sunee Kim – Book Review

    I first learned of the author from a Korean television documentary about her search for a natural mother in Korea. A successful food editor of a cultural magazine and a writer, Kim returned to the land with the tears of the past and the hope for the future in realizing her ideal figure for the unconditional love she longed for, which piqued me to read this book to know more about her story, hoping to acquaint another kindred spirit.

    So I hoped it was, but her story betrayed my hope. It was about her affair of the heart with the CEO of a famous French beauty product, L’Occidante. Kim seems to have the magic power of charming men – the higher and the smarter – without effort, and she’s never alone, although she wants to think she is. She has never been in poverty of love, money, and opportunity, yet she complains about a lack of love and total freedom. Her parents, who adopted her, have taken care of her, and her sister is also a Korean adoptee. They may not be perfect, but no one is perfect, and they certainly didn’t burden her with the weight of economic support or, worse, the total abandonment that happens to some of the other adopted children. And that’s not it. Kim always escapes from the responsibility of love when the further half showers with love and warms her with kindness. You can’t treat love as it is a business deal. Unconditional love is altruistic and agape. Love is giving and sharing, not owning and demanding. A sense of abandonment envelops Kim like a wandering ghost wailing in perceptual disappointment and howling in forever resentment. Ultimately, Kim finds herself alone, and it’s too late to regret the ancient bliss of love.

    To think that jealousy resulted in such an acrid train of thought is to miss the accurate impression of my heart on the narrative itself. My power of empathy wallowed in the sympathy of humanity and propelled me to read it, in addition to the Korean heritage the author and I shared. The tears I saw from the program pleading for help to find her natural mother in Korea were heartfelt, so I wanted to hear the cry from the heart to know about the death and breadth of her soul. Yet, her story resonates with the outcry of her never-ending angst and constant chasing of mirages springing from the imaginary ideal of love.

  • To Beloved

    Dear Toro and Camille,

    The words I am writing in this letter to you are the voice from my words, and I am addressing your soul’s heart to heart. I know you may not understand the complexities of human language, but my heart and soul are the basics of the words, and I know you will understand what I am trying to say anyway…

    Camille

    I am so sorry that I can’t provide you with the ideal environment for both of you, my sweet darlings, in my present situation. You know that I can’t let you out of our little bedroom whenever you want to go to the living room where the mother stays. She doesn’t like you to be around because she is jealous of my love for you. But she refuses to know that she loves me, not because she never does and has always been unkind to her only daughter. She is not evil but an ill person inside and outside due to her unspoken history of mental illness. I know it, but it’s a taboo that her family wouldn’t disclose. I know this because I am very keen on psychology based on human behaviors. I think you have already sensed it with your supernatural feline senses. What a fate!

    Toro

    When I utter a cry of fate, my soul cries at my fate of being unable to give you the necessary environment to thrive as happy cats. Of course, I always bring you to the doctor when you show symptoms of bodily discomfort, however slight they may be. But when I see my brother’s and cousin’s cats happily and freely roaming around their lovely homes, my heart breaks, and my soul cries inwardly and outwardly. How much I love you guys so much! Toro, you have been with me in every moment of my darkness and occasional lightness. You are always with me when life is unkind to me with the cold shoulders and icy glances. How comforting to stroke your cushy furs through my fingers lying next to me! You are my faithful companion. And Camille, since you came to me, your sweet purrs and meows have consoled my wretched soul. You are such a sweet soul. To people who believe animals have no souls, I defy to see their eyes straightly and speak to them softly that you love them! They know they are loved, and I know my darlings realize it! They know I am sad and happy. They are my only friends in this cold world.

    So, I am asking you to hold on to hope that someday we will live in a lovely home where you can freely and happily roam around, run around all the rooms and floors, cajoling and frolicking to your content and being yourselves. Therefore, I wonder if you want me to accept Brother Joe’s proposal to move to Korea and live in his luxurious apartment with a spacious loft for you and me to live comfortably. What do you think? You think it’s okay?

    Doubt that the stars fall from the sky. Doubt that the sea is blue.
    Doubt night becomes day. But never doubt I love you.

    All my love,
    Stephanie

  • Prompt 30

    What details of your life could you pay more attention to?

    Dear Reader,

    After a long and tiring day at work, I look back today and regret not doing things the way I wanted – yet again. Since I spend more time in an office full of strangers with nothing in common with me other than working for the same employer, reflecting on today’s memories and actions brings me a feeling of sorrow and sympathy. It’s always this matter of diplomacy of interacting with others without offending them, which is what I should pay more attention to.

    The art of social interaction is hard enough for me to achieve without having a poker face or a public mask – persona. I have seen people who ingratiate themselves with those whom they regard as socially beneficial and politically influential. I see them, all of whom are women, but I don’t see beauty in their visages, nor their minds and hearts. Those able-bodied, fair-weathered friends or sycophants are unashamed of their deeds, acting as if they were all above others, thinking themselves better than others.

    Not that I begrudge them such a skill of flattering, but I realize that having the diplomatic forte may help me to live a more comfortable life for me and my two beautiful cats. Indeed, smile is the best global language where no spoken words are required. I can smile and smile beautifully, but my beautiful smile is unrelated to currying favor from the powers that be, so to speak. Still, it would work wonders if I could pay more attention to my facial expression and the whole demeanor of my body in a polished way so people would not be rude to me.

    My wish is someone’s daily life or just a fancy, but it is still my wish to induce a good impression on me, no matter where you are from.

    Good night. Carpe Diem!

  • Old People (2022) – Film Essay

    Old People shows the issue of the generation gaps between the young and the old, not in the adolescent revolt against the adult institution, but in the societal and cultural context regarding the weakening familial bond between wife and husband, child and parent, and grandchildren and grandparent.

    Melika is a successful lawyer from a city heading with her children to her sister’s wedding at their childhood home in a village. Upon arrival, Melika finds her once beloved father, who loved her and her children so much, is sent to a nearby nursing home whose environment is no better than a mad asylum in atmosphere and appearance. Seeing her father spiritless and aimless alone in a dark room gives her a pang of leaving him behind for her ambitious future as a city lawyer, but she tries to suppress it by bringing him home just for the wedding day. But that is her self-induced wish to relieve herself of guilt, for her father is so broken with a shattered heart that his daughters deserted him, driven away from their home, their happy life that he still longs for. Such sadness is collected among all the old people in the nursing home, abandoned in dreadful isolation from the community that has put them into such an institutional grave and buried alive. The rest is a prelude to a symphony of carnage burning in the fury of the undead and neglected.

    Although this movie is presented as a horror movie, it really isn’t in terms of its thematic and contextual subject. It is a horror that we as a society have become Logan’s World, where ageism and lookism prevail over humanity and discriminate against those who do not fit in their touchstone of the ideal. And what is old, and how old is old? Are we not all advancing in age? Youth is wasted on the young, as Oscar Wilde cleverly concluded. Being old should not be a curse but a celebration of experience in life and, therefore, must be embraced with respect and dignity. Just because we become old doesn’t mean our feelings are dead, as the grandfather tells his beloved grandson: “Oh, yes! I love you so terribly much!”