Other(wise) dismissable parallels

If something happens twice, is it a pattern?

I might make this a recurring series where I dwell on obscure repetitions.

Comma after dearest

Starring: Myself, my grad school Professor

I wrote an email to my grad school professor whom I idolize and she replied:

The way my heart stopped.

Not a “comma after dearest”, but I am happy to be an adjective that is rarely seen in the 21st century anyway.

Two soccer analogies

Ngọt and a 2017 Korean Drama

Single from Ngọt’s album, Gieo, in 2022. Lead singer Thắng lets you know with conviction, that the things you worry about today will become the things you laugh about tomorrow.

Em thấy không có bạn

Em đứt ngang dây đàn

Em sẽ không ghi bàn hôm nay

“You find you don’t have friends / your guitar¹ string snapped / you won’t score today.”

I’d become fixated on that line. What a funny metaphor. Since I turned 20, “not scoring” has become a mainstay for most of my days.

During a recent men’s soccer friendly between Vietnam and Korea, my father remarked, “I hope we don’t score.” The score had been 5-0, and Vietnam was struggling on every front. He continued, “Then the press will run headlines focusing on that one goal, and not the fact that we lost.”

His wish came true. Vietnam lost to Korea (Republic of) 6-0 that day. Only headlines of reprimanding — the players, the coach, the whole federation.

Scoring in soccer is symbolic. The majority of games won’t reach double digits in goals. The little bar on the bottom of your television tells you at the end of the game the names of the players who scored and the timestamp in which the goal was made.

As for Thắng Ngọt’s metaphorical scoring, one gets used to it in their 20s — getting rejected from that job, that fellowship, that grant, your thesis supervisor hating your proposal and he’s not afraid to say it to your face, scheduling your breakup with your partner because neither of you wants to do long distance, getting ghosted by that guy from the dating app.

And occasionally, you make small wins that bring the joy akin to scoring a single goal for your team when you are already losing 5 to 0 — a “good job”, a “great job”, “congratulations” from your colleague, your boss lets you off at 6 pm after weeks of staying back at the office late, a small bonus in your paycheck at the end of the month, your cycling instructor commending your good form, your parents say “thank you” for the first time in years.

Alternatively, making play as a defender

I had a small Premier League phase during the middle of the pandemic. I’ve never had the patience for full games, so I filled my nights with watching players’ highlights. I’d become mesmerized by this video of a player on Liverpool making these long, beautifully precise passes full of intention and foresight. It was a fantastic combination of athletic skill and spatial and tactical awareness. If I made (metaphorical) passes like these, I would feel as if I had (metaphorically) scored.

While talking about a high school friend who had played on the girls’ soccer team, I was reminded of a scene from one of my favorite Korean dramas.

Girl meets Guy. Well, guy was looking for a tenant for the extra room in his apartment to lessen the mortgage burden. Guy’s friend said he knows someone (‘twas Girl, duh). Girl desperately needed a place to stay on her low assistant writer salary. Sometime between the time they agreed to a fake marriage arrangement and the time that they fell in love with each other, Girl asked Guy, “Why did you choose me?”(Out of all the possible people you could’ve had a fake marriage-roommate situation with, why me?)

“Because you are a defender,” Guy told Girl.

She wasn’t sure what he had meant by that.

The couple shared a passion for European soccer, occasionally staying up with each other until odd hours to catch the games in a different timezone.

He had specifically recounted an event where the couple had to announce to Girl’s parents their intention to marry while retaining the facade that they were a genuine couple.

When the conversation turned sour after Guy let it slip to the entire dinner table that the couple had been living with each other.

“Cohabitating?!” Girl’s father was enraged.

Girl had warned Guy of his father’s temper. If he flips the dinner table (yes, along with the food and everything on it, something that men feel entitled to do with their unresolved rage, apparently), then it’s over, there’s no more conversation to be had.

When Girl’s father's arms were nearing the table, Girl struck Guy’s legs, enough to make him drop to the floor, urgently pointing to the text that she had prepared that the couple agreed they would only use as the very last resort.

“I would never let your daughter lift a finger in her life!” Guy exclaimed.

On his knees, mouthing cliches he doesn’t believe in.

Girl would reflect on this, “I’ve never been a striker in my life,” she thought, “I’ve always defended myself and stepped back at the right timing.”

Part of the business of being a defender is also to prevent goals from the opposition. Intervening as her father is about to flip the table (like entering sudden death) is a way of preventing her father (the opposition) from making a goal.

For her whole life, Girl had lived this way. This has been her default mode of existence.

And along comes someone who takes this ordinary trait of hers, perhaps even something she considered a flaw (not a “striker”), and turns it into virtue.

There is a sort of tenderness in how Guy spoke (I adore Lee Minki). It was sweet, charming, and honest. I was delighted and consoled by the idea that a person could be loved for a trait that they thought was their shortcoming. (“Someone will love you in all your damaged glory”).

To the two friends that I had said this to in a conversation, this is the source.

Goodbye evergreen

18th-century lesbian love letters and a 21st-century folk-pop song

Sufjan Stevens’ 10th studio album, Javelin, was released earlier this month.

In response to (or in protest of?) Chau Bui’s (Vietnamese fashion influencer) “love letters” to Binz (her 30-something rapper boyfriend) making rounds on Vietnamese social media, I’ve been perusing amorous queer written exchanges by dead people.

My fixation on Emily Dickinson began when I saw one of her poems being quoted in an art installation at the Whitney (to call it an “installation” is an understatement). Her illicit relationship with Susan (“Susie”) Huntington, illustrated in the series Dickinson, captivated me and Tumblr girlies alike.

“I love you as dearly, Susie, as when love first began, on the step at the front door, and under the Evergreens…”

I first learned the term evergreen in journalism school, which is used to refer to a piece of news that is relevant year-round (Breaking news, or “Five gifts for your father this holiday season” is not).

Susan Huntington would go on to marry Emily Dickinson’s brother. The house they would reside in would be called the Evergreens, located just minutes away from Emily’s home. While it was true that her brother-in-law’s home had been covered in its namesake plant, it’s so suiting to summon its image along with the affirmations of love for Susan. Like the plant, her love remains as vibrant and luscious as ever.

Located west of Homestead (Emily’s home), The Evergreens were the primary residence of Susan Huntington and Austin Dickinson, Emily’s brother.

Goodbye Evergreen

Goodbye Evergreen, then, is a glaring oxymoron — how can you say goodbye to something that is perpetual? He’s still grasping onto what he can as he sings:

I’m frightened of the end

I’m drowning in my self-defense

Sufjan Stevens dedicated his 10th album to his lover who passed away (Coincidentally, his name was Peter Evans). Undoubtedly, this album is a way for Stevens to express his grief. When a loved one passes away, the common progression of processes is: grief, feeling remorse, all the intense emotions, then “let go”, if not, you are told to “let go”. Letting go is considered a marker of having successfully processed your emotions.

Having titled his song “Goodbye Evergreen”, Sufjan Stevens acknowledges he needs to let his lover go, but he is ever-present, like the evergreens on the porch of Susan Huntington’s home, and Emily’s unchanging love for her.

But hey, Sufjan Stevens released new music. My heart is happy. Go listen to the album.

I don’t own anything.

Ngọt’s album cover from Apple Music.

Sufjan Stevens’ album cover from Genius.

Because This Is My First Life screen grab from Dramabeans.

Another one from DramaPanda.

Evergreens image from the Emily Dickinson Museum.

Notes

1. “đàn” is the general Vietnamese term for “musical instrument”, so he’s not explicitly saying guitar, but an unspecified string instrument