CONTEXT
For this assignment, I interviewed Mi Ri to create a piece in which I twisted her words and painted a completely different picture of her. Mi Ri’s story I learned from our interview had various pieces I picked out and used in my essay. But, for the most part, Mi Ri was turned into a kooky klepto in my piece.
INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT
What sock do you put on first in the morning?
Which sock? I think I put on the right first, even though I’m a lefty
When was the last time you cried?
The last time I cried was when I had a fight with my roommate and she said so many mean things I started crying. And then I didn’t want to cry anymore but tears kept pummeling because once it starts, it doesn’t stop.
Who is the first person you turn to?
I turn to, like, mmmm well my brother and I are really close and he lives like really close to here because he goes to NYU. So we’re like 5 years apart but we’re like friends and enemies at the same time.
Are you loved?
Yes
Do you have the capacity to love?
Huh. I did. But now I’m in a complicated relationship. So I’m kind of wondering if I do have a capacity to love or love back.
What was the last pain you felt?
The last pain was today actually because I came out this morning and I got some blisters from my shoes. Then I forgot my credit card and then I forgot my credit card so I had to walk back to our dorm. Then I changed into these sandals.
What was the last mental pain you felt?
Mental pain.. I think it was when I had my fight with my roommate because she not only like… we not only had an argument, she also went beyond that and started interfering with my personal life and judging me by who I am.
What are you holding back?
I am holding back frustration… because of a guy
Are you a liar?
I can be a liar.
Parle vous Francais?
Oui
Why did you live in Paris?
My parents worked and my whole family moved there and we lived there for 6 years
What have you forgotten? What would you like to forget?
Um… what have I forgotten? I realize I’m starting to forget where I used to live, like the streets, back in south korea. I miss it so much and I’m thinking too much of it so it’s disappearing. And then the thing I want to forget is a nightmare I had. It caused me to have fear of aquariums, or oceans, or water, or fishes
What’s a poem or a song you know by heart?
I don’t know if I’m getting it right but… I forgot the name… but “I think I want to Marry you” maybe? Haha
Can you recite a number you know by heart?
06 26 67 96 93, my old french phone number
ESSAY
“I can be a liar,” she said.
When I first met Mi Ri, the circumstances were far from ideal. She wore a black wrap skirt and tee. Her blank face looked directly through my eyes and into my head. Ominous, quiet, almost threatening, Mi Ri Kim poised herself delicately on my victorian armchair.
“It’s who I am,” she continued.
She had first come into my office looking for help with her anxiety. As our sessions progressed, I began to realize there was a whole world of other issues we should have been addressing. Most prevalently: Mi Ri’s kleptomania. I’m unsure of whether she picked up the affair after our meetings began, or if she was just better at concealing it during the former half of our relationship. The only reason she had let down her guard was because I saw a plastic security device shining like a jewel against the yellow Hermès scarf in her bag. Otherwise, I doubt I ever would have found out.
Mi Ri started to unwind a little. She shifted her knees up against her chest, exhibiting more vulnerability than I thought she was capable of. According to her tale, she had only stolen a few times from a handful of stores. Her cold eyes only broke contact with me in this moment. I knew she was lying. I concluded our meeting a few minutes early and began to look into our situation.
…
For our meeting the next week, I pried at Mi Ri to learn more about her habits. I was surprised to learn she had never been caught— she informed me that she hasn’t spent a cent on material goods in over a year. I could see why she was able to keep this act up for so long. Mi Ri was quite hard to read; her facial queues never let on to her true intentions. It’s a skill, really. Her ability to ruthlessly scam a range of small businesses to large department stores is truly remarkable. As we talked she slowly brushed her hand up and down her leg. Her eyes were glossy and gazed aimlessly out the window. She started to recall memories of her genesis in kleptomania.
“It’s hard to explain,” Mi Ri said. “When I was 16 I started stealing from local stores. I realized it wasn’t very hard and I got away with it without a problem. I started going to more stores around where I’m from, bigger department stores.”
She went on to share that she’s stolen about $15,000 worth of clothes, make up, and jewelry in her kleptomaniac career. Beyond the initial immorality of stealing, I was worried for her. There was something, something I couldn’t quite pinpoint, that was fundamentally wrong with Mi Ri Kim. Something woven deep in her persona that allowed her to live the way she did. I asked her if she was lonely.
For the first time during our meeting, her eyes broke away from the window and once again stared directly through my being. A tear rolled down her face. Her hands continued to move up and down her leg, as if in sync with her emotions.
“I’ve never been more alone,” she said. “I don’t have anyone. I’ve lost myself in my habits. Every night I go home and look at everything I have. Every night I acknowledge the life I’ve fabricated for myself, and I live with it. I live surrounded by things, but I’m unable to feel anything at all. I have everything and nothing. Living with everything I have, I’m left without any feelings.”
I stared at her. I told her I was proud of her and that things will get better. I put my hand on her leg as a sign of comfort.
Mi Ri immediately stiffened up. Her hand snapped out of rhythm and went back to her side. She wiped her face and stood up. Grabbing her coat from the rack, her eyes narrowed and glared down at me.
“I told you,” she said. “This is who I am.”
Mi Ri Kim turned around and walked out. I watched her stroll down the block from my window. She entered a jewelry store two fronts down. I knew I had a lot more work to do.
REFLECTION
Through this piece, I learned more about the process of interviewing. I exercised my creative ability and developed my creative writing skills by writing this fictional tale. It was a nice connection to the previous bridge, where we also worked in groups. Though it was a new project, collaboration was fresh on our minds so it made it easier to work on. An unexpected challenge was finding a way to make the story intriguing yet also realistic; I didn’t want the story to be too phony or unreasonable.
