I've been having a thought lately. It's been running circles in my head and it won't come out. Who's to say it ever will? That's the work of a lifetime, I've found: to make it all come out. That's why a lot of artists kill themselves.
Cowards.
Gonna make it all come out before I get out of here.
I think I've given up on happy. It's a race. I've never been much of a runner (I have a foot condition). I'll have to settle for purpose over happy, if I can have that. Most days I fear I'll fail at that too.
I confuse the two, happiness and purpose. If I'm happy, I think that everything I do has meaning. If I'm not, then everything is stupid and I've failed. Everyone else is doing better because they seem to smile when I don't look at them directly.
After all these years, I haven't learned to be direct. Maybe I should try happy?
No. It's a race. My feet weren't designed for that. I'm going to stay.
Maybe I wasn't designed for happy either.
We can't all be happy all the time, you know. It's like money. In order for some to have a lot, most people have to get by with little or none. I don't mind, but it seems like I don't meet too many of the people with lots, and if I'm going to have to do without, I would at least like to know that the people around me aren't going through the same thing.
That's one thing I would ask God. If you must continue in this way, will you take care of the ones I love? I will be satisfied in that.
People talk to me all the time about being depressed. Their arguments usually amount to something along the lines of "I don't like that, so stop it." It's a fair argument, but it's not complete.
You don't know what I've seen.
What I'm able to see. Not yet.
I'm not afraid.
I'm not afraid of sacrificing my entire life to failure for the hope of one success. I'm not afraid of death; I will embrace it when it is my time. I am not scared to be misunderstood. Got to keep breathing. Got to keep writing happy endings because I haven't seen a real one. Got to make it all come out before I go.
I will be satisfied in that.
17.11.11
10.11.11
Umbrella
I find refuge in the time I have to myself.
I think, at one time I was supposed to find refuge in something(someone?) else, but I often forget who that is, and mistake that identity for someone else. I guess I had better hope that this great thing that I never seem to stop looking for is also somehow inside of me, or I may never find it.
Or perhaps, I'll find it and then I'll just give up because I'll never get my head around it or it scares me too much. That's why we watch movies and listen to music. That thing is out there, somewhere in the real world. Better to stay indoors as much as possible, and always go out with an umbrella.
Actually, I prefer Youtube. Sometimes the movies talk about it too.
I'm in a shop called "Hands Coffee." The barrista is kind of cute. I wonder what would happen if I went up to her and told her that, and maybe kissed her on the cheek. Maybe it would be like a movie, except for the part where it's her turn to react.
That's another thing I like about the movies. There's always a main character. I can never react to anything properly because I'm pretty sure I'm an extra. With the amount of effort I put into my life, I'll be lucky if I'm even credited.
The slogan for this place is "My life, my choice." I'm suddenly worried that there are stem cells in my coffee. I forget why that's supposed to make me angry. It has something to do with Christopher Reeve, but he's dead. Should I still be upset?
Anyway, I'm about finished with my latte and I can safely say that the slogan is the only strong thing about this place.
The PA system is playing a jazz cover of "Tainted Love," This has nothing to do with anything (I wish it did) but I thought I'd mention it anyway.
I think the barrista is smiling at me out of the corner of my eye. I try smiling at her. I don't think she was smiling at me anymore.
What I wouldn't give to be at least a supporting cast member. Like Ron Weasley.
He got Hermoine. How the hell did that happen?
This place is orange. I can see the cold, steel blue of the outdoors through the windows. I've been learning about color temperature online in my free time. Everything we think we know is backwards. All the cool colors come from high temperatures, and all the warm ones come from lower temperatures. Does that mean that the outside is warmer?
Or at least, more heat?
Heat isn't the same as temperature. We learned that in school. Temperature is a number, but heat is motion. A vat of molten steel has nothing on the heat generated by the ocean.
Motion. So many things moving around. Life has no plot that I can find.
My hand is on the door. I wait for the heat to come. THe ocean. It spins around in circles, and no one can breathe underwater. The barrista notices me leaving.
"감사합니다! 안녕히 가십시요!"
I'll bet she says that to everyone.
I think, at one time I was supposed to find refuge in something(someone?) else, but I often forget who that is, and mistake that identity for someone else. I guess I had better hope that this great thing that I never seem to stop looking for is also somehow inside of me, or I may never find it.
Or perhaps, I'll find it and then I'll just give up because I'll never get my head around it or it scares me too much. That's why we watch movies and listen to music. That thing is out there, somewhere in the real world. Better to stay indoors as much as possible, and always go out with an umbrella.
Actually, I prefer Youtube. Sometimes the movies talk about it too.
I'm in a shop called "Hands Coffee." The barrista is kind of cute. I wonder what would happen if I went up to her and told her that, and maybe kissed her on the cheek. Maybe it would be like a movie, except for the part where it's her turn to react.
That's another thing I like about the movies. There's always a main character. I can never react to anything properly because I'm pretty sure I'm an extra. With the amount of effort I put into my life, I'll be lucky if I'm even credited.
The slogan for this place is "My life, my choice." I'm suddenly worried that there are stem cells in my coffee. I forget why that's supposed to make me angry. It has something to do with Christopher Reeve, but he's dead. Should I still be upset?
Anyway, I'm about finished with my latte and I can safely say that the slogan is the only strong thing about this place.
The PA system is playing a jazz cover of "Tainted Love," This has nothing to do with anything (I wish it did) but I thought I'd mention it anyway.
I think the barrista is smiling at me out of the corner of my eye. I try smiling at her. I don't think she was smiling at me anymore.
What I wouldn't give to be at least a supporting cast member. Like Ron Weasley.
He got Hermoine. How the hell did that happen?
This place is orange. I can see the cold, steel blue of the outdoors through the windows. I've been learning about color temperature online in my free time. Everything we think we know is backwards. All the cool colors come from high temperatures, and all the warm ones come from lower temperatures. Does that mean that the outside is warmer?
Or at least, more heat?
Heat isn't the same as temperature. We learned that in school. Temperature is a number, but heat is motion. A vat of molten steel has nothing on the heat generated by the ocean.
Motion. So many things moving around. Life has no plot that I can find.
My hand is on the door. I wait for the heat to come. THe ocean. It spins around in circles, and no one can breathe underwater. The barrista notices me leaving.
"감사합니다! 안녕히 가십시요!"
I'll bet she says that to everyone.
8.11.11
Candid/Candone
God is a photographer.
I've been a bit into photography lately, and one of my more willful sins is to think that God is a little bit like me. Perhaps we have a few hobbies in common. I feel the need to indulge in the mood I'm in right now, so you, O loyal reader(s?) will have to forgive me (as He often does).
He put a soft filter of fog down around the whole of the landscape. Spared no expense. The colors are outlined deep against the grey of yet another subtlety that they all dismiss as absence.
He is not seen.
He is behind.
He is gathering exposure.
These days, I am becoming more sensitive to light. I don't understand what it is, but I think that the world is posed; caught in the middle of saying "cheese."
I'll wait until I catch you off guard. I can picture you better that way.
11.10.11
The Easy Hurt
I'm having one of those "not tonight Korea, I have a headache" moments. Everything is a fight.
The students don't listen.
I can't concentrate.
The teachers can't communicate.
The food smells like death.
To be honest, most days, I like the fight. It keeps me awake. In America, life was too easy. I was fat (in more ways than one). Convenience is a slow and happy killer. All we need to do is relax for long enough to mix with the dirt.
Put down roots.
Soak up the sun.
Never move again.
Today I wish I lived close to my sister. The sound of her voice would be like therapy. She understands me without hearing me speak. Don't know if there are other people like that in the world. I moved a world away from it. I don't even think I was happy when I lived near.
It's not you, it's me.
It's easier to be unknown most days. I'm a little bit famous in my city (my face is strange), but that's not what I mean by being known.
Everyone stares.
No one speaks.
It's easy without people. It's easy, but it hurts. It's when you're alone that you notice all the things that you could care about but shouldn't. Things like crowded buses, cranky coworkers, long work hours, persistent coughs, your Facebook account, and the time difference between Seoul and Los Angeles. Not to mention unapetizing elementary school cafeteria food.
Smells like death.
One of my favorite movies is about an Irish man who becomes a butler for an eccentric millionaire who keeps alligators in the house. I'll never forget one particular part of the movie. After his first day, the butler turns to the cook and asks "is it forever like this?"
"Like what?," she says, confused.
"Like this" is something I want to remember. I want to carry it with me until my dying day. Fight to stay alive. Remember what love is. It is, in fact, love that I want, and not the easy unknown. It is not envious or proud. It is not forever like this.
The students don't listen.
I can't concentrate.
The teachers can't communicate.
The food smells like death.
To be honest, most days, I like the fight. It keeps me awake. In America, life was too easy. I was fat (in more ways than one). Convenience is a slow and happy killer. All we need to do is relax for long enough to mix with the dirt.
Put down roots.
Soak up the sun.
Never move again.
Today I wish I lived close to my sister. The sound of her voice would be like therapy. She understands me without hearing me speak. Don't know if there are other people like that in the world. I moved a world away from it. I don't even think I was happy when I lived near.
It's not you, it's me.
It's easier to be unknown most days. I'm a little bit famous in my city (my face is strange), but that's not what I mean by being known.
Everyone stares.
No one speaks.
It's easy without people. It's easy, but it hurts. It's when you're alone that you notice all the things that you could care about but shouldn't. Things like crowded buses, cranky coworkers, long work hours, persistent coughs, your Facebook account, and the time difference between Seoul and Los Angeles. Not to mention unapetizing elementary school cafeteria food.
Smells like death.
One of my favorite movies is about an Irish man who becomes a butler for an eccentric millionaire who keeps alligators in the house. I'll never forget one particular part of the movie. After his first day, the butler turns to the cook and asks "is it forever like this?"
"Like what?," she says, confused.
"Like this" is something I want to remember. I want to carry it with me until my dying day. Fight to stay alive. Remember what love is. It is, in fact, love that I want, and not the easy unknown. It is not envious or proud. It is not forever like this.
4.10.11
Dry For Too Long
There's a weird backward magnetism to rain. It draws everything in and away. I'm looking out at the petals of rain, drumming against my windows on the 4th floor of 해서 Elementary, and I can't help but think that the world within has become enchanted for the disturbance outside.
Colors seem brighter.
Noises louder.
I can hear the students talking as they trample carelessly by my door. They used to speak only as an exotic fog to which I had no clarity.
These days, it seems as though everything is coming into focus.
Took long enough.
Seems like it took just long enough.
The cold air draws the skin tight against my body, and the wind carries with it the scent of air that stood dry for too long. It smells warm.
It will be Halloween. Then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, but before that, I am going to see home again.
It's such a strange word, in a strange world, and I've been looking for it for longer than I should. It bares teeth, deep down in my soul, and I would fight to keep it alive. I don't now think that I would fit into the shape I held when I was near it. My body is swolen, soaked with a foriegn rain. My actions have accents that are drawn more from love than clarity. Will home take me back? Does love endure all things? Will the prophet find honor in his own town? Have I been struck by something otherworldly, and if she smiles back, should I chase her?
Come away with me.
I came into this world limping so that I could earn the right to run.
Colors seem brighter.
Noises louder.
I can hear the students talking as they trample carelessly by my door. They used to speak only as an exotic fog to which I had no clarity.
These days, it seems as though everything is coming into focus.
Took long enough.
Seems like it took just long enough.
The cold air draws the skin tight against my body, and the wind carries with it the scent of air that stood dry for too long. It smells warm.
It will be Halloween. Then Thanksgiving, and then Christmas, but before that, I am going to see home again.
It's such a strange word, in a strange world, and I've been looking for it for longer than I should. It bares teeth, deep down in my soul, and I would fight to keep it alive. I don't now think that I would fit into the shape I held when I was near it. My body is swolen, soaked with a foriegn rain. My actions have accents that are drawn more from love than clarity. Will home take me back? Does love endure all things? Will the prophet find honor in his own town? Have I been struck by something otherworldly, and if she smiles back, should I chase her?
Come away with me.
I came into this world limping so that I could earn the right to run.
26.9.11
Jeju Day 9: Till It's Done
Literally nothing happened these last 2 days. I tried to rest, and my foot didn't get any better. 미영 called me today, and we went to a place called the "Oriental Medicine Clinic," to give accupuncture a try. The first thing that surprised me is that this procedure is covered by my insurance. I guess that shows how little stock I put in the process.
The doctor came in and touched my wrists briefly. He told me that my injuries were not serious. I told him that it was my foot that was injured. He looked at me like I had just said the dumbest thing in the world. 미영 says that these doctors can tell the health of your entire body just by squeesing your wrists. I rolled my eyes at her pretty hard as I watched this guy poke 2 needles in my hand.
OW! 발이야!(It's my foot.)
I said this a few times, but he didn't dignify my stupidity with a response. He put one more neede in my arm, then two in my right leg (I injured my left foot) and the 2 more on my left foot, but none in the effected area. He then told me to wait for 10 minutes. It was like seeing a real doctor, except that I didn't believe a word he said. They put some weird goo on my foot and sent me home.
After my medical excursion, I got a text message from Cassie, telling me that she and Adean were going to get Indian food, and did I want to come? I wasn't instantly keen on the idea of going out, but I've really got to soak up the time I've got left with these two. I only have a few weeks until they go back to their respectve countries. We enjoyed some 메이블토스트 (toast with cream and syrup) and griped about work for a bit (even though I just got back from vacation, I try to save a few things for emergency gripe purposes). I feel like these two are family, and I've only known them for a year. I'll miss them lots, though both of them are for sure tired of Korea, and need to go home before either of them infects me with home sickness. I still have things to do here.
So there it was.
An adventure.
Confronting my past and using my present to make sense of my future. I often call myself "Lonely Bear," but I'm starting to realize that I've never really had to be alone. Maybe in a strange way, I chose to be alone for this brief time to better understand myself. What good is all this information if there is no one to share it with?
So, to you o' loyal reader(s?), I confess. I am not an artist or a visionary. I'm just some crazy kid who thinks in pictures, watches too many movies, and hears voices in his head. What I have heard and seen, I now relate to you. May it help you to grow, as I myself need desperately to grow up. Thank you for being here to wintness my first awkward steps in that direction. Speaking of awkward steps, I'll be damned if my foot isn't feling better already.
Accupuncture.
go fugure.
That's life for you. You never, ever, know what's going to do it 'till it's done. That's how long I plan to keep telling the story. Stop by again sometime.
The doctor came in and touched my wrists briefly. He told me that my injuries were not serious. I told him that it was my foot that was injured. He looked at me like I had just said the dumbest thing in the world. 미영 says that these doctors can tell the health of your entire body just by squeesing your wrists. I rolled my eyes at her pretty hard as I watched this guy poke 2 needles in my hand.
OW! 발이야!(It's my foot.)
I said this a few times, but he didn't dignify my stupidity with a response. He put one more neede in my arm, then two in my right leg (I injured my left foot) and the 2 more on my left foot, but none in the effected area. He then told me to wait for 10 minutes. It was like seeing a real doctor, except that I didn't believe a word he said. They put some weird goo on my foot and sent me home.
After my medical excursion, I got a text message from Cassie, telling me that she and Adean were going to get Indian food, and did I want to come? I wasn't instantly keen on the idea of going out, but I've really got to soak up the time I've got left with these two. I only have a few weeks until they go back to their respectve countries. We enjoyed some 메이블토스트 (toast with cream and syrup) and griped about work for a bit (even though I just got back from vacation, I try to save a few things for emergency gripe purposes). I feel like these two are family, and I've only known them for a year. I'll miss them lots, though both of them are for sure tired of Korea, and need to go home before either of them infects me with home sickness. I still have things to do here.
So there it was.
An adventure.
Confronting my past and using my present to make sense of my future. I often call myself "Lonely Bear," but I'm starting to realize that I've never really had to be alone. Maybe in a strange way, I chose to be alone for this brief time to better understand myself. What good is all this information if there is no one to share it with?
So, to you o' loyal reader(s?), I confess. I am not an artist or a visionary. I'm just some crazy kid who thinks in pictures, watches too many movies, and hears voices in his head. What I have heard and seen, I now relate to you. May it help you to grow, as I myself need desperately to grow up. Thank you for being here to wintness my first awkward steps in that direction. Speaking of awkward steps, I'll be damned if my foot isn't feling better already.
Accupuncture.
go fugure.
That's life for you. You never, ever, know what's going to do it 'till it's done. That's how long I plan to keep telling the story. Stop by again sometime.
25.9.11
Jeju Day 7: Doctor, Doctor
Feels great to wake up in my home, on a real bed, in a place where I can listen to music and use a computer. I didn't realize how much I missed my guitar either. I should play more often.
I decided not to go on the internet until the official "end" of my vacation, which is Friday. The idea feels pretty good I wait a few hours before calling my co-worker, 미영(MiYoung) to see if she can help me find a doctor's office. I always forget that her name is listed as "cleo" in my phone. I never call her that.
I'm starting to lose confidence in adults as I become closer to becoming one. Doctors, for instance. The doctor that 미영 and I went to. They took x-rays, shocked my foot with electrcity, and wrapped it in a hot bag for half an hour, then gave me pills and told me not to walk around a lot for the next 2 days.
미영 says that accupuncture is better.
Who knows, maybe it is?
All I'm starting to think is that no one really knows anything. Everything depends on what kind of documentation you have. That's what gives you the right to guess about things. Maybe I don't really know as little as I thought, compared to everyone else. I'm going to get some rest.
Maybe soon, I'll get to write about what accupuncture is like.
I decided not to go on the internet until the official "end" of my vacation, which is Friday. The idea feels pretty good I wait a few hours before calling my co-worker, 미영(MiYoung) to see if she can help me find a doctor's office. I always forget that her name is listed as "cleo" in my phone. I never call her that.
I'm starting to lose confidence in adults as I become closer to becoming one. Doctors, for instance. The doctor that 미영 and I went to. They took x-rays, shocked my foot with electrcity, and wrapped it in a hot bag for half an hour, then gave me pills and told me not to walk around a lot for the next 2 days.
미영 says that accupuncture is better.
Who knows, maybe it is?
All I'm starting to think is that no one really knows anything. Everything depends on what kind of documentation you have. That's what gives you the right to guess about things. Maybe I don't really know as little as I thought, compared to everyone else. I'm going to get some rest.
Maybe soon, I'll get to write about what accupuncture is like.
Jeju Day 6: Go
Well, this is it.
An abrupt end.
I woke up this morning with an entire body ready for an adventure except my foot. This pain has been constant for the last two days. It has even increased a little. Something is not right. Time to go back and see a doctor. I won't call this the end of an adventure. I still have to find out what's wrong with my foot.
The boat to Mokpo is the same boat I took to Jeju, but I never really took the time to describe it. All of the economy class is just a collection of giant mats. There are two in the room I was put in. They can hold about 50 people each, and they are about at capacity. It's like a giant picnic in the park. Everyone just picks a spot where they can put their stuff and squats down. The ground around each mat is littered with shoes upon shoes upon shoes.
I think I am going to take a nap.
Later, on my way outside to get some fresh air, I ran into a Korean boy. "ran into" is a funny way of putting it, because I think he was following me. He kept smiling and waving. We had a conversation consisting of all the Korean sentences I know. Since that didn't take very long, we decided to just stare out at the ocean, and he kept laughing the whole time, as though life were only a joke, as if miscommunication were only in our heads. It's so good to be quiet with someone, even if it's someone you don't know very well. I drew a picture of his face. He wrote "100%" underneath it.
There's something, something unnameable about the experience of communication without words. About growing close to a stranger while looking out at a great big thing in silence. This is what my life should be about. This is what my art should be about. This is the thing that makes life liveable, that makes faith possible. This is the thing that I've got to show someone or I'll just explode. My life is the pursuit of something big and quiet. Something that communicates without speaking. How will words ever really capture it? Maybe it was never meant to be captured.
The taxi driver at Mokpo Ferry picked up another person with me, but when he dropped us off, he charged both of us the individual fee.
Really?
Whatever, I don't speak enough Korean to argue with him, and the other guy paid it like it was no big deal. It was only 2,300 won anyway.
The train station is packed, and a lot of the seats on the train are booked. I had to upgrade to 1st class. Worth it though, because if I had bought my tickets in advance, I would be making a huge financial sacrifice by coming home early. It's annoying the way these little kids take up the seats, laid down or sprawled out on 2 or 3 of them. I may look young and strong, but I have a bad limp, and I need somewhere to sit. I finally gave up and ordered some food in a local restaurant. I ordered a roll of Kimbap. It came with Kimchi and a bowl of fish broth. I had forgotten that it had been almost a week since I've eaten hot food. I didn't realize the joy of something so simple as a fresh prepared roll of kimbap and a bowl of hot broth. Who knows, I might even have some love for kimchi today.
I always eat too quick when I'm supposed to be wasting time. I've now got an hour to kill before my train leaves, and now I must attempt to look either contemplative or digestive. It's pretty much the same thing, since I'm convinced that thinking is something I do to pass the time between meals. Just like vacationing is something we do to fill the work void. Then retirement, grandchildren, and death. Life seems to be a collection of wastings and waitings. All these little things I've built up around myself 'till death due us part. I say this not as a precursor to depression, but as a declaration that I refuse to feel guilty for all the wasted hours I've spent this week, walking and waiting, sitting, sketching voyeuristic pictures of people and their belongings, wondering at their worth.
That's where meaning is found; in what we waste our time on.
God himself took seven days, just to give us things to waste about on. I have an atheist friend who says that it would make more sense if God made everything at once, to prove that he was God. That's not it though. Six days to work, one day to think, and then go back to working, without worrying about thinking for a while. Besides, who would God be proving himself to? Proving yourself is something insecure people do, Like artists who are too busy teaching English in Korea to get any of their projects done, or atheists who have ideas about God. Six days and one for wasting. That's how it is.
I think I just heard the boarding call for my train...
I want to go home really badly. I'm only an hour away. I'm excited to sleep in my bed, to prepare for the new semester, and to figure out what the hell is wrong with my foot. I hope they really find something, instead of just giving me a shot in my ass and 60 pills, which is the Korean medical solution to just about everything. I want x-rays and tests, and at some point, I want an old man in a white coat to poke my foot with a really weird looking tool. I'm American, damn it. That's medicine as I see it.
Got on the train. Happy happy happy to have a window seat this time. I forget too often what a beautiful country this is.
An abrupt end.
I woke up this morning with an entire body ready for an adventure except my foot. This pain has been constant for the last two days. It has even increased a little. Something is not right. Time to go back and see a doctor. I won't call this the end of an adventure. I still have to find out what's wrong with my foot.
The boat to Mokpo is the same boat I took to Jeju, but I never really took the time to describe it. All of the economy class is just a collection of giant mats. There are two in the room I was put in. They can hold about 50 people each, and they are about at capacity. It's like a giant picnic in the park. Everyone just picks a spot where they can put their stuff and squats down. The ground around each mat is littered with shoes upon shoes upon shoes.
I think I am going to take a nap.
Later, on my way outside to get some fresh air, I ran into a Korean boy. "ran into" is a funny way of putting it, because I think he was following me. He kept smiling and waving. We had a conversation consisting of all the Korean sentences I know. Since that didn't take very long, we decided to just stare out at the ocean, and he kept laughing the whole time, as though life were only a joke, as if miscommunication were only in our heads. It's so good to be quiet with someone, even if it's someone you don't know very well. I drew a picture of his face. He wrote "100%" underneath it.
There's something, something unnameable about the experience of communication without words. About growing close to a stranger while looking out at a great big thing in silence. This is what my life should be about. This is what my art should be about. This is the thing that makes life liveable, that makes faith possible. This is the thing that I've got to show someone or I'll just explode. My life is the pursuit of something big and quiet. Something that communicates without speaking. How will words ever really capture it? Maybe it was never meant to be captured.
The taxi driver at Mokpo Ferry picked up another person with me, but when he dropped us off, he charged both of us the individual fee.
Really?
Whatever, I don't speak enough Korean to argue with him, and the other guy paid it like it was no big deal. It was only 2,300 won anyway.
The train station is packed, and a lot of the seats on the train are booked. I had to upgrade to 1st class. Worth it though, because if I had bought my tickets in advance, I would be making a huge financial sacrifice by coming home early. It's annoying the way these little kids take up the seats, laid down or sprawled out on 2 or 3 of them. I may look young and strong, but I have a bad limp, and I need somewhere to sit. I finally gave up and ordered some food in a local restaurant. I ordered a roll of Kimbap. It came with Kimchi and a bowl of fish broth. I had forgotten that it had been almost a week since I've eaten hot food. I didn't realize the joy of something so simple as a fresh prepared roll of kimbap and a bowl of hot broth. Who knows, I might even have some love for kimchi today.
I always eat too quick when I'm supposed to be wasting time. I've now got an hour to kill before my train leaves, and now I must attempt to look either contemplative or digestive. It's pretty much the same thing, since I'm convinced that thinking is something I do to pass the time between meals. Just like vacationing is something we do to fill the work void. Then retirement, grandchildren, and death. Life seems to be a collection of wastings and waitings. All these little things I've built up around myself 'till death due us part. I say this not as a precursor to depression, but as a declaration that I refuse to feel guilty for all the wasted hours I've spent this week, walking and waiting, sitting, sketching voyeuristic pictures of people and their belongings, wondering at their worth.
That's where meaning is found; in what we waste our time on.
God himself took seven days, just to give us things to waste about on. I have an atheist friend who says that it would make more sense if God made everything at once, to prove that he was God. That's not it though. Six days to work, one day to think, and then go back to working, without worrying about thinking for a while. Besides, who would God be proving himself to? Proving yourself is something insecure people do, Like artists who are too busy teaching English in Korea to get any of their projects done, or atheists who have ideas about God. Six days and one for wasting. That's how it is.
I think I just heard the boarding call for my train...
I want to go home really badly. I'm only an hour away. I'm excited to sleep in my bed, to prepare for the new semester, and to figure out what the hell is wrong with my foot. I hope they really find something, instead of just giving me a shot in my ass and 60 pills, which is the Korean medical solution to just about everything. I want x-rays and tests, and at some point, I want an old man in a white coat to poke my foot with a really weird looking tool. I'm American, damn it. That's medicine as I see it.
Got on the train. Happy happy happy to have a window seat this time. I forget too often what a beautiful country this is.
21.9.11
Jeju Day 5: Stay
Jjimjilbang, sweet jjimjilbang! I'm really starting to get used to this place. I woke up this morning relatively unsore, except for my left foot, which is starting to develop a sort of limp. My biggest concern is that one day, it will just explode, and then what will I use to walk on? It gets easer to move around as time goes by, because I've been eating my snacks, and that makes everything lighter. think I'm also getting used to sleeping light and travelling all day. I think I'll go to the local E-Mart and buy something to put in my shoes, just to be safe.
I think I'm starting to understand what this trip is all about, but I still have a few more days before I reach my conclusion.
E-Mart doesn't open for another hour, so I'm just going to wait here. Again, I don't realy have any place that I need to be. It's sort of amusing to watch all the people walk by, try the door, look at the business hours sign, then walk away frustrated. I guess I'm not the only one who thought they would be open earlier.
Today, I think I will go to the opposite side of the island. There should be a traditional village over there, and onward to what looks like a big city, where I should be able to find some place to sleep. I think this trip is going to be solidly successful, despite life's best efforts to keep me down.
Update: So, after thinking about it for a while, I've decided to take it easy and stay in the city for today. I really don't like the way my foot is acting up, and I only have three more places I want to see.
no rush.
take your time.
I feel like I keep telling myself that, or hearing it from... somewhere. What's a vacation if you don't relax, anyway?
I found a local tea shop and ordered a 녹차 (green tea) so that I could sit and let the heat of the day pass a bit. The lady that works here gave me my tea which, judging by the consistency, was probably made with instant powder. The joke's on her though, 'cause I'm mostly here to loiter.
There's a man sitting here wearing the traditional clothing of Jeju. Forget what it's called, but it's supposed to be really nice. They dye it with persimmons, and it usually comes out in a light red and dark mud red color. He looks comfortable as hell. I'm a little jealous of his getup. I've buried myself from collar to cuff in sweat. Maybe I should figure out his secrets?
It's actually been quite difficult to stay off my feet. I have places that I want to go, but my body is telling me not to go yet. It's also kind of difficult to find places to hang out without constantly spending money. The sun is brutal today. Outside is miserable. What else is there to do? I just have to wait for healing.
I bought some apples from the grocery store. Daegu is famous for apples. I am of the opinion that Daegu apples could own Jeju apples any day of the week. I'm kind of excited about the idea of going home. I usually feel this way by about day 5 of whatever vacation I'm on. I'm pretty sure this is day 5.
I've got to say though, it's interesting not having access to my usual time wasters (aka the internet et. al.). That's what they all are, aren't they? I think I could pretty much spend my entire life on wasting and never know that I wasn't busy. It's kind of nice to leave space for boredom. A brief waltz with a yawn and a tumbling scratch of the head perhaps? That would be cool. I should chuck my computer (maybe just my modem?) out the window when I get home. I just might save my own life. If I'm not careful, it just might become a life worth saving.
I've decided that if my foot isn't better by tomorrow, I will go home. I've seen a lot here. If it turns out to be enough, I'll go home. If not, then I'd love to keep exploring.
I think I'm starting to understand what this trip is all about, but I still have a few more days before I reach my conclusion.
E-Mart doesn't open for another hour, so I'm just going to wait here. Again, I don't realy have any place that I need to be. It's sort of amusing to watch all the people walk by, try the door, look at the business hours sign, then walk away frustrated. I guess I'm not the only one who thought they would be open earlier.
Today, I think I will go to the opposite side of the island. There should be a traditional village over there, and onward to what looks like a big city, where I should be able to find some place to sleep. I think this trip is going to be solidly successful, despite life's best efforts to keep me down.
Update: So, after thinking about it for a while, I've decided to take it easy and stay in the city for today. I really don't like the way my foot is acting up, and I only have three more places I want to see.
no rush.
take your time.
I feel like I keep telling myself that, or hearing it from... somewhere. What's a vacation if you don't relax, anyway?
I found a local tea shop and ordered a 녹차 (green tea) so that I could sit and let the heat of the day pass a bit. The lady that works here gave me my tea which, judging by the consistency, was probably made with instant powder. The joke's on her though, 'cause I'm mostly here to loiter.
There's a man sitting here wearing the traditional clothing of Jeju. Forget what it's called, but it's supposed to be really nice. They dye it with persimmons, and it usually comes out in a light red and dark mud red color. He looks comfortable as hell. I'm a little jealous of his getup. I've buried myself from collar to cuff in sweat. Maybe I should figure out his secrets?
It's actually been quite difficult to stay off my feet. I have places that I want to go, but my body is telling me not to go yet. It's also kind of difficult to find places to hang out without constantly spending money. The sun is brutal today. Outside is miserable. What else is there to do? I just have to wait for healing.
I bought some apples from the grocery store. Daegu is famous for apples. I am of the opinion that Daegu apples could own Jeju apples any day of the week. I'm kind of excited about the idea of going home. I usually feel this way by about day 5 of whatever vacation I'm on. I'm pretty sure this is day 5.
I've got to say though, it's interesting not having access to my usual time wasters (aka the internet et. al.). That's what they all are, aren't they? I think I could pretty much spend my entire life on wasting and never know that I wasn't busy. It's kind of nice to leave space for boredom. A brief waltz with a yawn and a tumbling scratch of the head perhaps? That would be cool. I should chuck my computer (maybe just my modem?) out the window when I get home. I just might save my own life. If I'm not careful, it just might become a life worth saving.
I've decided that if my foot isn't better by tomorrow, I will go home. I've seen a lot here. If it turns out to be enough, I'll go home. If not, then I'd love to keep exploring.
10.9.11
Jeju Day 4: Like Licorice
I decided to take it easy on my body today and try to make up for lost time by taking a bus. I had wanted to hike the whole way, but I've never been a very stubborn person, and I have no need to be stubborn with my body. A change in plans is much better than a bad injury. Seriously, though, after last night, I have travelled nowhere, and my clothes are all damp and smell like the ocean (see yesterday). I honestly want to give up, but I've decided to be hopeful that today will be better.
Is it just me, or did the attendant at that convenience store really look like Korean John Denver? I guess it is just me. That's the point.
Some super sweet Ajuhmas (old ladies) helped me find the right bus. for about 3,000 won I can travel as far as I need, and I'm pretty sure I can get there pretty fast. Today starts out fortunate. I don't know where it will go from here, but I'm determined to be like licorice... sweet and flexible. I pray the rest works out.
Seriously though, how does anyone travel in a country where they don't speak the language? I can kind of speak, and I am so lost and confused all the time. I don't know how these rich, yuppie, world-travelling types do it.
I arrived at my first destination and walked about 2km (somewhere near a mile?) to the Haenyeo museum. Haenyeo are this group of divers that only live on Jeju. They are all women, which is pretty cool, and they can all hold their breath for over 2 minutes because they dive underwater without a breathing apparatus, which is awesome. I'm going to take a rest here before continuing on. I think it's around noon, but I have no way of knowing. I'm just going to lay my damp clothes out in the sun and see if I can dry them, and then I'll check out the museum and see what I can learn about the Haenyeo. After this, I am going to see if I can find Manjanggeul, the lava caves. That seems like a pretty sweet way to finish out the day. I hope I can find a Jjimjilbang somewhere near where I end up tonight. How brave of me, to hope.
I had to take a looong walk to find a proper bus stop. I wasn't really sure if it was the right one, so I asked the bus driver.
이버스, 만장글 에가요?
아니요, he waved his hand at me. 만장글 입구, and then he drove off.
입구? 입구...I'm trying to remember what that means. Well, 구 means 9, so maybe I'm looking for bus number 9? 입9? 입 means mouth. Somehow that word seems familiar, like I should know it...입구?
Whatever.
I'm just going to get on the next bus I see.
It was when the next bus came that I remembered 입구: entrance. I could kick myself, but I'd rather kick the bus driver. Of course I wanted to go to the entrance. Did he really think I wanted to know if the bus was driving into the cave? Seriously, people.
Once on the bus, I am extremely aware of my smell. I suspect that the gentleman to my right feels the same way. I wish I could care more, but I really don't.
Onward.
I was a bit dissapointed by the lava caves. Maybe I'm jaded, or maybe I'm just a little bit too sore, but I wasn't really into it, and the rocky bottom made my feet sore. Not to mention the smell. If this cab drver is a worthy employee, he's gonna Fabreeze the hell out of this cab as soon as I leave. I have an overpowering smell right now.
Instead of braving the risk of homelessness tonight (since I found a bus that will take me back into the city for about 2,000 won), I have decided to find the Jjimjilbang I stayed at last night. I noticed this morning that they had a laundry facility that I'd love to take advantage of.
Waiting for the bus, I met a vacationing couple from Tennissee. We had a pretty good little chat before the bus came. I came to this island for silence and solitude, yet somehow I keep running into other people.
hmmm....
Is it just me, or did the attendant at that convenience store really look like Korean John Denver? I guess it is just me. That's the point.
Some super sweet Ajuhmas (old ladies) helped me find the right bus. for about 3,000 won I can travel as far as I need, and I'm pretty sure I can get there pretty fast. Today starts out fortunate. I don't know where it will go from here, but I'm determined to be like licorice... sweet and flexible. I pray the rest works out.
Seriously though, how does anyone travel in a country where they don't speak the language? I can kind of speak, and I am so lost and confused all the time. I don't know how these rich, yuppie, world-travelling types do it.
I arrived at my first destination and walked about 2km (somewhere near a mile?) to the Haenyeo museum. Haenyeo are this group of divers that only live on Jeju. They are all women, which is pretty cool, and they can all hold their breath for over 2 minutes because they dive underwater without a breathing apparatus, which is awesome. I'm going to take a rest here before continuing on. I think it's around noon, but I have no way of knowing. I'm just going to lay my damp clothes out in the sun and see if I can dry them, and then I'll check out the museum and see what I can learn about the Haenyeo. After this, I am going to see if I can find Manjanggeul, the lava caves. That seems like a pretty sweet way to finish out the day. I hope I can find a Jjimjilbang somewhere near where I end up tonight. How brave of me, to hope.
I had to take a looong walk to find a proper bus stop. I wasn't really sure if it was the right one, so I asked the bus driver.
이버스, 만장글 에가요?
아니요, he waved his hand at me. 만장글 입구, and then he drove off.
입구? 입구...I'm trying to remember what that means. Well, 구 means 9, so maybe I'm looking for bus number 9? 입9? 입 means mouth. Somehow that word seems familiar, like I should know it...입구?
Whatever.
I'm just going to get on the next bus I see.
It was when the next bus came that I remembered 입구: entrance. I could kick myself, but I'd rather kick the bus driver. Of course I wanted to go to the entrance. Did he really think I wanted to know if the bus was driving into the cave? Seriously, people.
Once on the bus, I am extremely aware of my smell. I suspect that the gentleman to my right feels the same way. I wish I could care more, but I really don't.
Onward.
I was a bit dissapointed by the lava caves. Maybe I'm jaded, or maybe I'm just a little bit too sore, but I wasn't really into it, and the rocky bottom made my feet sore. Not to mention the smell. If this cab drver is a worthy employee, he's gonna Fabreeze the hell out of this cab as soon as I leave. I have an overpowering smell right now.
Instead of braving the risk of homelessness tonight (since I found a bus that will take me back into the city for about 2,000 won), I have decided to find the Jjimjilbang I stayed at last night. I noticed this morning that they had a laundry facility that I'd love to take advantage of.
Waiting for the bus, I met a vacationing couple from Tennissee. We had a pretty good little chat before the bus came. I came to this island for silence and solitude, yet somehow I keep running into other people.
hmmm....
8.9.11
Jeju Day 3: Commemorate
I think I am finally getting over my inability to sleep on the floor. I'm excited about that. It means I'm ready to become super Korean this week.
I find that I can also look at myself in the mirror without all that self-loathing I used to feel. I'm just...me. For better or for worse. I'm excited about that too.
Today, I start hiking. I've got a beach to get to. I'm looking forward to some sun, and perhaps a big rock to dry my sweaty clothes from yesterday.
I'm starting to realize what a dfficult journey this is going to be. I'm not being metaphorical at all. It's faaaaaar, and I'm really not good at reading maps. I think this island is like most islands, in that its road system is a little inefficient, swerving, turning into an alley, or completely dissappearing. Originally, my plan was to follow the coast and use the ocean as my guide, but I'm finding that a lot of the coast is blocked to foot traffic.
Further inland, I found a hiking trail that seemed to go in a direction that I liked, so I took it. I'm so glad I did, because this is the Jeju I really wanted to see. Everything was green and the mountain air was cool. At a rest stop, I met these two Ajuhshis who spoke pretty good English. It wasn't perfect, but between their English and my Korean, we got along pretty well. One of these guys was an English teacher before retiring. The other one was a retired police officer, who was fully the Korean Matlock. Looked like him and everything. We arm wrestled, so that pretty much means we'll be friends forever, cause, well, that's just how it works. The two of them had a bunch of really awesome and hilarious questions for me. Sample:
Are you married?
No.
No girlfriend?
No.
What about Korean girls. Pretty?
Yeah.
Commemorate.
What?
You have been in Korea one year. Commemorate by marry with Korean girl.
I hated to leave those guys but I have places to get to today, and I think time is running out (though I don't know what time it is). I found the shore again, and I'm walking along, sweating buckets. Don't really care though, because no one can see me.
The trail led me to a more central part of the island. I probably should be freaking out a little bit, 'cause I can't see the coast right now, but it's hard to be woried when everything is so beautiful. I'm looking for a beach that Alex said was awesome, so I'm just going to keep walking until my mind is blown. So far, it's looking pretty promising, but it's starting to rain. I fear the ink in my pen will run. I must continue on.
The rain ended up being a bit more intense than I'd counted on. I took shelter at a nearby bus stop. It doesn't look like a lot of buses come through here. Oh well, that's life, I guess. When it starts raining, and you planned to hike all day, what do you do? I'm just glad I brought a towel and my gigantic ugly/awesome hat. Just gotta wait till it stops raining. Sometimes I think it's going to stop and it just gets moe intense. That's life. Just try to get somewhere safe, and wait until it stops. A Korean guy with a car drove by and signaled for me to get in. I said thank you and waved him on. There's realy nowhere I have plans to be right now.
It's crazy how a bad situation seems like it's going to last forever, then all of a sudden, the sky opens up and everything is as beautiful as ever it was. Pressing on.
Guys, I really need to learn how to use a map. I have an awesome one, too. Alex found it for me before we parted ways. I was shocked when I learned where I really was. Waaaay off course. I wonder, why do I always wait so long before consulting a guide? Especially when there's one available whenever I need?
Oh well. Sort of makes me laugh, I guess.
My skin is leaking.
All these clouds and not one ounce of shade. I found an exercize area off to the side of the road in some regon of the sland called 신천(Shincheon). There's a tarped gazeebo-type construction in the corner that has a floor of concrete with pebbles imbedded in it. The Koreans believe that walking barefot on these pebbles is good for your health. I've never put much stock in that, but today they realy felt good on my sore feet. Felt pretty good on my back, too.
I can hear chickens in the background as I doze off. I dreamed about home. Chasing chickens around the property with Jon, sharpened sticks in our hands, like mighty warriors of an unknown tribe. Dreaming is the only open door to that version of home these days.
The beach is, in a word, disappointing. Maybe I'm just cranky, but I'm sore, hot, sweaty, and I now have sand sticking to me? My inner thighs are pretty chaffed too. I'm not used to walking this much. I think this is where I'm calling it a night. The beach sounds like it's raining, but I don't hear any raindrops. It seems like the ocean is drawing water from the shore, and the suction is making a sound like raindrops and putting little dimples in the sand. Weird. I'm going to have to fact-check that with one of my more scientifically inclined friends.
In the meantime, I see a strange shape in the clouds that looks like a weird goat-man thing. I'm getting out my sketchbook, because I think this guy is going to be important later. I have no idea why. My body is so sore. I want to give up already, after my first real day of hiking. Not going to though. Gonna finish. I'm already behind. Gonna finish.
Epilogue: (didn't think I'd be writing anymore today, but...) After an incident of high tide (from behind me, somehow) that left me soaking wet with most of my cothes also quite damp, I gave up on finding a Jjimjilbang in the tiny beach town I landed in, so I hailed a cab. The cab driver told me that the nearest Jjimjilbang was 15 minutes away. He then proceded to drive me right back the way I came, to right next to the Jjimjilbang I stayed at the night before. In 15 minutes. Huge blow to my self esteem, as well as a huge step backwards in my plans. I am currently about 5 minutes from the boat dock where I arrived, sore, a little burnt, and I have rashes in places I can't show, for reasons of both propriety and physics.
Now I have to decide which is more important: seeing everything I wanted to see or walking as far as I can around the island. At this point, I don't see how I can do both. I guess I'll see how I feel in the morning.
Found a massage chair in the Jjimjilbang that pounded out a Strauss medley on my back for about 1,000원. Almost gave me a nosebleed, it was so intense. I'll bet something like this would be illegal in my country.
I find that I can also look at myself in the mirror without all that self-loathing I used to feel. I'm just...me. For better or for worse. I'm excited about that too.
Today, I start hiking. I've got a beach to get to. I'm looking forward to some sun, and perhaps a big rock to dry my sweaty clothes from yesterday.
I'm starting to realize what a dfficult journey this is going to be. I'm not being metaphorical at all. It's faaaaaar, and I'm really not good at reading maps. I think this island is like most islands, in that its road system is a little inefficient, swerving, turning into an alley, or completely dissappearing. Originally, my plan was to follow the coast and use the ocean as my guide, but I'm finding that a lot of the coast is blocked to foot traffic.
Further inland, I found a hiking trail that seemed to go in a direction that I liked, so I took it. I'm so glad I did, because this is the Jeju I really wanted to see. Everything was green and the mountain air was cool. At a rest stop, I met these two Ajuhshis who spoke pretty good English. It wasn't perfect, but between their English and my Korean, we got along pretty well. One of these guys was an English teacher before retiring. The other one was a retired police officer, who was fully the Korean Matlock. Looked like him and everything. We arm wrestled, so that pretty much means we'll be friends forever, cause, well, that's just how it works. The two of them had a bunch of really awesome and hilarious questions for me. Sample:
Are you married?
No.
No girlfriend?
No.
What about Korean girls. Pretty?
Yeah.
Commemorate.
What?
You have been in Korea one year. Commemorate by marry with Korean girl.
I hated to leave those guys but I have places to get to today, and I think time is running out (though I don't know what time it is). I found the shore again, and I'm walking along, sweating buckets. Don't really care though, because no one can see me.
The trail led me to a more central part of the island. I probably should be freaking out a little bit, 'cause I can't see the coast right now, but it's hard to be woried when everything is so beautiful. I'm looking for a beach that Alex said was awesome, so I'm just going to keep walking until my mind is blown. So far, it's looking pretty promising, but it's starting to rain. I fear the ink in my pen will run. I must continue on.
The rain ended up being a bit more intense than I'd counted on. I took shelter at a nearby bus stop. It doesn't look like a lot of buses come through here. Oh well, that's life, I guess. When it starts raining, and you planned to hike all day, what do you do? I'm just glad I brought a towel and my gigantic ugly/awesome hat. Just gotta wait till it stops raining. Sometimes I think it's going to stop and it just gets moe intense. That's life. Just try to get somewhere safe, and wait until it stops. A Korean guy with a car drove by and signaled for me to get in. I said thank you and waved him on. There's realy nowhere I have plans to be right now.
It's crazy how a bad situation seems like it's going to last forever, then all of a sudden, the sky opens up and everything is as beautiful as ever it was. Pressing on.
Guys, I really need to learn how to use a map. I have an awesome one, too. Alex found it for me before we parted ways. I was shocked when I learned where I really was. Waaaay off course. I wonder, why do I always wait so long before consulting a guide? Especially when there's one available whenever I need?
Oh well. Sort of makes me laugh, I guess.
My skin is leaking.
All these clouds and not one ounce of shade. I found an exercize area off to the side of the road in some regon of the sland called 신천(Shincheon). There's a tarped gazeebo-type construction in the corner that has a floor of concrete with pebbles imbedded in it. The Koreans believe that walking barefot on these pebbles is good for your health. I've never put much stock in that, but today they realy felt good on my sore feet. Felt pretty good on my back, too.
I can hear chickens in the background as I doze off. I dreamed about home. Chasing chickens around the property with Jon, sharpened sticks in our hands, like mighty warriors of an unknown tribe. Dreaming is the only open door to that version of home these days.
The beach is, in a word, disappointing. Maybe I'm just cranky, but I'm sore, hot, sweaty, and I now have sand sticking to me? My inner thighs are pretty chaffed too. I'm not used to walking this much. I think this is where I'm calling it a night. The beach sounds like it's raining, but I don't hear any raindrops. It seems like the ocean is drawing water from the shore, and the suction is making a sound like raindrops and putting little dimples in the sand. Weird. I'm going to have to fact-check that with one of my more scientifically inclined friends.
In the meantime, I see a strange shape in the clouds that looks like a weird goat-man thing. I'm getting out my sketchbook, because I think this guy is going to be important later. I have no idea why. My body is so sore. I want to give up already, after my first real day of hiking. Not going to though. Gonna finish. I'm already behind. Gonna finish.
Epilogue: (didn't think I'd be writing anymore today, but...) After an incident of high tide (from behind me, somehow) that left me soaking wet with most of my cothes also quite damp, I gave up on finding a Jjimjilbang in the tiny beach town I landed in, so I hailed a cab. The cab driver told me that the nearest Jjimjilbang was 15 minutes away. He then proceded to drive me right back the way I came, to right next to the Jjimjilbang I stayed at the night before. In 15 minutes. Huge blow to my self esteem, as well as a huge step backwards in my plans. I am currently about 5 minutes from the boat dock where I arrived, sore, a little burnt, and I have rashes in places I can't show, for reasons of both propriety and physics.
Now I have to decide which is more important: seeing everything I wanted to see or walking as far as I can around the island. At this point, I don't see how I can do both. I guess I'll see how I feel in the morning.
Found a massage chair in the Jjimjilbang that pounded out a Strauss medley on my back for about 1,000원. Almost gave me a nosebleed, it was so intense. I'll bet something like this would be illegal in my country.
7.9.11
Jeju Day 2: Mokpo and a Boat
Woke up more than once today. I expect I should be heading out to the train soon, but every time I wake up, it's too early and its pouring rain outside. I keep thinking it's going to let up at some point, but I can't keep waiting around for perfect weather. Sometimes you've just got to get out.
Time for an adventure.
I was a 5 minute walk from Seoul Station. When I got there, I saw the news reports from all around Seoul of all the places that were flooded. It looked pretty bad. Seems like the world is falling apart. "Why fall apart with it?," as a good friend once asked me. She's a lot smarter than she thinks. Maybe its because we forget and start to think that we are the world.
We're not. We just live here. I got on the train.
A dreary, dismal day, for the most part, but as we gradually made our way south, the sky began to open up, and the clouds began to break. "today is tomorrow," as Bill Murray said in Groundhog Days.
I've always loved that movie. Reminds me that I should be grateful that even through the darkest nights, morning comes with great regularity.
I met a guy on the boat to Jeju named Alex. He's returning to Jeju after his vacation on the mainland. Seems like a looking-glass experience. He says he knows of a decent Mexican fod place in the main city. I'm trying not to eat anything but really simple foods and spend lots of time in solitude this vacation, but I keep remembering this scripture about thee being a season for everything. Plus, I probably owe him for talking his ear off about everything from child slavery to comic books for the last 3 hours.
At another Jjimjilbang. I had to take a cab there, because I couldn't find one by wandering around, as was my original plan. I am reflecting on my day. Didn't start how I planned. Didn't end how I planed either, but I'm still alive and I'm doing my best. I guess I'm better at living than at planning, and tomorrow is another day. It's time to start looking forward to all the tomorrows I have ahead. This time, I brought a map.
Time for an adventure.
I was a 5 minute walk from Seoul Station. When I got there, I saw the news reports from all around Seoul of all the places that were flooded. It looked pretty bad. Seems like the world is falling apart. "Why fall apart with it?," as a good friend once asked me. She's a lot smarter than she thinks. Maybe its because we forget and start to think that we are the world.
We're not. We just live here. I got on the train.
A dreary, dismal day, for the most part, but as we gradually made our way south, the sky began to open up, and the clouds began to break. "today is tomorrow," as Bill Murray said in Groundhog Days.
I've always loved that movie. Reminds me that I should be grateful that even through the darkest nights, morning comes with great regularity.
I met a guy on the boat to Jeju named Alex. He's returning to Jeju after his vacation on the mainland. Seems like a looking-glass experience. He says he knows of a decent Mexican fod place in the main city. I'm trying not to eat anything but really simple foods and spend lots of time in solitude this vacation, but I keep remembering this scripture about thee being a season for everything. Plus, I probably owe him for talking his ear off about everything from child slavery to comic books for the last 3 hours.
At another Jjimjilbang. I had to take a cab there, because I couldn't find one by wandering around, as was my original plan. I am reflecting on my day. Didn't start how I planned. Didn't end how I planed either, but I'm still alive and I'm doing my best. I guess I'm better at living than at planning, and tomorrow is another day. It's time to start looking forward to all the tomorrows I have ahead. This time, I brought a map.
6.9.11
Jeju Day 1:Seoul
Got on the train, not too early this morning and headed to Seoul. That expression "headed" strikes me as funny now.
I guess the question it makes me ask is "what does my head have to do with my direction?" I'm sure that's a really stupid question.
Someday, maybe my head will be facing the same direction that I'm going. I'll get there fast. Until then, it's nice to have it turned slightly to the side. You can see a the things you're going past a lot better. It's a beautiful view, especialy since you're leaving it.
Since arriving at Seoul Station, I have been thinking a lot about my past. Probably because I plan to confront my past on Jeju. Probably also because I'll be seeing two important caracters from that part of my life today. Two of my old Youth Group students. I call them this not because they're old (neither of tem is yet 16, if I'm not mistaken) but because I felt like such an old man those years ago. It's not them, it's me. It's always been me.
I stopped at a coffee shop after much wandering. Actually, I stopped at a Cold Stone and ordered coffee. I just realized that I was specifically loking for western places. Is that because I'm on vacation? Do I somehow realize that I don't belong here, or did I stop wanting to?
I wonder if the other people in Cold Stone spend as much time thinking about themselves as I do.
I hope not. How would they get anything done?
People have families by the time they are my age, you know? They are responsble for another human life and they get to have sex regularly. I know for sure that I'm not ready for that.
Children, I mean.
What an insane responsibility to have someone completely dependant on you. What a frightening thing.
Gotta grow up. Gotta learn not to be afraid. Gotta remember that there already are people who depend on me. I'm going to meet two of them now.
First up is a guy who seemed like nothing but trouble. I used to think that he caused a lot of distractions, and then I realized he was trying to get my attention. He started out as a pest. I cried the day he left for Korea. Not a lot of things make me cry (despite rumors to the contrary) but I thought I would never see him again. Now we're going to spend a lazy (and apparently rainy) afternoon in Seoul. We are going to Taco Bell, another place I never thought I would be grateful to see. I am wating for him at the subway station.
Waiting is good. We can only be as grateful as the time we spend in waiting, and I've been saving up patience for something good.
Next up is a sad story of the things a teenage girls' mind can do to her without her permission. My other student. She's in trouble. She knows that she is, but thinks it's too late to save her. It's been a while since I've talked to someone who was so utterly convinced that they were worthless and all alone. The last person was me. She gets used by guys and thinks she deserves it. She's happy baecause she doesn't feel anything for them. It's times like these that I'm glad I'm stupid enough to believe in miracles.
We walked down the street, past the sidewalk corners piled high wth garbage. "My life is kind of garbage right now," she said with a laugh. What else can I do but stupidly hope for a miracle? No amount of arguing or pleading can convince a broken heart to heal itself. If there's anything I've learned recently it's that some lessons have to be learned the hard way. The miracle is if she fgures it out before any permanent damage is done.
Turned in at a Jjimjilbang(Korean bath house)near the station. Don't think I'll sleep much though. I've got an early morning and a lot on my mind.
They call life "the grand narative," something along the lines of a really important story. Sometimes I wish I could skip ahead to the end. I hope it turns out alright.
I guess the question it makes me ask is "what does my head have to do with my direction?" I'm sure that's a really stupid question.
Someday, maybe my head will be facing the same direction that I'm going. I'll get there fast. Until then, it's nice to have it turned slightly to the side. You can see a the things you're going past a lot better. It's a beautiful view, especialy since you're leaving it.
Since arriving at Seoul Station, I have been thinking a lot about my past. Probably because I plan to confront my past on Jeju. Probably also because I'll be seeing two important caracters from that part of my life today. Two of my old Youth Group students. I call them this not because they're old (neither of tem is yet 16, if I'm not mistaken) but because I felt like such an old man those years ago. It's not them, it's me. It's always been me.
I stopped at a coffee shop after much wandering. Actually, I stopped at a Cold Stone and ordered coffee. I just realized that I was specifically loking for western places. Is that because I'm on vacation? Do I somehow realize that I don't belong here, or did I stop wanting to?
I wonder if the other people in Cold Stone spend as much time thinking about themselves as I do.
I hope not. How would they get anything done?
People have families by the time they are my age, you know? They are responsble for another human life and they get to have sex regularly. I know for sure that I'm not ready for that.
Children, I mean.
What an insane responsibility to have someone completely dependant on you. What a frightening thing.
Gotta grow up. Gotta learn not to be afraid. Gotta remember that there already are people who depend on me. I'm going to meet two of them now.
First up is a guy who seemed like nothing but trouble. I used to think that he caused a lot of distractions, and then I realized he was trying to get my attention. He started out as a pest. I cried the day he left for Korea. Not a lot of things make me cry (despite rumors to the contrary) but I thought I would never see him again. Now we're going to spend a lazy (and apparently rainy) afternoon in Seoul. We are going to Taco Bell, another place I never thought I would be grateful to see. I am wating for him at the subway station.
Waiting is good. We can only be as grateful as the time we spend in waiting, and I've been saving up patience for something good.
Next up is a sad story of the things a teenage girls' mind can do to her without her permission. My other student. She's in trouble. She knows that she is, but thinks it's too late to save her. It's been a while since I've talked to someone who was so utterly convinced that they were worthless and all alone. The last person was me. She gets used by guys and thinks she deserves it. She's happy baecause she doesn't feel anything for them. It's times like these that I'm glad I'm stupid enough to believe in miracles.
We walked down the street, past the sidewalk corners piled high wth garbage. "My life is kind of garbage right now," she said with a laugh. What else can I do but stupidly hope for a miracle? No amount of arguing or pleading can convince a broken heart to heal itself. If there's anything I've learned recently it's that some lessons have to be learned the hard way. The miracle is if she fgures it out before any permanent damage is done.
Turned in at a Jjimjilbang(Korean bath house)near the station. Don't think I'll sleep much though. I've got an early morning and a lot on my mind.
They call life "the grand narative," something along the lines of a really important story. Sometimes I wish I could skip ahead to the end. I hope it turns out alright.
21.7.11
Something To Sit On
I've been in Korea for nearly a year now.
I'm trying to think about how much I have been changed by this experience, and to be honest, there's a lot. I still often discover a deep sense of dissapointment with myself and my ability to cope with the life that I have. I'm not too concerned with dissapointment. It's not exactly my first time.
By and large, I've seen me, up close and personal. I find this frightening, baffling, and reassuring at the same time, and I refuse to explain what that means until I figure it out for myself. There's a lot going into me right now, and a lot more that needs to, if I am ever going to become a man.
Good lord, do you hear the way I talk about myself? I need a vacation from me. My changeup needs a changeup.
I want to hear from God. I want the voices in my head again. I can't take a vacation with my friends, and I can't go home this summer (believe me, two circumstances waaay beyond my control)so I guess I am alone.
Alone is a gift, regardless of how I see it. If alone is the gift that I've been given, then I'm going to unwrap it, and play with it for a little while. Maybe even be grateful.
I said maybe.
There's an island a few miles off the coast of South Korea. They call it 제주(Jeju). Women, rocks and horses. They claim to have a lot of those.
I was never much into horses.
Let's just say that I'm going for the rocks. I need something to sit on. I'm going to listen for the mighty wind, and the earth quaking, and the silence after. Especially the silence. I think the silence will take a little bit of time. I have 12 days. They say you can see the whole island in 2 days by car. I wonder how much I can see on foot.
I'm going to walk until I have no more feet. Until they belong to someone else.
I hope that you, oh loyal reader(s?), will stick around. I think that something qhuite interesting will happen this summer.
I'm trying to think about how much I have been changed by this experience, and to be honest, there's a lot. I still often discover a deep sense of dissapointment with myself and my ability to cope with the life that I have. I'm not too concerned with dissapointment. It's not exactly my first time.
By and large, I've seen me, up close and personal. I find this frightening, baffling, and reassuring at the same time, and I refuse to explain what that means until I figure it out for myself. There's a lot going into me right now, and a lot more that needs to, if I am ever going to become a man.
Good lord, do you hear the way I talk about myself? I need a vacation from me. My changeup needs a changeup.
I want to hear from God. I want the voices in my head again. I can't take a vacation with my friends, and I can't go home this summer (believe me, two circumstances waaay beyond my control)so I guess I am alone.
Alone is a gift, regardless of how I see it. If alone is the gift that I've been given, then I'm going to unwrap it, and play with it for a little while. Maybe even be grateful.
I said maybe.
There's an island a few miles off the coast of South Korea. They call it 제주(Jeju). Women, rocks and horses. They claim to have a lot of those.
I was never much into horses.
Let's just say that I'm going for the rocks. I need something to sit on. I'm going to listen for the mighty wind, and the earth quaking, and the silence after. Especially the silence. I think the silence will take a little bit of time. I have 12 days. They say you can see the whole island in 2 days by car. I wonder how much I can see on foot.
I'm going to walk until I have no more feet. Until they belong to someone else.
I hope that you, oh loyal reader(s?), will stick around. I think that something qhuite interesting will happen this summer.
13.7.11
Little Boxes
No class today.
Today is the national test. Students will be ranked and filed, categorized, and put into seperate boxes called 중학교. This system of boxing will continue for quite some time. The "civilized" world is a collection of small boxes that we run back and forth between, collecting people to keep inside.
Sometimes we need a bigger box.
Sometimes we go outside just to remember.
The weather is not great right now. I guess sometimes it's good to have a box.
I've got 10 more minutes in this box. then I'm off to a box on wheels, a box underground, a box with a body of water, then backwards through all those boxes to the box I call home. Should I be so affectionate with something that closes over me so well?
I thought I wanted freedom?
Today is the national test. Students will be ranked and filed, categorized, and put into seperate boxes called 중학교. This system of boxing will continue for quite some time. The "civilized" world is a collection of small boxes that we run back and forth between, collecting people to keep inside.
Sometimes we need a bigger box.
Sometimes we go outside just to remember.
The weather is not great right now. I guess sometimes it's good to have a box.
I've got 10 more minutes in this box. then I'm off to a box on wheels, a box underground, a box with a body of water, then backwards through all those boxes to the box I call home. Should I be so affectionate with something that closes over me so well?
I thought I wanted freedom?
10.7.11
I Fail At Making Fists
It was early when I woke up this morning. Seems like a thousand mornings I have already experienced. Why this one again? I showered, cleaned off and read some scripture. I'm doing a dramatic interpretation of a scripture from Luke at church this Sunday. I hadn't read it until today, and it turns out it wasn't about what I thought. Oh well, hadn't thought much yet.
I wrestled with the idea of skipping swimming today. I had a colission with another swimmer in the pool last night (I've been drifting a bit to the left these days) and my finger is still sore. I can't make a fist. I think I like to imagine problems like this though... I'm going. If I fail at everything else in life (including making fists) I'll at least get some regular exercize.
The 4th graders were positively demon posessed today. Some days I think I am perfectly skilled to be a teacher. These days I wonder if that's true. I've given up on falling in love with my job. I'm waiting for love to find me. It's noon and I already have a headache. I hope against hope that lunch isn't something absolutely fucking weird. It's hardly a valid thing to expect. Some items on the menu at my school don't have an English translation because the western world doesn't consider them to be food. Today is another day, in my own little corner of the world where I don't belong, but I feel like I would run into a similar problem wherever else I could go.
The other three English teachers left on a trip to study other elementary schools' English rooms, in preparation for the new years' program. The office is now empty. I asked them if I should go with them, and they said that the Principal told them that only 3 people could go.
What?
On a diffferent, but related note, I think that the special ed students should not be allowed to wander. They're in my office right now, hitting each other with sticks and saying "Ow, it hurts," in Korean. I'm fighting every urge I have to use some of the Korean yelling techniques I've learned from my co-workers to expediate their exit. The secret of my language aquisition will remain for now, becouse one of my advanced English 6th graders came in and I got him to shoo them out. I've got an hour to kill now.
That's life these days. You kill time until the day that it finally comes back and kills you. It's supposed to pick up at some point. I hear some older people complain that they don't have the time to get done what they used to do in a day. I'm not like them. I have the time. What is it then, that I am missing?
Motivation?
Courage?
Discipline?
Integrity?
Freedom.
I wrestled with the idea of skipping swimming today. I had a colission with another swimmer in the pool last night (I've been drifting a bit to the left these days) and my finger is still sore. I can't make a fist. I think I like to imagine problems like this though... I'm going. If I fail at everything else in life (including making fists) I'll at least get some regular exercize.
The 4th graders were positively demon posessed today. Some days I think I am perfectly skilled to be a teacher. These days I wonder if that's true. I've given up on falling in love with my job. I'm waiting for love to find me. It's noon and I already have a headache. I hope against hope that lunch isn't something absolutely fucking weird. It's hardly a valid thing to expect. Some items on the menu at my school don't have an English translation because the western world doesn't consider them to be food. Today is another day, in my own little corner of the world where I don't belong, but I feel like I would run into a similar problem wherever else I could go.
The other three English teachers left on a trip to study other elementary schools' English rooms, in preparation for the new years' program. The office is now empty. I asked them if I should go with them, and they said that the Principal told them that only 3 people could go.
What?
On a diffferent, but related note, I think that the special ed students should not be allowed to wander. They're in my office right now, hitting each other with sticks and saying "Ow, it hurts," in Korean. I'm fighting every urge I have to use some of the Korean yelling techniques I've learned from my co-workers to expediate their exit. The secret of my language aquisition will remain for now, becouse one of my advanced English 6th graders came in and I got him to shoo them out. I've got an hour to kill now.
That's life these days. You kill time until the day that it finally comes back and kills you. It's supposed to pick up at some point. I hear some older people complain that they don't have the time to get done what they used to do in a day. I'm not like them. I have the time. What is it then, that I am missing?
Motivation?
Courage?
Discipline?
Integrity?
Freedom.
8.7.11
Keep
Pockets are completely useless.
Every time I sit down, my pockets turn sideways and all the coins I had inside spill out. It's like I can only keep my things if I never relax. It really makes one think: how long have pockets been around? Have we really been using them for so long and overlooked this critical flaw in their design?
I think pockets need a beta test group, then we can fix them once and for all.
What shall we call the new thing we make up to replace them? The idea of pockets have already slipped into our subconscious as a society. I think it may be too late to try to give them another name.
I think we're stuck with pockets, actually. Regardless of their flaws, we've come to rely on them. Even if I could come up with something better, I don't think I could really switch over from something I already feel so accustomed to.
Could we just change everything?
I can imagine a world where we worry about what is best before what is comfortable. Where we can change because what we used to do was completely useless. In this world, I don't lose valuable things just because I let my guard down for a minute; because I relaxed...
I want something of value to hold on to. Something that no pocket can keep.
Regardless of my flaws, I've come to rely on myself.
Couldn't we just change everything?
All of my change just keeps spilling out of my stupid pockets.
Every time I sit down, my pockets turn sideways and all the coins I had inside spill out. It's like I can only keep my things if I never relax. It really makes one think: how long have pockets been around? Have we really been using them for so long and overlooked this critical flaw in their design?
I think pockets need a beta test group, then we can fix them once and for all.
What shall we call the new thing we make up to replace them? The idea of pockets have already slipped into our subconscious as a society. I think it may be too late to try to give them another name.
I think we're stuck with pockets, actually. Regardless of their flaws, we've come to rely on them. Even if I could come up with something better, I don't think I could really switch over from something I already feel so accustomed to.
Could we just change everything?
I can imagine a world where we worry about what is best before what is comfortable. Where we can change because what we used to do was completely useless. In this world, I don't lose valuable things just because I let my guard down for a minute; because I relaxed...
I want something of value to hold on to. Something that no pocket can keep.
Regardless of my flaws, I've come to rely on myself.
Couldn't we just change everything?
All of my change just keeps spilling out of my stupid pockets.
7.7.11
The Power
Recently, (not that recently, actually...I'm behind on my updates) I got back from a retreat for the church leadership team that I (against all objections and with great reluctance) have been a part of for the past 6 months. I complain because I care. It's really all I have to offer.
We will return to my poor attitude in a minute. In the meantime, let me give you a little excerpt from my personal life. There was an activity (as there often is at this kind of function) where we were supposed to write notes of encouragement to other people in the team and hang them on a clothesline outside the conference center banquet hall. I'm not usually a fan of cliche sentiments, but I do love me some notes of encouragement. I figure that my South African friend Greg won't mind me sharing what he wrote, since he signed his name, and this is written exactly in the way that he talks. He's from Cape Town (South African Santa Cruz):
"Steve-o!
Dude, you are awesome. It has been rad to the power of sick getting to know you. I love how much you know about movies, and your quirky/crazy sense of humour. Yes, HUMOUR, coz that's how my mom taught me to spell it. Keep on loving Jesus with the passion, genuine desire and hinesty that you do. May you only come to see Him more and more. Love you, bro.
-Greg"
I am genuinely starting to believe that people's love for me says more about them than it does about me.
Or, more specifically, that a person loving me well means (more than it means that I am loveable) that they have developed an ability to love another person. Beautiful that imperfect people (like me) can recieve a love that is bigger than we deserve.I think I'm really ready to give up on being a victim of this world, as though its attitude towards me had anything to do with who I am. I have decided to be known by what loves me.
Rad to the power of sick.
We will return to my poor attitude in a minute. In the meantime, let me give you a little excerpt from my personal life. There was an activity (as there often is at this kind of function) where we were supposed to write notes of encouragement to other people in the team and hang them on a clothesline outside the conference center banquet hall. I'm not usually a fan of cliche sentiments, but I do love me some notes of encouragement. I figure that my South African friend Greg won't mind me sharing what he wrote, since he signed his name, and this is written exactly in the way that he talks. He's from Cape Town (South African Santa Cruz):
"Steve-o!
Dude, you are awesome. It has been rad to the power of sick getting to know you. I love how much you know about movies, and your quirky/crazy sense of humour. Yes, HUMOUR, coz that's how my mom taught me to spell it. Keep on loving Jesus with the passion, genuine desire and hinesty that you do. May you only come to see Him more and more. Love you, bro.
-Greg"
I am genuinely starting to believe that people's love for me says more about them than it does about me.
Or, more specifically, that a person loving me well means (more than it means that I am loveable) that they have developed an ability to love another person. Beautiful that imperfect people (like me) can recieve a love that is bigger than we deserve.I think I'm really ready to give up on being a victim of this world, as though its attitude towards me had anything to do with who I am. I have decided to be known by what loves me.
Rad to the power of sick.
6.7.11
Smile And Say Thud
I am starting over again.
I would have said (maybe yesterday) that my life has been a series of false starts over a long period of time. This would explain why I seem to be trapped in this perpetual cycle of infancy. Seems logical, but these days I feel like none of my starts could have been false, since I've needed every one of them.
I once heard an artist talking about center of gravity in relation to people in motion. He said that our center of gravity is in flux when we walk, because the basic idea of walking is falling and catching yourself over and over again.
So, when I fall, I should catch myself quickly? Maybe it's only falling if you stay down. Walking is a form of falling down. It makes me smile to think of the way I move, flopping forward and back on top of myself, like a baby or someone with a severe personal problem.
And God? With all my efforts, I hope I at least make Him laugh.
With the world as it is, I'll bet he could use a smile.
I would have said (maybe yesterday) that my life has been a series of false starts over a long period of time. This would explain why I seem to be trapped in this perpetual cycle of infancy. Seems logical, but these days I feel like none of my starts could have been false, since I've needed every one of them.
I once heard an artist talking about center of gravity in relation to people in motion. He said that our center of gravity is in flux when we walk, because the basic idea of walking is falling and catching yourself over and over again.
So, when I fall, I should catch myself quickly? Maybe it's only falling if you stay down. Walking is a form of falling down. It makes me smile to think of the way I move, flopping forward and back on top of myself, like a baby or someone with a severe personal problem.
And God? With all my efforts, I hope I at least make Him laugh.
With the world as it is, I'll bet he could use a smile.
27.6.11
Everything I Had
I think most of the people in the world are narcissists, but I'm too busy to think about those people...
I bought the wrong ticket to Busan today. It's my own fault that my country uses the 12 hour clock and I don't know the difference between noon and midnight. Even on my best days, though, I rarely know what time it is and where I'm supposed to be at that time. The attendant tells me that I have to buy another ticket. She smiles a lot. I think I'd rather blame her, but really I know that this is my fault.
Korea and I are not on good terms today. It's my fault, but I'd rather blame her. Who could know that life is so full of dissatisfaction? Right now, I have money, a vacation, the means to do things with said money, and what do I want to do?
Really, I'd like to know.
I wish I could blame someone else, but the problem is inescapable. It's more than a bad day, a circumstance, or an extra ticket. It's me, and the man I somehow became without my permission. It's the will of God, that I should be something other than my own dreams, and sometimes I wish for everything that I had what I wanted, but every day I know I wish I wanted everything I had. What good is success without satisfaction? Is it knowing that everything you want is wrong? How do I give it up? I just want to do well with my life before it's gone.
That's a lie.
I want to feel like something besides myself matters.
I bought the wrong ticket to Busan today. It's my own fault that my country uses the 12 hour clock and I don't know the difference between noon and midnight. Even on my best days, though, I rarely know what time it is and where I'm supposed to be at that time. The attendant tells me that I have to buy another ticket. She smiles a lot. I think I'd rather blame her, but really I know that this is my fault.
Korea and I are not on good terms today. It's my fault, but I'd rather blame her. Who could know that life is so full of dissatisfaction? Right now, I have money, a vacation, the means to do things with said money, and what do I want to do?
Really, I'd like to know.
I wish I could blame someone else, but the problem is inescapable. It's more than a bad day, a circumstance, or an extra ticket. It's me, and the man I somehow became without my permission. It's the will of God, that I should be something other than my own dreams, and sometimes I wish for everything that I had what I wanted, but every day I know I wish I wanted everything I had. What good is success without satisfaction? Is it knowing that everything you want is wrong? How do I give it up? I just want to do well with my life before it's gone.
That's a lie.
I want to feel like something besides myself matters.
23.6.11
Same Old
One of my 4th grade girls uses her knowledge of English for evil.
Teacher is woman! You are like girl, teacher!
Can't get her to stop, but she gives herself away. Every time I go over to scold her, she gets a big smile on her face and puts her hand on the arm I rest on her desk.
Teacher is very handsome.
She says it, though the instant I focus my attention away from her, she'll act pretty much in the same way. Are we all so obvious in our quest for significance? Attention? Love?
I think we are, though sometimes the things we are after are being offered to us, despite what we believe about how they should look.
I'm really starting to believe that my biggest downfall is that I take myself waaay to seriously. Every flaw I have is tragic/Shakesperian, and every creative thought I have is (or should be) brilliant, all the things that great literature is made of. That's probably why I don't finish the things I start, and tend to thinkn that I am so incredibly unlovable, when most of Humanity has my same condition.
Calm down.
You're nothing new. Neither Mother Theresa nor Adolph Hitler, you're just like billions of in-betweens who have lived and died, and shall continue 'till death parts up or our Lord return.
I finally feel comfort in knowing that I'm not really anyone.
Teacher is woman! You are like girl, teacher!
Can't get her to stop, but she gives herself away. Every time I go over to scold her, she gets a big smile on her face and puts her hand on the arm I rest on her desk.
Teacher is very handsome.
She says it, though the instant I focus my attention away from her, she'll act pretty much in the same way. Are we all so obvious in our quest for significance? Attention? Love?
I think we are, though sometimes the things we are after are being offered to us, despite what we believe about how they should look.
I'm really starting to believe that my biggest downfall is that I take myself waaay to seriously. Every flaw I have is tragic/Shakesperian, and every creative thought I have is (or should be) brilliant, all the things that great literature is made of. That's probably why I don't finish the things I start, and tend to thinkn that I am so incredibly unlovable, when most of Humanity has my same condition.
Calm down.
You're nothing new. Neither Mother Theresa nor Adolph Hitler, you're just like billions of in-betweens who have lived and died, and shall continue 'till death parts up or our Lord return.
I finally feel comfort in knowing that I'm not really anyone.
22.6.11
Little Things From Where I Am
Went to my very first Korean wedding today. First Catholic wedding as well. I was confused and amused (comused?). Not like it's my first time feeling that. This place usually confuses me, and I've learned to enjoy confusion the same way I have learned to enjoy kimchi: by taking it in often, in small doses and with a smile on my face, regardless of what my face really thinks.
There's an announcement before and applause after every part of the ceremony. At one point, the groom yelled 김소영(bride)사랑해! 김소영사랑해!김소영사랑해! at the top of his lungs. I felt like it was okay to laugh (everyone else did). The audience shouted something back, but I didn't know what, or I would have joined them. Translation (when I can get it) loses a few things as well.
Snippet of the only conversation I had on the subject of what the $&*# was going on:
Me: What's going on?
김미영: The grooms brother maybe will play the piano.
Me: Brother? But that's a little girl up there.
김미영: I can't see. Are you sure?
Me: Yeah, pretty sure.
김미영: Oh. Really? Then I don't know. Just watch.
After the ceremony, there was a buffet (which I'm now convinced is an international wedding standard). It was pretty much the same as an American buffet, except it had more raw fish and whole octopus. I'm starting to get used to things I used to not be. I sat at the same table as my Principal. She asked me how my Korean lessons were going. I needed a translation.
I guess not as well as I thought...
Cultures change, but people are the same everywhere. They are not any more or less dignified or any more plain about what they want. People fall in love, get married, and have goofy friends that put bows on their hair while singing songs. People have little sisters that play the piano. This isn't a hipster rant about how everyone is the same, and nothing is original anymore. Not today. If anything, you can call this one a confession. I don't value these tiny things as much as I now want to. I want to start over again. This time I think I will not care so much about where I think I am going. This time, I want to pay attention to where I am now.
There's an announcement before and applause after every part of the ceremony. At one point, the groom yelled 김소영(bride)사랑해! 김소영사랑해!김소영사랑해! at the top of his lungs. I felt like it was okay to laugh (everyone else did). The audience shouted something back, but I didn't know what, or I would have joined them. Translation (when I can get it) loses a few things as well.
Snippet of the only conversation I had on the subject of what the $&*# was going on:
Me: What's going on?
김미영: The grooms brother maybe will play the piano.
Me: Brother? But that's a little girl up there.
김미영: I can't see. Are you sure?
Me: Yeah, pretty sure.
김미영: Oh. Really? Then I don't know. Just watch.
After the ceremony, there was a buffet (which I'm now convinced is an international wedding standard). It was pretty much the same as an American buffet, except it had more raw fish and whole octopus. I'm starting to get used to things I used to not be. I sat at the same table as my Principal. She asked me how my Korean lessons were going. I needed a translation.
I guess not as well as I thought...
Cultures change, but people are the same everywhere. They are not any more or less dignified or any more plain about what they want. People fall in love, get married, and have goofy friends that put bows on their hair while singing songs. People have little sisters that play the piano. This isn't a hipster rant about how everyone is the same, and nothing is original anymore. Not today. If anything, you can call this one a confession. I don't value these tiny things as much as I now want to. I want to start over again. This time I think I will not care so much about where I think I am going. This time, I want to pay attention to where I am now.
21.6.11
I Can Still Feel Everything
I'm happier when I'm distracted. I know that. I wan't at all depressed today when I was at work, nor did I think about how many years it has been since I believed that I was really heading in some specific direction according to a purpose.
Strange that I'm not more easily distracted. You would think that I would whole-heartedly embrace it, as an agent to numb the pain of this consistent failure I see in me.
I've never been much for numbing pain. I've always wanted to know the whole truth, and that means no medicine. Medicine is a distraction. Medicine lies to you about how much trouble you're really in.
I was 12 years old, and I had a cavity. Eight of them, actually. I had only been to the dentist once before, when I was six. I remember specifically that he had told me then that I should change my brushing habits or I would have cavities. Six years later, I had cavities. Maybe I am unable to change. More than likely, I just didn't.
They put a needle into my gums and squeezed it out three times. They were trying to find a way to excuse the pain that was coming. It was not working.
Can you feel this?
Yes, I can feel it.
I want us to be friends, she said over a premature cup of coffee. She was scared, I now realize, because she used friendship as a way to define what we were not going to be. I swear, I barely touched her the whole time we were going out. Scared of making her scared.
Is it possible? Will you call me?
She collected relationships like I collected rejections. Heaven forbid that either of us be denied the prize we had rightfully earned.
Yes.
I said it because I grew tired of telling the truth. Eventually I crawled back to truth like a smoldering cigarette on a lonely weekday. I want the pain. It reminds me. Yes, I will call you. Yes, we will meet again. No, we won't be friends.
I lied to them.
I told them that I couldn't feel anything so that it would go on. I needed them to cut out all the bad things so that I could use my teeth again. I lied when I said I didn't care because I felt everything. I wouldn't dare ask for anyone's pity, or wish away any of my memories, because now I know. I know the whole of pain. I know every drop of blood that experience has drawn from me, and I have felt that blood leaving me. Now I can use my mouth in a way that was impossible before the drill. I can speak. I can still feel everything.
Ask me if you want to know.
Strange that I'm not more easily distracted. You would think that I would whole-heartedly embrace it, as an agent to numb the pain of this consistent failure I see in me.
I've never been much for numbing pain. I've always wanted to know the whole truth, and that means no medicine. Medicine is a distraction. Medicine lies to you about how much trouble you're really in.
I was 12 years old, and I had a cavity. Eight of them, actually. I had only been to the dentist once before, when I was six. I remember specifically that he had told me then that I should change my brushing habits or I would have cavities. Six years later, I had cavities. Maybe I am unable to change. More than likely, I just didn't.
They put a needle into my gums and squeezed it out three times. They were trying to find a way to excuse the pain that was coming. It was not working.
Can you feel this?
Yes, I can feel it.
I want us to be friends, she said over a premature cup of coffee. She was scared, I now realize, because she used friendship as a way to define what we were not going to be. I swear, I barely touched her the whole time we were going out. Scared of making her scared.
Is it possible? Will you call me?
She collected relationships like I collected rejections. Heaven forbid that either of us be denied the prize we had rightfully earned.
Yes.
I said it because I grew tired of telling the truth. Eventually I crawled back to truth like a smoldering cigarette on a lonely weekday. I want the pain. It reminds me. Yes, I will call you. Yes, we will meet again. No, we won't be friends.
I lied to them.
I told them that I couldn't feel anything so that it would go on. I needed them to cut out all the bad things so that I could use my teeth again. I lied when I said I didn't care because I felt everything. I wouldn't dare ask for anyone's pity, or wish away any of my memories, because now I know. I know the whole of pain. I know every drop of blood that experience has drawn from me, and I have felt that blood leaving me. Now I can use my mouth in a way that was impossible before the drill. I can speak. I can still feel everything.
Ask me if you want to know.
4.6.11
Swallow
Someone asked me last week if I loved myself. She asked it making the assertion that no one can love another person more than they love themselves. I agree with that statement, though it troubles me. I like to think that it is possible to truly love someone as a person in my condition. I don't know if I've ever been asked that question before.
I came into the world helpless and distracted. I wouldn't say that I loved myself, but I certainly paid a lot more attention to me. Everything was injustice, and no one could possibly understand how bad I felt. How strange it seems to me now that I could "know" everyone else's experience in a glance and compare, declaring myself Miss Universe in the pity pageant of all time.
I was fat, and socially awkward. I also didn't like the sound of my own voice. These were my qualifications.
Sometimes I really wish that time wasn't a continuum. That the past didn't progress into the present, and then on into the future. Perhaps if there were some other way, some new method of organization for the universe, I might one day wake up and be completely changed. If I could only be just someone, anyone else. 다시, as my students say when they make a mistake. I made a lot of mistakes, and not any of the cool mistakes. I've made loser mistakes, the kind that reveal true character and fault to the world in an astoundingly unspectacular way.
Know thyself.
I heard these words in college, and felt like it was some grand calling in life. If I knew who I was, then somehow I would be happy. I suppose this could have been the opening page to some part of my life, but it became more of a bookmark. It was a stopping point for blame. I couldn't be truly happy until I knew myself, and I didn't want to know myself yet. I wanted to know the me that I had plans to become.
I am post-college, in a singularly literal sense. I am not who I was, though I can't be too sure, because I didn't take the time to know that person, and I am still not quite willing to introduce myself to me yet. I've come to accept the fact that I can only put into the world what I find put into myself. My heart is filled to the brim with the pictures, word, and songs of other people. I think I love them, but how could I, when I use their creations to explain why my words, stories and pictures aren't good enough?
Love thyself.
All of my prayers seem the same these days. They're like diagnostics. A question of-
How am I doing?
Am I better?
Look at all that I have accomplished. Is it enough?
Will I be better in time for you to be proud of me?
I lost 70 pounds, I can play the guitar a little. I had two poems published in a magazine that Mike made. I've held hands with a girl (more than once, actually). I speak a little Korean, and I only pick my nose when I'm absolutely sure no one is looking. I'm better, aren't I?
Would someone love me if I was just a little bit better?
"This is my commandment, that you love one another, that your joy may be made complete."
Love thyself.
Truth be told, I'm afraid to love myself, because if I love myself, then maybe I won't ever change. What if I'm always this way? I don't know how to love myself and still admit that I have a long way to go. I've come so far, and I am someone else to the best of my knowledge, and I have accomplished everything by hating myself. I had hoped that now that I am a more respectable person, I could start to love again, but everything is built on the foundation of that phrase that I've programmed into my head.
You aren't good enough.
There's no such thing as good enough, I know that. Love is hard work, but it's not a job, because you can't earn your pay. I feel like I've put myself on time out, and now I'm crawling back to God, holding the sorely patched pieces of my identity in front of me, begging.
Has it been enough time? Did I learn my lesson?
When God looks at me, I think I find only a puzzled expression on his face, and his only response:
What were you doing?
Did you think that I put you there?
Swallow.
I think that God wants me to love myself. The myself that I am, and not the myself that I'll be. When I say love, I don't mean that I believe in hippie Jesus who is referenced by philosophy students and is compared to Ghandi and John Lennon. Sometimes I forget which of them said "all you need is love," and which said "if you love me, you will do as I command." I don't believe in hippie Jesus with catchphrases.
Can't we all just get along?
The world as it stands simply does not make sense if that's what God is. I believe in a world where people are starving and dying, scattered and frightened, without hope, and still God is love. I believe in the difficult love, the frustrating, hard to swallow kind of love. Hippie Jesus only loves as a concept. He cannot love you while seeing your flaws, because they would make him wrong. You can agree with hippie Jesus all you want; his love can not change anything about you, because it would have to occupy a considerable distance.
I want to believe again in a love that has dirty hands, because it touches everything. I want to take a bite of something and chew on it, never knowing if I'll be big enough to swallow.
The foundation of my life up to this point has been loathing and self-hatred. I who claim to be a child of God. How can I love, when I am only motivated by hatred, screamed at a mirror daily? I swear, I thought it wouldn't hurt anyone else.
I don't want anyone to tell me that I am good enough. I won't exchange one lie for another. The house must be rebuilt if it is to have a new foundation.
Eat me alive.
Every doorway I left unlocked, every window open far too wide. Every fixture, appliance, book I never read. I will be loved as something that is not good enough.
다시. Time to start again.
I came into the world helpless and distracted. I wouldn't say that I loved myself, but I certainly paid a lot more attention to me. Everything was injustice, and no one could possibly understand how bad I felt. How strange it seems to me now that I could "know" everyone else's experience in a glance and compare, declaring myself Miss Universe in the pity pageant of all time.
I was fat, and socially awkward. I also didn't like the sound of my own voice. These were my qualifications.
Sometimes I really wish that time wasn't a continuum. That the past didn't progress into the present, and then on into the future. Perhaps if there were some other way, some new method of organization for the universe, I might one day wake up and be completely changed. If I could only be just someone, anyone else. 다시, as my students say when they make a mistake. I made a lot of mistakes, and not any of the cool mistakes. I've made loser mistakes, the kind that reveal true character and fault to the world in an astoundingly unspectacular way.
Know thyself.
I heard these words in college, and felt like it was some grand calling in life. If I knew who I was, then somehow I would be happy. I suppose this could have been the opening page to some part of my life, but it became more of a bookmark. It was a stopping point for blame. I couldn't be truly happy until I knew myself, and I didn't want to know myself yet. I wanted to know the me that I had plans to become.
I am post-college, in a singularly literal sense. I am not who I was, though I can't be too sure, because I didn't take the time to know that person, and I am still not quite willing to introduce myself to me yet. I've come to accept the fact that I can only put into the world what I find put into myself. My heart is filled to the brim with the pictures, word, and songs of other people. I think I love them, but how could I, when I use their creations to explain why my words, stories and pictures aren't good enough?
Love thyself.
All of my prayers seem the same these days. They're like diagnostics. A question of-
How am I doing?
Am I better?
Look at all that I have accomplished. Is it enough?
Will I be better in time for you to be proud of me?
I lost 70 pounds, I can play the guitar a little. I had two poems published in a magazine that Mike made. I've held hands with a girl (more than once, actually). I speak a little Korean, and I only pick my nose when I'm absolutely sure no one is looking. I'm better, aren't I?
Would someone love me if I was just a little bit better?
"This is my commandment, that you love one another, that your joy may be made complete."
Love thyself.
Truth be told, I'm afraid to love myself, because if I love myself, then maybe I won't ever change. What if I'm always this way? I don't know how to love myself and still admit that I have a long way to go. I've come so far, and I am someone else to the best of my knowledge, and I have accomplished everything by hating myself. I had hoped that now that I am a more respectable person, I could start to love again, but everything is built on the foundation of that phrase that I've programmed into my head.
You aren't good enough.
There's no such thing as good enough, I know that. Love is hard work, but it's not a job, because you can't earn your pay. I feel like I've put myself on time out, and now I'm crawling back to God, holding the sorely patched pieces of my identity in front of me, begging.
Has it been enough time? Did I learn my lesson?
When God looks at me, I think I find only a puzzled expression on his face, and his only response:
What were you doing?
Did you think that I put you there?
Swallow.
I think that God wants me to love myself. The myself that I am, and not the myself that I'll be. When I say love, I don't mean that I believe in hippie Jesus who is referenced by philosophy students and is compared to Ghandi and John Lennon. Sometimes I forget which of them said "all you need is love," and which said "if you love me, you will do as I command." I don't believe in hippie Jesus with catchphrases.
Can't we all just get along?
The world as it stands simply does not make sense if that's what God is. I believe in a world where people are starving and dying, scattered and frightened, without hope, and still God is love. I believe in the difficult love, the frustrating, hard to swallow kind of love. Hippie Jesus only loves as a concept. He cannot love you while seeing your flaws, because they would make him wrong. You can agree with hippie Jesus all you want; his love can not change anything about you, because it would have to occupy a considerable distance.
I want to believe again in a love that has dirty hands, because it touches everything. I want to take a bite of something and chew on it, never knowing if I'll be big enough to swallow.
The foundation of my life up to this point has been loathing and self-hatred. I who claim to be a child of God. How can I love, when I am only motivated by hatred, screamed at a mirror daily? I swear, I thought it wouldn't hurt anyone else.
I don't want anyone to tell me that I am good enough. I won't exchange one lie for another. The house must be rebuilt if it is to have a new foundation.
Eat me alive.
Every doorway I left unlocked, every window open far too wide. Every fixture, appliance, book I never read. I will be loved as something that is not good enough.
다시. Time to start again.
3.6.11
When I Was God.
When I first discovered I was an introvert, I was shocked.
Being one of seven children in (at the time) a three bedroom house, I'm not sure if being alone had ever crossed my mind. Every day, from my morning alarm to brushing my teeth before bed, there was someone. Someone was my friend, someone was my partner, someone was my video game opponent. I loved it, and introvert seemed like such a dirty word.
I had no idea how tired I was.
In college, there was also someone, and my life was such a mess. Dirty dishes, cluttered appointment books, and clothes on the floor. We were all going somewhere, and we would figure ourselves out when we got there. Never alone, always asleep or wanting to be. The world could not make itself worthy of open eyes for me, and I was alone.
It's really the worst feeling I've ever had; to be alone when surrounded by so many other people. What is the cure for what you're feeling is all around you, but you just don't know how to access it?
I was terminal.
I left my home, the one that I had set up for my self in the state I was born in. My home country, to trade for another one full of people that I have no access to. Their lives seem good enough. No more or less dignified than the people I left them for. I could live here forever. I could live there forever. I've got to live somewhere forever.
It's really daunting to think of the immortality of the human soul. Our inception was an act for which motive has no answer, and is completely eternal, or, in a less spiritual wording, irreversible. Once life has been made, no matter what its reason, it cannot be unmade. Is such a high placement and judgement of finality worthy of this shell that I occupy?
I really do wonder sometimes if there are things in this world that should come to an end. I'm not God, so I'll not make that decision. There was once a time when I thought I was, but now I know far too much about the both of us to make that mistake.
And so, as God has decided that I am to be an introvert, I am now learning to be alone. I sit in coffee shops for hours by myself, and I ride the subways in silence. I eat alone, and at home I am given the keys to unlock the worlds that He has laid out for me inside my head. The lonesome babbler's compensation, where I can have community with God and with myself.
I am learning to be alone and not lonely. To speak when there is someone to speak to. As for these beautiful, shimmering worlds that have been given to me for my benefit? I have learned to be at peace with knowing that there are some things about me that no one on this earth will understand, though I, by virtue of what has been made for me, am understood.
Being one of seven children in (at the time) a three bedroom house, I'm not sure if being alone had ever crossed my mind. Every day, from my morning alarm to brushing my teeth before bed, there was someone. Someone was my friend, someone was my partner, someone was my video game opponent. I loved it, and introvert seemed like such a dirty word.
I had no idea how tired I was.
In college, there was also someone, and my life was such a mess. Dirty dishes, cluttered appointment books, and clothes on the floor. We were all going somewhere, and we would figure ourselves out when we got there. Never alone, always asleep or wanting to be. The world could not make itself worthy of open eyes for me, and I was alone.
It's really the worst feeling I've ever had; to be alone when surrounded by so many other people. What is the cure for what you're feeling is all around you, but you just don't know how to access it?
I was terminal.
I left my home, the one that I had set up for my self in the state I was born in. My home country, to trade for another one full of people that I have no access to. Their lives seem good enough. No more or less dignified than the people I left them for. I could live here forever. I could live there forever. I've got to live somewhere forever.
It's really daunting to think of the immortality of the human soul. Our inception was an act for which motive has no answer, and is completely eternal, or, in a less spiritual wording, irreversible. Once life has been made, no matter what its reason, it cannot be unmade. Is such a high placement and judgement of finality worthy of this shell that I occupy?
I really do wonder sometimes if there are things in this world that should come to an end. I'm not God, so I'll not make that decision. There was once a time when I thought I was, but now I know far too much about the both of us to make that mistake.
And so, as God has decided that I am to be an introvert, I am now learning to be alone. I sit in coffee shops for hours by myself, and I ride the subways in silence. I eat alone, and at home I am given the keys to unlock the worlds that He has laid out for me inside my head. The lonesome babbler's compensation, where I can have community with God and with myself.
I am learning to be alone and not lonely. To speak when there is someone to speak to. As for these beautiful, shimmering worlds that have been given to me for my benefit? I have learned to be at peace with knowing that there are some things about me that no one on this earth will understand, though I, by virtue of what has been made for me, am understood.
1.6.11
Sin
I'm feeling a lot better today.
I've been sick.
Sick enough to miss Korean class. I never miss Korean class. Sick enough to take medicine. I never take medicine. Sick enough to mention it.
I usually don't mention it when I'm sick, because my co-workers (even though some of them are younger than me) tend to be motherly towards me. I haven't lived with my mother for quite some time. When I'm sick, I prefer to be left alone. Now, I share an office with three mothers. They're also a little bit paranoid when it comes to illness (for which they use the word "disease").
"Are you sick? You must come to the nursery (school nurse's office) with me."
"After, we will go hospital. After work, let's together go."
"Do you have the allergy? Yellow dust, I think. It comes from China."
"Yesterday we were playing yut nori. The mats were dusty. Maybe that?"
If anything, I'll bet it's the fact that I have to high-five each of the 6th graders as they leave class (right before lunch, too). Call it a cultural exchange. Hand washing and general hygene is a bit of a rough concept for that age group. Sometimes this country makes me laugh. Sometimes it makes me sick. Always, it makes me think.
Last night, I barely made it to the "hospital" (it was actually just a clinic. Koreans tend to abuse the word "hospital"). It was all I could do to stay awake, when just a few hours prior I was on my fee entertaining my 4th graders. It would seem that in life, we are only able to muster what strength is required of us. Oh, impardonable sin, that we should want just a little bit more. That's where both confidence and laziness come from.
I used to be lazy, but not because I was confident. Now, I'm neither. I'm sick, and I took medicine, though I rarely look for help with whatever is wrong with me. I prefer to be alone, but I mentioned it, and I took medicine.
I'm feeling a lot better today.
I've been sick.
Sick enough to miss Korean class. I never miss Korean class. Sick enough to take medicine. I never take medicine. Sick enough to mention it.
I usually don't mention it when I'm sick, because my co-workers (even though some of them are younger than me) tend to be motherly towards me. I haven't lived with my mother for quite some time. When I'm sick, I prefer to be left alone. Now, I share an office with three mothers. They're also a little bit paranoid when it comes to illness (for which they use the word "disease").
"Are you sick? You must come to the nursery (school nurse's office) with me."
"After, we will go hospital. After work, let's together go."
"Do you have the allergy? Yellow dust, I think. It comes from China."
"Yesterday we were playing yut nori. The mats were dusty. Maybe that?"
If anything, I'll bet it's the fact that I have to high-five each of the 6th graders as they leave class (right before lunch, too). Call it a cultural exchange. Hand washing and general hygene is a bit of a rough concept for that age group. Sometimes this country makes me laugh. Sometimes it makes me sick. Always, it makes me think.
Last night, I barely made it to the "hospital" (it was actually just a clinic. Koreans tend to abuse the word "hospital"). It was all I could do to stay awake, when just a few hours prior I was on my fee entertaining my 4th graders. It would seem that in life, we are only able to muster what strength is required of us. Oh, impardonable sin, that we should want just a little bit more. That's where both confidence and laziness come from.
I used to be lazy, but not because I was confident. Now, I'm neither. I'm sick, and I took medicine, though I rarely look for help with whatever is wrong with me. I prefer to be alone, but I mentioned it, and I took medicine.
I'm feeling a lot better today.
2.5.11
Training Wheels
There's a space just below my colar bone that has been acting up with the warm, humid weather. My copious body hair combined with the heat wave, which dries my skin, has made everything itchy. I often catch myself scratching it, though I know I shouldn't. The result of this is a bright red patch on my chest that is extremely sensitive to touch.
I did this to myself.
I've caused myself physical pain in the persuit of temporary relief. Now, I must be vigilant, and avoid this behavior before I make things worse.
It's remarkable to think how the body heals itself. To think that we can make mistakes (which we often do) yet we are not stuck with the consequences of these mistakes forever. We have been given bodies that want to return to a state of health, should they be given the chance. It's free will, and the fact that we weild it so clumbsily that makes everything so difficult. I had heard it said once that without human interaction, the Earth would return to a state of ecological equilibrium within 50 years.
That sounds crazy. Absolutely insane. I believe it.
"You have been faithful with a few things, I will now put you in charge of many things."
Maybe we weren't paying attention.
I'm an adult now. There are no other words I can attach to my life like training wheels for what I am. This is my life, and I am trying to avoid the temptation of temporary relief, so that I can be healed. The decisions I've made are still evident, like bright red patches on my skin. I had a plan to fix my life, but it seems I've made a lot of mistakes. Give it time. Someday, I will want, more than temporary relief, a longer story.
Does anything feel as good as freedom?
I did this to myself.
I've caused myself physical pain in the persuit of temporary relief. Now, I must be vigilant, and avoid this behavior before I make things worse.
It's remarkable to think how the body heals itself. To think that we can make mistakes (which we often do) yet we are not stuck with the consequences of these mistakes forever. We have been given bodies that want to return to a state of health, should they be given the chance. It's free will, and the fact that we weild it so clumbsily that makes everything so difficult. I had heard it said once that without human interaction, the Earth would return to a state of ecological equilibrium within 50 years.
That sounds crazy. Absolutely insane. I believe it.
"You have been faithful with a few things, I will now put you in charge of many things."
Maybe we weren't paying attention.
I'm an adult now. There are no other words I can attach to my life like training wheels for what I am. This is my life, and I am trying to avoid the temptation of temporary relief, so that I can be healed. The decisions I've made are still evident, like bright red patches on my skin. I had a plan to fix my life, but it seems I've made a lot of mistakes. Give it time. Someday, I will want, more than temporary relief, a longer story.
Does anything feel as good as freedom?
28.4.11
On Strange and Strokes
Another day at the pool, where for the promise of improved health and better-fitting clothes, I sacrifice and evening, 3,000 원, and (swimsuit) my dignity. The strategy is, if I can't get anyone to love my socially backward, talk-to-myself-in-public, mismathced socks personality, perhaps someday I will have a fantastic body, and someone will love me for superficial reasons.
I'll still be hairy though.
I'm a little clumsy in the water today. Distracted. I keep accidentally running into the 15 other people in my lane. I tell myself that it's hard to see, since I have my head underwater and everything, but that's a lie. When you share a body of water with other people, you don't need to look for them. Once you're close enough, you can feel them. When my fingertips pass through the water near their tread, I can always tell (if I'm paying attention, that is) how fast the other person is going, the strength/quality of their stroke, weather they cup their hands as they cut into the water or splash flat, finger-spread. I don't see a lot of people's faces, but I know everyone here by their strokes and their swimsuits.
I can feel Ms Awkward-Stroke coming up soon. I prepare to pass her. She's really slow. Actually, she's probably Mrs. Awkward Stroke. Her flailings seem to be the result of the kind of exhaustion that only on old woman can feel. The particular shade of pink swimsuit she is wearing also appears to be the result of either color-blindness or 시장 sale/being old enough to not give a rat's ass who sees your fat ass in ugly pink. She flails, and is, quite unfortunately, finger-spread. I have a difficult time respecting that stroke as I pass her.
From the opposite side, I feel a hand go under my chin and slightly nick my groin. The gentleman grandfather. This particular breed of 아저씨 is difficult to find. He always looks so regal with his swim cap resting on his head in an almost yarmulke-like fashion. Regal is not a word I would use to describe most older Korean men. The word I would use is...intoxicated.
Nevertheless, he does strike me as a creature of high class. I have a little trouble with the fact that he always smacks me in the face/back/crotch whenever he swims by. It's because he does the backstroke.
I've never wanted to do the backstroke. People who do the backstroke always accidentally injure other people in the process. Can't really blame them. How can you see where you're going while always looking the other way? Strange position to find yourself in.
Sometimes I feel like the pretty girl at the bar. We have to take a break every 10 minutes on the hour, and now everyone is looking at me, and then pretending like they're not looking at me. Some point to their friends and argue about something between sideways glances. Sometimes, I will try to stare back at them, just so that they know that I am aware of their leering, but that only gives them the courage to finally turn to their friends and say (I assume) " wish me luck, boys. I'm gonna go talk to her."
Shouldn't they at least buy me a drink first?
I should point out that I am niether the fattest person at the pool, nor am I wearing the smallest swimsuit. That prize goes to the fellow who has braved the length of the half meter deep swimming pool where I am resting my muscles and whose rotund thigh is now pressed against my ankle.
"Your name Suh Ti Bun, right?"
Not his first time. Perhaps the last time we talked, he was wearing clothes. It really changes your look.
"Where are from?"
America.
"America?"
You can always tell who has had a Canadian 학원 teacher. Canadians hate that we refer to ourselves as "Americans."
USA.
Oh, USA! Are you married?"
No, I'm single.
"Oh, that's good. Better. I have two childrens. One daughter and a brother-ummm son. Son. My life is very noisy."
I live in my own. My life is very lonely.
"Oh, hha. You are very funny."
I really hate it when people tell me how great my life must be (usually because of my age) as a segue into why they are unhappy. I like to tell my younger siblings about all the great things that happen after you go to college. I think we should always have something to look forward to in life, though some people can only see what's behind them. The further you get from that spot, the harder it is to see what it really was. Strange position.
The number of big naked Korean guys that I can justifiably share a sauna with went to a record-breaking 9 today. This is up from a previous record of 4. What can I say? I get sore from all that "going somewhere" I was doing, and I'm not sure if I remember what it was about my naked body that was so worthy of shame. Maybe I'll remember it someday, but I haven't the energy for shame these days.
I used to think about what it would be (will be?) like to have a family. Maybe a daughter and a brother/son. I used to think that these days were the worst kinds of days I would ever endure, or that there was something wrong with me, and how I talked to people, or often didn't have the courage to. I used to think far too much, but that was a while ago. I've never wahted to do the backstroke, and I've just come up out of the water after a long time with my head down, going somewhere. It's best to just towel off and go see what the world looks like in forward motion.
I'll still be hairy though.
I'm a little clumsy in the water today. Distracted. I keep accidentally running into the 15 other people in my lane. I tell myself that it's hard to see, since I have my head underwater and everything, but that's a lie. When you share a body of water with other people, you don't need to look for them. Once you're close enough, you can feel them. When my fingertips pass through the water near their tread, I can always tell (if I'm paying attention, that is) how fast the other person is going, the strength/quality of their stroke, weather they cup their hands as they cut into the water or splash flat, finger-spread. I don't see a lot of people's faces, but I know everyone here by their strokes and their swimsuits.
I can feel Ms Awkward-Stroke coming up soon. I prepare to pass her. She's really slow. Actually, she's probably Mrs. Awkward Stroke. Her flailings seem to be the result of the kind of exhaustion that only on old woman can feel. The particular shade of pink swimsuit she is wearing also appears to be the result of either color-blindness or 시장 sale/being old enough to not give a rat's ass who sees your fat ass in ugly pink. She flails, and is, quite unfortunately, finger-spread. I have a difficult time respecting that stroke as I pass her.
From the opposite side, I feel a hand go under my chin and slightly nick my groin. The gentleman grandfather. This particular breed of 아저씨 is difficult to find. He always looks so regal with his swim cap resting on his head in an almost yarmulke-like fashion. Regal is not a word I would use to describe most older Korean men. The word I would use is...intoxicated.
Nevertheless, he does strike me as a creature of high class. I have a little trouble with the fact that he always smacks me in the face/back/crotch whenever he swims by. It's because he does the backstroke.
I've never wanted to do the backstroke. People who do the backstroke always accidentally injure other people in the process. Can't really blame them. How can you see where you're going while always looking the other way? Strange position to find yourself in.
Sometimes I feel like the pretty girl at the bar. We have to take a break every 10 minutes on the hour, and now everyone is looking at me, and then pretending like they're not looking at me. Some point to their friends and argue about something between sideways glances. Sometimes, I will try to stare back at them, just so that they know that I am aware of their leering, but that only gives them the courage to finally turn to their friends and say (I assume) " wish me luck, boys. I'm gonna go talk to her."
Shouldn't they at least buy me a drink first?
I should point out that I am niether the fattest person at the pool, nor am I wearing the smallest swimsuit. That prize goes to the fellow who has braved the length of the half meter deep swimming pool where I am resting my muscles and whose rotund thigh is now pressed against my ankle.
"Your name Suh Ti Bun, right?"
Not his first time. Perhaps the last time we talked, he was wearing clothes. It really changes your look.
"Where are from?"
America.
"America?"
You can always tell who has had a Canadian 학원 teacher. Canadians hate that we refer to ourselves as "Americans."
USA.
Oh, USA! Are you married?"
No, I'm single.
"Oh, that's good. Better. I have two childrens. One daughter and a brother-ummm son. Son. My life is very noisy."
I live in my own. My life is very lonely.
"Oh, hha. You are very funny."
I really hate it when people tell me how great my life must be (usually because of my age) as a segue into why they are unhappy. I like to tell my younger siblings about all the great things that happen after you go to college. I think we should always have something to look forward to in life, though some people can only see what's behind them. The further you get from that spot, the harder it is to see what it really was. Strange position.
The number of big naked Korean guys that I can justifiably share a sauna with went to a record-breaking 9 today. This is up from a previous record of 4. What can I say? I get sore from all that "going somewhere" I was doing, and I'm not sure if I remember what it was about my naked body that was so worthy of shame. Maybe I'll remember it someday, but I haven't the energy for shame these days.
I used to think about what it would be (will be?) like to have a family. Maybe a daughter and a brother/son. I used to think that these days were the worst kinds of days I would ever endure, or that there was something wrong with me, and how I talked to people, or often didn't have the courage to. I used to think far too much, but that was a while ago. I've never wahted to do the backstroke, and I've just come up out of the water after a long time with my head down, going somewhere. It's best to just towel off and go see what the world looks like in forward motion.
27.4.11
Spangled Is Kind Of A Funny Word Too...
I've just realized that although I've been telling people for quite some time that I have been in Korea for 7 months, it has actually been 8 months (and about halfway through with that as well). If I had gotten a girl pregnant the first day I got here, I would almost be a father by now.
I have no idea why I say things like that.
Anyway, life is strange and wonderful these days. I live in a completely different country than the one I was born in. It hasn't been easy, and in fact, I have had some of the most difficult days of my life here. Despite that, there are actually a few things about living in Korea that are easier than back home, and I'd like to take the occasion of my 8 month anneversary (longest relationship I've ever been in)to highlight a few of those things.
I've found, first of all, that public transportation is a lot better here. I don't have a car in Korea, nor do I have the ability to drive one, but I know how to get from one end of the Daegu to the other in less than an hour. As soon as I figured out the busses and their routes, I was able to navigate the city with relative ease. I can even get to Seoul (about a 6 hour car ride) in about 2 hours via the KTX rapid train. Busan and the beautiful Korean coastline are about an hour south and just as accesable. I can pretty much take a day trip to any part of the mainland. Planning one this weekend, in fact.
Second of all, I'm a lot more eco-friendly in Korea. The Korean garbage system is really different than the US. You have to buy these tiny bags and put all your garbage in them, or you can't throw them away. It's really annoying. These days, I do everything I can to avoid accumulating garbage. I don't buy as much, and often when I do, I shop for only a few things at a time, taking my trusty bookbag along to avoid having to use shopping bags.I prefer smaller packaging in general, and I patronise restaurants and coffee shops that use washable dishes to serve their food and drinks. I used to fill at least a garbage bag per week, but these last 10 days have seen only a half. Feels great.
Finally, it's a lot easier to be health-conscious here. The Korean diet is low in saturated fat and cholesterol, consisting of mostly rice (and other rice-derived dishes), Vegetables and seafood. As a salad bowl native, I found the vegetables a little difficult to get used to (Koreans like to pickle everything), but after a while, your body does get used to it, and it's quite good for you. Coffee shops, fast food restaurants and bekeries aren't shy about the calorie content of their foods either. Did you know, o loyal readers(s?), that if you eat a fruit pastry and a cafe latte you have consumed about 500 calories? Calculations like this are easy once you've been exposed to them.
another reason I have been able to remain healthy in this country is the refreshingly blunt nature of most Koreans.
"Stephen, you must exercize a lot to lose weight."
I heard this quite often when I came here (I have some really funny stories about it that perhaps I will share sometime.) I don't hear it as often these days (10 kilograms and counting!), but I know I would never hear anything like that from an American, because it is considered rude to comment on someone elses' personal habits (unless they are smoking or talking on your cell phone). If you think about it, it's actually a pretty good friend that will tell you to take care of your health. Other subjects that are not off limits: religion, income, age, spending habits, and the presence or absebce of a girlfirend (often the first thing strangers ask me)
I know what you're thinking, o loyal reader(s?)
"What the hell is a kilogram?"
Don't worry about it. Just put your fingers in your ears and go "blah blah blah" to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner, and it will all go away.
The point of it is, there is so much life, and so much good to be had outside of the California coastline. I had no idea. I miss home, and I'll always be an American at heart, but this has become a bit of a home for me as well. Good to know you Korea. I can tell the we are going to be friends.
I have no idea why I say things like that.
Anyway, life is strange and wonderful these days. I live in a completely different country than the one I was born in. It hasn't been easy, and in fact, I have had some of the most difficult days of my life here. Despite that, there are actually a few things about living in Korea that are easier than back home, and I'd like to take the occasion of my 8 month anneversary (longest relationship I've ever been in)to highlight a few of those things.
I've found, first of all, that public transportation is a lot better here. I don't have a car in Korea, nor do I have the ability to drive one, but I know how to get from one end of the Daegu to the other in less than an hour. As soon as I figured out the busses and their routes, I was able to navigate the city with relative ease. I can even get to Seoul (about a 6 hour car ride) in about 2 hours via the KTX rapid train. Busan and the beautiful Korean coastline are about an hour south and just as accesable. I can pretty much take a day trip to any part of the mainland. Planning one this weekend, in fact.
Second of all, I'm a lot more eco-friendly in Korea. The Korean garbage system is really different than the US. You have to buy these tiny bags and put all your garbage in them, or you can't throw them away. It's really annoying. These days, I do everything I can to avoid accumulating garbage. I don't buy as much, and often when I do, I shop for only a few things at a time, taking my trusty bookbag along to avoid having to use shopping bags.I prefer smaller packaging in general, and I patronise restaurants and coffee shops that use washable dishes to serve their food and drinks. I used to fill at least a garbage bag per week, but these last 10 days have seen only a half. Feels great.
Finally, it's a lot easier to be health-conscious here. The Korean diet is low in saturated fat and cholesterol, consisting of mostly rice (and other rice-derived dishes), Vegetables and seafood. As a salad bowl native, I found the vegetables a little difficult to get used to (Koreans like to pickle everything), but after a while, your body does get used to it, and it's quite good for you. Coffee shops, fast food restaurants and bekeries aren't shy about the calorie content of their foods either. Did you know, o loyal readers(s?), that if you eat a fruit pastry and a cafe latte you have consumed about 500 calories? Calculations like this are easy once you've been exposed to them.
another reason I have been able to remain healthy in this country is the refreshingly blunt nature of most Koreans.
"Stephen, you must exercize a lot to lose weight."
I heard this quite often when I came here (I have some really funny stories about it that perhaps I will share sometime.) I don't hear it as often these days (10 kilograms and counting!), but I know I would never hear anything like that from an American, because it is considered rude to comment on someone elses' personal habits (unless they are smoking or talking on your cell phone). If you think about it, it's actually a pretty good friend that will tell you to take care of your health. Other subjects that are not off limits: religion, income, age, spending habits, and the presence or absebce of a girlfirend (often the first thing strangers ask me)
I know what you're thinking, o loyal reader(s?)
"What the hell is a kilogram?"
Don't worry about it. Just put your fingers in your ears and go "blah blah blah" to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner, and it will all go away.
The point of it is, there is so much life, and so much good to be had outside of the California coastline. I had no idea. I miss home, and I'll always be an American at heart, but this has become a bit of a home for me as well. Good to know you Korea. I can tell the we are going to be friends.
26.4.11
Minor
I've decreed that I shall live as a hermit this weekend. Not a lot of people. I've missed people, but often enough I don't know what to do with them when I have their attention anyway.
New laptop this week. I will soon have access to all of the internet at home. I suppose that will make this my last productive weekend. Say farewell to being somebody. I suppose that lifestyle casues too much trouble anyways. All appeal and no satisfaction. I wouldn't really want to be an important person. I just like to imagine it.
I'm starting to think I might have become too intelectual for my own damn good. Who has time for fun when I have all this thinking to do?
Is it really worth it?
To sit and think, to have very adult conversations with very calm people who drink coffe and read books? Does it matter that I write all my thoughts in this blog that probably almost no one reads? Is it worth it if I never run around in circles in the park until I'm dizzy and fall on the grass laughing?
And if my laugh is the only one I hear, did it really happen? I haven't laughed myself sore in so long. Nothing is that funny anymore. Either that, or I've lost my sense of humor to all this overthinking.
Is this what it means to grow up?
I try to cinvince myself that everyone feels this way. That used to make me feel better, but now? Why isn't it better? How did I become so bored with a world that is far from boring.
The woman who owns this restaurant keeps bothering me with questions.
여자친구있어?
아니요, 없어요.
왜? 여자친구만들세요.
어떻게?
Perhaps it's the absence of God, and I finally have the attention span to feel it. The joy of the Lord is my strength, but I am weak.
What is it?
Overthinking?
I've run all the way to the other side of the world, and still cannot escape my problem, because my problem is me. To the world I used to love: One of us has changed, and it isn't you.
I'm sorry.
I just couldn't think of what to say until it was too late.
Easter last weekend. Maybe He came to save us from the drinking, and cigarettes, gambling and porn, but I hope He hasn't overlooked my biggest sin.
I don't know how to love anything well.
Oh come Emannuel.
Mourn in lonely exile
Until the son of God
rejoice.
I always did like songs in minor keys.
New laptop this week. I will soon have access to all of the internet at home. I suppose that will make this my last productive weekend. Say farewell to being somebody. I suppose that lifestyle casues too much trouble anyways. All appeal and no satisfaction. I wouldn't really want to be an important person. I just like to imagine it.
I'm starting to think I might have become too intelectual for my own damn good. Who has time for fun when I have all this thinking to do?
Is it really worth it?
To sit and think, to have very adult conversations with very calm people who drink coffe and read books? Does it matter that I write all my thoughts in this blog that probably almost no one reads? Is it worth it if I never run around in circles in the park until I'm dizzy and fall on the grass laughing?
And if my laugh is the only one I hear, did it really happen? I haven't laughed myself sore in so long. Nothing is that funny anymore. Either that, or I've lost my sense of humor to all this overthinking.
Is this what it means to grow up?
I try to cinvince myself that everyone feels this way. That used to make me feel better, but now? Why isn't it better? How did I become so bored with a world that is far from boring.
The woman who owns this restaurant keeps bothering me with questions.
여자친구있어?
아니요, 없어요.
왜? 여자친구만들세요.
어떻게?
Perhaps it's the absence of God, and I finally have the attention span to feel it. The joy of the Lord is my strength, but I am weak.
What is it?
Overthinking?
I've run all the way to the other side of the world, and still cannot escape my problem, because my problem is me. To the world I used to love: One of us has changed, and it isn't you.
I'm sorry.
I just couldn't think of what to say until it was too late.
Easter last weekend. Maybe He came to save us from the drinking, and cigarettes, gambling and porn, but I hope He hasn't overlooked my biggest sin.
I don't know how to love anything well.
Oh come Emannuel.
Mourn in lonely exile
Until the son of God
rejoice.
I always did like songs in minor keys.
25.4.11
I Want My Two Cents Back.
I like looking at time-lapse photography for the same reason I like reading books and watching movies. Everything happens faster. It really takes a lot of patience to appreciate the things in life that are beautiful as they are happening. This is how I know that God is so much bigger than all of us. It takes a greater understanding of life to be more in awe of a flower as it is blooming, or a sun as it is rising, soaking up all the hours, minutes, seconds and parts therof given it. That's another reason: These things don't just take their time. They take ours as well.
Seconds and minutes are our currency. Where will we spend them? We are only paid once.
This sun is rising, as it has since time began. That's what time is, after all. It's the room with all the frames. Time is the space given for all the pretty things to hang as they pass through, spread out yellow and orange on my skin. I hope it covers every centemeter, and I hope I'm on my last breath when it finally takes me.
I'm in church right now, on the far end of 대구 from my home, after breakfast with a good friend that I have missed so much, and a connection over and over with the people who love the same things I do. Things that exist outside of books and TV and the occasional sunrise to which we only pay a half-attention. You never see the things that are not given their proper space. I think I can almost see it burning through this insignificant window in an insignificant building insignificant country, tiny world. What more could I say about the eyes that gaze upon it as my friends prepare to spread themselves out in this place?
Everything orange and yellow. My heart is beating slower.
Was my life a waste up until this point, or did I never really stop? Can I see it? Will there be time left after I have spent it wrongfully for so long?
today, it seems as though all my questions are nothing more than a hole in my pocket, leaking spare change as I walk.
Seconds and minutes are our currency. Where will we spend them? We are only paid once.
This sun is rising, as it has since time began. That's what time is, after all. It's the room with all the frames. Time is the space given for all the pretty things to hang as they pass through, spread out yellow and orange on my skin. I hope it covers every centemeter, and I hope I'm on my last breath when it finally takes me.
I'm in church right now, on the far end of 대구 from my home, after breakfast with a good friend that I have missed so much, and a connection over and over with the people who love the same things I do. Things that exist outside of books and TV and the occasional sunrise to which we only pay a half-attention. You never see the things that are not given their proper space. I think I can almost see it burning through this insignificant window in an insignificant building insignificant country, tiny world. What more could I say about the eyes that gaze upon it as my friends prepare to spread themselves out in this place?
Everything orange and yellow. My heart is beating slower.
Was my life a waste up until this point, or did I never really stop? Can I see it? Will there be time left after I have spent it wrongfully for so long?
today, it seems as though all my questions are nothing more than a hole in my pocket, leaking spare change as I walk.
24.4.11
My Mess II: It's What's on the Inside That Counts
I've spent the entire day cleaning and studying (I'm taking a rather ass-kick difficult Korean class). Just like high school with the addition of cleaning. I have never been a very clean person.
I say this in a very general sense, meaning so much more than a messy room, or in my case, a messy room and a messy kitchen/living room and a messy shoilet (shower/toilet[my life is a bit weird these days]). It's a messy life, really. It's being overweight, and having no time becuase I've cluttered up my schedule with things-I-have-to-do-to-be-taken-seriously-as-an artist/adult/Christian/taxpayer/Borders Rewards card-holder. It's my torn, crinkled notebooks filled with half finished poems and "really great ideas" for novels and short films. It's the half empty (half full?) sketchbooks and canvases that encompass my "body of work" which will always bear the title "work in progress."
I've always seen myself as rather a work in progress anyway. I've been trying for so long to make something new and fascinating with it that I'm afraid I've lost my taste for fine lines and clean edges. My life is built up of tremendous possibilities, each one more astounding and breathtaking than the last. The beautiful clutter in my brain. I'll stretch myself apart if I try to grab at each one.
Oh well, another thought for another day. Tonight, my clean appartment makes me smile. Tomorrow...
...the possibilities...
I say this in a very general sense, meaning so much more than a messy room, or in my case, a messy room and a messy kitchen/living room and a messy shoilet (shower/toilet[my life is a bit weird these days]). It's a messy life, really. It's being overweight, and having no time becuase I've cluttered up my schedule with things-I-have-to-do-to-be-taken-seriously-as-an artist/adult/Christian/taxpayer/Borders Rewards card-holder. It's my torn, crinkled notebooks filled with half finished poems and "really great ideas" for novels and short films. It's the half empty (half full?) sketchbooks and canvases that encompass my "body of work" which will always bear the title "work in progress."
I've always seen myself as rather a work in progress anyway. I've been trying for so long to make something new and fascinating with it that I'm afraid I've lost my taste for fine lines and clean edges. My life is built up of tremendous possibilities, each one more astounding and breathtaking than the last. The beautiful clutter in my brain. I'll stretch myself apart if I try to grab at each one.
Oh well, another thought for another day. Tonight, my clean appartment makes me smile. Tomorrow...
...the possibilities...
23.4.11
Eye Contact
Another week. It seems like the days all blend into one massive stream, just like a river is made up of nothing more than little drips. Just little drips of almost nothing that somehow combine into this great big thing that is life. That takes life, if you're not careful. I don't know how I got here except that I was pushed by days upon days, all of them running after each other as those behind spill into their absence. That's how rivers are made, and that's what turns boys into old men. Will I be a wise old man?
God only knows.
I've come to this coffee shop in my neighborhood called "The Place to Feel Coffee." I was put off by the name at first, but in reality, the place is really about as cute and charming as the syntactic error that it is called by. The lady that owns it smiles at me every time and greets me in Korean. She doesn't try to speak English or ask me who I am or why I'm here. Most of the people here treat me like I'm some sort of celebrity, always pointing, gasping, or trying to ask me a million questions. I love that I'm just another customer to her. It seems like she lives a life of very simple ambition. I think that's where peace comes from. I wish I was a person of peace, but I've never been able to simplify my ambitions. She has a sort of plump face (rare in Korea. Everyone is apallingly thin) a bright smile offset by the plae colors she wears under her apron. If I was 10-15 years older, I'd be crushing hard.
The young lady at the table opposite says something about 왜국이 (forigner) and sneaks a picture of me with her camera phone. I am avoiding eye contact.
Recently I told a complete stranger that the curse of being human is to be continually stuck in the present, with no indication of how our story would end. All we have are questions and trust.
I am not very good at trust.
Am I moving, or are these tiny drips pushing me? If I try to stop, will they find their way over my head, and pull me down with them?
God only knows.
I've come to this coffee shop in my neighborhood called "The Place to Feel Coffee." I was put off by the name at first, but in reality, the place is really about as cute and charming as the syntactic error that it is called by. The lady that owns it smiles at me every time and greets me in Korean. She doesn't try to speak English or ask me who I am or why I'm here. Most of the people here treat me like I'm some sort of celebrity, always pointing, gasping, or trying to ask me a million questions. I love that I'm just another customer to her. It seems like she lives a life of very simple ambition. I think that's where peace comes from. I wish I was a person of peace, but I've never been able to simplify my ambitions. She has a sort of plump face (rare in Korea. Everyone is apallingly thin) a bright smile offset by the plae colors she wears under her apron. If I was 10-15 years older, I'd be crushing hard.
The young lady at the table opposite says something about 왜국이 (forigner) and sneaks a picture of me with her camera phone. I am avoiding eye contact.
Recently I told a complete stranger that the curse of being human is to be continually stuck in the present, with no indication of how our story would end. All we have are questions and trust.
I am not very good at trust.
Am I moving, or are these tiny drips pushing me? If I try to stop, will they find their way over my head, and pull me down with them?
19.4.11
The Moon's Response
First off, an apology: This is something that was promised a while ago, and my camera is broken, so you'll have to make do with a camera phone picture. I would say that I've been hard at work on it, but... well without giving anything away (or implying that I am trying to say anything deep) I guess sometimes when you are waiting to hear back from some great big thing... you have to wait a while for your response. If any of this confuses you, oh loyal reader(s?) check this first.
Do you mistake me yet again,
this deep violet you call black,
and all the simple scurriers
scramble underneath
whatever stones could throw
my evening music back?
I no longer take measurements.
As though one were small
because it is not two.
Count the stars for me.
Dare to say
that they outnumber you.
I will not.
This world is made of tiny things
though few have noticed, like
the particles of light
that paint your body as we
dizzy ourselves with abandon.
The whole of darkness cannot hide it.
I am silence because of noise,
the winter cold because of fur,
and some are naked for the same.
Would you breathe a little longer
when I'm gone? Just like every
dawn follows it's inevitable
sunset, I will find you if you stay.
Yes, let us dance once more
into wonderful, wrecklessness, wondering
weather the night is cold,
and you are small, and I
am hanging by a curtain behind
the world, waiting to wake up?
Do you mistake me yet again,
this deep violet you call black,
and all the simple scurriers
scramble underneath
whatever stones could throw
my evening music back?
I no longer take measurements.
As though one were small
because it is not two.
Count the stars for me.
Dare to say
that they outnumber you.
I will not.
This world is made of tiny things
though few have noticed, like
the particles of light
that paint your body as we
dizzy ourselves with abandon.
The whole of darkness cannot hide it.
I am silence because of noise,
the winter cold because of fur,
and some are naked for the same.
Would you breathe a little longer
when I'm gone? Just like every
dawn follows it's inevitable
sunset, I will find you if you stay.
Yes, let us dance once more
into wonderful, wrecklessness, wondering
weather the night is cold,
and you are small, and I
am hanging by a curtain behind
the world, waiting to wake up?
7.4.11
A Sweater
I have had two glorious days of time to myself. Once, I was too insecure to enjoy time to myself. That's what we call loneliness. These days, I realize that alone is the hand I've been dealt for the time being, and it's actually not a bad place to be.
I'm starting to live like an old man. I go to bed before midnight and wake up before 8 no matter what. The crazy free spin of the weekends makes me long for the starched regularity of the midweek like I long for my morning cup of coffee. That's another habit I've taken to lately. Some days I don't recognize me. I'm not sure now if that evokes a positive or a negative feeling. I use to love not recognising myself, but I think that was because I hated myself. I'm currently developing a mild tollerance for me, that I am hoping will develop into a real friendship. Who knows... maybe a little something more...
I have decided that for as long as I live in Korea, I will brush my teeth while showering. Given the fact that my shower consists of my entire bathroom. I just think it's best to do as much as I can before I turn off the water. Otherwise, it's just cold and wet. Shaving is also difficult, since the steam from the water fogs up the mirror. I think I am going to grow a mustache again. This is my way of saying that I am going to be single for a while longer.
There's a grocery store that I have to take two busses to get to. It has a lot of the sorts of things that Americans expect their grocery stores to have. I am considering a trip there on the offchance that they might have some coffee creamer.
Spring is beginning to show its face here in Daegu, after what seems to be the longest winter I have ever experienced.
I am speaking in purely literal terms, of course. Don't mistake my ramblings for metaphor with any amount of depth.
Anyway, spring is a sort of new development here, so you never know when the weather is going to revert back. I don't know how to dress. I'll just take a sweater and hope for the best.
There will be a wedding this afternoon.
Meredith anf Kayoo.
A birthday this evening.
Tiffany.
I know what insecurity it is that makes me feel lonely, but what is it that makes me feel so strange during all this celebration and living that keeps happening all around me? I have only so much time to figure myself out before I miss it.
I'm starting to live like an old man. I go to bed before midnight and wake up before 8 no matter what. The crazy free spin of the weekends makes me long for the starched regularity of the midweek like I long for my morning cup of coffee. That's another habit I've taken to lately. Some days I don't recognize me. I'm not sure now if that evokes a positive or a negative feeling. I use to love not recognising myself, but I think that was because I hated myself. I'm currently developing a mild tollerance for me, that I am hoping will develop into a real friendship. Who knows... maybe a little something more...
I have decided that for as long as I live in Korea, I will brush my teeth while showering. Given the fact that my shower consists of my entire bathroom. I just think it's best to do as much as I can before I turn off the water. Otherwise, it's just cold and wet. Shaving is also difficult, since the steam from the water fogs up the mirror. I think I am going to grow a mustache again. This is my way of saying that I am going to be single for a while longer.
There's a grocery store that I have to take two busses to get to. It has a lot of the sorts of things that Americans expect their grocery stores to have. I am considering a trip there on the offchance that they might have some coffee creamer.
Spring is beginning to show its face here in Daegu, after what seems to be the longest winter I have ever experienced.
I am speaking in purely literal terms, of course. Don't mistake my ramblings for metaphor with any amount of depth.
Anyway, spring is a sort of new development here, so you never know when the weather is going to revert back. I don't know how to dress. I'll just take a sweater and hope for the best.
There will be a wedding this afternoon.
Meredith anf Kayoo.
A birthday this evening.
Tiffany.
I know what insecurity it is that makes me feel lonely, but what is it that makes me feel so strange during all this celebration and living that keeps happening all around me? I have only so much time to figure myself out before I miss it.
1.4.11
Day Of Fools
Today is a day for fools,who duck in and out of coffee shops, Chinese restaurants and libraries, shirking every work responsibility and sacred duty. I have decided that I am a fool, and I would do well to celebrate myself on this day, as a monument to the great inactivity that rests on the souls of such creatures as will spend a third of their lives dreaming.
And if their waking life appears to be no more than a dream? So much the better. That we could travel and attempt in this life for so long, and be at the end presented with our diploma: a blank page.
To have loved. To have lost. To have found because of loss.
Does God love us seperately from our lives, or can He love in spite of them? The very fabric of this world dangles by a delicate string, fluttering in the wind. How strong will it blow? Will we come apart at the end? Why so downcast, O my soul? We have only so long to wander as fools.
And if their waking life appears to be no more than a dream? So much the better. That we could travel and attempt in this life for so long, and be at the end presented with our diploma: a blank page.
To have loved. To have lost. To have found because of loss.
Does God love us seperately from our lives, or can He love in spite of them? The very fabric of this world dangles by a delicate string, fluttering in the wind. How strong will it blow? Will we come apart at the end? Why so downcast, O my soul? We have only so long to wander as fools.
29.3.11
My Mess
My desk is a mess of all the things I thought I was going to need someday. I do need them.
Do I need them?
I need them.
The books and teacher's guides for the 4 grades of English I teach. Two sets of Jenga blocks with English words (one is 5th and one is 3rd grade appropriate) for when they get too tired to learn. My coffee thermos. Don't even get me started about that one. Need. Notebooks.
I have so many notebooks, one for each of the things I am trying to be.
A poet.
A musician.
A teacher.
A Writer.
A prophet or a saint (I'm not really sure which anymore).
An artist.
Can I be all those things, or is there just too much clutter on my desk? I'll never know until I start to clean it off, and someday I might look back at my sparkling clean workspace, no pressure but to sit on it and think...
Wasn't there once...
... something?
Of course, that's a silly thing to think, for there to be something. Not when desks can be clean, and people can go home not wondering with all their whats and wasn't theres.
Maybe I should leave it for another day.
Do I need them?
I need them.
The books and teacher's guides for the 4 grades of English I teach. Two sets of Jenga blocks with English words (one is 5th and one is 3rd grade appropriate) for when they get too tired to learn. My coffee thermos. Don't even get me started about that one. Need. Notebooks.
I have so many notebooks, one for each of the things I am trying to be.
A poet.
A musician.
A teacher.
A Writer.
A prophet or a saint (I'm not really sure which anymore).
An artist.
Can I be all those things, or is there just too much clutter on my desk? I'll never know until I start to clean it off, and someday I might look back at my sparkling clean workspace, no pressure but to sit on it and think...
Wasn't there once...
... something?
Of course, that's a silly thing to think, for there to be something. Not when desks can be clean, and people can go home not wondering with all their whats and wasn't theres.
Maybe I should leave it for another day.
28.3.11
Thursday
I have some questions.
Most of the time, they go unanswered. It's usually pretty simple stuff.
"Excuse me, can you tell me where..."
"What time do we start..."
"What is this? Do I eat it?"
I don't mind when the simple questions go unanswered. I'll find out soon enough anyway, but I have some other questions, and when I'm through asking the first lot, I expect to hear some answers. Clear answers.
I'm not quite sure who from though.
I'm waiting for the subway again, rolling through the dark underground, trying to write by artificial light. When does the next car come? 지하철? 언제?
Soon. It's coming soon.
3 more days. I am counting down on my planner every day. Perhaps in 3 days, something really will happen. Maybe not. Maybe it will just be thursday. Maybe the world will end. Maybe it will begin.
The man sitting next to me notices that I am trying to write something while standing in he crowded subway. He makes space and motions for me to sit. He is staring over my shoulder the whole time, as if he can read what I'm writing. I would think that he can, except that he seems so interested.
What do you want?
3 days.
Soon. It is coming soon.
Most of the time, they go unanswered. It's usually pretty simple stuff.
"Excuse me, can you tell me where..."
"What time do we start..."
"What is this? Do I eat it?"
I don't mind when the simple questions go unanswered. I'll find out soon enough anyway, but I have some other questions, and when I'm through asking the first lot, I expect to hear some answers. Clear answers.
I'm not quite sure who from though.
I'm waiting for the subway again, rolling through the dark underground, trying to write by artificial light. When does the next car come? 지하철? 언제?
Soon. It's coming soon.
3 more days. I am counting down on my planner every day. Perhaps in 3 days, something really will happen. Maybe not. Maybe it will just be thursday. Maybe the world will end. Maybe it will begin.
The man sitting next to me notices that I am trying to write something while standing in he crowded subway. He makes space and motions for me to sit. He is staring over my shoulder the whole time, as if he can read what I'm writing. I would think that he can, except that he seems so interested.
What do you want?
3 days.
Soon. It is coming soon.
27.3.11
I Have Always Lived Here
I feel like Diggory from The Magician's Nephew. Trapped in the world between worlds. If you asked me, I would tell you that I've always been here. Perhaps that's not even a lie.
Of course, I'm in a real place. I'm in South Korea. I live here. I'm a public school English teacher and a taxpayer on two continents (I still have to figure some of that out, I fear I must do paperwork). There's a glass, a sheen to this world though. I only see it as a casual observer, like through one of those mirrored glass cases where they keep all the deserts. I'm not sure which side of the case I'm on though, or for whom the obvious myrth of this interaction is intended.
The texture and sparkle of this place (or perhaps the sparkle of my eyes as I look at it) excuses me from so many things. I have never had to discuss religion, sign a petition, give blood or even perform complicated banking procedures. It is not expected that I should interact with this world in such a way as to change it, nor that it should change me. I get paid. They built a Mc'Donalds. That is all we will hear on the subject.
My eyes get a little warm and misty at night on the bus. It's not sadness or depression rearing its ugly head again. This is what happens when you're tired and you ride the bus a lot at night, routes you could never navigate during the day. Some places only exist at night with blurry eyes.
This fog spills out of me and into my world, slowly filling it to the very top, where the people would go to breathe if they saw the way I look at them sometimes. And all the words painted on the windows bleeding behind neon light join in the mist so happily, their meaning obscured to everything but the simplest of phrases.
That is a motel.
A Chinsese restaurant.
A PC room.
A bar.
I'm drowsy from the rumble of the bus; the slow, steady, bobbing up and down with the indestinguishable divets in the long winding road that somehow never quite seems to stop anywhere I would call home. Maybe that's my fault, though I know I'm not the one driving this thing.
If I squint my eyes just right, everything numbs and sparks, blurs to a soft red. When I open them again, will the world have dissappeared? Or, will I suddenly find myself transported? Perhaps to that elusive place that I keep chasing, though I am constantly leaving things that I had sworn embodied it? Does it even exist anymore?
Of course, I'm in a real place. I'm in South Korea. I live here. I'm a public school English teacher and a taxpayer on two continents (I still have to figure some of that out, I fear I must do paperwork). There's a glass, a sheen to this world though. I only see it as a casual observer, like through one of those mirrored glass cases where they keep all the deserts. I'm not sure which side of the case I'm on though, or for whom the obvious myrth of this interaction is intended.
The texture and sparkle of this place (or perhaps the sparkle of my eyes as I look at it) excuses me from so many things. I have never had to discuss religion, sign a petition, give blood or even perform complicated banking procedures. It is not expected that I should interact with this world in such a way as to change it, nor that it should change me. I get paid. They built a Mc'Donalds. That is all we will hear on the subject.
My eyes get a little warm and misty at night on the bus. It's not sadness or depression rearing its ugly head again. This is what happens when you're tired and you ride the bus a lot at night, routes you could never navigate during the day. Some places only exist at night with blurry eyes.
This fog spills out of me and into my world, slowly filling it to the very top, where the people would go to breathe if they saw the way I look at them sometimes. And all the words painted on the windows bleeding behind neon light join in the mist so happily, their meaning obscured to everything but the simplest of phrases.
That is a motel.
A Chinsese restaurant.
A PC room.
A bar.
I'm drowsy from the rumble of the bus; the slow, steady, bobbing up and down with the indestinguishable divets in the long winding road that somehow never quite seems to stop anywhere I would call home. Maybe that's my fault, though I know I'm not the one driving this thing.
If I squint my eyes just right, everything numbs and sparks, blurs to a soft red. When I open them again, will the world have dissappeared? Or, will I suddenly find myself transported? Perhaps to that elusive place that I keep chasing, though I am constantly leaving things that I had sworn embodied it? Does it even exist anymore?
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