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.
10.7.11
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.
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