Crawled out of bed today. Sleep is my favourite. There's a ukulele by my bed made completely out of corrugated cardboard. It makes me want to try harder. I feel important today, like it's possible to do something, from start to finish. I used to want to change the world. Is it possible that this is a small dream as well?
I wonder.
I still get most of my news from Facebook. I guess it's better than being out of the loop, but I should probably pick up a newspaper from time to time. These days, everyone is passing around either a video by the Invisible Children guys about a man named Joseph Kony, or they are posting rebuttal articles, calling the video "one-sided and not helpful." All I can think is "damn it, here's another thing I have to form an opinion about in order to be an adult."
They really make you work for it, don't they?
Everyone says that the world is going to Hell and there's nothing we can do about it. Seems like they've been saying that forever. Saving the world is a small dream anyway. It'll never last. My thoughts today are on a cardboard ukulele, and the strength of the human heart, all wrapped up in layers over time. There is nothing in the world more important.
I want to save one of those.
11.3.12
Weather Or Not
I don't know why, but I felt like waking up when my alarm went off this morning. There is something that I find sickeningly abnormal about a strong desire to face the world exactly at the time that such motivation is required.
I don't trust me when I'm happy. It's been too long.
I showered
I drank coffee
I listened to music.
I need all three to wake up in the morning, and today...
...I don't know what I need.
I taught the 6th graders in the morning. When I first came to this school, they were in the 4th grade.
I remember.
김예슬, my 6th grade co-teacher was a 5th grade homeroom teacher last year, and the year before, she was a student. I feel like I've been here forever, and I will be here for longer than that. What else would I do with my life? I have been doing this forever.
It's cloudy today, and 10 C. I know what that means now. I don't know what we would call this the way that my people speak about weather. Perhaps we would call it "nice." As in:
"How's the weather today?"
"Oh, it's nice."
I'm not used to this.
I've been keeping my days busy, instead of wasting them on Facebook. It seems like this world has been waiting for me to get my act in gear, and it's not going to get going again until I decide something.
Where do we go from here?
The weather is nice.
It's been a while since I've had this sort of day, but I remember the last time.
You can come back if you want. I think tomorrow's forecast is the same.
I don't trust me when I'm happy. It's been too long.
I showered
I drank coffee
I listened to music.
I need all three to wake up in the morning, and today...
...I don't know what I need.
I taught the 6th graders in the morning. When I first came to this school, they were in the 4th grade.
I remember.
김예슬, my 6th grade co-teacher was a 5th grade homeroom teacher last year, and the year before, she was a student. I feel like I've been here forever, and I will be here for longer than that. What else would I do with my life? I have been doing this forever.
It's cloudy today, and 10 C. I know what that means now. I don't know what we would call this the way that my people speak about weather. Perhaps we would call it "nice." As in:
"How's the weather today?"
"Oh, it's nice."
I'm not used to this.
I've been keeping my days busy, instead of wasting them on Facebook. It seems like this world has been waiting for me to get my act in gear, and it's not going to get going again until I decide something.
Where do we go from here?
The weather is nice.
It's been a while since I've had this sort of day, but I remember the last time.
You can come back if you want. I think tomorrow's forecast is the same.
17.11.11
A Foot Condition
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.
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.
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.
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