The Gym

Today is Sunday. It is usually a day I spend a good part of at the gym, making up for lost times that I didn't go on Friday or Saturday. I am sick today, for the millionth time in Korea, so my better judgement (and a South African guardian angel perhaps) convinced me to skip yet another day.

If you know me, you know my obsession with the gym. It's important to me. It's a way of life. It's something I won't compromise. Usually gyms are full of the same types of people, the same equipment, and the same kind of vibe. So one would think it would be the same kind of experience in a Korean gym than any other gym around the world right?

Wrong. Korean gyms are unlike any other gym experience, and it is something I will have in my memory forever (whether I like it or not).

Korean women are a rare breed at the gym. They do not lift weights. Unless you count those pink weights that weigh like 1.5 pounds, and I don't. Korean women also don't do cardio machines. However, Korean women are excellent at creating the image that they are doing cardio, when in fact they are actually doing nothing at all. If you're in the gym long enough, you'll see that the women are doing one of three things and one of three things only. 1) They are walking on the treadmill while talking on their cell phones. 2) They are sitting on the bicycle while talking on their cell phones. Or 3) they are sitting on a yoga mat while talking on their cell phones.

Korean men on the other hand are surprisingly in shape, and there is no age limit on this either. I've seen men in there twice my age with a 45 lb weight attached to a chain around their waist while they do chin ups.....and talking on their cell phones. There are two types of men that work out in Korea. The ones who actually work out and seem to know what they're doing, and the ones who stand there watching t.v. and barely touching a piece of equipment the entire time they're there.

Like any other building (whether it's public or private) in Korea, you're required to have a pair of indoor shoes and outdoor shoes. This really pisses me off. I don't want to have 5 million pairs of shoes for everywhere I go during the day. I don't mind having 5 million pairs of shoes in my closet at home for my own addiction and desire, but everywhere else is really annoying. I also really hate taking off my shoes. I never came from a family that takes their shoes off. In fact, my dad wears his shoes right up until the moment he changes into his pj's and goes to bed. We like our shoes, and we like them on our feet. So I like to pull the 'foreigner card' here, and I wear my gym shoes to the gym and when they try to explain that's not how it's done, I give them a very confused look and say I don't understand. Most of the time they brush me off like some stupid foreinger, and let me work out in piece.

The trainers at the gym seem to think they have the right to interrupt my work out and tell me what I'm doing wrong. Every so often they seem to take a break from their Starbucks coffee and pizza for lunch, long enough to linger around me entirely too long to see if I'm doing everything right. They're often telling me I am lifting too much weight for a woman, and that I should be on a cardio machine or taking the yoga class. I have literally had to put my hand out in front of me and yell "STOP!" to one of the elder trainers to get him to stop pestering.

And don't even get me started on the locker rooms. Between the ajumma's who stand there for an hour blow-drying their crotches, to the women in the shower head next to you asking you to soap up their backs...it's all entirely too close for comfort for me.

But like everything else in Korea, it is an experience I won't soon forget. The gym will get lumped in to every other wild thing I have witnessed during my year here in Korea. And who knows, maybe one day when I'm working out at my gym in America, I'll suddenly miss getting smacked on the ass in the locker room by an old lady, or getting harassed by a kimchi smelling trainer during my squats. Who knows.....

Thank You

If someone would have told me I would be spending Thanksgiving this year surrounded by screaming Korean kids, a Chinese woman, Dora the Explorer, and some of the worst beer on Earth....I would have told that someone they were cookadodle-doo-crazy. 

But alas, welcome to the unpredictability of my life.  I was sad when I was walking to work on Thursday. I started to think about all my friends back home going to their families for dinner, and about my mom, dad, and brother looking so small at our big dining room table. Work was just like any other day for the most part. It was a friend's birthday, so we were celebrating her birthday more than Thanksgiving, and I was honestly thankful to be celebrating something, anything at all. To my surprise at the end of the day one of the grandmother's of a student sent our staff a "Thanksgiving dinner".  Although the turkey was actually sliced deli meat turkey, it was a nice gesture. There was cheese cake, turkey, salami, salmon, pickles, cheese, bagels and cream cheese, and my favorite pumpkin pie. I joked with a co-worker that this was the best Jew Thanksgiving I'd ever had. 

So it turned out to be a pretty good holiday away from home after all. And it did give me some time to remember what I'm thankful for. 

I am thankful for:

1. Coffee (what? This is perfectly acceptable as the number one thing I'm thankful for.)

2. Having the means and the motivation to travel, and to keep traveling. 

3. My mother. She makes  most things I have had and will have in my life possible. 

4. Christmas music. 

5. Hot showers. 

6. Hamburgers. 

7. My best friend Samantha Sovde who has stuck through me during the worst of times, and the best of times.

8. The time I spent in Hawaii, Spain and Boston. 

9. My dad and his gentle heart. 

10. Books and the authors that keep writing them. 

11. Pumpkin pie, apple pie, pecan pie....pretty much any kind of pie. 

12. The uncertain and unplanned future. 

13. Skype

14. These blankets I have wrapped around me because I refuse to turn the heat on. 

15. The strength to keep going, even though the destination is unclear. 

And last but certainly not least, I'm thankful for Led Zeppelin who sing one of my top 10 favorite songs of all time appropriately titled, Thank You. 

Happy Holidays everyone. 

Falling into Foliage

Traditionally Untraditional

I've got Christmas fever. There is no way around it, I just do. I've been playing Nat King Cole's Christmas cd's on repeat for the last two weeks. And even youtubing Kenny G jazz Christmas. (Hey don't knock it 'til you hear it, Kenny G plays good music.)

Anyway, I love Christmas. I love it more than any other time of the year. I'm sure most people love Christmas. What's not to love? Snow, cookies, pies, turkey, candy, stuffing, chocolate peppermint deliciousness, egg nog, brandy, wine, fires, stockings, the fat man in a red coat...do I even need to go on? I am aware that more than half of my reasons are because of food, but Christmas does bring about some divine food. Food that I am dreaming about after being in the land of fried fish, white rice, and long slimy noodles all the time.

Sometimes I get seasonally depressed around Christmas. I think of all the other families out there, and how everyone and their mother's mother gets together for Christmas. There are traditional dinners, traditional gift giving, traditional Christmas light seeing, everything is traditional. I have a small family. The normal mom, dad, brother and myself kind of family.  We make Christmas as special as we can, but I find myself missing and wishing for a big family, for cousins, nieces and nephews, grandpa's and grandma's, and aunt's and uncle's running around a house that can barely fit four. When you see Christmas in the movies or on tv, you see ten or twelve people gathered around a nice oak table, passing a huge turkey over their heads, conversation so loud they don't notice the dog under the table while grandpa slips him a slice of turkey.

When my brother and I were younger, we used to spend Christmas every year in Florida at my grandma's house. She has this amazing house that she designed herself, with a waterfall and coy pond inside, an outside patio to die for. All the family used to get together over there, and we would have our own traditional Christmas. It eventually got to be too expensive to go every year, things changed, and people changed. We began to have our own little Christmas's. We still manage to get together every year, we have only been apart one Christmas so far.

I started to think about how when you get older, the things that used to be such a big deal when we were younger, are not made into such a big deal anymore. Birthday's come and go, anniversaries aren't cherished anymore, and Christmas becomes more of a hassle than a celebration. However this year, as I sit in South Korea with unfamiliar traditions all around me, I long for those quieter Christmas's with my family. I smile at the thought of my mom tiptoeing out to fill the stockings, my dad taking extra special care to wrap a KBCO cd he gives us every year from our favorite radio station. I am excited to have the parade on tv in the back ground, as the cinnimon rolls rise in the oven. I think that even though at the end of the day, my mom so stressed out that my brother has nothing to eat and nobody is grateful for all the time and effort she's put into dinner, the small traditions have still been carried out. We'll go to an afternoon movie if we can agree on one, and we'll come home and gripe about all there is to clean up.

I think about how to bring back the bang in Christmas this year, how to make it a big deal again. If I can get my brother and my mother to get along for more than a day, that would be a feat in itself.  My brother will only spend one day with us, and drive back to his house late in the evening after dinner. But I'll wish that he will stay longer, that he may even decide to stay the night. I'll wish like I do every year, that we all just sit around the fire a little longer and talk. But the day will pass by like it usually does. I will be shortly packing to return to whatever country I'm in at the moment, my mom will return to her patients, my dad to the computer, and my brother to whatever job he does that makes a hell of lot more money than the rest of us. And then I'll be thinking about how to make Christmas better next year, how to keep the holiday spirit a littler longer, or how to make it mean more to us the next time.

However this year I am going to do just that. I will have Christmas music blasting 24 hours a day, and the oven baking something delicious every morning. I will be over-cheered, over-cooked, and over-Christmas by the time the new year rolls around.  I'll take the time to set out my mom's holly china, and add pumpkin spice to everything. This year I'll be sure to let my family know how much I have appreciated their support in this last year, and how thankful I am to have them in my life. I will forgive them for things I have been holding on to, and make sure they know I love them.

After all, Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year right?

11:20

11:20 is a time I look forward to with bated breath every single day. 11:20 will make or break the rest of my day. 11:20 can be the best part of the day, or the worst part of the day. The rest of the day depends on 11:20. I depend on 11:20. 

11:20 is lunchtime. 

During the morning hours as I teach, I look up at the clock endlessly watching time move by ever so slowly. I am always starving, and I am always praying for a good lunch. We have to eat with the kids, which are rather annoying, but most of the time I don't even care because I'm too consumed with the goodness (or repulsed) by the food that I'm hoovering into my mouth.

Lunchtime used to be even more of a gamble, before I figured out there was a lunchtime menu. One of my kiddos is from Denmark, so they always send an English copy to my class for her. (Why would they send an English menu for a girl from Denmark you ask? I asked the same thing, and was met with blank stares and confused grins.) I started to make a copy for myself, so that I could find out what the second half of the day would entail. If lunch is good, I'm happy and the rest of the day goes smoothly. If lunch is bad, I curse Korea in my head and make my kids lives miserable. Yep, that's how much I love food. That's how much I look forward to eating. That's how I make it through the days with the little Korean terrors. 

However, the menu ended up being quite the guessing game, and rarely correct. Just the other day the lunch menu read:

  -RICE-KIMCHI-MEAT PANCAKE-FRUIT

Now I don't know about the rest of the world, but I'm kind of keen on my pancakes being meatless. And the FRUIT they so falsely advertise is usually a small slice of apple, or a third of a banana. Hardly a servings worth. I have to bank on the good days of lunch because when it's bad, it's so, so bad. 

Sometimes lunch is amazing. They serve us pork with steamed veggies and potatoes, plus rice of course. A few weeks ago they served this pumpkin dish that was absolutely divine. Spaghetti and meatball day is always a good day. Sometimes they make potato and corn purees, which remind me of my host mom's cooking in Spain, and she made amazing purees. 

But alas, there are too many days that go wrong because of lunch. There are too many horrid looks exchanged with my co-worker. Today I had a particularly horrifying experience that brought me again back to my days in Spain. The menu said FRUIT, like most days. I was hoping for a banana or some tomatoes. But what was actually there, to my disbelief, was a wonderful fruit salad COVERED in mayonnaise. I couldn't even hold in my shock. I turned to a friend and said, "why on Earth would they ruin such a perfectly good fruit salad by putting mayo on it?!” 

Most days I look down to realize that everything on my plate is either yellow or white. I realize that I am eating an insane amount of carbs, and that I would sell a kid on the black market for some meat. I'm not trying to sound ungrateful; I realize these ladies work hard to feed the entire school. And their jobs consist of cooking and cleaning up for a bunch of brats, and ungrateful foreigners like me. But I can't help but wish that a little more nutrition went into these lunches, for the kids really, not for ol' picky me. Koreans will go to great lengths to tell you how nutritious their foods are. But I'm sorry, between meat pancakes, mayonnaise fruit salads, and white rice.....what I'm seeing is a lot of clogged arteries, cottage cheese asses, and carb overload. Put some damn color in the lunches! 

I suppose I should be more thankful that I get a lunch at all. I picture my mother standing over her desk gnawing on a power bar. Or my father sucking on peppermint and butterscotch candies all day long. Or even my brother who rotates between the same three restaurants every single week on his lunch breaks. 

If there is one thing that lunchtime has taught me in Korea, it's to mind my p's and q's like the polite young lady I am. I've realized that I have incredible will power to force myself to eat something without gagging. I also remember to always smile at the lunch ladies, and say thank you when I'm bringing in my tray. Even if I'm thinking, 'thank you for the mystery meat pancake, the fruit salad with the side of lard, and also thank you for the hour I'll be spending on the treadmill later'.  

:)

Fright Night

I've never felt more like my mother than I did last night. I curled up in bed anticipating my next chapter in my recent book, and to my left on the night stand sat a perfectly poured glass of red wine. Now it's no secret that red wine and my mother are quite fond of one another, but it shocked me to my wits end as I took my first gulp of it. You see my mother does this thing when she drinks things, especially with wine. She takes a sip (extra-ordinarily loud mind you), and then she holds the liquid there for a good minute before she swallows it (again, extra-ordinarily loud). It drives me insane. I mean really, what do I care how long she holds her wine in her mouth? I have no idea, it just drives me nuts.

So I'm sitting there, about to indulge in a creepy book about a woman in a mental hospital (go figure eh?), and I realize that I've been holding the wine in my mouth for over a minute! I almost spit it out at the recognition of it, but my mother also told me never to waste wine. I swallowed it of course, savored it if you will. But the feeling was so bizarre and creepy, I sat there, back straight, for a good ten minutes trying to figure out how to defy all other inherit characteristics of becoming my mother. Nobody, and I don't care how wonderful a woman your mother is, nobody wants to become their mother. Bottom line.

Anywho, this brings me to my next random there is no point to this post, thought. This week is Halloween, and Friday we have some big event at school to put on for the kids. I absolutely love Halloween, but I hate dressing up. I like the pumpkins, the carving of the pumpkins, the scary stories and movies, the grave-yards, the haunted houses, the candy of course, I love it all. But I hate, hate, hate the amount of pressure there is to dress up and find a costume. We have to dress up at school "for the kids", which I'm reminded of daily. However, my kids are whimps. They're scared of Corduroy for pete's sake! I read them one of my all time favorite books as a child, Corduroy, and then had to spend the next week telling them that stuffed animals don't really come to life at night. Sweet Jesus that was a mistake.

I never realized how stressful Halloween was until I had to come up with costumes on my own. No wonder parents always hate Halloween. Lets face it, how many times has your mother thrown a sheet over you, wrapped an elastic around your neck and said, "Boo! You're a ghost." It's insanity. I ended up buying a kids pirate costume today, and hoping I can mangle it to fit me somehow without looking slutty.

I shouldn't complain really. I'm sure it'll be all fun and games when it's all said and done and Friday actually rolls around. The kids will be absurdly adorable in their costumes, and we'll play pin the tail on the black cat a million times. And maybe, just maybe, the mothers will send their kids to school with tons of candy for the teachers and I can self induce myself into a candy coma. Don't worry. I'll post pictures.

Happy Halloweenie everyone!

If I Could Turn Back Time....

...it would be to every Saturday morning for the past 25 years. Saturday mornings are why life is worth living. There is that moment when your eyes flicker open for a second on Saturday morning, and you realize you have absolutely nothing to do that day. And it feels perfect. You close your eyes again, thinking about going back to sleep for the rest of the day.  Heck, you might not even get out of bed until Sunday night. You're wrapped in a decadent cocoon of covers, snuggled so warmly around yourself. Everything is right in the world. There are no alarms going off, no thoughts of the shower or the dilemma of what to wear to work.

  I lay awake for awhile in bed on Saturday mornings; just staring about and wondering how much effort I'm really going to put in to making something out of the day. Most of the time I think about what to eat for breakfast, and whether or not I should make coffee or go out and treat myself to a latte. The feeling of a Saturday morning is pure happiness. And the only thing that actually gets me out of bed, is an urgency to pee (although I've highly considered wetting the bed on numerous occasions just so I don't have to move), and my growling stomach. But again, sleep trumps hunger, and I would choose sleep any day over food.

  This morning when my alarm went off I cursed the bloody thing twice, and pressed snooze a few more times. Monday mornings suck more than....well more than anything as far as I'm concerned. Monday's make me want to weep. If you know me, you know mornings (especially Monday mornings) are my nemesis.  The only thing that would make a Monday morning worse, is if I were at home and my mom was singing me her "Time to get up in the Morning" song.

Thank God tomorrow's Tuesday.

(p.s- Mom, on rare occasions I actually do miss when you sing that song, but not on Mondays. Sorry.)

I also searched for a good song about the hatred of Monday Mornings, but I could only find Fleetwood Mac's worth posting. Even though they don't seem to share the notion that Monday's are evil, but they still rock.

Koreans and Their Nonsensical Ways : Part II

Koreans are very nonsensical. I too, am very nonsensical, but in a way that makes sense. To me. Don't judge, just laugh.

1- I sometimes feel like I'm living in an episode of Mad Men. (Best show ever by the way.) Except a more modern, incredibly crude, Korean kinda version. The business men drink an inordinate amount of alcohol all day everyday, and well into the evening. It's not unusual to be walking down the street to see a business man passed out on the sidewalk, still in his shiny business suit, looking all business like. (Minus the pile of puke beside him, and the drool coming from his half opened mouth.)

2- Koreans are insane about recycling. I'm talkin' separate bins, separate boxes, color coded, every last bit can be saved, kind of recycling. But yet they insist on packaging things in a way that makes their recycling obsession almost double the work and effort it has to be. If I buy a box of crackers in the states, it's only a matter of tearing the box open and maybe tearing the inside plastic bag open before I'm wrist deep enjoying my Wheat Thins. However here, it takes several more steps before I actually get to eat the crackers. First you have to open the box. Second you see that there are actually four tiny little bags of crackers inside the box. Then you go to open the individual bag of crackers, only to find a little plastic cup you have to pull out to get to the crackers. By then I'm so fed up, it's almost comical that there are only three tiny, limp, crackers sitting atop their plastic bed waiting for me to eat them.

3- Okay, I have to touch on what the women wear again. Some of the women dress so exquisite that I instantly turn into a Mexican construction worker, bring two fingers to my mouth, and let a whistle rip. But some of the women, my oh my, I can't for the life of me figure out what's going on in their little, overly worked minds. It seems anything goes. Matching is a term used quite loosely here. Stripes go with polka dots, checks go with Mickey Mouse, socks go with sandels. I saw a woman the other day wearing a fur coat on her top half, and the shortest jean shorts known to man. I wanted to scream at her, "which is it lady?! WINTER OR SUMMER?!"

4- Red lights are optional. In fact, traffic lights in general serve no actual purpose in Korea. I'll be waiting patiently for the little green man to give me the a-okay to cross the street, only to look over and see an ajuma and her visor pulled so far down her face she can hardly see, speeding down the street directly at me. I try to scream, "Ma'am! You're running a red light!" But she doesn't care, only speeds right past me 20 mph too fast, swerving to miss the other adjuma who has run the red light on the other side.

5- The kids I have in my class, are for the most part adorable. And with the absurd obsession with name brands here, the mothers send their kids to school dressed head to toe in brands like Burberry, Prada, Coach, Dolce and Cabana. Some of the outfits these kids wear to school, cost more than I make in a matter of three months. Trust me, I've googled it. It makes me want to scream because you know what we do in PRESCHOOL? We paint. And we run around outside in the playground. And we glue. And we eat red colored kimchi flavored everything. How do I say, "I'm sorry, but your child's $500 shirt that they wore to school today is completely ruined do to the massive amount of paint and gluing we did today", in Korean again?

I think this is sufficient enough for a second-parter in the nonsensical Koreans list. I should really write some of these down, because more often in not during the day I'm frantically looking around looking for another foreigner so that we can share a, "wtf?" moment. But for now I have lesson planning to do for the week ahead. :)

Late Night Jibberish

Worry stricken once again at 1 am, here I am trying to piece together the thoughts that are taking over my mind tonight.

I often lie in bed at night with a plethora of thoughts that spin around in my head so fast and so continuously, it's only a matter of time before I give in and feverishly write something else on my "To Do" list for tomorrow, or finish that last chapter, write another blog entry, or email that friend I haven't responded to in months. I sometimes try to remember what I dreamt of the night before, and think about how strange my dreams have been lately. Have you ever noticed that remembering dreams is almost like a curse? I seem to remember my dreams, down to the very last detail, and can be thinking of them from time to time throughout the day. But when I go to actually write down, or tell a co-worker of my dream on the walk to work, it's like the words are unavailable. No matter how long I can sit there and remember perfectly what had occurred in the dream, when it comes time to actually tell about the dream the words just don't make any sense. It's as if the words have not yet been invented in the English language.

Dreams are more often than not a topic my brain usually turns to in the quiet hours. I'm beginning to think that dreams are seducing me in such a way, that if I were given a choice to spend the rest of my time in my dreams or my reality, I would absolutely choose my dreams.

Many of my dreams are about a person I used to share my life with. I sometimes wish right before I close my eyes that I do not dream of this person, because when I wake up and realize what I have dreamt, I am inevitably sad. I know that one day I will no longer dream of this person, and at least my heart will rest. Some of my dreams are spent in countries I have not yet visited, and of people I have not yet met.

My daydreams have been consumed with one question the last few weeks. Is this all there is? Is this as good as it gets at this point in time, in Korea, at 25 years old? I realize that was more like three or four questions, but you get the idea. I have been able to realize that when I begin to ask myself these questions, I know it is time to go. It is time for the next destination, the next stage, the next adventure, the next country. Is it that I am not satisfied here? Is it that I always believe the next destination will more than likely satisfy me more than my previous one? What exactly will it take to satisfy me?

I don't think Korea is the place for me. But I still have a few months left here so I have to make it work somehow. It's not that I'm unhappy here, I'm quite content. But something is not fluid about my life here, this can't be all that there is. I was told once that I have too high of expectations, and maybe that's true, but my high expectations are what drive me to be a better person, a better daughter, a better sister, a better friend.

For now I will try to be in the moment as much as my mind, and this country will let me. I hope that soon, my dreams and my next adventure will become a reality.

I don't feel like singing tonight

Do you ever have those moments where you feel like you're outside your own body looking down at yourself? Or those moments where it's as though some huge hand from above reaches down and literally gives the world a quick spin, and you're standing there in the middle watching it go by with blurred lights and smudged sounds?

I try to look at myself in these ways as much as possible, so that I can attempt to figure out what's missing or what's actually there. I find myself thinking about my life in such different attitudes, that literally seem to change day by day. One day I feel like I am in the exact spot I'm supposed to be, that I am doing all that I can possibly be doing to be fulfilled. And the next day I'll be whimpering around my apartment thinking to myself, "what in God's name am I doing living in South Korea?".

It's hard to compare yourself to everyone around you that's your age, wondering if you're not doing enough or if you're trying too hard. I often find myself comparing myself to my family, and feel inferior at times to my brother who actually has a career and a mortgage for pete's sake. But I'm sure if you'd ask my brother he'd tell you he was envious of my nomadic existence, so the grass really isn't greener on the other side.

Even though the only thing that I want to do is travel, and to see as much as I can possibly see....I also want to be able to sustain myself financially, emotionally, and intellectually. Part of me wants to go back to grad-school, but the thought of owing anymore money makes me want to stick kimchi fried rice in my eyes. Part of me wants to keep traveling forever, and keep experiencing those once in a life time moments that happen when you're in different countries with such a vast variety of different people. I feel a bit in a stand still here in Korea because I'm not technically traveling right now, I'm actually just living in Korea. I travel on my breaks, and am saving money to travel after the year, but here I have everything I need to have a sustainable life.

It makes me anxious. It makes me bored. It makes me think that I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing. It makes me lost, and when I'm lost I've been known to run. I run because I am searching so desperately for something not to run from. Am I doing the right thing here? Am I the person I want to be?

Sometimes my legs are just so damn tired.

Chuseok = The Best Day at Work Everrrrrr

Yesterday marked the last day of work for a whole week! We have an entire week off to honor the Korean "thanksgiving" called Chuseok. I have never been more excited to sleep and do nothing in my entire life. Yelling at kids and making their lives miserable eight hours a day, five days a week, really takes it out of you. I really have no plans this week except to sleep late, read books, and eat dok bo ki everyday (which I've recently become obsessed with due to the fact that I'm trying to train my taste buds to like spicy food, and it's insanely cheap).

I may try to make it out to a nearby island or beach coast for a day or two in the middle of the week. There are some pensions that you can rent right on the beach for fairly cheap, and it sounds like a good day or two trip. When I sat down to think of what I wanted to do for a vacation, I realized I haven't really seen much of Korea. So that will change, soon I hope.

Anyway, back to Chuseok. All the children came to school in their traditional Hanbok outfits, which were the most beautiful things I have ever seen. They were all hot as hell in them and dripping sweat, but they looked too cute to boot. The Hanboks were so colorful and really well made, and most of the Korean teachers wore them too. Of course since I have a Chinese co-teacher, we were pretty much clueless the entire day.

Each period we brought our children around to different stations and traditional Korean games. One period we made rice cakes, and one period the children were allowed to play on this human teeter totter. This human teeter totter was the most dangerous thing I have ever seen, but the Koreans insisted that it was a traditional game and I shouldn't need to worry. So I just put the schizo kid on there and let him have at it. It was actually quite hilarious, dangerous, but really really funny.

I also got plenty gifts from children's mothers, which was not expected but very much accepted. The end of the day ended with a huge staff party with wine, cheese and crackers, candy and music. It was literally the best day I have ever had at any place I have ever worked. I took as many pictures as I could with my camera, but I was also trying to take pictures with the schools camera and juggling two was really difficult.  Hopefully the pictures will do some justice to how cute the kids looked, but probably not.

Kids Say the Darndest Things part deuce

**Scene takes place during role play. Child is dressed as a nurse (a male nurse mind you), and I am dressed as....me.**

Aaaannd scene.

Man nurse child : "Teacher...come, you broken."

Me : "Oh okay. Nurse, nurse! I think my arm is broken!"

Man nurse child : " I fix you. Here is a shot."

Me : "Thank goodness, thank you for fixing me doctor..er..male nurse child!"

Man nurse child : "Okay, now....time for the breast exam!"

Me : "Um. Lets play Mail Man instead."

Insane in the Membrane

I've been neglecting my blog lately, and I'm not sure why. I think maybe nothing has seemed worth writing about, or that everything has changed so much in the last few weeks it has taken awhile to sort out in this crazy brain of mine. Either way, I'm writing now, so don't get your panties in a rut people.

I changed jobs, meaning I am now a teacher at an international school. No more riding the subway for an hour, walking 15 minutes in 100% humidity, or standing at the gate of the kindergarten for a half hour. No more 30 kid classrooms, no more 25 minute classes, and no more Jin Bae. While there are some things I miss about the kindergarten, I could not be happier to be teaching at this new school.

I am now teaching Pre-K with my own class of about 9 kids. The school is great. I have tons of resources, art materials, activities and even my own co-teacher. My co-teacher is Chinese, which still doesn't make sense to me...but hey, what does in this country?

The only things that could potentially make this job worse, are the fact that one of my kids is a closeted serial killer, and one should be in the looney bin. But that's neither here nor there as of right now. However stay tuned, because I'm taking notes, pictures, and soon video to prove these two urgent (and completely valid) statements.

The weather is starting to turn, thank god. I need some foliage in my life. I can't wait for fall, and even had a kick off to fall potluck over the weekend. It was really great. I had to explain what a potluck was to everyone who wasn't American for about 30 minutes, but finally people got the idea and came around. "What the fuck is a potluck ol' chap?"

I've been reading a lot, and currently indulging in In The Woods by Tana French. It's really good so far, kind of creepy and if you know me you know that I'm into creepy things. I once Googled 'how to cut of my own arm' for hours, you know, in case it came down to that. And then proceeded to try to do everything with my feet for days. It's actually fascinating if you think about it. I could definitely get on Oprah for that.

Anyway, there's no real point in my post except to let you know (I know there's only like 5 of you that actually read my blog, so thanks for that) that I'm still alive and kicking. I'll be writing more this month, as there's a lot on my mind. And people have been telling me I'm funny, which I've known all along, but am glad to see others are starting to figure it out too.

I'm leaving you with one of my top 5 favorite songs, just because it makes me happy.

The Land of the Morning Calm in Black and White

Upon signing onto Skype this morning, I received a link from a very dear friend of mine. It said, "I have a black of white photo of you, and you look amazing."  So she sent me the photo (although amazing is quite an overstatement, ha) and she also sent me a few other photos she took while living in Korea.  They are all absolutely amazing, and I wanted to share them here.

Anna Martinez, your raw talent rocks my world.

Feeling a bit Seoulless

I've been feeling a bit off my game lately. I have mentioned this feeling once before, but this time it has proven to be quite persistent. I can't even explain what the feeling is, or really even put my finger on what exactly it is. Something is just off, something is missing here. 

I know, you must think I'm crazy. With technology buzzing all around, coffee shops on every corner, and soju that costs less than $1 a bottle, what's there to miss eh? I'm sorry but I think I've had my fill of high heels, rice for every meal, and walking past grown men passed out with their pants around their ankles every weekend. You know what we say when people ask us what it's like to live in Korea? We say, "It's like living in a joke". Seriously. It's like nothing you could ever predict or imagine. 

Besides missing common sense, Korea is missing something more. Today I was hanging out in a friend’s apartment and we were reminiscing about the times we had both spent in Spain. We looked through pictures, listened to music, and even had a little one-on-one Salsa dance lesson. (She was the one teaching, I was the one learning.) However, I left her place with that pit in my stomach. The pit that has been waiting to be filled with culture, with history, or perhaps just with a chicken burrito from Chipotle. 

Living in a concrete jungle is an understatement when it comes to Korea. Sometimes I feel like I'm inside a pac men game when I go down one street, only to realize I've come in the complete opposite side of the street I wanted, but it all looks identical. Besides the food and all the Koreans walking around everywhere, it's basically the same as living in the U.S. I don't feel that Korean culture. There have been a few times I've been completely immersed in a book or my ipod on the train, only to suddenly be jerked back into reality and look around to find I'm literally the only white person in miles. Things are written in English, there are American restaurants everywhere, and I speak English all day long. 

I just wish there was the inspiration I felt at any given moment while walking down the street in Spain. I wish I could feel the passion, the music, the history in anything here. The Koreans work all day long, the kids go to school for even longer, and everyone is so delirious by the end of the night they drink their sorrows away in soju. 

Now I don't want to be the asshole that keeps comparing Korea to back home or to a better place I've lived, but I can't deny that my heart is not fulfilled here. I think I may have a solution though. Fancy that! I've been listening to more and more Spanish podcasts, grooving to my Spanish music, and now have an inspiration/teacher for Salsa. SO, with that said...I may have to just get my Spanish-on while living in Korea.  Wouldn't it be just hilarious if I became fluent in Spanish while living in Korea rather than when I lived in Spain? Haha. 

I also think this lack of 'umph' I'm feeling in Korea may have something to do with the half way mark. I've been here almost 6 months, am in the middle of switching jobs, and am feeling like I have nothing in common with anyone. But I hope this funk will pass. I hope that with my love for Spanish culture, my interest in Korean culture will peak.  It's not that the culture is not here; it's just that it is masked by the busy-ness of the day-to-day life. But I think I gotta find that something I love, that something that inspires me to learn everything there is to know about everything.  

It will happen. Que sera, sera. Right? 

I leave you with this Youtube fav of mine right now.  

Banana Pancakes and Fresh Squeezed Papaya Juice

Landing in Denpasar airport in Bali Indonesia after a 24 hour layover in Malaysia and an awful stomach bug, was probably one of the best feelings in the world. Little did I know that we wouldn't actually be leaving the airport for another three hours en route to our hostel.

When you get to the airport in Indonesia, you have to get an 'on arrival visa' in order to enter the country for any reason. This my friends, takes longer than standing in line at the polls on Election Day. For three hours we stood there, wondering why the hell stamping a passport was taking so damn long. The only redeeming qualities were that we had finally arrived in Bali, and we were standing behind what my friend and I nicknamed, "The Good-looking Couple".  This couple had been on our flight from Malaysia to Bali, and were so incredibly good looking they gave Brangelina a run for their money. They were tall, tan, and Spanish. What's not to love about that?

Anyway, after getting through the line we went outside to a huge crowd of Balinese men holding up signs with names of tour groups, hostels, hotels etc. Finally I found my name, and we followed the guy over to his car. The drive to our cottage hostel took almost two hours. During those two hours I may or may not have shit my pants a number of times due to the fear of losing my life with the amount of insanity that goes on at any given moment on a Balinese "highway".  There were dogs, cats, chickens, motorcycles packed 4 people deep, trucks playing chicken until the last second swerve, and half gravel half cement roads. It was absolutely insane, the craziest road I have ever been on.

We finally arrived at our hostel, were shown to our own little cottage, dropped our bags and then proceeded to hunt for food. We ate a delicious meal of vegetable and chicken curry, and headed back to sleep around 9:30 exhausted from traveling for almost 48 hours. Of course going to bed at 9:30 prompts early wake up, even for me. We awoke at 8 am, had breakfast and headed to the beach.

For the next few days this is basically what we did. There was a little back patio right on the beach side to our hostel, where we would eat breakfasts that consisted of delicious banana pancakes, fresh fruit, and strong Balinese coffee.  We lounged at the beach most of the days, sometimes taking breaks to explore the town a bit. We came across a group of Australians who owned a hostel down the road from ours, and they decided to take us under their wings a little bit. They gave us advice about what to do, what to see, which taxis to take, and buses that won't rip us off.

One day the Australian owner (who was married to a Balinese woman and had two Balinese step sons) offered his sons taxi service to take us to the neighboring town for the ATM and down to the white sand beaches afterward. The moped ride was my favorite part of the trip by far. The scenery was absolutely amazing. They took us through rice fields, palm trees, typical Balinese towns, and even a monkey forest. It was really cool. Of course when we arrived at the ATM it didn't work, and in turn I had to basically ration off the rest of my money on the trip for food. But once we got down to the white sand beach it didn't really matter anymore.

Another highlight of the trip was a tiny village where we were able to see a lot of the local life. Most women were sitting around weaving blankets or painting. The men were tending to the chickens or lighting fresh incense.  There was a small school up there too, and the children were dressed in cute little uniforms.

The trip was really great. It was a short trip, but definitely worth the money and the travel.  I had some pretty cool moments there, with people from all different nationalities.  I think the best moment I had was with a young, local, Balinese girl.  I had separated one night from my friend, and walked pretty far down the beach to try to catch the sunset.  I walked really far out on the rocks, and sat down waiting for the sun to go down. The weather was getting quite cloudy, but it was still stunning.  The girl was sitting close by with her boyfriend. All of the sudden she just plops down right next to me, a smile from ear to ear, and says "Hello".  I said hello and we chatted for a few moments.  Her English was not great, and it was a bit hard to understand. But I did manage to understand she wanted to try and practice her English. She was incredibly sweet, and it was a blessing to have her be so nice to me.  Sometimes when you travel you just get into the mind set that everyone is trying to sell something to you, rip you off, smuggle something off of you. It was refreshing to sit with this local girl, and just have her be interested in where I was from and why the hell I was sitting on the middle of a rock on the North shore of Bali. It's little things like this that make the layovers, delays, visas and all the other shit you have to go to when traveling worth it.

And alas, now I am sitting back in Korea where it is humid as hell outside, wondering where I will plan my next adventure.

Life is good when all you have to worry about is where you'll travel to next eh?

Time

I've never met two more different people than my mother and my father. I can't even believe they've been married for as long as they have because they seem so fundamentally different. I mean really, it's not really a marriage after 30 some odd years is it? I wouldn't call it marriage, but successfully co-existing rather. (I'll hear an ear full of this later I'm sure.) Who knows, maybe they were more alike when they got married than they are today.

My dad is very calm, cool and collected. He's the "cooler than the cat that went to school just for lunch" kinda guy. Now granted, he's nearly 100 years old...so who's to say he wasn't ape shit insane in his early years. (I'm kidding dad. You don't look a day over 60.) And my mother, oh my mother. She does things at a mile a minute, and works herself until exhaustion everyday. But I've never met a person with more drive, more ambition, and more sass in their ass than my mother. All of which I love dearly. If my parents were Winnie the Pooh characters my mother would be Tigger, and my father would be Eeyore. (Not the sad and depressed part of Eeyore, just the cool, laid back, nonchalant-ness of Eeyore.)

This brings me to my next point. Can two people who are so different survive in a long lasting friendship? A long lasting relationship? Can it work?

While living in Korea, I have met a plethora of people who are vastly different than myself. I enjoy meeting and being around people like me. But there comes a point when the differences between two people become an obstacle that seems too hard to overcome. Can someone who is chronically early last against someone who is chronically late? Can someone who is a sarcastic asshole connect with someone who is painfully shy? Can a Jewish person fall in love with a Buddhist? (I'm just throwing this in there because lets face it, everyone loves Jewish people. Have you ever met a Jew that isn't a fucking riot? They're hilarious. Bottom line.)

What I'm getting at is, how do we make friendships work? How do we make relationships work? Of course it's easy to have acquaintances, and people you have coffee with once or twice a week. But I'm talking about our "people" in our lives. The ones that stick around, the ones that we let see us without our make up on. The ones we are willing to let brave the early morning hours of that dreaded dragon breath (at their own risk of course.)

Do these "people" even exist in the world? Or will I always have to be toning down my strong opinions and emotions in order to not offend someone, or hurt their feelings? Will I have to hide my true feelings and emotions in a relationship just to keep it going? I've realized since being here it has been quite the struggle to figure out what is easier. Is it easier being true to myself, or trying to please others for friendship? Does there have to be a choice? 

Maybe the "people" and relationships we seek in our lives just take time. Maybe as time goes on, you learn to leave 5 minutes later when meeting your chronically late friend. Maybe you learn to bite your tongue a little bit,  take a step back when things get too emotional. 

Maybe the reason why my parents have been married so long is because my dad is the only one that can handle my mom when she's stomping around the kitchen at 6 am because no one made the coffee. Or because my mom is the only one that can handle my dad when he's feeling ill, and she asks him what he's had to eat all day and he says, "chips". 

I've also learned that maybe I put too many expectations on friendships and relationships. I put people in one single category because I'm too afraid that's what they're doing to me. If Korea has taught me one thing thus far, it is patience. Maybe I need to learn a little patience in order for me to see the genuine friendships/relationships I've made. Perhaps it's just time.  

This Country Makes Me All Kinds of Crazy

I'm almost 100% positive that at any given moment in this country, I am completely, and utterly clueless as to what's going on. This has proved to be quite irritating for my A-type personality.

Of course I don't speak Korean, nor can I read the language. I can say about three words in Korean, and that has gotten me thus far. I truly do intend to learn more, but it's been a bit daunting. Especially when I go to speak I automatically turn to Spanish, which doesn't work out so well with these Koreans.

I remember when I first arrived; I was literally paralyzed in my own apartment. I woke up at the butt crack of dawn the first day, which hasn't happened since.... I dunno, birth. Apart from thinking, "whoa...this is morning?!" I was also trying to figure out where the hell I was. I had my backpack, my computer, and a small twin mattress lying on the floor. I had no food, no water, and no cell phone. For the next 8 hours or so I tried to convince myself to go outside and attempt to get something to eat. 

I was petrified. What if I tried to pay for something and the person at the counter asked me a question in Korean? Or what if I got lost and couldn't find my way back to the apartment? What if I came home to my apartment and there was a killer inside waiting to attack me, and then no one would find out for a long time because I wasn't reachable in this freaking country yet, and hadn't even reported to work, nor told my parents I had arrived safely? (This is how my brain works people. Deal with it.)

So eventually I made it down to the mini-stop, and eventually made it to my job, and eventually made new friends. But the confusion cloud that surrounds this country is just as thick as the mold growing in the upper right hand corner of my shower that I can't reach. 

I never know what's going on at work. Everyday I come and something has changed. The time I teach has changed, the order of classes has changed, the children get perms, the cd player is broken, the Korean teachers are nice, (but most of the time they're mean), or there are just no children all together. I can't even begin to think of how many times I've showed up to work and there are no children. I walk in and the teachers laugh like it's the funniest thing in the world. Then they make the big "X" motion with their arms (you know exactly what I'm talking about), and attempt to tell me there's no school today. You would think they could find a way to CALL me before making the hour trip to work. They know the word "no", and they know "teacher Kasserin", and they even know "today".  Surely they can connect a sentence over the phone like, "No teacher Kasserin today". 

You see the thing is, as much as Korea has the reputation of being so organized and efficient (or is that Japan? Who knows, the rule of thumb seems to be Asians have their shit together. Period), it's not the kind of organized and efficient that I need it to be. If you know me, you know how I am. And while it may drive you nuts, things have to be organized, things have to be clean, and things have to have a reason behind them. Otherwise my brain won't have it. 

For example; why do all Korean doors say 'push' in English, but are clearly all 'pull'? Or why can I only pay my utilities bill at one certain bank that is a 15-minute walk away, when there are at least 10 other banks on the way? Why does the Korean man with the button up shirt and bad comb-over on the subway in the morning insist on doing very inappropriate stretches that make everyone else around him uncomfortable? Why does my washing machine skip the rinse cycle sometimes, so that when I go to pull my clothes out they're still sopping in soap? Why do the Koreans do the 'Korean squat'? Doesn't it hurt their knees?

I never know the answer to these ‘whys' in this country, and the reasoning behind some of these things if you ask a Korean, are almost always ludicrous. "Excuse me, why isn't the air-conditioner on today?" "Not hot". "Yeah you're probably right. 36 above with 70% humidity does seem rather cool today". 

While living here I've learned I can't have complete control over my environment, nor do I want to. I've learned people are perfectly happy doing things that don't make any sense to me, and they're perfectly happy having no common sense reason behind it. I do know that this country keeps me on my toes nearly everyday. Heck, I'm a god-dammed ballerina over here. 

Give me a book, a cup of coffee, an art museum, a photography exhibit, live music, good beer, a person I love, something to clean, something to look forward to, any of these things and I'm happy. And I can find these things in Korea. Who knows, maybe I'm the one who doesn't make sense. Maybe I'm the crazy one. 

Haha. Yeah right. 

Kids Say The Darndest Things

Me: Okay everybody turn the page to letter Z!
Students: Letter J!

Me: No, not letter J, letter Z! Z-z-z-zzzzz
Students: J-j-j-jjjjj

Me: Okay lets try a picture. What's the first picture of?
Students: Zebra!

Me: Good! Okay what's the second picture of?
Students: Jew!

Me: I'm sorry what?
Students: J-j-jewwwww!

Me: Um no. The second picture is of a ZOO! Z-z-zoooooo
Students: J-j-jewwwwww

Me: No. Listen to teacher. Watch my mouth.

---> Student raises his hand.


Me: Yes? Can you tell me what the second picture is?
Student: Teacher, Jews are dirty and stinky.

Me: Ay dios mios.  I give up.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

   I truly believe that almost half a persons character and personality is due to the way they were brought up, the nurturing (or lack thereof) by their parents, and just their parents existence in general. I believe I get my creative, organized and calm (don't laugh) side from dad. And just in the last few weeks, I've come to realize just exactly what I've gotten from you. 

  I want to thank you for teaching me to be an individual. I want to thank you for teaching me to be a strong-minded woman, and never apologizing for it. I appreciate the encouragement to do whatever I want to do in life, whether it involves going to graduate school or leaving everything and everyone behind to travel the world. 

 I thank you for letting me know I have a place in this world. To know that I can be critical, and that being critical is not always a negative thing.  Two things can happen to a person in this world: they can either let the world swallow them whole, or they can take the world into their own two hands and make whatever the hell they want their existence to be. 

 Being a white woman in Korea has taught me a lot about myself. I have realized how strong my character is, and how this is perceived by others. You have taught me to embrace this perception, and to not be embarrassed by it. I'm opinionated, loud, judgmental when I feel strongly about something, compassionate when something moves me, and critical of others but mostly of myself.

  At the end of the day it's all about being able to look yourself in the mirror, being able to wake up and feel that I am true to myself. From you I have learned that while our past still haunts us, it does not become the person we are on a day-to-day basis. 

 Thank you for being the one person I can rely on, and the one person who never gives up on me. It is from you that I have the courage to keep moving forward, to keep setting these wild almost unattainable goals for myself, and to always, always, always stand up for my beliefs. 

 If I had to pick just one thing I am thankful for, I am thankful that I am your daughter. 

Love always,

K

One Is The Loneliest Number

Today is The Fourth of July. Besides it being the fourth day of the seventh month, it is Independence Day back in the states. It was a weird day for me because I'm usually fairly excited about the fourth. The U.S traditions of barbeques all day long, good beer, and an amazing fire-works show to top off the night are all something I look forward to every year. I found myself avoiding other Americans here, and politely declining invites for barbeques. And I'm not really sure why. Maybe I've been in a bit of a funk this week, or maybe I didn't want to pretend that we could make the fourth as good as it is back home. Or maybe I didn't want to think about the states, people in the states, and what usually happens in the states on this day...at all.

Instead I did the normal Sunday duties. I made a big breakfast, did laundry, worked out, and attempted but failed to go grocery shopping. It was a fine day. And I'm okay with fine.

In the past week I have had some odd encounters with some Koreans. Most of the time any encounter with a Korean usually involves them treating me like a complete imbecile, staring at me like I'm from another planet, or just flat out pretending I don't exist. But the Koreans I have come in contact with (and when I say 'in contact' with I mean actually physical or vocal contact, obviously I come into contact with Koreans every single day), have been quite pleasant.

The first occurred when on a weekly walk with my friend Claire. We were crossing a bridge and this elderly Korean woman literally could not take her eyes off of us. So I waved and smiled, asked her how she was. She was taken back a bit, but smiled and mumbled something in Korean. We walked a bit further down the river and realized she was following us. She came right up on us and began talking to us. It was obvious with our blank stares that we did not understand what she was saying, but that did not seem to faze her. She kept speaking. She eventually grabbed us both by the arms and started to drag us down the path. She kept pointing up to some strange building, and gesturing wildly. This literally went on for 10-15 minutes or so, while Claire and I grunted something here and there and this woman-speaking non-stop in a language we did not understand. Then all of the sudden she hugged us, reached into her pocket, and handed us a small candy. She was actually very pleasant, and who knows what she was actually saying. But she seemed to like us, and if we could have understood each other who knows what kind of stories we could have shared.

The second occurred on that same day, as we were heading home. Since arriving we have been trained to keep our eyes on various trash areas in hopes to find something to furnish our almost completely bare apartments. On this particular day we found a gold mine. The apartment building next to ours had an entire treasure chest of things we wanted to take. Of course it just being the two of us, had to choose wisely. I really needed an office chair, and there was a decent one there. However, it was really short. I tipped it over and tried to unscrew all the knobs, when the Korean security guard came up. He started talking to us, but again we had no idea what he was saying. He was motioning with his hands and pointing down at the ground. We quickly realized he was saying there was a taller chair somewhere...presumably down in the ground? We weren't sure. He shuffled into the building and hollered at us to follow him. He went down to the basement, and opened this really large steel door. Now, looking back on this, it was probably really stupid of us to follow him into what we now call 'The Dungeon'. But this guy was a small, older Korean man, and we were certain we could take him if he tried any funny business. He then enters this pitch-black room, reaches up and pulls the light string. And there it was. A lone office chair much larger than the one in the trash, in a very dusty, creepy basement. Why was the chair in there execution style all alone in this creepy basement? We didn't ask. We took the chair, thanked the man, and went on our way.

It seems as though just when I think I have figured out my stance on a culture, or a place (bad or good) something happens and I change my mind. Even the coffee shop I visit every morning before I head into school, has a nice Korean owner who shares her fruit with me when I have the time to sit down.

When I was out on my walk today, I sat down on some rocks to take a little break. I started to think about my time here in Korea thus far, and what's to come next. And before I knew it I had tears in my eyes. And the strange part? I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I was upset. I just was. Maybe I was lonely, or maybe I was thinking of people celebrating the Fourth back home. Maybe I was missing someone I shouldn't miss, or wishing I could talk to a friend who turned me away. Maybe I was thinking how long a year actually is, and how sometimes the traveling I want to do after seems so far away.

Sometimes I feel off my game in this country, while sometimes I feel the strongest I have been in a long time. I change my mind about Korea everyday. And I suppose that's a good relationship to have with Korea. If it were too good I wouldn't want to leave and fulfill my goals of travel. And if it were horrible I would be high-tailing it back "home", where I feel more out of place than ever.

Sometimes you just have those days you know? Even in a country full of 50 million people, I still feel lonely sometimes.

Music Monday - On Thursday

I love discovering new music, or even rediscovering old music. I was chattin' with my new bestie here in Korea (old bestie, if you're reading this, which I hope you are, I miss you. Don't leave this country without saying goodbye), and I realized her taste in music against mine is just phenomenal.

She introduced me to a bunch of new bands from Canada where the indie scene is quite prevalent. And I dig the indie scene, if done right. From City of Colour, to Bon Iver and Metric to Tegan & Sara...I'm in love with everything that flows to my ears. (Note : Bon Iver are from the U.S, not Canada) :)

While offering up some new bands/artists for my friend to check out, I rediscovered Lori McKenna for at least two hours last night. She's a local artist from Boston, who didn't start writing songs or even recording until the age of 27. So it just goes to show it's never too late to become great at something.

Her song "Make Every Word Hurt" literally reaches down to the depths of my soul. And that's pretty far down there. I think it's kind of ironic that she's from Boston, and almost every word in this song pertains to my life when I lived there. Check her out, all of her songs are nothing short of amazing.



Well don't waste your time
Don't allow him distractions
If you have to close your eyes
But don't wait for a reaction

Don't stop to breathe
And don't wipe your mouth
You won't be misperceived
I'll figure it out

But whatever you do
For whatever it's worth
If you're gonna tear my world apart
Then I'd prefer
Don't leave me confused
Don't let the lines blur
If you're gonna tell me
You don't love me anymore
Make every word hurt....

Don't walk away now
And don't second guess
You felt this way a moment ago
Why should my tears change any of this?

So whatever you do
For whatever it's worth
If you're gonna tear my world apart
Then I'd prefer
Don't leave me confused
Don't let the lines blur
If you're gonna tell me
You don't love me anymore
Make every word hurt....

Make every word sting
Make every word bleed
Until I'm not gonna wanna love you anymore
Until you're nothing I need
So when I wake up in the morning
For the next 20 years
I won't be wishing
For someone who just disappears

So whatever you do
For whatever it's worth
If you're gonna tear my world apart
Then I'd prefer
Don't leave me confused
Don't let the lines blur
If you're gonna tell me
You don't love me anymore
Make every word hurt....

Koreans and Their Nonsensical Ways : Part I

Koreans and Their Nonsensical Ways: Part I

This will be part one of I’m sure plenty of lists that will voice the perplexity that is Korea. Or Koreans themselves rather, and their perplexing ways. It’s just a fun list people, so don’t get your panties in a twist over some of the very stereotypical and some downright racist things this list might include. I’m American. And everybody hates Americans for some reason or another. And everyone is perplexed by the behaviors of Americans. So let me have my list.

1 – They eat with two sticks more commonly referred to as chopsticks. I’ve never spent so much time concentrating on getting the food to actually arrive in my mouth, and not in my lap.

2 – Koreans are completely nonsensical about temperature. Whether it’s 90 above and they refuse to put on the air-conditioner, or 90 below and they have all the windows wide open!

3 – Running like a bat outta hell…everywhere. Even if a Korean isn’t in a hurry, they’re running. Running for kimchi, running for a seat on the train, running for a few seconds…stopping…and running again. I always tell people, ‘Koreans are always running somewhere, but going no where.’

4 – The women wear heels ALL DAY EVERYDAY. Now I can strut my stuff in heels, not gonna lie, but I certainly couldn’t where them day in and day out. They also insist on wearing skin colored tights under everything, shorts, skirts, dresses, and pants.

5 – Need a refrigerator or washing machine? All you have to do is run down a passing van or truck with a loud speaker attached to it, and an old Korean man yelling the latest deal on a household appliance. Really? Why would I buy a buy a washing machine from a guy in a van zipping by me, yelling god knows what into his mega-phone. 

6 – When hiking even the smallest of hills in Korea, Koreans will wear a hiking outfit fit for Bear Grylls. In head to toe North Face, hiking boots, and a hiking poll…they mean business.

7 – Koreans don’t sweat. Bottom line. I just don’t get it. I show up to work, my face dripping in sweat and beet red to boot. The teachers look at me in bewilderment, like I just stepped off of Mars or something. “Kasserin! It's warm today huh?" Warm?! I'm damn near melting!

8 – Koreans hate foreigners, especially Americans. (At least in my opinion) Yet everywhere you look there are English signs, restaurants, and models on their advertisements. And more than 3/4 of the population sport t-shirts with grammatically incorrect English on them.

9 – It’s considered “inappropriate” to show your shoulders as a woman, or any part of your chest. But wearing a skirt or shorts so short you might as well not even be wearing them…seems to be tolerated.

10 – There are no public trashcans ANYWHERE. Basically people throw their litter in the middle of the streets.  It’s extremely dirty and polluted here. I suppose a Korean would argue it gives jobs to those who have to clean the streets at 3 am, but I think I’d rather be held socially responsible for throwing away my own rubbish rather than trudging along in a whole days worth on the side-walk. Yuck!