Seoraksan Part 1

I keep weather widgets running on all three of the computers I regularly use. I see, side-by-side, the current weather and forecasts for Seoul, Seattle, and Pullman. I suppose that’s me trying to maintain a connection to the places I’ve lived. Seoul can be very cold, but that does not deter me from climbing through snow and wind to get a good view of this majestic country.

The Mirror

I was watching a TV show, and I ran my fingers through my hair. It was thick, even though it’s thinning, because I’m Italian/Polish/Etc. and use what’s known as “wax.” I thought, “I want to see this.” I walked into my bathroom, and looked in the mirror.

I saw a man. I saw a man I barely recognized. Sure, I had a few beers tonight, but clearly, I’m coherent. No, I saw someone I didn’t really recognize because I came here nearly a year ago, and I’ve changed.

I looked at my hair. It was sticking straight up in the center, and the sides were normal. It was pretty goofy.

I looked at my eyes. They’re still light brown. I watched until they tracked away from their counterparts in the mirror as they investigated the face before them.

Earlier, I had shown Robbie pictures from my brother’s bachelor party, and some pictures from just before I left for Korea. I looked much fatter then, and we both had a good chuckle as Robbie’s glance shot between my face and the pictures.

“Man, you were fatter. It ain’t no fuckin’ joke.”

“I know.”

Later, still in front of the mirror, I looked at my face. The same thoughts struck me then that had struck me before: You look older. Granted, I’m turning 25 next week, which isn’t old, but it’s much older than I was. And I’ve seen much more than I had before.

Essentially, I looked in the mirror, just a few minutes ago, and saw a person I barely recognized. Call it a moment of clarity, or call it a drunken halluciantion, but I saw it, and it made me think. I just hope other people get the same chance to consider themselves.

Freedom

As I walked back from my local watering hole tonight, cheered by the thought of the birth of my brother’s daughter, I was struck with a startling memory – that of riding on a moped along the empty streets of U-do, Jeju-do, South Korea, last summer. The salty wind blowing through my helmet, filling me with a sense of freedom as I gunned the tiny engine down a straightaway at 65km/h (clearly inviolation of the 30km/h posted limit). The water was aquamarine, the air was fresh, and I was having the time of my life. I’ll always have the scars on my right arm and leg to remind me of my time in the saddle of a scooter in Jeju-do.

Conflicting emotions

I may have touched on this before, but the juxtaposition between these two utterly defining emotions is too important not to describe. I often wonder to what extent others in my position feel the same thing; I’m sure they must, at least in part.

Let me see if I can quantify, in broad strokes, the range and frequency of emotions that an expat may experience.

33% of the time is ecstasy. Ecstasy is defined by a simple thought, a phrase that flashes through the minds of many of the expats I’ve met here: Oh my God, I live in Korea. It looks ridiculous to me even now; trust me, it is often followed by, (especially after one has been here for some time) “Oh come on.” It’s the knowledge that something new is very close by, or maybe even happening right now. This becomes less frequent as time passes, but even after 9 months, I still feel it. Just the other day, I was walking to my favorite watering hole, and glanced up at the almost comical profusion of neon lining the urban canyon walls around me, and I had that same thought… Followed closely by the second.

66% is some kind of average between being content, and being apathetic. This occurs just after the so-called “honeymoon phase” has passed, and the expat becomes adjusted and/or comfortable in their new life. It can be anything between gray as ash and hazily colorful.

33% is the choking depression that follows certain realizations or experiences. I’m thinking mainly of the realizations that one makes in my position: Perhaps you’ve sacrificed a relationship, given up on a career, or you’re simply homesick. Regardless of the reason, you feel, hear, think, taste something that brings that sacrifice back into full sensory focus, shattering the ecstasy or apathy. The effect is akin to a punch to the junk, or more appropriately, a slap to the face. Actually, I think I prefer the ice water metaphor – Once, I jumped into the Snake River in Washington in March. I was hit by the freight train that is the cold of a winter river, completely losing my breath and ability to think. That’s exactly what happens when you hit this 33% zone.

Part of the appeal of leaving one’s country, and abandoning some extremely tough things to abandon is the journey through the process of figuring out how to deal with it. Trying not to go to excess in those periods of ecstasy, illuminating the hazy apathy, and regaining one’s breath when the realization that you’ve lost things you love strikes.

Thoughts on booze

I was reading President Obama’s Dreams from my Father just now, and he was talking about how he was getting back into outreach programs, when he stumbled on some Marxists arguing. They were debating Trotsky’s place in history. As he left, Obama overheard them scream at each other, “Stalinist pig!” and “Reformist bitch!” It was then that I think I figured out why I drink so much more now.

I have been thinking about drinking and why I do it nowadays. At first, my gut’s reaction was to say it’s because I live in a country in which I barely know the language, far from my friends, subjecting myself to loads of change. Now, though, I think that’s only part of it.

These days, I’m fairly well adjusted. I can speak, read, and understand Korean well enough to go do whatever I need to do, if pressed. I’m not afraid to go outside of my normal routine. So why do I still booze so much more frequently than before I arrived here? Is it because I’m no longer in school and don’t have to worry about work after work? Possibly, but as I read Obama’s words, I realized what it was.

Remember the Stalinist pig and the reformist bitch? They remind me of the academicians I was surrounded by in graduate school. I remember the academic arguments that, prior to joining the ranks of academia, I thought were so admirable. Those of you who know me, know I formed a strong aversion to the vocabulary, attitudes, and mores of the academy. I would do little things to, I don’t know, I guess rebel against academic norms. I’m not saying I’m proud of acting a little foolish, I’m just exploring my observations.

Graduate school is now about 9 months behind me. I’ve left the country – the continent! – and have a 9-5, so to speak, yet I drink more now than ever. Why the booze? I still feel that aversion. I am proud of my academic accomplishments, I recognize that I have some skill derived from and useful because of school, but whenever I feel like something is expected of me, or that I should behave a certain way, I feel the tug from the old neighborhood watering hole. On Fridays, I tell my coworker, Julie, “My beerometer’s pegged,” and motion with my arm like it’s the needle of a gauge, quivering as it strains to show the true desire I have for a drink. She laughs, and I’m not sure she fully understands because her English, while good, is not perfect by any stretch of the imagination.

Yesterday at dinner, I said, “I’m not going to drink on weeknights this week. Well, not counting Monday night, since it was a holiday. And not counting Friday, because that’s the weekend, and I gotta drink at our R&D party.” Well, I’m breaking that little promise as soon as I finish writing this. I had no real desire to hit the sauce until I read “Stalinist pig,” and “reformist bitch.”

Shit. Leave your angry ideologies at the door! They weren’t even talking to me, nor did I have to deal with them, but I still know their type. Time for a fuckin’ drink, man.

p.s., If anyone still even reads this, especially my grad school friends, please don’t take offense. I think you’ve all heard me say this before, or at least guessed it, but this doesn’t mean I hate or look down on any of you; I simply don’t care to be a part of that social group in an exclusive (or at least close) sense anymore. Love you all bunches and bunches.

Yes We Can!

Barack Hussein Obama II is my John Fitzgerald Kennedy. I was for this guy from the beginning. He is the most inspirational public figure of my lifetime, of that there is no doubt. He will likely be the most inspirational President of the 21st century. I say he is my J.F.K. because of the way my mom talked about J.F.K. I know what he meant to people in the ’60s. I think Barack Obama means the same thing today, if not something even greater.

I am filled with hope now, when there was only pessimism and cynicism. I am filled with pride for my country for the first time in my adult life. I feel vindicated for the 8 years we have had to endure under the tyrannical rule of a villain.

I know that America can still be great. I knew it could be great before, but even with John Kerry, the feeling was hedged by doubt. There is no doubt with Barack Obama. America will be great under his leadership. I can say that because he will be a leader. He will not be a dictator, attempting to usurp our rightful, democratic power as the people of a great nation. He will help us down the path America must follow; through war, pestilence, and poverty. He knows he can try to help us make the right decisions, but he will not try to make them for us. He will unite not just the United States of America, but the world.

The government of Kenya declared today, November 4th, a holiday. I received text messages from my Dutch, Canadian, and Korean friends here in Seoul congratulating me on receiving such a man as my next President. I heard the cooking ajumahs at work excitedly saying, “Obama! Obama!” I saw millions of other young people declaring their support for a great man – Barack Hussein Obama – on Facebook.

I’m not afraid or ashamed to say our next President’s new name – I’m proud. I am proud because that one is a beacon of hope. He is the face, the image, the essence of a new direction for America and the world.

I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off of my chest, and that not even the economy can get me down. We have a new great American ready to lead us.

May the Universe, Buddha, Yahweh, Allah, God, or simply our fellow citizens bless us, President Elect Barack Hussein Obama II, and the United States of America!

Non Livejournal-y Livejournal-esque post

1. Open your library (iTunes, Winamp, Media Player, iPod, etc)
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that’s playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button
(the last two instructions were redacted because they were either irrelevant or ridiculous)

I saw this on someone’s Facebook page, and started to do it without the intention of actually writing anything down. I typically find these things to be silly little exercises that serve no other purpose than to postpone boredom. However, as I listened to the songs that came up, I felt compelled to recount little vignettes that sprang up from each track.

한국어를 배우는 중이에요!

I recently started attending Korean class in an effort to jumpstart my acquisition of the language. I had been half-assedly going about that since I arrived in Seoul over 5 months ago. However, I’m fed up with being unable to speak to people who don’t know English, and feel rather silly not knowing the language of the country in which I live.

Eh!

Smoke free for about a week. Work’s going okay. Started Korean class (which is fantastic). Dongdongju night this Friday. Good times with new people. All is pretty much well.

The Korea W Philharmonic Orchestra

Last week, Mark came over to me with a secretive look in his eye. He turned his back a bit to the others in R&D and said, “Hey. Would you be interested in going to an opera?” After I looked at him stupidly for a moment, he elaborated.