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.

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.

An ah-ha moment

Right around the time I decided going to clubs only made me angry and annoyed, this little gem came along. Time for a break from douchebaggery. I’ll have to find something worthwhile to fill my time with, it seems!

Anti-Americanism

Look, if you read this, it’s because you know me. That means you know my stance on U.S. foreign policy, so I’m not going to go into that. You also probably realize that as someone who likes to travel and doesn’t even live in the U.S. anymore, I’m probably not a total idiot when it comes to other cultures. That is why I absolutely cannot stand it when I’m criticized for being a “stupid American” or some such nonsense, because Americans are often viewed as being boorish, insular, and closed to change. It’s completely ridiculous because by slapping a stereotype on Americans, people from other countries are holding a rather obvious double standard. You can’t criticize someone’s close-mindedness and simultaneously act that way yourself. Duh.

Sadness

I was just sitting in my chair, in my boxers, with an empty can of Pringles, and two empty tall cans of Cass when I had an epiphany. There are two kinds of sadness: “Real” sadness: the makes you kind of want to die, cry, and generally be a wreck, and faux-sadness. Don’t get me wrong, faux-sadness can be quite a real feeling, but it’s easy to snap out of.

Karenin’s Smile

I had a dog named Chauncy once. I didn’t name him that, nor did my family, either in part or in whole. We adopted him, and he came with the name. He died when I was in High School, and I buried him alone in the woods.

On the subway

I have an interesting relationship with the subway. I think it’s marvelous that I can travel anywhere inside one of the most populated cities on earth for next to nothing.

Everything crucial that’s written on the subway – stop names and such – is also in English. Not only does that make it incredibly easy to use, it also provides me with a nice, little Rosetta Stone with which to practice reading Korean.

I think, though, I most enjoy watching people. No, I’m not a creep; I’d be willing to bet you’re a people-watcher, too. On Seoul’s subways, there is no ethnic diversity. I am definitely the tall, white, odd man out. However, the subway is a great way to learn Korean features. I’ll be honest – at first, it was hard to distinguish Korean faces from one another, but I think my current facial recognition prowess has developed, in part, because of my subway use.

Ever since my trip to France three years ago, I’ve been fascinated by subways. I knew Seoul’s subway system would enthrall me, and it has. The ajumas and ajishis; the uniformed students; the ROK Marines and Army grunts; the incredibly fashionable twenty-somethings; these people color my subway excursions. I love them for it.

Korean hip hop in Hongdae

This is a picture of some crazy hip hop band I saw in a club. I’m not into much hip hop, but damn.

An attempt

So, writing is all about consistency, right? I mean, it’s important to write a lot. I am clearly not doing that. I have been doing lots of shit, but not writing about it.