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!

Dobongsan

Listen, I’m not proud of myself when I say this; I merely say it in the interest of full disclosure, and for the fact that it’s relevant to my story: I drank an unreasonable amount of soju on Saturday night. I got home at 3:30 (I only know because Melanie told me… If you read this, I’m really, really sorry for waking you). At 10:00am, I was out the door to go hiking. Yeah.

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.

Get your shit together, Yony

Well, that was awkward. I just spent an hour and a half up on my roof with some of my best friends: Parliament Lights and two Cass tall cans. I mean, that was fine and everything, kind of. I was being an old sad bastard, belting out songs, alone on a roof, drinking beer. How cool can that be, in all honesty?

A quick, musical note

Sixteen, Maybe Less by Iron & Wine and Calexico is one of the saddest songs ever. I love it.

Nothing

I haven’t been doing much. I met Maarten and his girlfriend for beers in Sinchon last night, which was nice. I ate a lot of chips. The beer was good. Today, I have been a useless turd, doing nothing except riding my bike to Pizza School. I will try to study later, I suppose. I still have to learn the parts of the body.

That is all.

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.

Happy anniversary, self

Today is the three month anniversary of my arrival in Seoul. My boss, Mark, said, “Yeah, can you believe you’re a quarter of the way through your contract?” No, not really. It seems like I’ve been here much longer and, paradoxically, much less than that. I’ve seen so much and still have vast amounts to see and do. I can’t wait.

Today was a normal day. I’m not sure if I was expecting something weird, but I’ve seen the last two 26ths as little milestones worthy of a celebration. Today, though, I simply began work on another book and met Greta for my weekly lesson a day early. I ate jajeonmyeong, my favorite Sino-Korean dish.

Another month will pass and I will have spent one third of my contract time. Time flies!

Namhansanseong

My Sundays are typically spent warding off the post-fun, end-of-weekend depression that I have almost always felt on Sundays. It’s more accute here, though, because the contrast is so stark. I often have such a good time, that little can assuage the come-down. Yesterday, I one-upped that depression in a big way.