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.

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?

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.

A thought I had on my roof

My favorite little pleasure of late has been having a cigarette on my roof, gazing at Olympic Park. It doesn’t matter if it’s day or night; the view is always wonderful.

Tonight, this pleasure was supplanted by another. Well, I suppose it was augmented, more than anything else. This time, I was accompanied by an ice cold Cass. It was a welcome companion. I stood, enthralled, drinking a beer, having a smoke, and watching as silent lightning broke past the Jamsil skyline behind the park. I loved it.

An excerpt

I have been talking to one of my best friends, Tyler, more often lately. It makes me happy, because I miss him. He had this to say in a recent email:

“Then we (miranda eho me) came to the conclusion that you seem happier then we’ve ever known you and that is good.”

Then it hit me: He’s right. I am happier than all of my best friends have ever known me, and they can’t even see me. If they can tell when I’m over 5,000 miles away, it must be true.

It is good. Thanks for noticing!

Today, my boss told me that he thought the speaking activities were great in the book I just wrote. I was nervous about them, because I thought they might be too difficult for the students, but he said they’re “just what we’re looking for.” I even got to make a lesson about allusion and foreshadowing! He went on to heap some more praise on my work, and it really made a nice end to my week. I started to think that they’d start to think they should never have hired me or something, and send me back to America.

Anyway, I feel better. I also got to see all of my debate books in print, as well as all of the books I’ve been editing since I arrived in Korea. It felt pretty awesome to see all of that work lined up in the school’s auditorium, with my name on most of it. Ah, and I shouldn’t forget one last thing: I passed Maria in the hall (she trained me, because I took over for her when she left for two months) and she said, “Hey, Tony, I saw your books and they looked great! Good job!” I said, “Which ones?” She said, “All of them.”

Time to go drink about a million beers.