Day 3: A song that reminds you of someone

SO.  I'm going to bend the rules a little on this one and extend it to several songs that remind me of several certain someones. 

**Please note I've excluded all those I'm in daily contact with: all you Korea ppl.  That you are not on this list does not mean you are not worthy of being on it (quite the opposite.)  Also, for those of you that are in the States and feel jipped for not being on here: we need to listen to more music together!  I couldn't think of a song for you...

Also, I really could just be talking to myself at this point.  Not sure of who really reads this thing.  Except for you Brandon-- you comment on everything! 



You know who you are.

You will forever be the closest person to me.  Even when we are squabbling about knitting needles in the Old Lady's Home for Frisky Feminists we'll be living in...even then. 



You know who you are.

<3



You know who you are.

Dive bar.  Homo hill.  The early days in Seoul.  Dancing to this.

Spacious 2.  Video projector on white quilt.  Christmas.  Sugar plums, sickly sweet wine and asian dust.  Dancing to this.

Kingston, Ontario.  Winter reunion in the western world.  Hopefully dancing to this.  ; )



You know who you are. 

I'm sorry. 



You know who you are.

Do you remember that Rasberry Beret album I got you?  Well...just listened to that song again-- and that is a bad song.  Seriously. 

Can you still do the Prince falsetto?  Cos I remember it being pretty spot-on.  I hope you're keeping it up. 

You are still the *only* person that's visited me in every locale I've lived in!  If anything, I'm glad I've given you the excuse to travel-- though it will take many years before I even half-way catch up to all the places you've been.  Something to aspire to...



You know who you are.

And for the final time, she was *not* flirting with you.

Still the wittiest person I know.  Also, cannot wait to see the new stacks of books in your apt. and the new disparaging comments about absolutely everyone...  ; )



You know who you are. 

Not the exact version, but good enough. 

I will forever be indebted to you and your apartment for helping me to finish my first script.  And indebted for helping me through some tough times in New York. 

Can't wait to go to Tom's again! 



You know who you are.

I know you're a Steve Earle die-hard, but...somehow it's always Townes that reminds me of you.

I met you on my first *ever* night in NYC. 

Aside from the big names that pass through, you are quite possibly my favorite comedian in New York.  Seriously. 

Also, you introduced me to the other Mr. J -- and even though he's a huge (huge) dork, he's one of my few film counterparts in the city.  We must get g&t's in September at La Negrita-- or I guess some snobby hipster bar now that you're in fancy Brooklyn. 



You know who you are.

While we haven't listened to this album together yet, you must be as in love with it as I am, considering you're the biggest Albarn fan around (aside from Ms. J, of course). 

You might also have the biggest (bleeding) heart of anyone I know.  ; )  I am continually inspired by your mere day-to-today and cannot *wait* to visit all those weird (but of course, enlightening and awesome) one-off events we go to. 

Til then...

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A song that makes me sad

I wish I had some gutting words to prop this post up a bit...but I'm feeling rather wordless at the moment.

Suffice it to say, this song really does make me sad...

Day 1: A Song That Makes Me Happy

I remember walking around Harlem late last June, aghast at the heaviness in the air-- as if it was the second coming of JFK's assassination.  The news of Michael Jackson's death had spread earlier in the day and already the scaffolding around The Apollo was covered with in memoriam posters of the great, newly deceased, MJ. 

A couple days later on my way home from work, I was coming up on the 125th street stop and was pretty sure I was witnessing a resurrected MJ dancing to "Bad" on the platform.  Present: red leather jacket, the one silver glove, fresh white socks, shiny black shoes, aviator glasses... I figured out it wasn't really him after he tipped his glasses and winked after I dropped a dollar into the hat next to him (though, as I remember, MJ was pretty well off and more or less agoraphobic, so those were clues as well). 

West Harlem that day was a glittering spectacle of all things Michael Jackson.  Rollicking masses of people moving past booth after booth of MJ paraphenalia: t-shirts, jewelry, pictures, posters, dvds, cds, fake tattoos...  And then there was the Wailing Wall. 

Rather, shoddy white paper slapped onto the scaffolding and corkboard walls surrounding The Apollo where people could leave their last words to the late and great. 

-----
Went to an MJ dance party this past weekend in Seoul.  Along with the obvious choices of songs like "Thriller" , "Beat It" and "Rock With Me" -- they also played some Jackson 5, which was a particular treat, having not actively listened to them in quite some time.  And it made me happy. 

And so-- Day 1: A Song That Makes You Happy:   The Jackson 5: "I Want You Back"

25 days o' music.

So in the hopes of being a bit more regular with this blog -- I'll be doing my best to keep up with the below 30 days of music list (which I found on this awesome guy's music blog.) Except I'll be cutting out all days with 'favorite' in the title as there's no way I can choose my favorite anything. It will be 25 days in that case.

**************************************************

day 01 – your favorite song

day 02 – your least favorite song

day 03 – a song that makes you happy

day 04 – a song that makes you sad

day 05 – a song that reminds you of someone

day 06 – a song that reminds of you of somewhere

day 07 – a song that reminds you of a certain event

day 08 – a song that you know all the words to

day 09 – a song that you can dance to

day 10 – a song that makes you fall asleep

day 11 – a song from your favorite band

day 12 – a song from a band you hate

day 13 – a song that is a guilty pleasure

day 14 – a song that no one would expect you to love

day 15 – a song that describes you

day 16 – a song that you used to love but now hate

day 17 – a song that you hear often on the radio

day 18 – a song that you wish you heard on the radio

day 19 – a song from your favorite album

day 20 – a song that you listen to when you’re angry

day 21 – a song that you listen to when you’re happy

day 22 – a song that you listen to when you’re sad

day 23 – a song that you want to play at your wedding

day 24 – a song that you want to play at your funeral

day 25 – a song that makes you laugh

day 26 – a song that you can play on an instrument

day 27 – a song that you wish you could play

day 28 – a song that makes you feel guilty

day 29 – a song from your childhood

day 30 – your favorite song at this time last year

Ms. Kim

Serviceman #1 (S#1), short and rotund, severe sweet tooth, had declared himself the “bossman” of serviceman #2 (S#2), tall and skeletal, who was doing all the heavy work in replacing the heating system in my apartment. S#1 then told me about his wife (all this translated through my head teacher, Ms. Kim, who was seated on my bed) and how they’re both the same age and how she was a student at the school I teach at and isn’t that great. He then took a handful of the butterscotch candies that I’d been using for decoration for the past six months (large hands). He undid the wrapping so meticulously it was as though he was giving each candy a tiny funeral before shoving them into his mouth and ultimately, to their death. S#2 was all business and thank God, otherwise I’d have been stuck chatting awkwardly on my bed with the head teacher for more than the 2 hours it ended up taking.


Ms. Kim is nice though. Her English is a bit halting, but she seems comfortable with this and isn’t as afraid to make mistakes as most of the other English teachers are. She’s a bit older, married, two teenaged children. Sometimes she will talk about her husband at lunch and will be surprisingly familiar with me. Her disclosure is heartening of course, but now I can understand what’s behind her eyes when she smiles and it doesn’t look quite right.

“Migook?” S#2 had finished and decided to take an interest in the strange foreign girl who’d been watching him swim around in the watery cesspool that was my kitchen yesterday. He was wearing my shower shoes.

Ms. Kim answered for me. “New York City!” S#2 brightened and pointed to his shirt, some (fake) faded print of that shot of John Lennon. I gave him a thumbs-up. He seemed happy with that.

On their way out S#1 pointed to the butterscotch candies and said “is ok?”. Of course it was ok, I said with my hands. For all their trouble (or rather, all of S#2’s trouble) I gave them the two ice cream cones I had in my freezer, making sure to hand them to S#2 so he’d have the choice. They said thank you in English and Korean and were gone down the stairs in two seconds flat.

There was still that watery cesspool to deal with and Ms. Kim had quickly taken it upon herself to clean up the mess for me. I felt a bit uncomfortable with this and told her so. She smiled a real smile and told me that there is a saying in Korean:

“AJUMMA IS STRONG.”

Not wanting to take away the glory of her sentiment, I backed down and watched her dirty her extremely nice cream slacks as she scooped up the mangy water and put it down the sinkhole. This took a good twenty minutes, during which time I studied the new ondol box, exceedingly easier than the old model and pretty with its purple background light. I hope the next tenant appreciates it.

Older.

I’ve now been in Korea for close to 10 months. It was only until recently that I fantasized daily about leaving early, going back to New York, back to a place I could understand and love wholly if only for the capacity to understand it. That’s not to say that I’ve really tried to understand this place, more like willingly stood on the sidelines of each day, watching in perpetual disbelief of how things continue to confound me, this Korean world and my place within it…

But now as I reach that ticking clock period—these last two months or so—the reality of the American world that awaits me looms larger and larger. As does the unexpected presence of recent factors: the fact that I’ve finally realized that I do love my students and that I will miss them after all—meeting some lovely new people (like, really lovely) and firming friendships with people that have been here with me since the beginning. Not that I’m totally unfamiliar with drastically changing my surroundings, but this whole switching continents business is some pretty new stuff.

And admittedly, I am a bit…scared. WOAH—vulnerability!! (FYI: I get a free pass since I’m writing this on my birthday.) Excited to see all my American (and Canadian!) people of course, but still scared. NYC can eat you alive if you’re not looking and I’m afraid I’ll be so distracted with learning how to live in America again, re-learning the joys of rent and all that bothersome adult crap, re-learning how to be a broke college student, re-learning me, that one day as I’m walking around Central Park oblivious to everything except the trees, that some city official will come up behind me, tap me on the shoulder and sternly tell me that I didn’t pass the test and that I need to leave. Now.

So, there’s that.

“I’m 26 and unmarried. Now you know everything.” Eva Marie Saint in Hitchcock’s brilliant North By Northwest.

Today is my birthday. Never really know what to expect aside from feeling vaguely (or full-on) disappointed, but…this weekend was nice. Some moments more nice than others (like, amazingly nice), but all in all…I feel older. And now I have joined the ranks of Ms. Saint’s ice-queen character in the above-mentioned NXNW. 26 and unmarried. (Now you don’t know everything… rarely do I include my marital status when describing myself, really just on tax forms, but I guess I just like the line.)

Older, not as in God When Are the Wrinkles Coming older, but…older as in…feeling the accumulation of experience upon me. Looking back and feeling the weight/presence of that rainbow-like catalogue of experience in these last 26 years. I still don’t really know anything, but I do know where I’ve been, for better or worse. And even though I still approach things (even those things that I feel somewhat closer to thinking I know) with some degree of hesitation and anxiety, I’m still approaching them. Still willing to get hurt or get happy by them and I think that’s important.

And I realize that last bit sounded really self-helpy, but…oh well. Judge me if you will. I’m older now and I (think) I can take it.

Creepy Children, Korea and Futureness

We were in the DVD Bang, had selected Memories of Murder. In the dark, settled. The movie begins. But then-- the creepy in-room phone screeches out an electronic version of Fur Elise, scaring us a little. “No English subtitles, sorry.” The man behind the desk gives us complimentary Vitamin C drinks. Back in the room after some internet research, now prepared for The Uninvited. We were hell-bent on watching a Korean Horror. The oft-repeated scary little-dead-girl-duo at the fore, giving way to a convoluted storyline, haphazard scary moments and consistent watch-checking by me. After what seemed like 5 hours spent in a black box, we emerged back onto the Hongdae scene, Sunday late evening. But you wouldn’t know it. Hordes of people out, are you sure it’s not really Saturday night, Alex? A: I don’t know, let’s go dancing.

Then we see it. The creepiest dangling baby – it (yes, “it” – too early to distinguish between she and he) was attached to its mother’s back – one of those baby backpacks Korean women use to cart around their little ones. It looked like it was practicing for tryouts for Baby Cirque de Soleil and it looked creepy as hell. Baby spines shouldn’t bend that way. (add to this yesterday’s equally creepy child experience of little unblinking girls bleating at us in Paris Baguette—seriously, what is going on?)

Also, random moments/Korean observations (“Koreanisms”) from the last couple months/entire time I’ve been here:

 Teacher lunch. After a river of Korean wine (Makgeolli- milky and drunk out of bowls) – my former Head Teacher asks me to join his table. I must down a shot of hard liquor before entering into conversation. I thought only males were asked to do this. Maybe I’m special. They are impressed that I didn’t choke (as am I). Inebriated, Mr. Park confers with another Head Teacher and they ask me in drunken, extremely broken English if I will join their 3rd grade teacher trip (I teach 1st grade: the high school freshmen). They say they are going to Laos and would love for me to join. While I am honored and would absolutely love to go to Laos, somehow being accompanied by a dozen ajoshis (older Korean men) just…yeah, it wouldn’t work out. I wonder how I can exit the scene unnoticed and without offending anyone. Fortunately, an even more inebriated Head Teacher descends upon us, yelling, holding up an unopened Makgeolli bottle and everyone starts cheering. I slip out through the back.

 While teaching my lesson on travel, I found out that Korean students are taught that there are 6 continents, not 7. They combine North and South America into one super continent: America.

 My shoe size puts me just outside the range of availability at most Korean shoe stores. I wear a size 9 and a 1/2 in the U.S. – here that translates into size 255, a.k.a. “SORRY”, “250 ONLY” or “NO”. Size 250 is usually the largest available.

 Our cinco de Mayo is Korea’s Children’s Day. No school! Also, no Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, but = Parents Day.

 After roughly 2 years of having an insufficient portable music device, I bought a Korean mp4 player. Cowon S-9 mp4 with an AMOLED screen and it is *awesome*.

 America’s Funniest Home Videos and Steven Seagal are constant fixtures on my Korean TV. If these are the most consistent representations of America, it’s no wonder my co-teacher tried to cut my tofu for me the first week I was here.

 I asked a co-teacher why most Koreans don’t like cats (I’ve yet to actually know 1 Korean who owns a cat as a pet). She said it is because Koreans believe cats can take revenge on you while you are sleeping.
More to come.

My (more or less) established plan for my post-Korea future: Contract ends early September—I hope to travel around America and Canada from Sept-Dec, visiting friends and family, then will return to NYC come January when I (hope to) start graduate school for social work.. This could all be dashed if I decide to instead:

1. get ‘real’ teaching certification, move to Saudi Arabia or the UAE, live like a nun and save $30-50,000. AND I could legitimately buy a burkini.

2. become a Russian governess and follow my filthy rich Moscow family around the world, all the while teaching some spoiled Russian kid how to engage in proper American discussions, like talking about Gossip Girl.

3. buy tickets for the Trans-Siberian railway and just never get off the train

4. go back to Vietnam and hobo around the country, spending less than a $1 a day

5. couch surf around the world and pretend it’s for some higher purpose other than delaying real life
All these avenues would ultimately enable me to continue this abstracted, unreal reality I’ve felt alternately blessed/doomed to occupy these past 8 months. Four more to go. Less than, really. Will I make it?

Whatever happens, knowing I will be returning to a world that inhabits the people I’ve missed so dearly since being over here—that alone will make these last few months seem less interminable. That and kimchi mandu. And Pizza School.