when we returned to Seoul after our long weekend, the Belgian boy met another friend and they set off again to travel more of Korea. after spending so much time w/ him, it was a little strange to see him go. i remember feeling a little sad that he would be having all kinds of experiences and adventures w/o me.
it was bizarre--the connection i felt w/ him. it was befuddling to me that i could feel that way about someone so soon after my ex. though i was/am still convinced that all men have that nasty seed of unfaithful bullshit inside of them, i liked him enough that i could overlook that. and he had convinced me that he liked it when i was happy and smiling.
i figured that it was only 3 months anyway.
that was something that got me in trouble. he seemed so serious and i wanted to keep things more casual. in jests mixed in w/ the truth, i would call him my "3 month boyfriend". i wanted to defend both of us from taking our relationship too seriously or looking long-term. there were a lot of reasons why we worked in the moment: similar interests, similar ways of looking at the world, similar way of analyzing, similar sense of humor--there were a lot of things.
but there were big reasons why we couldn't work into the future. different aspirations, different passions, different cosmology. and let's not overlook the fact that i just got out of a decade long relationship. my baggage weighs a ton.
unfortunately, the flippant words i used to keep the end of our relationship in sight resulted in him using flippant words w/ me as well. i remember laughing about the fact that he had bought two large boxes of condoms.
whoa, that's a lot of condoms. you think we're going to use them all?
"who knows? just in case. and anyway, you can keep the rest of them, i won't use them anyway."
i'm not going to keep the rest of them. what would i do w/ the rest of them?
"i don't know. you could use them w/ future boyfriends?"
i don't know if i'm planning to sleep w/ a whole lot of other men. what do you think of me?
we ended our romantic relationship about 3 days later. but not for the above conversation. b/c of issues w/ his ex. now i'm not going to explicate endlessly on the manipulations of women, but i'll admit, we're smart and evil. women love the power she holds over men and feels threatened when that power is lost. in a younger time, i might have been able relate to that. today, it seems selfish and exhausting to be involved in such machinations. i mean, if it's over, it's over.
please don't expend any energy worrying about what i'm doing. it's healthier if you do not know if i'm happy or sad or sleeping around or what-have-you. and, it's absolutely none of your business.
i know the Belgian boy feels differently about this--he's best friends w/ an ex-girlfriend.
anyway, he had a deep history w/ this ex and had been pining to be w/ her for years. he wanted to make a life w/ her. i couldn't offer him more than 3 months, so there was no reason for me to struggle to hang on. it was a 3 month fling that ended 2 months early.
but certainly, the night that we broke up was sad and upsetting and i didn't want to continue to see him. he felt remorseful and sad but still wanted to see me. we had something unique that he didn't want to lose. i didn't want to either, but it seemed that it would be too painful and awkward to convert back to a friendship. i told him i would "sleep on it", but i highly doubted that my feelings about it would change.
i talked to God about it that night and He reminded me that my feelings were not as significant as a whole entire person. i felt a little petulant about that reminder while i fell asleep. when i awoke the next morning, i felt a momentary sadness, but the day felt so fresh. i read Psalms 89 and it made me feel like singing. i felt a release from some of the selfish thoughts i had about wanting to just cut him out of my life b/c of my minor hurts. he was important to me and i realized how sad i would feel to completely lose him.
and thus we moved into the arena of "friendship". for about a month.
it got a little messy.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
parts of the middle
i'm not sure where to start--i mean, i guess it's time to explore the middle of my relationship w/ the Belgian boy, but it's hard to think of exactly what to capture. there were many moments that were interesting, confusing, sweet, strange, and 'other' that i could recount, so i guess i'll just tell stories, even though it might get messy.
i've chatted w/ him since i began writing about us and it's funny b/c he thought our initial seriousness was funny. it's true actually. we were being ridiculously serious. what a strange thing.
on my end, i know i was serious about not wanting serious. i didn't want a deep relationship--at that point, it had only been about 6 months since the devastating explosion rendered by my ex-husband. when i had met the Belgian, i wasn't even positive if my divorce was final. i wondered if i was still a "Mrs.". it was bizarre. i often joked w/ my girlfriends about just having some casual sex w/ pretty boys until i could feel like a pretty girl again. this facetious talk was obviously not what i wanted, but talking in this way somehow made it easier to avoid. i knew that that kind of behavior would rip my tattered shreds into an unrecognizable form.
on his end, he was leaving. he had avoided dating anyone in Korea b/c of some leftover ex issues. also, he has his European notions of 'long-term' when going out w/ anyone. he hadn't met anyone for the first 9 months of his time in Korea and had no intention of beginning something he couldn't pursue for a time. when we met and connected in the way we did, i'm not precisely sure what he was thinking. despite the implications that were contrary to his sensibilities, he wanted to see where it would go.
he probably had the healthier attitude about relationships at that point, but hell--i'm in recovery, and long-term anything still makes me want to take flight.
but irrespective of the fact that i wanted nothing really substantive, i am a serious fucking person.
we are both serious fucking people.
we ended up having a number of serious conversations about what it would mean to have a fling. it was serious business.
the initial sweetness in his manner and our romance was--i'm not sure what the adjective is here... quite... pleasantly innerving? and actually very startling to me. the soft considerations and caring gestures and romantic et ceteras threw me off balance. it felt foreign, but gratifying.
after the years of coldness with which i had been treated w/ by my ex, it was very odd to be treated w/ this kind of thoughtfulness. it was odd that he wanted to spend time w/ me. it was odd that he got my jokes. it was odd that he thought i was pretty and interesting and wisecracked constantly in an effort to get me naked. i was still trying to get my head wrapped around the idea that i might not be a terrifyingly ugly and horrible wicked witch of a woman.
i had been planning a sunny warm trip in Asia somewhere w/ a friend over a blustering cold long weekend in January. in the last week, she bailed b/c she wanted to spend some time w/ her mother in Hong Kong, so i was left w/o a travel partner and a long weekend to fill. i was sad and plaintive about this b/c there are so few Korean holidays to take weekend trips over.
the Belgian boy was going on a trip w/ his friend from out of town that weekend and asked if i wanted to come along. the idea of going on a trip w/ two men and no other women was a little blah blah to me, but i wanted to spend time w/ him and not be stuck in Seoul. i accepted.
it was one of the coldest weekends i had experienced in Korea to date. i had just lost my gloves and in my haste to pack, i had forgotten my hat. when we found each other outside of the bus terminal, i had been eyeing the stand of hats and mittens across the way. the Belgian boy bought me the warm gray hat that now sits on my bookshelf.
though he was constantly complaining about the cold, he had refused to buy a hat until that day b/c he thought he looked funny in them--but, it was too damn cold. the kind of cold that makes your skin feel like stretched plastic after a minute of exposure. he bought himself a cute little green one that i had to adjust for him whenever he donned it throughout the trip. and after the trip, for that matter.
there were some boring missteps that occurred on the trip that will be too laborious to recount, but there were a few poignant moments we had as we traveled that weekend.
when we first boarded the bus and got comfortably situated, i flipped up the arm rest so it wouldn't encumber our space. writing about this just now reminds me of the many times i did that w/ my ex-husband.
when i put my leg over the Belgian's in that cushy bus seat, it felt natural. i remember having a slight, but pleasant pang at this point; i thought about how this was the first trip i was taking w/ another man and that there probably would be other men. this made me smile. i believe he queried about why i was smiling, but i refused to disclose. i don't like someone in that deep all the time.
he was wearing a gray sweater over a vintage shirt that i wanted to steal from him. we talked quietly and eventually he got over his cultural apprehensions about boundaries. he held my hand and we shared a few kisses in the semi-darkness.
my heart felt ok.
we ended up in a ramshackled little town in a ramshackled little bar and drank beer and soju. a strange little Irishman joined us. he had a nervous agitated manner about him and shared about some mysterious health issues that he had. he talked about how these issues had prohibited him from completing a mountain hike and how painful that had been for him. while he talked, i leaned over to the Belgian's ear and began whispering something about these eccentricities when he stopped me:
"hang on, i want to hear the rest of this guy's story"
this warmed me. it was endearing to see the attentiveness on his face as he listened to this funny little man's story.
the next day we strode in bright sun, past the stark folds of the rising mountains in this slapdash little Korean town. the air was sharp on our cheeks as we examined the vast landscape. there wasn't much around to do and it was too cold to hike, so we ended up drinking espressos and tea in a cute little coffee shop.
the dark brown couches we sat on were immensely comfortable and i shoved my cold toes under his legs as we stretched back and read books until the sun began to set. my book made me giggle (there was something about a rotund woman with a five o'clock shadow) and i enjoyed peering over my knees and watching his eyes quickly scanning his pages. this sleepy lethargy was comfortable and felt like it was nicely worn. a broken in pair of jeans.
my heart felt ok.
i've chatted w/ him since i began writing about us and it's funny b/c he thought our initial seriousness was funny. it's true actually. we were being ridiculously serious. what a strange thing.
on my end, i know i was serious about not wanting serious. i didn't want a deep relationship--at that point, it had only been about 6 months since the devastating explosion rendered by my ex-husband. when i had met the Belgian, i wasn't even positive if my divorce was final. i wondered if i was still a "Mrs.". it was bizarre. i often joked w/ my girlfriends about just having some casual sex w/ pretty boys until i could feel like a pretty girl again. this facetious talk was obviously not what i wanted, but talking in this way somehow made it easier to avoid. i knew that that kind of behavior would rip my tattered shreds into an unrecognizable form.
on his end, he was leaving. he had avoided dating anyone in Korea b/c of some leftover ex issues. also, he has his European notions of 'long-term' when going out w/ anyone. he hadn't met anyone for the first 9 months of his time in Korea and had no intention of beginning something he couldn't pursue for a time. when we met and connected in the way we did, i'm not precisely sure what he was thinking. despite the implications that were contrary to his sensibilities, he wanted to see where it would go.
he probably had the healthier attitude about relationships at that point, but hell--i'm in recovery, and long-term anything still makes me want to take flight.
but irrespective of the fact that i wanted nothing really substantive, i am a serious fucking person.
we are both serious fucking people.
we ended up having a number of serious conversations about what it would mean to have a fling. it was serious business.
the initial sweetness in his manner and our romance was--i'm not sure what the adjective is here... quite... pleasantly innerving? and actually very startling to me. the soft considerations and caring gestures and romantic et ceteras threw me off balance. it felt foreign, but gratifying.
after the years of coldness with which i had been treated w/ by my ex, it was very odd to be treated w/ this kind of thoughtfulness. it was odd that he wanted to spend time w/ me. it was odd that he got my jokes. it was odd that he thought i was pretty and interesting and wisecracked constantly in an effort to get me naked. i was still trying to get my head wrapped around the idea that i might not be a terrifyingly ugly and horrible wicked witch of a woman.
i had been planning a sunny warm trip in Asia somewhere w/ a friend over a blustering cold long weekend in January. in the last week, she bailed b/c she wanted to spend some time w/ her mother in Hong Kong, so i was left w/o a travel partner and a long weekend to fill. i was sad and plaintive about this b/c there are so few Korean holidays to take weekend trips over.
the Belgian boy was going on a trip w/ his friend from out of town that weekend and asked if i wanted to come along. the idea of going on a trip w/ two men and no other women was a little blah blah to me, but i wanted to spend time w/ him and not be stuck in Seoul. i accepted.
it was one of the coldest weekends i had experienced in Korea to date. i had just lost my gloves and in my haste to pack, i had forgotten my hat. when we found each other outside of the bus terminal, i had been eyeing the stand of hats and mittens across the way. the Belgian boy bought me the warm gray hat that now sits on my bookshelf.
though he was constantly complaining about the cold, he had refused to buy a hat until that day b/c he thought he looked funny in them--but, it was too damn cold. the kind of cold that makes your skin feel like stretched plastic after a minute of exposure. he bought himself a cute little green one that i had to adjust for him whenever he donned it throughout the trip. and after the trip, for that matter.
there were some boring missteps that occurred on the trip that will be too laborious to recount, but there were a few poignant moments we had as we traveled that weekend.
when we first boarded the bus and got comfortably situated, i flipped up the arm rest so it wouldn't encumber our space. writing about this just now reminds me of the many times i did that w/ my ex-husband.
when i put my leg over the Belgian's in that cushy bus seat, it felt natural. i remember having a slight, but pleasant pang at this point; i thought about how this was the first trip i was taking w/ another man and that there probably would be other men. this made me smile. i believe he queried about why i was smiling, but i refused to disclose. i don't like someone in that deep all the time.
he was wearing a gray sweater over a vintage shirt that i wanted to steal from him. we talked quietly and eventually he got over his cultural apprehensions about boundaries. he held my hand and we shared a few kisses in the semi-darkness.
my heart felt ok.
we ended up in a ramshackled little town in a ramshackled little bar and drank beer and soju. a strange little Irishman joined us. he had a nervous agitated manner about him and shared about some mysterious health issues that he had. he talked about how these issues had prohibited him from completing a mountain hike and how painful that had been for him. while he talked, i leaned over to the Belgian's ear and began whispering something about these eccentricities when he stopped me:
"hang on, i want to hear the rest of this guy's story"
this warmed me. it was endearing to see the attentiveness on his face as he listened to this funny little man's story.
the next day we strode in bright sun, past the stark folds of the rising mountains in this slapdash little Korean town. the air was sharp on our cheeks as we examined the vast landscape. there wasn't much around to do and it was too cold to hike, so we ended up drinking espressos and tea in a cute little coffee shop.
the dark brown couches we sat on were immensely comfortable and i shoved my cold toes under his legs as we stretched back and read books until the sun began to set. my book made me giggle (there was something about a rotund woman with a five o'clock shadow) and i enjoyed peering over my knees and watching his eyes quickly scanning his pages. this sleepy lethargy was comfortable and felt like it was nicely worn. a broken in pair of jeans.
my heart felt ok.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
another dramatic weekend... and some fleeting rest
curled up in a tight ball
cramped
sweating and moaning
nauseous and wondering
is this it? am i finished? will they find me in a few days b/c they will find my rotting corpse on Monday when i don't come into work? no? well then, maybe on Tuesday?
on shaky legs i wavered and i quivered
swaying
holding myself up against the walls and on the ledge of the sink
wanting to vomit
but hating the idea of the awesome pain that would ripple through my abdomen
and my sore back muscles
and biceps and achy shoulders and even my calves and thighs
my uterus kinda hurts too. is this just a bad case of PMS? i think i might die. i really think i might die.
nope. i didn't die. and it wasn't my period--despite the strange way that Auntie Flo's been visiting me lately. maybe she thinks it's time to be inconsistent these days? or maybe it's malnutrition?--though i feel like i've been eating quite well in this dear Motherland of mine.
i spent the 1st 17 hours of this weekend laid out and feeling awful and questioning the meaning of life--given that i had felt almost sure that mine was nearing its end. there are so many things i want to do before i die. there felt like there is so much wasted... everything... time, health, youth, energy, ideas, grandiosity, et cetera.
curled up and weak--gasping at times--my thoughts turned dark as i writhed in my pitiful agonies. i thought a while about those tragedies i've seen and got a bit whiny about it all:
why me? why these things in my life? why did i make those choices? why did i choose knowledge over innocence all of those times?
there are a dozen apples i was warned not to taste, but i still plucked from those trees. they seemed so sumptuous at the time. and i believed that my mind was strong enough not to fall prey to the trappings that so many wiser and stronger people before me had fallen to. ah. well, isn't youth and innocence always wasted on the young and innocent? damnit. now i'm getting contrived.
though i have said and agreed w/ the philosophical theoreticals about how we can regret nothing that's happened to us to date--b/c it makes us who we are today, sometimes i do wish that somethings could be undone. and taken back. and shredded by a machine. and wasted by a nuclear warhead.
i don't want some feelings and some memories and the terrible paths of introspection that they take me down. maybe it's dumb to want that release and possibly lose part of myself, but some of those twisted and damaged parts of myself don't need be preserved, right?--i could stand to lose some of all that, even if it makes me less informed about the world. ugh. all of this is bullshit. it's not like i can change anything about my past choices and trials.
thoughts get a little circular when sweating in the throes of awful, dizzying physical pain.
and, there is something momentarily gratifying about complaining in the muddy pits of regret.
Jesus. why me? why did these painful things happen to me? and then, why did i have to deal w/ my pain and insecurities in such a maladaptive way? how did i get so wrapped up in the chronicities of depression when i was so young? why did i mistrust so badly? then trust so fully? why did i have to be victimized and violated so completely? twice?
fuck.
i need some help here.
i've gotten to where i know my boiling point. where i need to stop myself and breathe and hesitate, then choose a different direction. also, i honestly know that there is a reason for everything and there is much growth that happens in the wake of pain--but damnit. can't some growth be a little easier sometimes?
i guess i'm not giving the good times enough credit. sometimes the trials overshadow the amazing amazingness that just pops up in life.
but curled up into a cramped achy ball feeling like you can hear the no-so-distant patter of Death from down the hall, you start having dark thoughts.
it was rainy and cold this weekend.
though today, i did feel revived by a conversation w/ a friend on a 2 hour commute to church. and there was some refreshment while i listened to P. Eddie and sang some harmonies. i had some good quality time w/ friends and a friend's mom at the flashy Buddha's birthday parade (lots of colors and beauty and music--to be recounted later?). and i saw a perplexing float of Buddha and a young couple in a Mercedes Benz. mysterious. hilarious?
last night, while i stumbled wearily home in the freezing rain--i was craving vitamin C. specifically some sour-sweet strawberries. the cold cold water crawled up my jeans and into my ankle bones as i accidentally splashed into several puddles while gazing any-else-where. i stopped at my favorite little hole-in-the-wall convenience market.
well, it's not my favorite--there is hardly much of anything in this messy-crowded little store, but for some reason, i really like giving the crochety old ajuhshi my business. and i think he knows that i could go anywhere else.
my heart fell when i didn't see any of that coveted seeded red fruit where he keeps his produce. so i just helplessly wandered in and around--looking for something to satiate my craving.
when i put a carton of milk on the counter, i just gave him a crooked smile and asked in my crooked Korean, you don't have any strawberries, do you?
he gave me a curious grin and said, "i'm not selling any".
seeing my overly dramatized crestfallen expression, he chuckled, got up, and went to the back room. i waited, a little confused about what i was supposed to do. he returned w/ a slightly battered carton. "i'm not going to sell these, but just take them if you want them"
oh no! i waved my arms at him, abashed. i took out my wallet, you don't have to give them to me!
"no," he pushed them toward me and then retrained his eyes on the tv behind me, "take them take them. i won't sell them."
oh! i picked them up gratefully and bowed my gratitude. thank you so much, ajuhshi!
he gruffly hrumphed as i skipped back into the cold rain.
food poisoning. pain. love. tragedies. free strawberries.
all right. life ain't too bad.
cramped
sweating and moaning
nauseous and wondering
is this it? am i finished? will they find me in a few days b/c they will find my rotting corpse on Monday when i don't come into work? no? well then, maybe on Tuesday?
on shaky legs i wavered and i quivered
swaying
holding myself up against the walls and on the ledge of the sink
wanting to vomit
but hating the idea of the awesome pain that would ripple through my abdomen
and my sore back muscles
and biceps and achy shoulders and even my calves and thighs
my uterus kinda hurts too. is this just a bad case of PMS? i think i might die. i really think i might die.
nope. i didn't die. and it wasn't my period--despite the strange way that Auntie Flo's been visiting me lately. maybe she thinks it's time to be inconsistent these days? or maybe it's malnutrition?--though i feel like i've been eating quite well in this dear Motherland of mine.
i spent the 1st 17 hours of this weekend laid out and feeling awful and questioning the meaning of life--given that i had felt almost sure that mine was nearing its end. there are so many things i want to do before i die. there felt like there is so much wasted... everything... time, health, youth, energy, ideas, grandiosity, et cetera.
curled up and weak--gasping at times--my thoughts turned dark as i writhed in my pitiful agonies. i thought a while about those tragedies i've seen and got a bit whiny about it all:
why me? why these things in my life? why did i make those choices? why did i choose knowledge over innocence all of those times?
there are a dozen apples i was warned not to taste, but i still plucked from those trees. they seemed so sumptuous at the time. and i believed that my mind was strong enough not to fall prey to the trappings that so many wiser and stronger people before me had fallen to. ah. well, isn't youth and innocence always wasted on the young and innocent? damnit. now i'm getting contrived.
though i have said and agreed w/ the philosophical theoreticals about how we can regret nothing that's happened to us to date--b/c it makes us who we are today, sometimes i do wish that somethings could be undone. and taken back. and shredded by a machine. and wasted by a nuclear warhead.
i don't want some feelings and some memories and the terrible paths of introspection that they take me down. maybe it's dumb to want that release and possibly lose part of myself, but some of those twisted and damaged parts of myself don't need be preserved, right?--i could stand to lose some of all that, even if it makes me less informed about the world. ugh. all of this is bullshit. it's not like i can change anything about my past choices and trials.
thoughts get a little circular when sweating in the throes of awful, dizzying physical pain.
and, there is something momentarily gratifying about complaining in the muddy pits of regret.
Jesus. why me? why did these painful things happen to me? and then, why did i have to deal w/ my pain and insecurities in such a maladaptive way? how did i get so wrapped up in the chronicities of depression when i was so young? why did i mistrust so badly? then trust so fully? why did i have to be victimized and violated so completely? twice?
fuck.
i need some help here.
i've gotten to where i know my boiling point. where i need to stop myself and breathe and hesitate, then choose a different direction. also, i honestly know that there is a reason for everything and there is much growth that happens in the wake of pain--but damnit. can't some growth be a little easier sometimes?
i guess i'm not giving the good times enough credit. sometimes the trials overshadow the amazing amazingness that just pops up in life.
but curled up into a cramped achy ball feeling like you can hear the no-so-distant patter of Death from down the hall, you start having dark thoughts.
it was rainy and cold this weekend.
though today, i did feel revived by a conversation w/ a friend on a 2 hour commute to church. and there was some refreshment while i listened to P. Eddie and sang some harmonies. i had some good quality time w/ friends and a friend's mom at the flashy Buddha's birthday parade (lots of colors and beauty and music--to be recounted later?). and i saw a perplexing float of Buddha and a young couple in a Mercedes Benz. mysterious. hilarious?
last night, while i stumbled wearily home in the freezing rain--i was craving vitamin C. specifically some sour-sweet strawberries. the cold cold water crawled up my jeans and into my ankle bones as i accidentally splashed into several puddles while gazing any-else-where. i stopped at my favorite little hole-in-the-wall convenience market.
well, it's not my favorite--there is hardly much of anything in this messy-crowded little store, but for some reason, i really like giving the crochety old ajuhshi my business. and i think he knows that i could go anywhere else.
my heart fell when i didn't see any of that coveted seeded red fruit where he keeps his produce. so i just helplessly wandered in and around--looking for something to satiate my craving.
when i put a carton of milk on the counter, i just gave him a crooked smile and asked in my crooked Korean, you don't have any strawberries, do you?
he gave me a curious grin and said, "i'm not selling any".
seeing my overly dramatized crestfallen expression, he chuckled, got up, and went to the back room. i waited, a little confused about what i was supposed to do. he returned w/ a slightly battered carton. "i'm not going to sell these, but just take them if you want them"
oh no! i waved my arms at him, abashed. i took out my wallet, you don't have to give them to me!
"no," he pushed them toward me and then retrained his eyes on the tv behind me, "take them take them. i won't sell them."
oh! i picked them up gratefully and bowed my gratitude. thank you so much, ajuhshi!
he gruffly hrumphed as i skipped back into the cold rain.
food poisoning. pain. love. tragedies. free strawberries.
all right. life ain't too bad.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
tap, spin, tap, tap
hands in my hands
gripping
we listen
we move
one, two, three, tap
i'm spun,
spinning, a little dizzy
with pleasure
and spinning
hand presses my shoulder blade
the contours of his bicep and shoulder
he moves
he turns
my fingers sliding across his back
he catches hold of my hand
pulls it around his neck
delighted
smile, two, three, tap
pulled in close
this intimate posture
my leg slides up the side of his
sidelong glance: this is sexy
guiding my body
with his hands
with his body
to this music
sidelong glances
we feel sexy
muscles and curves, this is real
bodies akin, moving together
attuned
coarse masculinity and
the honeyed feminine
spin, turn, three, tap
gripping
we listen
we move
one, two, three, tap
i'm spun,
spinning, a little dizzy
with pleasure
and spinning
hand presses my shoulder blade
the contours of his bicep and shoulder
he moves
he turns
my fingers sliding across his back
he catches hold of my hand
pulls it around his neck
delighted
smile, two, three, tap
pulled in close
this intimate posture
my leg slides up the side of his
sidelong glance: this is sexy
guiding my body
with his hands
with his body
to this music
sidelong glances
we feel sexy
muscles and curves, this is real
bodies akin, moving together
attuned
coarse masculinity and
the honeyed feminine
spin, turn, three, tap
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
again... about the dancing
i'm cataloging my experiences in these bachata classes b/c it's so FUN and freeing and i'm absolutely having the time of my life.
i completed my first set of bachata classes and decided that i'd keep on for the next round. a fun and wholesome Friday night activity. i need more wholesome in my life.
when we started the class, i started off startled.
the sassy instructor put me on the right side of the room b/c i was no longer a "beginner". ha! ridiculous, but true true true.
in this new set of classes, the dynamic has changed. there were about a dozen men and about 4 women, so obviously, there was a great disparity in the sex ratio--to the women's favor, i suppose. we ladies had more practice w/ different dancers and there was a supply-demand thing happening. plus, the men were friendlier to me b/c they assumed they could learn something from me, maybe?
so whoa--the people on the left side of the room considered me to be an 'expert'? i remembered the stumbling and the giggling from the first few weeks--which i will forever continue to do while i learn and learn, but these days, i'm more often stumbling in the right direction while i giggle.
i somehow ended up practicing next to my favorite cutie in the class and we started to ê¹Œë¸Œë ¤ during the parts of the class where we were just reviewing the basics. he began standing too close and then imitating and exaggerating my movements in the mirror. i stuck my tongue out at him and shoved him away w/ my hip. surprised grin.
these Korean men aren't used to a female body with a Korean face to exhibit such a lackadaisical sense of boundaries. such nonsense. i am really not Korean woman.
bailar conmigo, mi amore!
(mental note: must ask to exchange language w/ this cutie in class at some point.)
the synergistic effect of my falsely induced confidence and the ratio of man-to-woman emboldened my male classmates to engage w/ me during and after the class during the 'free dance' time. every bachata dance and almost every salsa song brought me a new partner.
i found the mechanics of couple dancing quite restricting when i first started, but since i've learned the basics, i've realized that there really is a freedom. to move my hips and body within man's lead and inside the staccato rock steps of the beat. awesome. i am beginning to add and incorporate me into these moves. this feels amazing.
it's been so liberating?--wrong word--but i'm feeling empowered by the fact that i'm learning something new and growing in a specifically measurable way.
how clinical for me to say, huh? but this is who i am/what i am/where i'm at right now.
super fun.
i completed my first set of bachata classes and decided that i'd keep on for the next round. a fun and wholesome Friday night activity. i need more wholesome in my life.
when we started the class, i started off startled.
the sassy instructor put me on the right side of the room b/c i was no longer a "beginner". ha! ridiculous, but true true true.
in this new set of classes, the dynamic has changed. there were about a dozen men and about 4 women, so obviously, there was a great disparity in the sex ratio--to the women's favor, i suppose. we ladies had more practice w/ different dancers and there was a supply-demand thing happening. plus, the men were friendlier to me b/c they assumed they could learn something from me, maybe?
so whoa--the people on the left side of the room considered me to be an 'expert'? i remembered the stumbling and the giggling from the first few weeks--which i will forever continue to do while i learn and learn, but these days, i'm more often stumbling in the right direction while i giggle.
i somehow ended up practicing next to my favorite cutie in the class and we started to ê¹Œë¸Œë ¤ during the parts of the class where we were just reviewing the basics. he began standing too close and then imitating and exaggerating my movements in the mirror. i stuck my tongue out at him and shoved him away w/ my hip. surprised grin.
these Korean men aren't used to a female body with a Korean face to exhibit such a lackadaisical sense of boundaries. such nonsense. i am really not Korean woman.
bailar conmigo, mi amore!
(mental note: must ask to exchange language w/ this cutie in class at some point.)
the synergistic effect of my falsely induced confidence and the ratio of man-to-woman emboldened my male classmates to engage w/ me during and after the class during the 'free dance' time. every bachata dance and almost every salsa song brought me a new partner.
i found the mechanics of couple dancing quite restricting when i first started, but since i've learned the basics, i've realized that there really is a freedom. to move my hips and body within man's lead and inside the staccato rock steps of the beat. awesome. i am beginning to add and incorporate me into these moves. this feels amazing.
it's been so liberating?--wrong word--but i'm feeling empowered by the fact that i'm learning something new and growing in a specifically measurable way.
how clinical for me to say, huh? but this is who i am/what i am/where i'm at right now.
super fun.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
journal: 4.19.09
more more more of the crazy.
damnit. these weekends are wearing me out. the copious drinking and running around and socializing is draining.
dead draining.
i know it feels draining b/c i'm feeling kind of far away from Him. i don't want to make this blog all about faith, but i'm feeling that hunger for something more real, more fulfilling for my being.
i have been filling myself w/ lots of things that are amazing:
the dancing, the relationships, the laughter, the writing even, but i've not spent much time w/ God these days, and i can feel the toll that it's taking on me. in a lot of respects, i'm living in a manner that many of my dear ones would love to be living.
this time in Korea has been refreshing and i've discovered much about myself and the whats and whys--through many wonderful experiences and ridiculous mistakes. but, it feels a little crazy b/c i've backburnered God. i know i talk about Him a lot--that He infuses a lot of my thoughts and even my writing, but talking about a relationship and actually engaging in one is not the same thing. obviously.
self-absorbed and gloomy, a little. kinda b/c of the pouring rain. kinda b/c of my endless cycles. partly b/c of that dead roach i just found on my floor. he was just dead. gave up? upside down w/ 6 crooked legs bent in different directions. sick. i can come up w/ all kinds of metaphors for this.
but i'm going to talk to Him tonight. over a bowl of cereal and a few menthol cigarettes.
damnit. these weekends are wearing me out. the copious drinking and running around and socializing is draining.
dead draining.
i know it feels draining b/c i'm feeling kind of far away from Him. i don't want to make this blog all about faith, but i'm feeling that hunger for something more real, more fulfilling for my being.
i have been filling myself w/ lots of things that are amazing:
the dancing, the relationships, the laughter, the writing even, but i've not spent much time w/ God these days, and i can feel the toll that it's taking on me. in a lot of respects, i'm living in a manner that many of my dear ones would love to be living.
this time in Korea has been refreshing and i've discovered much about myself and the whats and whys--through many wonderful experiences and ridiculous mistakes. but, it feels a little crazy b/c i've backburnered God. i know i talk about Him a lot--that He infuses a lot of my thoughts and even my writing, but talking about a relationship and actually engaging in one is not the same thing. obviously.
self-absorbed and gloomy, a little. kinda b/c of the pouring rain. kinda b/c of my endless cycles. partly b/c of that dead roach i just found on my floor. he was just dead. gave up? upside down w/ 6 crooked legs bent in different directions. sick. i can come up w/ all kinds of metaphors for this.
but i'm going to talk to Him tonight. over a bowl of cereal and a few menthol cigarettes.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
an essay on love? II
what does it mean to be "in love" w/ someone?
i've said that i fall "in love" very easily w/ people a few times in the past few months. i know that this is partly b/c i've felt so much love from people since the unpleasantness w/ my ex-husband.
my lovers. my sweeties. my darlings.
ultimately, i know that i cannot really be fulfilled by love from other people, but relationships--ah deep, real relationships, is an amazing gift.
it's strange (or maybe it's not) b/c this is how i've always been. the depth of things excites me:
burrowing far into the rabbit hole,
down into the minutiae of analysis,
always wondering and questioning everything
until seeing that patch of light and emerging
breathless and satisfied
dirt clumps in my hair
there are very few people who've been willing or able to do that w/ me in my years of conscious awareness.
i remember in high school, most of my friendships were based upon the superficial--drugs, being a cute girl, boys, parties, fruity chapsticks, crazy shaped bongs, 3-foot steamrollers, sharing summer fruits, smokes. though i can remember some bright moments of laughter and brief camaraderie, there was no real depth there w/ that group of girls. this is not to say that they didn't have any, this is simply to say that they just didn't engage in that way.
maybe they just found it unimportant at the time.
maybe it was too scary to be that vulnerable w/ people.
i was sad and discontented w/ that level of engaging.
there were actually 2 separate conversations that i distinctly remember w/ 2 of these girls, once when i was a Junior and once in the Summer of Senior year. we actually started talking about real things--for a few hours. at the end of the day, i felt somewhat elated, while they felt a little strange and uncomfortable. at that point, i was already feeling done w/ high school and hoping that maybe i wasn't so strange. that maybe there were others out there in the world that would want to play w/ me in the burrows.
but, finding those people is hard. even finding people who are open and like to be kind to others--just b/c--is fairly difficult. so many people are closed off and wear masks b/c so few want to take the risk.
by the age of... well, in your 20s let's say, we've all been wounded and bear the scars of the hurtful actions of others. w/ each wound, we make the choice to deal w/ the pain and really heal, or we cover those scars w/ peanut butter and piss and paste on whatever gauze we want people to see.
i've certainly been guilty of covering my body w/ all kinds of bullshit at different points in my life. but, i'm done w/ that at this point. obviously. everything in this blog is quite intimate and personal. living an open life in this way works for me right now, and i'm finding it quite refreshing and less exhausting and freeing to let myself be exposed.
those who are my nearest and dearest can go there w/ me. not always willingly, but the intimacy that is engendered is such a great reward. my best friend Su, our love story began in Junior high, a few friends from college, one of my brother's roommates from back then--he's an interesting character--maybe i'll write about him in the future. the friendships that have grown and deepened since i've been in Korea have also been priceless.
i fall in love quite easily. again, i'm using those words, but i'm not sure what "in love" means exactly.
i'll pause for a minute and expound briefly upon the Belgian boy, b/c he's one of those newer people in my life that i've found a special connection w/. it's mysterious b/c it's hard to understand what that connection was about and how the depth was achieved between us in such a short period of time.
i wish i had a chance to ask him if he had felt that displaced dislocation from people while growing up as i did--i suspect not, b/c boys can really bond by rough-housing w/ each other and then talking about lighter topics like sports or car engines or womens' bodies. and he grew up in a community, whereas i grew up in one of those sprawling burbs of Chicago. i did exist in the Korean church community--and some of those relationships were indeed invaluable as well.
but, ours was a strange relationship b/c i think we both engaged in ways that we didn't really expect to--and for a lot of the time, i was confused about what our relationship was.
were we just really good friends? well, no--we crossed some boundaries that would not allow us that label.
were we dating? well, no on that one too. we did officially date for about 2-3 weeks--but then we didn't for a month and then we did something a little confusing towards the end of his sojourn here.
were we lovers? maybe in some sense?
maybe our conventional definitions of relationships are too limited, but i think that the divisions between romance and friendship are probably there for a reason. ours was such a strange case and neither of us wanted to dissect it completely for certain complicated reasons. i understand my end of that, but not his.
i actually can say that i love the Belgian boy w/o any of that 'break-up' baggage that seems to come along w/ every other romance i've been in. not that we 'broke-up' when he left exactly--this would mean that there was a something defined between us at the time when he left--which there wasn't.
but real feelings were there. joy. sweet warmth. a lot of that. ticklish laughter. surprise.
and eventually sadness. twisting feelings inside my stomach, knowing that there would be an absence. wishing there was more time, but knowing that the time had already expired. and a little more sadness. but love was there.
ours was certainly not a conventional relationship.
he used the words "in love". i asked him what that meant and he has yet to answer.
i loved him w/ both the care i have for my friends and romantic feelings mixed in. is that "in love"?
hmm... though, this reminds me... of 10 years ago. i heard the words "in love" about 2 months in. it freaked me out at the time b/c i was super afraid of romantic depth. on this side of that relationship, romantic depth still scares the hell out of me--but for very different reasons of course.
i feel so much wiser about all of that. why? b/c i actually have no clue how it works. there is no certain rhyme or reason b/c people can be completely psychotic.
however, at least i know now what i will and will not do for a romance.
ah. this is actually a comforting thought.
i've said that i fall "in love" very easily w/ people a few times in the past few months. i know that this is partly b/c i've felt so much love from people since the unpleasantness w/ my ex-husband.
my lovers. my sweeties. my darlings.
ultimately, i know that i cannot really be fulfilled by love from other people, but relationships--ah deep, real relationships, is an amazing gift.
it's strange (or maybe it's not) b/c this is how i've always been. the depth of things excites me:
burrowing far into the rabbit hole,
down into the minutiae of analysis,
always wondering and questioning everything
until seeing that patch of light and emerging
breathless and satisfied
dirt clumps in my hair
there are very few people who've been willing or able to do that w/ me in my years of conscious awareness.
i remember in high school, most of my friendships were based upon the superficial--drugs, being a cute girl, boys, parties, fruity chapsticks, crazy shaped bongs, 3-foot steamrollers, sharing summer fruits, smokes. though i can remember some bright moments of laughter and brief camaraderie, there was no real depth there w/ that group of girls. this is not to say that they didn't have any, this is simply to say that they just didn't engage in that way.
maybe they just found it unimportant at the time.
maybe it was too scary to be that vulnerable w/ people.
i was sad and discontented w/ that level of engaging.
there were actually 2 separate conversations that i distinctly remember w/ 2 of these girls, once when i was a Junior and once in the Summer of Senior year. we actually started talking about real things--for a few hours. at the end of the day, i felt somewhat elated, while they felt a little strange and uncomfortable. at that point, i was already feeling done w/ high school and hoping that maybe i wasn't so strange. that maybe there were others out there in the world that would want to play w/ me in the burrows.
but, finding those people is hard. even finding people who are open and like to be kind to others--just b/c--is fairly difficult. so many people are closed off and wear masks b/c so few want to take the risk.
by the age of... well, in your 20s let's say, we've all been wounded and bear the scars of the hurtful actions of others. w/ each wound, we make the choice to deal w/ the pain and really heal, or we cover those scars w/ peanut butter and piss and paste on whatever gauze we want people to see.
i've certainly been guilty of covering my body w/ all kinds of bullshit at different points in my life. but, i'm done w/ that at this point. obviously. everything in this blog is quite intimate and personal. living an open life in this way works for me right now, and i'm finding it quite refreshing and less exhausting and freeing to let myself be exposed.
those who are my nearest and dearest can go there w/ me. not always willingly, but the intimacy that is engendered is such a great reward. my best friend Su, our love story began in Junior high, a few friends from college, one of my brother's roommates from back then--he's an interesting character--maybe i'll write about him in the future. the friendships that have grown and deepened since i've been in Korea have also been priceless.
i fall in love quite easily. again, i'm using those words, but i'm not sure what "in love" means exactly.
i'll pause for a minute and expound briefly upon the Belgian boy, b/c he's one of those newer people in my life that i've found a special connection w/. it's mysterious b/c it's hard to understand what that connection was about and how the depth was achieved between us in such a short period of time.
i wish i had a chance to ask him if he had felt that displaced dislocation from people while growing up as i did--i suspect not, b/c boys can really bond by rough-housing w/ each other and then talking about lighter topics like sports or car engines or womens' bodies. and he grew up in a community, whereas i grew up in one of those sprawling burbs of Chicago. i did exist in the Korean church community--and some of those relationships were indeed invaluable as well.
but, ours was a strange relationship b/c i think we both engaged in ways that we didn't really expect to--and for a lot of the time, i was confused about what our relationship was.
were we just really good friends? well, no--we crossed some boundaries that would not allow us that label.
were we dating? well, no on that one too. we did officially date for about 2-3 weeks--but then we didn't for a month and then we did something a little confusing towards the end of his sojourn here.
were we lovers? maybe in some sense?
maybe our conventional definitions of relationships are too limited, but i think that the divisions between romance and friendship are probably there for a reason. ours was such a strange case and neither of us wanted to dissect it completely for certain complicated reasons. i understand my end of that, but not his.
i actually can say that i love the Belgian boy w/o any of that 'break-up' baggage that seems to come along w/ every other romance i've been in. not that we 'broke-up' when he left exactly--this would mean that there was a something defined between us at the time when he left--which there wasn't.
but real feelings were there. joy. sweet warmth. a lot of that. ticklish laughter. surprise.
and eventually sadness. twisting feelings inside my stomach, knowing that there would be an absence. wishing there was more time, but knowing that the time had already expired. and a little more sadness. but love was there.
ours was certainly not a conventional relationship.
he used the words "in love". i asked him what that meant and he has yet to answer.
i loved him w/ both the care i have for my friends and romantic feelings mixed in. is that "in love"?
hmm... though, this reminds me... of 10 years ago. i heard the words "in love" about 2 months in. it freaked me out at the time b/c i was super afraid of romantic depth. on this side of that relationship, romantic depth still scares the hell out of me--but for very different reasons of course.
i feel so much wiser about all of that. why? b/c i actually have no clue how it works. there is no certain rhyme or reason b/c people can be completely psychotic.
however, at least i know now what i will and will not do for a romance.
ah. this is actually a comforting thought.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
an essay on love?
ha ha hee hee--Pree-oz and the poLar just read a book called something like this blog title, i've had random angsty and strange feelings about this in the past week, and the Belgian boY, and i just e-chatted about this today.
the word love.
what the hell does it mean? i mean it's ~everywhere~. it's all up in the books we read, the movies we watch, the internet we surf. your ears catch it when just a passerby in a crowd. we joke about it or might casually have a discourse; we sometimes have deep conversations about it as well--with our acquaintances, our friends, our families, our 'lovers'. it's a mysterious and nebulous thing.
here are some of my thoughts.
i say i fall in love easily--i've said this on a few occasions in the past 10 months to my near and dear. in these months, my heart has had many encounters w/ it and has been filled more deeply than it had been for the past few years. sadly, my heart had been in a deadened state.
i'll admit it. i love to love and be loved and to show love. it's certainly one of those things that there is very often a greater return when you give it--always for me, i'd say.
i'm sure many of us can wrinkle our brows and think of instances where this does not seem true, but based upon how i understand love through my experiences, this is where i firmly stand on the issue.
so here's where some of the angst comes from. my ex has been rudely re-entering my consciousness a lot lately. a song or a conversation or simply a flittering thought about a completely unrelated topic will usher him in through the wide open door of my awareness. several months ago, i would immediately squelch thoughts of him and smoke a dozen cigarettes or drink too much or get really active doing something--anything.
but, as i alluded to before, i'm feeling more ready to look this monster in the face and see it for it really is. a marring wrinkle in my life history. devastating damage that cut deeply and threw me into a hurricane of identity issues and somewhat destructive behavior. but, i wasn't destroyed, nor crushed, nor left to despair. (thank you Jesus.) i've learned a lot about life and myself and what really is what when it comes down to how love applies to my person.
i estimate that the words "i love you" passed roughly around 10,000 times between my ex and i in the time that we were together. this seems incredible to me.
truly, what the fuck did that really mean to him? particularly about 10 months ago. he used those words and even communicated that w/ those bright green eyes of his the night just before he suddenly slammed me w/ the words: "i want a divorce".
this is not fiction.
it is this that kind of makes me crazy and worries me about how crazy he must actually be. and how crazy people must be in general. how can someone use such weighty words dishonestly, w/ all the history and significance behind them?
this is what i find more criminal about those ending days. the utter misuse of those words. using them to... what? to appease me? to lie to himself? to bide his time until he could seal the deal w/ his adulteress? was he using those words w/ me until she reciprocated? ugh. it's disgusting.
is it possible to be that out of touch w/ your emotions that you can use those words w/o feeling?--wouldn't that make you worried? honestly, it was making me a little worried for the last year of that marriage.
so love in this context. what did it mean?
did i still love him through all of busyness and the coldness? yes. definitely. i guess i think love is more than a rush of sweet warm feelings.
did i love him even when he was being hateful? sometimes, but this was incredibly difficult. it became a moment-by-moment choice i had to make.
do i still have some kind of love for him today and hope he gets a big hug from Jesus the moment after he breathes his last? absolutely. i even hope that other woman gets a big hug (after feeling a little ashamed for playing her messed up part in it all).
do i think he loved me? yes. i know he did. but obviously, i believe that shifted somewhere. at some point, he began using those words for his own extremely selfish ends. he used those words out of laziness or in order to obliterate any guilt/confusion he might have felt when i questioned him about our relationship or our sex life or our future. he must've felt really twisted and wrecked up in his denial that there was a problem.
rather than using those words to communicate what they actually meant, he used those words to defend himself from guilt, pain, and essentially, reality.
it is sad. very much so. for both of us.
at first, i wondered how i could possibly trust anyone again. it's scary and horrifying and unbelievable to say the least. i think i may always have some trouble really accepting those words in a romantic context--actually, i know i will struggle to accept any kind of nice thing that is said to me, romantically.
but, the outpouring of love that i received from God and from people since then has really repaired and rebuilt the meaning of this concept for me. i'm infinitely grateful for this and could not have imagined that this is where i'd be last summer.
that beautiful hot Chicago summer where i was a dessicated, curled up, broken wreck. not eating or sleeping, but crying a lot and screaming my frustrations out intermittently. the arms of my friends surrounded me and clasped me close and kissed my cheeks and held my hands. the once clear future had gotten very murky. not only was that a ragged cut to the core, that frightened the hell out of me.
but, here i am--only months later--on the other side of the planet. writing. working. reading. smoking. pretty happy. able to freely and deeply love people again. beginning to accept that i might be someone who is lovable.
two days ago, i was sitting w/ two friends at a Coffee Bean retelling a ridiculous story about the weekend. their eyes connected w/ mine. i know it's positively cliche to say, but i had them on the edge of their seats. their expressions were mirthful--anticipating my punchline. a twinge of joy. i love to make people laugh and love that they want to hear my stories.
five days ago, my friend called me at work in tears and asked me to find her outside of my office building. i raced outside w/ a piece of chocolate, tissues, and my smokes in hand. she agonized over certain awful life situations. i hugged her while she hid her whelming eyes behind her Coach sunglasses. this is a moment of soft comfort that we could share in each other. i talked a little about Jesus and His eternal comfort.
but mainly, i talked about the fact that, no matter how shitty things were getting, i would help her to see this one through. and probably the next one. and the one after that. it is a privilege and an honor to be this for someone.
my darlings.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails... [excerpts from I Corinthians 13]
there is more. much more. but i end this now before it gets too late.
the word love.
what the hell does it mean? i mean it's ~everywhere~. it's all up in the books we read, the movies we watch, the internet we surf. your ears catch it when just a passerby in a crowd. we joke about it or might casually have a discourse; we sometimes have deep conversations about it as well--with our acquaintances, our friends, our families, our 'lovers'. it's a mysterious and nebulous thing.
here are some of my thoughts.
i say i fall in love easily--i've said this on a few occasions in the past 10 months to my near and dear. in these months, my heart has had many encounters w/ it and has been filled more deeply than it had been for the past few years. sadly, my heart had been in a deadened state.
i'll admit it. i love to love and be loved and to show love. it's certainly one of those things that there is very often a greater return when you give it--always for me, i'd say.
i'm sure many of us can wrinkle our brows and think of instances where this does not seem true, but based upon how i understand love through my experiences, this is where i firmly stand on the issue.
so here's where some of the angst comes from. my ex has been rudely re-entering my consciousness a lot lately. a song or a conversation or simply a flittering thought about a completely unrelated topic will usher him in through the wide open door of my awareness. several months ago, i would immediately squelch thoughts of him and smoke a dozen cigarettes or drink too much or get really active doing something--anything.
but, as i alluded to before, i'm feeling more ready to look this monster in the face and see it for it really is. a marring wrinkle in my life history. devastating damage that cut deeply and threw me into a hurricane of identity issues and somewhat destructive behavior. but, i wasn't destroyed, nor crushed, nor left to despair. (thank you Jesus.) i've learned a lot about life and myself and what really is what when it comes down to how love applies to my person.
i estimate that the words "i love you" passed roughly around 10,000 times between my ex and i in the time that we were together. this seems incredible to me.
truly, what the fuck did that really mean to him? particularly about 10 months ago. he used those words and even communicated that w/ those bright green eyes of his the night just before he suddenly slammed me w/ the words: "i want a divorce".
this is not fiction.
it is this that kind of makes me crazy and worries me about how crazy he must actually be. and how crazy people must be in general. how can someone use such weighty words dishonestly, w/ all the history and significance behind them?
this is what i find more criminal about those ending days. the utter misuse of those words. using them to... what? to appease me? to lie to himself? to bide his time until he could seal the deal w/ his adulteress? was he using those words w/ me until she reciprocated? ugh. it's disgusting.
is it possible to be that out of touch w/ your emotions that you can use those words w/o feeling?--wouldn't that make you worried? honestly, it was making me a little worried for the last year of that marriage.
so love in this context. what did it mean?
did i still love him through all of busyness and the coldness? yes. definitely. i guess i think love is more than a rush of sweet warm feelings.
did i love him even when he was being hateful? sometimes, but this was incredibly difficult. it became a moment-by-moment choice i had to make.
do i still have some kind of love for him today and hope he gets a big hug from Jesus the moment after he breathes his last? absolutely. i even hope that other woman gets a big hug (after feeling a little ashamed for playing her messed up part in it all).
do i think he loved me? yes. i know he did. but obviously, i believe that shifted somewhere. at some point, he began using those words for his own extremely selfish ends. he used those words out of laziness or in order to obliterate any guilt/confusion he might have felt when i questioned him about our relationship or our sex life or our future. he must've felt really twisted and wrecked up in his denial that there was a problem.
rather than using those words to communicate what they actually meant, he used those words to defend himself from guilt, pain, and essentially, reality.
it is sad. very much so. for both of us.
at first, i wondered how i could possibly trust anyone again. it's scary and horrifying and unbelievable to say the least. i think i may always have some trouble really accepting those words in a romantic context--actually, i know i will struggle to accept any kind of nice thing that is said to me, romantically.
but, the outpouring of love that i received from God and from people since then has really repaired and rebuilt the meaning of this concept for me. i'm infinitely grateful for this and could not have imagined that this is where i'd be last summer.
that beautiful hot Chicago summer where i was a dessicated, curled up, broken wreck. not eating or sleeping, but crying a lot and screaming my frustrations out intermittently. the arms of my friends surrounded me and clasped me close and kissed my cheeks and held my hands. the once clear future had gotten very murky. not only was that a ragged cut to the core, that frightened the hell out of me.
but, here i am--only months later--on the other side of the planet. writing. working. reading. smoking. pretty happy. able to freely and deeply love people again. beginning to accept that i might be someone who is lovable.
two days ago, i was sitting w/ two friends at a Coffee Bean retelling a ridiculous story about the weekend. their eyes connected w/ mine. i know it's positively cliche to say, but i had them on the edge of their seats. their expressions were mirthful--anticipating my punchline. a twinge of joy. i love to make people laugh and love that they want to hear my stories.
five days ago, my friend called me at work in tears and asked me to find her outside of my office building. i raced outside w/ a piece of chocolate, tissues, and my smokes in hand. she agonized over certain awful life situations. i hugged her while she hid her whelming eyes behind her Coach sunglasses. this is a moment of soft comfort that we could share in each other. i talked a little about Jesus and His eternal comfort.
but mainly, i talked about the fact that, no matter how shitty things were getting, i would help her to see this one through. and probably the next one. and the one after that. it is a privilege and an honor to be this for someone.
my darlings.
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails... [excerpts from I Corinthians 13]
there is more. much more. but i end this now before it gets too late.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
journal: 4.12.09
the Korean Spring is amazing. the sunshine warm breezes are sweet against the skin and the evenings have just enough hint of chill that brings crisp awareness into your senses.
it is time.
coming here in the Winter pushed me into some laziness. freezing weather isn't really conducive to venturing out very much. i've felt crazy busy every weekend, but my desires to explore on SaturDays were muted by the cold. however, every time i've stepped outside for the past week, my breath has been caught by the beauty of the myriad foliage.
it is w/ some chagrin that my ability to identify the differences between various trees and flowers was heightened by the many nature walks i took w/ my ex. but you know what? i believe i am beginning to come to a more comfortable place w/ this.
it is true, there is a part of me that will always be disgusted and enraged at his twisted, pathetic behavior and ways of thinking. but, i've been having certain painful pangs for him--something i didn't expect to happen. certainly, he committed a cowardly, traumatizing injustice upon me. but, how awful for him. how mixed up and fucked up and sick he must've been to have acted the way that he did.
and he still continues.
though it's been a while (well, over 10 months) since things actually began falling apart, he still takes any opportunity to hurt me.
i began contacting him about 2 months ago to get a hold of the divorce papers. it killed me to have to even contact him to begin w/. i just wanted to be done. though this might be ridiculous, i felt a little demeaned to have to ask him for anything. he completely rejected any attempts for reconciliation. eventually, i gave up on it and decided, i will move forward.
i remember choking on the teary words, "i forgive you" one of the last times i saw him in our empty home.
this was really a supernatural moment for me. though i still have my occasional bouts of sudden anger and grief, my process of fully healing really began w/ these words.
obedience does have its virtues.
anyway, almost every email i've sent to him to try to get these papers has been responded to w/ biting sarcasm. this was confusing to me. why bother being nasty? he painfully devastated me and got the divorce that he wanted, right? why continue throwing these sharp stones? shouldn't i be the bitchy one?
this kind of took my breath away. my immediate gut reaction was to be pissed. but, then i just had to shrug. what kind of significance should i place in his words at this point? even though i truly value the preciousness of every single human being on this planet, his words really do not have to mean anything painful to me anymore. i can take away his right to continue to hurt me.
email after email i sent to no avail. damnit.
finally, i decided. it was time to call. i knew when he got into work so i called his workline, knowing he couldn't avoid picking up.
"hello"
his voice. strange. so familiar, but completely alien.
hey. this is Mary.
"oh. uh. hey."
his voice. shaky. nervous--this seemed ridiculous. he could be audacious and sharp over email, but when actually confronted w/ a real life me, his demeanor completely shifted. we talked for 48 seconds. i honestly hope it's the last time i have to. i was surprised how little my emotions fluctuated w/ the call. i was all business.
so now i'm moving on
into the Korean Spring.
my first Spring in years it seems.
the blooming magnolias were beautiful for the past two weeks, but the petals have already fallen and been replaced by glossy thick leaves.
the Roses of Sharon--the national Korean flower--have been blazing fuschia every-which-way i've turned.
the brilliant yellow dogwoods
it's the Korean cherry blossom season--this is amazing. the pink and white flowers have literally burst from every branch, singing to the sun. the delicate petals caught up when the warm wind blows a little hard, showering our smiling faces. they dance in the wind in the most surreal way.
riotous color. the cacophonous beauty of creation.
i love that i know their names.
i love that i can distinguish the shapes of their buds.
i love that i know their smell.
i love that it is this time.
it is time.
coming here in the Winter pushed me into some laziness. freezing weather isn't really conducive to venturing out very much. i've felt crazy busy every weekend, but my desires to explore on SaturDays were muted by the cold. however, every time i've stepped outside for the past week, my breath has been caught by the beauty of the myriad foliage.
it is w/ some chagrin that my ability to identify the differences between various trees and flowers was heightened by the many nature walks i took w/ my ex. but you know what? i believe i am beginning to come to a more comfortable place w/ this.
it is true, there is a part of me that will always be disgusted and enraged at his twisted, pathetic behavior and ways of thinking. but, i've been having certain painful pangs for him--something i didn't expect to happen. certainly, he committed a cowardly, traumatizing injustice upon me. but, how awful for him. how mixed up and fucked up and sick he must've been to have acted the way that he did.
and he still continues.
though it's been a while (well, over 10 months) since things actually began falling apart, he still takes any opportunity to hurt me.
i began contacting him about 2 months ago to get a hold of the divorce papers. it killed me to have to even contact him to begin w/. i just wanted to be done. though this might be ridiculous, i felt a little demeaned to have to ask him for anything. he completely rejected any attempts for reconciliation. eventually, i gave up on it and decided, i will move forward.
i remember choking on the teary words, "i forgive you" one of the last times i saw him in our empty home.
this was really a supernatural moment for me. though i still have my occasional bouts of sudden anger and grief, my process of fully healing really began w/ these words.
obedience does have its virtues.
anyway, almost every email i've sent to him to try to get these papers has been responded to w/ biting sarcasm. this was confusing to me. why bother being nasty? he painfully devastated me and got the divorce that he wanted, right? why continue throwing these sharp stones? shouldn't i be the bitchy one?
this kind of took my breath away. my immediate gut reaction was to be pissed. but, then i just had to shrug. what kind of significance should i place in his words at this point? even though i truly value the preciousness of every single human being on this planet, his words really do not have to mean anything painful to me anymore. i can take away his right to continue to hurt me.
email after email i sent to no avail. damnit.
finally, i decided. it was time to call. i knew when he got into work so i called his workline, knowing he couldn't avoid picking up.
"hello"
his voice. strange. so familiar, but completely alien.
hey. this is Mary.
"oh. uh. hey."
his voice. shaky. nervous--this seemed ridiculous. he could be audacious and sharp over email, but when actually confronted w/ a real life me, his demeanor completely shifted. we talked for 48 seconds. i honestly hope it's the last time i have to. i was surprised how little my emotions fluctuated w/ the call. i was all business.
so now i'm moving on
into the Korean Spring.
my first Spring in years it seems.
the blooming magnolias were beautiful for the past two weeks, but the petals have already fallen and been replaced by glossy thick leaves.
the Roses of Sharon--the national Korean flower--have been blazing fuschia every-which-way i've turned.
the brilliant yellow dogwoods
it's the Korean cherry blossom season--this is amazing. the pink and white flowers have literally burst from every branch, singing to the sun. the delicate petals caught up when the warm wind blows a little hard, showering our smiling faces. they dance in the wind in the most surreal way.
riotous color. the cacophonous beauty of creation.
i love that i know their names.
i love that i can distinguish the shapes of their buds.
i love that i know their smell.
i love that it is this time.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
digging into it: IV
weekend #21.
it's been a whirlwind. seriously. life moves inexorably forward, and though i despised the languorous pace of my life in the status quo burbs, this Seoul speed is making me a little ragged. this is reminiscent of the first month i spent in Korea actually--before i met the Belgian. but a little more fun actually. i think i'm beginning to figure out what is fun for me and i'm getting out there and doing the things that really just fit. i'm going to have to strike a balance at some point though.
let me digress for a moment. shortly after New Years 2009, i sat down the girlfriend who i went clubbing w/ every single weekend and had a serious talk w/ her. i let her know i couldn't (and wouldn't) keep up the pace of clubbing w/ her every weekend. it was just too much.
(this was the nature of our serious talks at the time. it has evolved since then.)
in conjunction, the energy that she put out there was a little unhealthy. i was just rediscovering things about what it meant to be a single woman and being comfortable w/ that. but this friend really really wants to find that one special someone. ugh. it's a little cloying. her life dramas are like boy-band videos.
anyway, going clubbing w/ her is a little disturbing b/c she's never having fun b/c she's always scanning the room looking for him. and he's never there. she whispers forlorn complaints into my ear throughout the night about how all of her girlfriends get hit on but her. even while i'm in the middle of dancing, she will pull me off the floor and ask me to relocate in order to scan the next room. unfortunately, this schizophrenic system of whiling away the night is not only frustrating, it's a little contagious.
no matter what anyone wants to say, your friends influence you. you pick up good habits and along w/ all the bad. this is why her and i had to have that 'serious' talk. i hated feeling like i was missing something and had wasted the night b/c i didn't find my special someone. and it's completely irrational to look for anyone special at a club anyway. everyone's drunk, horny, and really not acting like their authentic selves.
well, w/ the Belgian gone and having the three month hiatus from clubbing, she's been sending me these event emails so that she could have me rejoin her. (actually, there is much more to this part of yesterday's story that i'll probably have to recount in the future.) eitherway, now that it's a little warmer outside and coming home at 5am in balmy weather feels pretty good, i figure, why not? plus, when i'm w/ her, it's always free admission and free drinks.
so here it is again. dancing. i love dancing. lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove it. i love feeling the beat and hearing the baselines and just throwing my body into the pounding surf. the burn in my muscles. the sweaty curvy sexy frizziness of it all. it feels amazing. there is really nothing i can compare it to.
my dance class has been a great outlet for learning how to appropriately dance w/ others. it's been so much fun, and growing moreso as i've been learning. it's made me feel like quite the sexy beast w/o compromising my body. yesterday night was all about the dancing. from the dance class to the club and then a dire exhausted crash into my bed at 5am.
as i've mentioned before, the men and women in my bachata class have been avoiding me b/c of my lack of Korean speaking ability. but, something has changed. yesterday was the final session for this group of classes i was a part of. i wasn't completely sure i wanted to enroll in the next one, but after yesterday, i'm definitely planning to keep on going--probably at least through the summer, if not for longer.
i had been planning to go clubbing w/ my aforementioned friend, w/ my mind set on not getting sucked into her crazy quest to find Mr. Right. so i decided that i would stick around after the end of the class and dance w/ anyone who was brave enough until she contacted me.
my favorite cutie in the class immediately grabbed me for the first bachata song and whirled me around on our little piece of the dance floor. his laughing face will always charm the hell out of me. w/ him, the language barrier seems to not be such an obstacle. we both know we are kindred spirits who love to dance and like to be sweet and smile for kindness sake. he doesn't mind that misstep sometimes and giggle uproariously about it. he will just give me a quick hug or laugh himself and then pull me back into step. after the song was over, we smiled and gave each other the slight Korean courtesy bow.
i went out for a smoke w/ a couple of the other gentlemen in the class. an ahjushi (40-something Korean man) actually struck up a conversation w/ me when i lit his smoke. he told me about living on Kauai for 8 years where he owned a restaurant. he described the beauty of the quiet tropical landscape and his longing to go back to the lush beauty one day. our conversation was abruptly interrupted by the passing-by of our sassy dance teacher. she had just changed into the most revealing skimpy black outfit reminiscent of the In Living Color call girls of the 90s. as she passed by, i could hear the exasperated groans from the men around me.
Korean men muttering, 'why does she always do that?'
i giggled b/c i too had wondered about her somewhat scandalous clothing from previous Friday nights. it was pleasantly surprising and gratifying to see this break in the formalities that they always seemed to display while around me. i shrugged, winked, and said in my pidgin: maybe it's b/c the weather's so warm?
they laughed.
when i went back into dance hall, i was immediately asked to dance by a very good-looking but stoic Korean man. it was pretty funny b/c this is exactly the kind of Korean man who will not have fun dancing w/ me--the ones that take it too seriously. i'm a newbie and i'm not always sure which direction to turn and will usually laugh at myself when i do. but when i misstepped w/ him, i could tell he was frustrated. eventually, he just pulled me in too close, pressed me hard against his chest, and guided my body that way. kinda hot. kinda not.
and then song after song, man after man came up to me, smiled, and put out their hands in invitation. of course, there's something a little flattering about this. i have noticed that men tend to choose women they think they will be able to lead well and make them look good. i know i'm not very good, but maybe they think i'm easy to lead? or fun? or pretty?
it's interesting b/c every man has a unique way of leading and moving. as i danced and danced, i began feeling my own groove. it was fabulous fun.
when the salsa music came back on, i was approached by a slightly chubby woman w/ a side bun. she was in a tight black shirt w/ neon pink and green tubing, and pants that were hard to look at. though this woman was super sweet to me, i must pause and talk about her pants.
they were so tight that they squeezed her belly chub into a floppy muffin top. unfortunately, this was the primarily exposed part of her mid-riff. additionally, she was apparently wearing over-tight grannie panties that could be seen pinching into her gluteus inside of her tight pants. i must make this observation b/c it really was a visceral fashion train wreck that i'll probably have pop up in a dream a few years from now. also, the way that she struck up the conversation w/ me was:
"would you look at the teacher? i mean, if she was a bit thinner she'd probably look pretty good, but, ugh!"
i looked down at my overly large v-neck: yes. it's a little... exposed. i couldn't wear something like that.
she poured me a glass of sangria, "so, where are you from? why are you in Korea?"
i'm working. i wanted an adventure and do some traveling so i'm here. my favorite cutie skipped past us w/ a smile, nodded, and then put a strawberry in my mouth. i gave him a grin and turned back to Tight Pants.
"you from the States?"
yes. Chicago.
she tugged on the sleeve of a passing ahjushi. "have you met, _____?"
no. uh. hello. i nodded to him.
he grabbed my hand, "you will salsa w/ me."
oh! no! i can't salsa. only bachata. a little.
"that doesn't matter. i can salsa."
despite my protests, i allowed him to pull me onto the floor. i figured he'd eventually get frustrated w/ me and just torturously do the basic step through the end of the song. but no. he was amazing. he whirled and flung me around. he knew exactly where to put his hands on my shoulders and hips to guide me. my body automatically responded to his lead. spinning around, twisting flurry, i was delighted. he dipped me low at the end of the song and i noticed a few of my male classmates cheering. exhilerated, i curtsied and tried to sit, but one of them grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the floor:
'i didn't know that you knew how to salsa.'
but i don't!
'i was just watching you.'
i'm warning you. you're going to be sorry.
he didn't know many fancy moves, so we just laughed and did the basic step. we moved and wiggled our hips suggestively at each other. it was hilariously amusing.
and finally, my favorite cutie stepped in after him. i shook my head at him.
'don't tell me you don't know how to salsa.'
but i don't!
'just dance w/ me 메리.'
you know i will, but i'm not going to be any good.
'just listen to the music and have fun.'
and it really was. this is why he's my favorite cutie in class.
i really love that i'm doing this. i love that i'm learning something--getting out there in the world and following my interests and passions. i feel like i'm becoming more of who i am.
it's been a whirlwind. seriously. life moves inexorably forward, and though i despised the languorous pace of my life in the status quo burbs, this Seoul speed is making me a little ragged. this is reminiscent of the first month i spent in Korea actually--before i met the Belgian. but a little more fun actually. i think i'm beginning to figure out what is fun for me and i'm getting out there and doing the things that really just fit. i'm going to have to strike a balance at some point though.
let me digress for a moment. shortly after New Years 2009, i sat down the girlfriend who i went clubbing w/ every single weekend and had a serious talk w/ her. i let her know i couldn't (and wouldn't) keep up the pace of clubbing w/ her every weekend. it was just too much.
(this was the nature of our serious talks at the time. it has evolved since then.)
in conjunction, the energy that she put out there was a little unhealthy. i was just rediscovering things about what it meant to be a single woman and being comfortable w/ that. but this friend really really wants to find that one special someone. ugh. it's a little cloying. her life dramas are like boy-band videos.
anyway, going clubbing w/ her is a little disturbing b/c she's never having fun b/c she's always scanning the room looking for him. and he's never there. she whispers forlorn complaints into my ear throughout the night about how all of her girlfriends get hit on but her. even while i'm in the middle of dancing, she will pull me off the floor and ask me to relocate in order to scan the next room. unfortunately, this schizophrenic system of whiling away the night is not only frustrating, it's a little contagious.
no matter what anyone wants to say, your friends influence you. you pick up good habits and along w/ all the bad. this is why her and i had to have that 'serious' talk. i hated feeling like i was missing something and had wasted the night b/c i didn't find my special someone. and it's completely irrational to look for anyone special at a club anyway. everyone's drunk, horny, and really not acting like their authentic selves.
well, w/ the Belgian gone and having the three month hiatus from clubbing, she's been sending me these event emails so that she could have me rejoin her. (actually, there is much more to this part of yesterday's story that i'll probably have to recount in the future.) eitherway, now that it's a little warmer outside and coming home at 5am in balmy weather feels pretty good, i figure, why not? plus, when i'm w/ her, it's always free admission and free drinks.
so here it is again. dancing. i love dancing. lovelovelovelovelovelovelovelovelove it. i love feeling the beat and hearing the baselines and just throwing my body into the pounding surf. the burn in my muscles. the sweaty curvy sexy frizziness of it all. it feels amazing. there is really nothing i can compare it to.
my dance class has been a great outlet for learning how to appropriately dance w/ others. it's been so much fun, and growing moreso as i've been learning. it's made me feel like quite the sexy beast w/o compromising my body. yesterday night was all about the dancing. from the dance class to the club and then a dire exhausted crash into my bed at 5am.
as i've mentioned before, the men and women in my bachata class have been avoiding me b/c of my lack of Korean speaking ability. but, something has changed. yesterday was the final session for this group of classes i was a part of. i wasn't completely sure i wanted to enroll in the next one, but after yesterday, i'm definitely planning to keep on going--probably at least through the summer, if not for longer.
i had been planning to go clubbing w/ my aforementioned friend, w/ my mind set on not getting sucked into her crazy quest to find Mr. Right. so i decided that i would stick around after the end of the class and dance w/ anyone who was brave enough until she contacted me.
my favorite cutie in the class immediately grabbed me for the first bachata song and whirled me around on our little piece of the dance floor. his laughing face will always charm the hell out of me. w/ him, the language barrier seems to not be such an obstacle. we both know we are kindred spirits who love to dance and like to be sweet and smile for kindness sake. he doesn't mind that misstep sometimes and giggle uproariously about it. he will just give me a quick hug or laugh himself and then pull me back into step. after the song was over, we smiled and gave each other the slight Korean courtesy bow.
i went out for a smoke w/ a couple of the other gentlemen in the class. an ahjushi (40-something Korean man) actually struck up a conversation w/ me when i lit his smoke. he told me about living on Kauai for 8 years where he owned a restaurant. he described the beauty of the quiet tropical landscape and his longing to go back to the lush beauty one day. our conversation was abruptly interrupted by the passing-by of our sassy dance teacher. she had just changed into the most revealing skimpy black outfit reminiscent of the In Living Color call girls of the 90s. as she passed by, i could hear the exasperated groans from the men around me.
Korean men muttering, 'why does she always do that?'
i giggled b/c i too had wondered about her somewhat scandalous clothing from previous Friday nights. it was pleasantly surprising and gratifying to see this break in the formalities that they always seemed to display while around me. i shrugged, winked, and said in my pidgin: maybe it's b/c the weather's so warm?
they laughed.
when i went back into dance hall, i was immediately asked to dance by a very good-looking but stoic Korean man. it was pretty funny b/c this is exactly the kind of Korean man who will not have fun dancing w/ me--the ones that take it too seriously. i'm a newbie and i'm not always sure which direction to turn and will usually laugh at myself when i do. but when i misstepped w/ him, i could tell he was frustrated. eventually, he just pulled me in too close, pressed me hard against his chest, and guided my body that way. kinda hot. kinda not.
and then song after song, man after man came up to me, smiled, and put out their hands in invitation. of course, there's something a little flattering about this. i have noticed that men tend to choose women they think they will be able to lead well and make them look good. i know i'm not very good, but maybe they think i'm easy to lead? or fun? or pretty?
it's interesting b/c every man has a unique way of leading and moving. as i danced and danced, i began feeling my own groove. it was fabulous fun.
when the salsa music came back on, i was approached by a slightly chubby woman w/ a side bun. she was in a tight black shirt w/ neon pink and green tubing, and pants that were hard to look at. though this woman was super sweet to me, i must pause and talk about her pants.
they were so tight that they squeezed her belly chub into a floppy muffin top. unfortunately, this was the primarily exposed part of her mid-riff. additionally, she was apparently wearing over-tight grannie panties that could be seen pinching into her gluteus inside of her tight pants. i must make this observation b/c it really was a visceral fashion train wreck that i'll probably have pop up in a dream a few years from now. also, the way that she struck up the conversation w/ me was:
"would you look at the teacher? i mean, if she was a bit thinner she'd probably look pretty good, but, ugh!"
i looked down at my overly large v-neck: yes. it's a little... exposed. i couldn't wear something like that.
she poured me a glass of sangria, "so, where are you from? why are you in Korea?"
i'm working. i wanted an adventure and do some traveling so i'm here. my favorite cutie skipped past us w/ a smile, nodded, and then put a strawberry in my mouth. i gave him a grin and turned back to Tight Pants.
"you from the States?"
yes. Chicago.
she tugged on the sleeve of a passing ahjushi. "have you met, _____?"
no. uh. hello. i nodded to him.
he grabbed my hand, "you will salsa w/ me."
oh! no! i can't salsa. only bachata. a little.
"that doesn't matter. i can salsa."
despite my protests, i allowed him to pull me onto the floor. i figured he'd eventually get frustrated w/ me and just torturously do the basic step through the end of the song. but no. he was amazing. he whirled and flung me around. he knew exactly where to put his hands on my shoulders and hips to guide me. my body automatically responded to his lead. spinning around, twisting flurry, i was delighted. he dipped me low at the end of the song and i noticed a few of my male classmates cheering. exhilerated, i curtsied and tried to sit, but one of them grabbed my arm and pulled me back to the floor:
'i didn't know that you knew how to salsa.'
but i don't!
'i was just watching you.'
i'm warning you. you're going to be sorry.
he didn't know many fancy moves, so we just laughed and did the basic step. we moved and wiggled our hips suggestively at each other. it was hilariously amusing.
and finally, my favorite cutie stepped in after him. i shook my head at him.
'don't tell me you don't know how to salsa.'
but i don't!
'just dance w/ me 메리.'
you know i will, but i'm not going to be any good.
'just listen to the music and have fun.'
and it really was. this is why he's my favorite cutie in class.
i really love that i'm doing this. i love that i'm learning something--getting out there in the world and following my interests and passions. i feel like i'm becoming more of who i am.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
an end and the beginning of the middle
culture is such a strange thing. we all have these assumptions about what life is supposed to be like, and how you're supposed to act--we're those cliched little fishies not noticing the water we're swimming in, huh?
but then, when someone behaves in a disparate way from the way that you're used to, you begin questioning why you behave in the way that you do. think in the way that you do. it's refreshing to go back and question some of those basic rote things that you get sucked into the inertia of.
the whole idea of dating, for example. in the States, "dating" someone means that you're just going out on dates--lunches, dinners, drinks, a possible touch of romance, or something cruder--depending upon what you're looking for. anyway, in this arena of dating, Americans are deathly frightened of labels (@ least this one is/was).
the classifications of "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" are avoided. certainly not to be applied at any early juncture. and by "early" i mean--w/in the first few months. or maybe until you've decided that the person is someone worth being monogamous w/?
oh yuck.
there she is again. that super dysfunctional little girl w/ mixed up relational definitions and boundaries. but hey! it's been a decade since i've been in this dating game, so please excuse me. or not. or just fuck off and stop reading if this is too disturbing (hee hee blah.).
i remember always getting bored w/in the first month of dating someone so i'd hate that label. being called someone's girlfriend felt like i was becoming tranformed into a something--in the manner of a possession. i hated that idea. it felt like i was submitting to a man and certain rules--maybe his rules. thus, it became much harder to escape the relational scenario. i always needed the out.
no one wants to be alone--or very few of us do. we humans are built for companionship and we have all of those boy and girl parts that we learn about and inevitably want to fit together w/ someone else's. but, i wandered around from 14-20, never really meeting anyone worthy to date beyond month number 2. i hurt a lot of feelings, but at least i didn't drag out something that was foolish and got in deeper and hurt those guys more deeply, right? i felt that i'd never meet someone that 'got it'--that i could really connect w/ or that had considered things below surface level superficial. this is sounding very unfair, i realize--but this has been my experience.
i did meet someone when i was 20--who blew me away b/c we could talk deep, we had the same quirky sense of humor, he'd go down the rabbit hole w/ me in a way that no one else ever had. there were endless hours of uproarious laughter and preposterous suppositions about things like mini-donkey farms and starting a cooking show together when we were 66. we'd go for walks and he'd tell me all about the various flora in Urbana; my sensibilities about the changing seasons and the budding blossoming life that paralleled them will never be the same b/c of those walks. (this Korean Springtime has admittedly been enriched b/c of my sensitized awareness.)
plus, he didn't immediately try to get me into bed--in fact, we never had sex until we got married--which was 5 years after we had our first date. anyway, this is a digression.
it seems crazy impossible to meet someone--as complex as people are--that matches w/ you on an emotional, intellectual, and spiritual level. and physical level too, i suppose.
during the haggard death process of that decade long relationship, my girlfriends and i cried and laughed about the nobody-nobody problem (ironically a super popular Korean song right when i got here).
or maybe it's not that impossible?--to really match w/ one or two of those things? but i need it all. and i don't believe that long-term engagement should be pursued w/o it all.
for my first month in Korea, i was exasperated w/ the ridiculous juvenility of single men. you can probably read the backlogs of this blog and think that i was being just as juvenile, but the attempts to connect and actually relate to people were always there. but men really acted like how i remembered them from a decade ago.
joystick in the pants. anything for a little action. woman after woman and then one more--discarded pieces of medium rare steak. yuck.
then i met the Belgian in those random circumstances that i've already recounted. i do not mean to denigrate the wonderful quality our connection or relationship in any way, but well, i did meet him after a quick month after landing on Korean soil. it seems possible that there are other interesting and complex and unique men out there that i have just not met yet.
but again, our relationship was quite interesting and special and worthy to recount and organize and unpack/repack now that he's not around to distract me. plus, though i hate definition, i now feel that after a confusingly romantic, sweet, and intense trio of months, i can finally define where we stand relationally. really good friends. hopefully this will be a friendship that will continue beyond the bewildering beginning of the year of 2000 and 9.
both he and i were very much disinterested in a serious relationship. i've got recently-divorced-9-year-relational baggage to sort out. he had the about-to-leave-Korea-ex-girlfriend stuff to work on.
we met over a sleepless weekend, talking at 14 hour intervals at a time. though i knew something was probably pretty special and amazing about our discourses, i didn't necessarily think too much about whether or not it was unusual, initially. i've not dated in a decade, nor interacted w/ men other than my ex on this kind of level in a lot of years. so, though my plucked eyebrows were raised, i thought that our behavior might not be extraordinary for men and women our age.
our conversations were extremely unusual, however. this goes back to the whole culture thing. his European sensibilities about many many things threw me into all kinds of curious ponderings. i love curious ponderings. he'd soapbox about seemingly minor issues but be so blase about things that seemed major to me.
he was ruled by his emotions and would do things w/o necessarily understanding why. he did it 'b/c his heart told him to'. these were things that i could understand and relate to, in some ways. i'm nothing but emotional sometimes. there was something amazing and endearing (and a little crazy) about this quality in him.
and while he called it "religion", i called it "faith". we had many winding complex discussions about God--one of the few atheists that i have met where an intelligible discussion began and ended, intelligibly.
that first week after meeting, we e-talked everyday--for hours on end. everyday, we seemed to meet at the same time and had some extremely fun and intriguing conversations about... many many things. there were a number of awkward cultural missteps and mutual misinterpretations that makes me chuckle to think about now. these conversations were unique. precious, even.
he acted and spoke on the extreme end of romantic, but i genuinely had no idea what it all meant. there is much i shrugged off as "European". i knew that what i defined as romantic could just be a sweet sweet thing for a European to say. this is an example of the Belgian acting according to his emotions, without fully rationally considering the ramifications of said actions. this is not always a bad thing. it will cause confusion though.
so even after an entire week of being sweet-talked over the electronic ether, i still didn't know anything for sure about the intentions behind all that sugar and syrup. i'm a woman. i'd like to know if i'm being romanced. then i can know what my posture should be.
wide eyed innocent to be avoidant?
receptive responsive?
hesitantly intellectualizing the elements of relationships?
go w/ the flow?
when we met in Hongdae, i had forgotten what he looked like and even what his adorable accent sounded like. it took us a minute to get into a comfortable stride b/c the bulk of our relationship had been online at that point. it was kind of relieving to see this real-life solid person who kept tousling his hair and biting his cigarette when he lit it. to me, it felt important to understand what the hell his week-long romantic actions were all about--and i'm a pretty upfront person. the conversation wasn't going there on it's own, so:
have you been flirting w/ me?
"huh? what are you asking me?"
i'm asking if you have been flirting w/ me.
"ummm... that is a strange question to ask."
why? why would that be a strange question?
"to ask me here? in this bar?"
i don't think it's a strange question at all, but, we can drop it then.
so, we did. but i thought it was a little ridiculous. he had clearly been flirting with me--which at that point, i honestly did not necessarily want him to be, i just wanted to know why. were we simply being flirty friends? moreover, he did not clearly answer my question. i figured it'd come up later.
he had to pick up his friend from the airport early the next morning, so though there were some strange boundary issues w/ having him stay over on this second meeting, we both shrugged. adult males and females can sleep in the same bed w/o any funny business, right? no big deal?
(yes. boundary issues. ostensibly a little funny problematic.)
exhausted, we cuddled awkwardly at first, then more comfortably, then fell asleep. this was strange to me b/c i don't easily sleep close to people. i think and overthink about moving around and shifting and keeping the other person up. but, the morning light awoke me (us) and we began sleepy morning talk. then he brought it up. about the flirting. i can't remember that part of the conversation, but i remember:
you completely avoided this question last night. why bring it up 20 minutes before you have to pick up your friend?
"i know. i don't know. i don't know what we should do."
this is probably not a good idea--i mean, i've got all of my baggage and i don't want to end up hurting you b/c i probably won't be able to fully engage.
"it probably isn't a good idea, huh? but, you do not have to worry about me. i am worried about you. you are so fragile. i don't want you to get really hurt."
i am definitely not fragile, Belgian. but i'm so mad at you for bringing this up now.
"i know. i know. there isn't enough time to talk about this."
which is your fault, by the way.
ha. time. we were always running out of it.
we continued talking while he got dressed and i put on several layers to fend off the winter cold. there wasn't a whole lot to say while we walked to the airport bus stop together. we just looked at each other hopelessly at this nonsensical situation. then the bus came and i didn't even look back at him when he boarded. it was dissatisfying. there was nothing to be done at the moment. but before i took 4 steps, my phone began ringing.
i'm still really mad at you, you know.
"i know i avoided. i shouldn't have."
ah! what the hell are we doing? this makes me laugh... crap... where am i?
"huh? what do you mean?"
i mean i have no idea where i am. i think i just walked past the entrance to the building.
chuckled, "it is because we were talking about something important."
i have never done that before. this is ridiculous.
here were the two conditions i gave to the Belgian about beginning a dating relationship:
1) this has to be a 3 month relationship.
"i don't start dating someone unless i think that there is some kind of small possibility--no matter how minute--that the relationship might last."
fair enough. but know that this where i stand on this. (i eventually began calling him my "3 month boyfriend", with some not-so-great results.)
2) are you ok w/ the fact that you may or may not ever have sex w/ me?
"uh..." (long pause.) "that would be a new experience for me."
new experience? irrespective. are you ok w/ that or not?
"uh... yes? yes. i would be ok w/ that."
really? (will i explicate on this subject in the future? it really will prove to be an interesting write--and probably read, so, let's see how my mood swings on this one.)
needless to say, when we inevitably talked (again, into the dawn), we decided that we were going to throw out what we knew about healthy relational timelines and date for 3 months. just enjoy whatever time we might have together. i had my mind set on trying a casual 'fling', but really--who'm i kidding? i'm a fucking serious person. so is he. but, we were too involved and caught up and interested in each other. we 'had to' try whatever we were doing and deal w/ the consequences.
so in the growing morning light, our first kiss. first kisses are always so funny and too dramatic b/c both parties have no idea what to expect. but you don't want it to be bad. this first kiss was no different. funny. too dramatic. new.
at some point, maybe a week later, he described my kisses as "careful".
i described his as "exploratory".
no. i won't explain what that means.
but then, when someone behaves in a disparate way from the way that you're used to, you begin questioning why you behave in the way that you do. think in the way that you do. it's refreshing to go back and question some of those basic rote things that you get sucked into the inertia of.
the whole idea of dating, for example. in the States, "dating" someone means that you're just going out on dates--lunches, dinners, drinks, a possible touch of romance, or something cruder--depending upon what you're looking for. anyway, in this arena of dating, Americans are deathly frightened of labels (@ least this one is/was).
the classifications of "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" are avoided. certainly not to be applied at any early juncture. and by "early" i mean--w/in the first few months. or maybe until you've decided that the person is someone worth being monogamous w/?
oh yuck.
there she is again. that super dysfunctional little girl w/ mixed up relational definitions and boundaries. but hey! it's been a decade since i've been in this dating game, so please excuse me. or not. or just fuck off and stop reading if this is too disturbing (hee hee blah.).
i remember always getting bored w/in the first month of dating someone so i'd hate that label. being called someone's girlfriend felt like i was becoming tranformed into a something--in the manner of a possession. i hated that idea. it felt like i was submitting to a man and certain rules--maybe his rules. thus, it became much harder to escape the relational scenario. i always needed the out.
no one wants to be alone--or very few of us do. we humans are built for companionship and we have all of those boy and girl parts that we learn about and inevitably want to fit together w/ someone else's. but, i wandered around from 14-20, never really meeting anyone worthy to date beyond month number 2. i hurt a lot of feelings, but at least i didn't drag out something that was foolish and got in deeper and hurt those guys more deeply, right? i felt that i'd never meet someone that 'got it'--that i could really connect w/ or that had considered things below surface level superficial. this is sounding very unfair, i realize--but this has been my experience.
i did meet someone when i was 20--who blew me away b/c we could talk deep, we had the same quirky sense of humor, he'd go down the rabbit hole w/ me in a way that no one else ever had. there were endless hours of uproarious laughter and preposterous suppositions about things like mini-donkey farms and starting a cooking show together when we were 66. we'd go for walks and he'd tell me all about the various flora in Urbana; my sensibilities about the changing seasons and the budding blossoming life that paralleled them will never be the same b/c of those walks. (this Korean Springtime has admittedly been enriched b/c of my sensitized awareness.)
plus, he didn't immediately try to get me into bed--in fact, we never had sex until we got married--which was 5 years after we had our first date. anyway, this is a digression.
it seems crazy impossible to meet someone--as complex as people are--that matches w/ you on an emotional, intellectual, and spiritual level. and physical level too, i suppose.
during the haggard death process of that decade long relationship, my girlfriends and i cried and laughed about the nobody-nobody problem (ironically a super popular Korean song right when i got here).
or maybe it's not that impossible?--to really match w/ one or two of those things? but i need it all. and i don't believe that long-term engagement should be pursued w/o it all.
for my first month in Korea, i was exasperated w/ the ridiculous juvenility of single men. you can probably read the backlogs of this blog and think that i was being just as juvenile, but the attempts to connect and actually relate to people were always there. but men really acted like how i remembered them from a decade ago.
joystick in the pants. anything for a little action. woman after woman and then one more--discarded pieces of medium rare steak. yuck.
then i met the Belgian in those random circumstances that i've already recounted. i do not mean to denigrate the wonderful quality our connection or relationship in any way, but well, i did meet him after a quick month after landing on Korean soil. it seems possible that there are other interesting and complex and unique men out there that i have just not met yet.
but again, our relationship was quite interesting and special and worthy to recount and organize and unpack/repack now that he's not around to distract me. plus, though i hate definition, i now feel that after a confusingly romantic, sweet, and intense trio of months, i can finally define where we stand relationally. really good friends. hopefully this will be a friendship that will continue beyond the bewildering beginning of the year of 2000 and 9.
both he and i were very much disinterested in a serious relationship. i've got recently-divorced-9-year-relational baggage to sort out. he had the about-to-leave-Korea-ex-girlfriend stuff to work on.
we met over a sleepless weekend, talking at 14 hour intervals at a time. though i knew something was probably pretty special and amazing about our discourses, i didn't necessarily think too much about whether or not it was unusual, initially. i've not dated in a decade, nor interacted w/ men other than my ex on this kind of level in a lot of years. so, though my plucked eyebrows were raised, i thought that our behavior might not be extraordinary for men and women our age.
our conversations were extremely unusual, however. this goes back to the whole culture thing. his European sensibilities about many many things threw me into all kinds of curious ponderings. i love curious ponderings. he'd soapbox about seemingly minor issues but be so blase about things that seemed major to me.
he was ruled by his emotions and would do things w/o necessarily understanding why. he did it 'b/c his heart told him to'. these were things that i could understand and relate to, in some ways. i'm nothing but emotional sometimes. there was something amazing and endearing (and a little crazy) about this quality in him.
and while he called it "religion", i called it "faith". we had many winding complex discussions about God--one of the few atheists that i have met where an intelligible discussion began and ended, intelligibly.
that first week after meeting, we e-talked everyday--for hours on end. everyday, we seemed to meet at the same time and had some extremely fun and intriguing conversations about... many many things. there were a number of awkward cultural missteps and mutual misinterpretations that makes me chuckle to think about now. these conversations were unique. precious, even.
he acted and spoke on the extreme end of romantic, but i genuinely had no idea what it all meant. there is much i shrugged off as "European". i knew that what i defined as romantic could just be a sweet sweet thing for a European to say. this is an example of the Belgian acting according to his emotions, without fully rationally considering the ramifications of said actions. this is not always a bad thing. it will cause confusion though.
so even after an entire week of being sweet-talked over the electronic ether, i still didn't know anything for sure about the intentions behind all that sugar and syrup. i'm a woman. i'd like to know if i'm being romanced. then i can know what my posture should be.
wide eyed innocent to be avoidant?
receptive responsive?
hesitantly intellectualizing the elements of relationships?
go w/ the flow?
when we met in Hongdae, i had forgotten what he looked like and even what his adorable accent sounded like. it took us a minute to get into a comfortable stride b/c the bulk of our relationship had been online at that point. it was kind of relieving to see this real-life solid person who kept tousling his hair and biting his cigarette when he lit it. to me, it felt important to understand what the hell his week-long romantic actions were all about--and i'm a pretty upfront person. the conversation wasn't going there on it's own, so:
have you been flirting w/ me?
"huh? what are you asking me?"
i'm asking if you have been flirting w/ me.
"ummm... that is a strange question to ask."
why? why would that be a strange question?
"to ask me here? in this bar?"
i don't think it's a strange question at all, but, we can drop it then.
so, we did. but i thought it was a little ridiculous. he had clearly been flirting with me--which at that point, i honestly did not necessarily want him to be, i just wanted to know why. were we simply being flirty friends? moreover, he did not clearly answer my question. i figured it'd come up later.
he had to pick up his friend from the airport early the next morning, so though there were some strange boundary issues w/ having him stay over on this second meeting, we both shrugged. adult males and females can sleep in the same bed w/o any funny business, right? no big deal?
(yes. boundary issues. ostensibly a little funny problematic.)
exhausted, we cuddled awkwardly at first, then more comfortably, then fell asleep. this was strange to me b/c i don't easily sleep close to people. i think and overthink about moving around and shifting and keeping the other person up. but, the morning light awoke me (us) and we began sleepy morning talk. then he brought it up. about the flirting. i can't remember that part of the conversation, but i remember:
you completely avoided this question last night. why bring it up 20 minutes before you have to pick up your friend?
"i know. i don't know. i don't know what we should do."
this is probably not a good idea--i mean, i've got all of my baggage and i don't want to end up hurting you b/c i probably won't be able to fully engage.
"it probably isn't a good idea, huh? but, you do not have to worry about me. i am worried about you. you are so fragile. i don't want you to get really hurt."
i am definitely not fragile, Belgian. but i'm so mad at you for bringing this up now.
"i know. i know. there isn't enough time to talk about this."
which is your fault, by the way.
ha. time. we were always running out of it.
we continued talking while he got dressed and i put on several layers to fend off the winter cold. there wasn't a whole lot to say while we walked to the airport bus stop together. we just looked at each other hopelessly at this nonsensical situation. then the bus came and i didn't even look back at him when he boarded. it was dissatisfying. there was nothing to be done at the moment. but before i took 4 steps, my phone began ringing.
i'm still really mad at you, you know.
"i know i avoided. i shouldn't have."
ah! what the hell are we doing? this makes me laugh... crap... where am i?
"huh? what do you mean?"
i mean i have no idea where i am. i think i just walked past the entrance to the building.
chuckled, "it is because we were talking about something important."
i have never done that before. this is ridiculous.
here were the two conditions i gave to the Belgian about beginning a dating relationship:
1) this has to be a 3 month relationship.
"i don't start dating someone unless i think that there is some kind of small possibility--no matter how minute--that the relationship might last."
fair enough. but know that this where i stand on this. (i eventually began calling him my "3 month boyfriend", with some not-so-great results.)
2) are you ok w/ the fact that you may or may not ever have sex w/ me?
"uh..." (long pause.) "that would be a new experience for me."
new experience? irrespective. are you ok w/ that or not?
"uh... yes? yes. i would be ok w/ that."
really? (will i explicate on this subject in the future? it really will prove to be an interesting write--and probably read, so, let's see how my mood swings on this one.)
needless to say, when we inevitably talked (again, into the dawn), we decided that we were going to throw out what we knew about healthy relational timelines and date for 3 months. just enjoy whatever time we might have together. i had my mind set on trying a casual 'fling', but really--who'm i kidding? i'm a fucking serious person. so is he. but, we were too involved and caught up and interested in each other. we 'had to' try whatever we were doing and deal w/ the consequences.
so in the growing morning light, our first kiss. first kisses are always so funny and too dramatic b/c both parties have no idea what to expect. but you don't want it to be bad. this first kiss was no different. funny. too dramatic. new.
at some point, maybe a week later, he described my kisses as "careful".
i described his as "exploratory".
no. i won't explain what that means.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
random fits
long day inside glass walls
nearly falling asleep on top of a glass desk
how i longed forward to laying my head onto a soft pillow
you know that rush of freedom that hits
when you finally smell the outside
and the nighttime temperature is perfect--finally perfect
for a sweater
a light jacket
my favorite soft weather
music. let me listen to some music
but as soon as Oldham's voice slid over my eardrums
it welled up to bursting
i'm going to have a screaming tantrum
fuck.
FUCK. I HATE IT!
holy shit. fuck you!
that fucking palace music
the bullshit notion of feelings
the "autumn songs for..."
what the hell did that all fucking mean?
you LOVE -MES are so psycho!
insane
pathetic
excuses
hammer to the concrete
again and again
sharp chips flying
stabbing my leg
blood running down
staining
congealing
damnit!
fucking injury on top of ALL of that motherfucking deceit
we are all capable of murder
i will stab his ass with this fucking pen
well.
damnit.
maybe i'll throw these computer keys at him
really really hard
ok.
i'm done.
nearly falling asleep on top of a glass desk
how i longed forward to laying my head onto a soft pillow
you know that rush of freedom that hits
when you finally smell the outside
and the nighttime temperature is perfect--finally perfect
for a sweater
a light jacket
my favorite soft weather
music. let me listen to some music
but as soon as Oldham's voice slid over my eardrums
it welled up to bursting
i'm going to have a screaming tantrum
fuck.
FUCK. I HATE IT!
holy shit. fuck you!
that fucking palace music
the bullshit notion of feelings
the "autumn songs for..."
what the hell did that all fucking mean?
you LOVE -MES are so psycho!
insane
pathetic
excuses
hammer to the concrete
again and again
sharp chips flying
stabbing my leg
blood running down
staining
congealing
damnit!
fucking injury on top of ALL of that motherfucking deceit
we are all capable of murder
i will stab his ass with this fucking pen
well.
damnit.
maybe i'll throw these computer keys at him
really really hard
ok.
i'm done.
digging into it: III
shifting outline
these wandering thoughts
alighting and flurrying on and around my head
while sitting on a padded folding chair in a Presbyterian sanctuary in Seobingo, Seoul
while not paying attention to what the preacher man was talking about
they followed me onto the bus,
waited w/ me while i waited to transfer to the next bus
and nipped at my rubber soles as i climbed that steep hill
up to my building
they chopped up zucchinis for me
while i sliced the onions for dinner
out loud: i can't do this anymore. i need a distraction. shut my brain down for a while. a movie. yes. something mindless.
right when i popped a nonsensical comedy into my computer, my phone rang.
"what're you doing?"
not a whole lot of anything. why? what you up to?
"nothing in about an hour. do you want to come over and cuddle w/ me?"
slumber party?
"if you'll come."
i'll bring snacks.
i trudged towards the train station and listened to Greg Boyd on my iPod. this was my 3rd nighttime stroll through the forested hilly Yonsei campus this weekend. i love that i'm 30 years old and have the freedom and enough enthusiasm to head to a slumber party late on a Sunday night.
Boyd was talking about the 'returning to innocence'.
as he spoke, i thought about how often i have lost my way. my child likeness.
my identity caught up w/ my notions about things that i was supposed to do, the person i was supposed to be. as much as it bothers me to say this, i have subconsciously struggled hard to follow the "rules" and fell into structures that didn't even make sense to me.
in Luke 18:15-18, Jesus pointed to a group of children and spoke of how God's Kingdom belongs to those w/ childlike hearts.
i know how cliche it all is, but hell:
He wants my heart to be playful, full of summer sunshine joy. He wants me to climb back through that small window of time during which i didn't know about the mires of pain and savagery that came along w/ walking these miles. that time before ugliness sandpapered calluses into my mind and heart. before the violence of this sick world left me w/ scars on my forehead and across the bridge of my nose.
i have passing childhood recollections of that kind of deep security in the warmth of my mother's arms. even as a young young girl, she knew i had a hard time sleeping. when she'd find me wide-eyed in the dark, she'd sometimes hold me and sing softly until i would finally fall asleep.
i don't often tell the stories of my two major life tragedies--the story of the swinging bottle and hysterical laughter when the cop Polaroided my bloody face. the in depth recounting of what happened in my failed marriage and the shitty months thereafter.
but there are moments when it only makes sense to go there.
in pjs, snuggled up with blankets, cushy pillows, and surrounded by a pile of midnight snacks w/ a friend. while we spoke of the things that makes our pulses race and our faces flush w/ excited happiness, these tragedies came up. these large fucked up wrinkles that will forever mark my life history, but will also forever be incontrovertible evidence of Him for me in my life.
despite the graphic and bloody nature of my account, there were several moments of uncontrollable laughter at my spontaneous responses to these crazy circumstances.
"i know i shouldn't be laughing, i'm so sorry."
don't be sorry. i'm glad that i can laugh too.
"i just can't believe you said that to the guy who attacked you... or the cop... or to the pastor... or to your ex-husband."
this is beginning to sound like the start of some really bad joke.
"it's so unbelievable that you can be smiling right now about all of this stuff."
...smiling? not always. but, it's strange, isn't it?
"i don't know if i could be laughing or happy like you are today."
happy?
...am i happy?--i've been told that i seem like i'm a very happy kind of person several times in the past six months. having identified myself to be chronically depressed for such a long time, it's hard to shake that ingrained element of my self portrait.
but, maybe i am happy. a happy person?
this is bizarre to consider.
perhaps this is part of the outline i'm trying to re-draw.
these wandering thoughts
alighting and flurrying on and around my head
while sitting on a padded folding chair in a Presbyterian sanctuary in Seobingo, Seoul
while not paying attention to what the preacher man was talking about
they followed me onto the bus,
waited w/ me while i waited to transfer to the next bus
and nipped at my rubber soles as i climbed that steep hill
up to my building
they chopped up zucchinis for me
while i sliced the onions for dinner
out loud: i can't do this anymore. i need a distraction. shut my brain down for a while. a movie. yes. something mindless.
right when i popped a nonsensical comedy into my computer, my phone rang.
"what're you doing?"
not a whole lot of anything. why? what you up to?
"nothing in about an hour. do you want to come over and cuddle w/ me?"
slumber party?
"if you'll come."
i'll bring snacks.
i trudged towards the train station and listened to Greg Boyd on my iPod. this was my 3rd nighttime stroll through the forested hilly Yonsei campus this weekend. i love that i'm 30 years old and have the freedom and enough enthusiasm to head to a slumber party late on a Sunday night.
Boyd was talking about the 'returning to innocence'.
as he spoke, i thought about how often i have lost my way. my child likeness.
my identity caught up w/ my notions about things that i was supposed to do, the person i was supposed to be. as much as it bothers me to say this, i have subconsciously struggled hard to follow the "rules" and fell into structures that didn't even make sense to me.
in Luke 18:15-18, Jesus pointed to a group of children and spoke of how God's Kingdom belongs to those w/ childlike hearts.
i know how cliche it all is, but hell:
He wants my heart to be playful, full of summer sunshine joy. He wants me to climb back through that small window of time during which i didn't know about the mires of pain and savagery that came along w/ walking these miles. that time before ugliness sandpapered calluses into my mind and heart. before the violence of this sick world left me w/ scars on my forehead and across the bridge of my nose.
i have passing childhood recollections of that kind of deep security in the warmth of my mother's arms. even as a young young girl, she knew i had a hard time sleeping. when she'd find me wide-eyed in the dark, she'd sometimes hold me and sing softly until i would finally fall asleep.
i don't often tell the stories of my two major life tragedies--the story of the swinging bottle and hysterical laughter when the cop Polaroided my bloody face. the in depth recounting of what happened in my failed marriage and the shitty months thereafter.
but there are moments when it only makes sense to go there.
in pjs, snuggled up with blankets, cushy pillows, and surrounded by a pile of midnight snacks w/ a friend. while we spoke of the things that makes our pulses race and our faces flush w/ excited happiness, these tragedies came up. these large fucked up wrinkles that will forever mark my life history, but will also forever be incontrovertible evidence of Him for me in my life.
despite the graphic and bloody nature of my account, there were several moments of uncontrollable laughter at my spontaneous responses to these crazy circumstances.
"i know i shouldn't be laughing, i'm so sorry."
don't be sorry. i'm glad that i can laugh too.
"i just can't believe you said that to the guy who attacked you... or the cop... or to the pastor... or to your ex-husband."
this is beginning to sound like the start of some really bad joke.
"it's so unbelievable that you can be smiling right now about all of this stuff."
...smiling? not always. but, it's strange, isn't it?
"i don't know if i could be laughing or happy like you are today."
happy?
...am i happy?--i've been told that i seem like i'm a very happy kind of person several times in the past six months. having identified myself to be chronically depressed for such a long time, it's hard to shake that ingrained element of my self portrait.
but, maybe i am happy. a happy person?
this is bizarre to consider.
perhaps this is part of the outline i'm trying to re-draw.
Monday, April 6, 2009
digging into it: II
our crazy lives. how does this happen? i was never told about this simplicity nor this complexity. how do we end up making all of these strange choices, having all of these bizarre encounters, and then somehow end up as these bandaged and bruised, yet 'whole' people?
there are very few real answers. but, hell. it's all beautiful. the chaos is exhausting, but stimulating and exciting if you can keep up.
i had a hard time getting up for a 4pm church service b/c i was up until around 7am writing. part of me winced at the idea of going to service b/c i've been feeling a little dulled @ Onnuri these days, but i dragged myself out of bed anyway. obedience isn't always easy, but inevitably, i have a deep sense of blessing at exactly the right time.
P Eddie spoke about the manifestation of faith. what faith looks like--how our love will move and compel us to engage.
oh, relationships.
our love for on another moves us to hold hands and touch faces, save funny and/or outrageous stories for each other, think of special small and big ways that might lift a smile from their lips. such is the same in all relationships that have meaning for us.
ah. relationship.
though i've heard it all before, there was something more yesterday. this living organism. a sweet piercing. the intense reminders of deep deep grace; i felt Him holding my hand. a warm touch on the top of my bowed head. as i tasted that styrofoamy wafer and over-sweet grape drink, tears formed and dripped.
are you there Jesus? it's me. you're still into me, right? i can't fathom why, but You love me?
so, damnit. during this service, some old promises i made began bubbling up. i stopped listening to P Eddie and started talking to God. these are promises i have made to myself and to Him. i put them on the back burner when i got here to Korea. i kinda forgot.
i'm lying. i didn't forget the entire time, but i was being lazy. i know that not keeping these kinds of promises spin me out of control and keep me stranded on this little island of lies and wasted time. is it time to finally move forward? to pick up my head from the sand and brush off my cheeks?
but, what is it that i'm worth exactly? what am i made of? so often i've answered these questions w/ all of the mistakes that i've made and continue to make. so often i look backwards and only see the gloom of my emotional problems and end up identifying myself w/ those things.
i've fought the demons of chronic depression since i was about 9-10 years old. that crushing, palpable sadness that makes you feel like you can't even move on another inch. but my deeply ingrained Korean sensibilities refused to allow me to succumb to the torpor and unproductivity that is typical of the chronically depressed. i know how ridiculous that might sound: "unproductivity"--but it was partly this culturally-instilled deathly fear that forced me to resist crawling into a ball beneath my desk and crying my eyes out till i shriveled up into a purple scab.
when i was in those deepest of darkest places, i dragged myself up and moved forward on shaky limbs--not really feeling anything but pain. dimly knowing something was terribly wrong--going through the motions of existence. i got the grades, i got the degrees, i started the career, i dealt w/ the agonies of a twisted cold marriage. i lived in these downward cycles of pain until they passed and i could begin moving again at a normal pace. i self-medicated. i discovered drugs when i was 12. i understood what 'taking the edge off' meant, and following that, the lows were very temporarily not so so low. but the weight would come back down even heavier whenever the highs would wear off.
i rediscovered Jesus when i was 20. after that time, when i was truly fully trusting in Him and not relying upon my own ability to self-actualize, i began to realize what He meant when He said, "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matt 11:28-30).
if you are reading the chronology correctly, there is obviously overlap w/ the depression, self-medication, downward spirals, and Jesus. i'm not saying that rediscovering Jesus suddenly made my life a velvety bed of rose petals. i am still the person that i am--w/ all of my emotional and circumstantial baggage. imperfect and wounded and still caught up in some pretty nasty cycles.
until recently, i never understood what Jesus meant when He told me to take His yoke. an "easy" yoke? how that could possibly be easy? sounds like slavery, no? but in the last decade of stumbling over and over in this 'walk w/ God'--this mysterious 'relationship', i have begun to understand the ease of Jesus's yoke. i'm beginning to understand what real freedom feels like. what that makes your spirit feel like. the visceral 'lightness'! to finally, (albeit grudgingly,) give up these burdens over to Him.
i have begun talking to Him about this crazy chronic sadness and letting Him remind me about who i am.
yes. all of this churchy Biblical language--but somehow it makes sense for me in this very real 'today'.
there are very few real answers. but, hell. it's all beautiful. the chaos is exhausting, but stimulating and exciting if you can keep up.
i had a hard time getting up for a 4pm church service b/c i was up until around 7am writing. part of me winced at the idea of going to service b/c i've been feeling a little dulled @ Onnuri these days, but i dragged myself out of bed anyway. obedience isn't always easy, but inevitably, i have a deep sense of blessing at exactly the right time.
P Eddie spoke about the manifestation of faith. what faith looks like--how our love will move and compel us to engage.
oh, relationships.
our love for on another moves us to hold hands and touch faces, save funny and/or outrageous stories for each other, think of special small and big ways that might lift a smile from their lips. such is the same in all relationships that have meaning for us.
ah. relationship.
though i've heard it all before, there was something more yesterday. this living organism. a sweet piercing. the intense reminders of deep deep grace; i felt Him holding my hand. a warm touch on the top of my bowed head. as i tasted that styrofoamy wafer and over-sweet grape drink, tears formed and dripped.
are you there Jesus? it's me. you're still into me, right? i can't fathom why, but You love me?
so, damnit. during this service, some old promises i made began bubbling up. i stopped listening to P Eddie and started talking to God. these are promises i have made to myself and to Him. i put them on the back burner when i got here to Korea. i kinda forgot.
i'm lying. i didn't forget the entire time, but i was being lazy. i know that not keeping these kinds of promises spin me out of control and keep me stranded on this little island of lies and wasted time. is it time to finally move forward? to pick up my head from the sand and brush off my cheeks?
but, what is it that i'm worth exactly? what am i made of? so often i've answered these questions w/ all of the mistakes that i've made and continue to make. so often i look backwards and only see the gloom of my emotional problems and end up identifying myself w/ those things.
i've fought the demons of chronic depression since i was about 9-10 years old. that crushing, palpable sadness that makes you feel like you can't even move on another inch. but my deeply ingrained Korean sensibilities refused to allow me to succumb to the torpor and unproductivity that is typical of the chronically depressed. i know how ridiculous that might sound: "unproductivity"--but it was partly this culturally-instilled deathly fear that forced me to resist crawling into a ball beneath my desk and crying my eyes out till i shriveled up into a purple scab.
when i was in those deepest of darkest places, i dragged myself up and moved forward on shaky limbs--not really feeling anything but pain. dimly knowing something was terribly wrong--going through the motions of existence. i got the grades, i got the degrees, i started the career, i dealt w/ the agonies of a twisted cold marriage. i lived in these downward cycles of pain until they passed and i could begin moving again at a normal pace. i self-medicated. i discovered drugs when i was 12. i understood what 'taking the edge off' meant, and following that, the lows were very temporarily not so so low. but the weight would come back down even heavier whenever the highs would wear off.
i rediscovered Jesus when i was 20. after that time, when i was truly fully trusting in Him and not relying upon my own ability to self-actualize, i began to realize what He meant when He said, "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matt 11:28-30).
if you are reading the chronology correctly, there is obviously overlap w/ the depression, self-medication, downward spirals, and Jesus. i'm not saying that rediscovering Jesus suddenly made my life a velvety bed of rose petals. i am still the person that i am--w/ all of my emotional and circumstantial baggage. imperfect and wounded and still caught up in some pretty nasty cycles.
until recently, i never understood what Jesus meant when He told me to take His yoke. an "easy" yoke? how that could possibly be easy? sounds like slavery, no? but in the last decade of stumbling over and over in this 'walk w/ God'--this mysterious 'relationship', i have begun to understand the ease of Jesus's yoke. i'm beginning to understand what real freedom feels like. what that makes your spirit feel like. the visceral 'lightness'! to finally, (albeit grudgingly,) give up these burdens over to Him.
i have begun talking to Him about this crazy chronic sadness and letting Him remind me about who i am.
yes. all of this churchy Biblical language--but somehow it makes sense for me in this very real 'today'.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
something vague
it's weekend #20 in this motherland o' mine. 4am on a Saturday night--well, Sunday morning really. can't sleep, as usual, so i'll try to be productive and make some kind of sense of it all.
i've gained back a lot of the weight i lost when i stopped eating 10 months ago. must go on a diet and start working out again. kinda let it slip my mind for the past few weeks. emotional eating, it was.
i wasn't sure what this weekend was going to bring and i'm riding alternating waves of uncertainty and joy, mixed with splashes of the forlorn and swirls of chagrin. i suppose the quest for figuring out who i am and where i am going is going to be a lifelong journey. damnit!--i wish that there was a little more definition.
i will dance until my body fails me--this is a fact. i've been in a bachata class for the last month, and it's been a really fun experience. i'll always have left feet while trying to imitate set dance moves, but my body's actually beginning to find some of that bachata rhythm. my class last night was nice because it provided a little structure for my 'free time'. for all of my Friday nights since i started this class, i've had to run to meet people right after class. yesterday however, i actually stuck around b/c i didn't feel like meeting w/ girlfriends for a late late evening of super expensive drinks and dancing at the Hyatt.
i am definitely the odd one out in my bachata class. my lack of Korean speaking ability makes me intimidating to both the men and the women. i'm one of the younger women in the class, and would hazard to even say that of the dozen women there, i'm one of the more physically desirable ones. this makes the women avoid me even more.
the men, on the other hand, have hesitantly ventured forward a few times to try to speak w/ me (flirt w/ me?). two late 30s men tried to make some fumbling moves on me a few times--to which i just played the wide-eyed innocent. another pretty good looking metro has been hitting on me every class, but i can tell that there really isn't much to this guy. i don't want to bother.
there is also this one cutie--who i can tell is fun and really funny sweet--that i wanted to befriend. Pree-oz suggested a language exchange. he's a great dancer and has always grabbed me for at least one dance before i have run off for the night. i have loved learning this kind of organized dance b/c though it's sexy, it doesn't feel so sexual to me. so, i'm into this guy as a dance partner. when he grabbed me for a dance several times last night, it was fun, but something was different--the way he breathed and looked at me. charming, b/c he was charming--but internally i cringed a little and shrank and wondered: what the hell is wrong w/ this world? am i just a sexual object? is there nothing more to me than this fabulous ass of mine? damnit! damnit.
i shouldn't complain. i am still struggling w/ the issue of feeling desirable and attractive. i think i might be; i've been told this directly--but it's hard to believe.
and isn't that the most important part?--really, personally believing these things about yourself? fuck. i know i'm a handful.
though i like affirmation, i want more than that. i want to understand what that means to the person who is giving me the affirmation. does that mean that you just wanna fuck? does that mean that you just like the way i move my body? does that mean that you like what i have to say and have queries about what the inside of my brain looks like? what?
this is why men will not want to date me. i have too many questions. i am not just an easy lay. there are too many whys and whats. why do i have to complicate things?
b/c that's who i am.
i am too damn old and damaged not to ask these questions. and moreover, i believe that every woman should ask these questions.
don't sell yourself short ladies! ask these questions.
so, after dancing a little and being smothered by the embrace of yet another man whose breasts were larger than mine, i bowed out and walked home.
the magnolias are in blooming right now. there was something amazingly beautiful about them in the cold blue Yonsei streetlamps as i click clacked home in my faux leather boots. i had to pause to take a few photographs while students passed me w/ amused and inquisitive looks on their faces.
and then into bed, hugging myself in my turquoise blankets.
this morning, i was awoken by a text from Pree-oz b/c we had made plans to go to the 2ndary palace here in Seoul. we met and grabbed a cup of coffee and then caught a bus that whipped us past some of this unbelievable cityscape. so far, i haven't stopped appreciating the urbanness of this place.
the puzzle pieces of buildings ranging upwards and downwards, cars chasing cars, and varied-colored everythings jumping and flowing in different directions--this was the same bus route i took w/ the Belgium boy a few days before on his last day in Korea. it's bizarre that i've only seen this crazy complexity 2-3 times before and it already looks familiar. this is actually becoming a city of mine. i think i'm falling in love.
we grabbed another gulp of caffeine at a cute coffeeshop where they dragged a table and chairs outside for us b/c we wanted to smoke cigarettes. covering our knees w/ fleece blankets, we talked and processed our lives: the drama, the failures, the uncertainties, the fears, the pleasures, and the faith that brings us through all of it. when we paid and were walking down the stairs to leave, the cute waiter ran out to bid us farewell. this Korean courtesy. i love it.
the palace was beautiful. the 100+ acres were arrayed w/ Roses of Sharon, cherry blossoms, and the most endearing tour guide w/ terribly accented English. this was one of the waves of joy. we laughed at the fact that we had wanted to take the English tour but could hardly understand what she was saying. the only thing i could completely make out from her endless explication was her sad sad story about how Santa lost his way down the chimney and thus never came back to visit the Chosun dynasty. she thought that Santa should've done his research about the mechanics of Korean chimneys before coming to visit this mysterious land. classic Confucianism.
Pree-oz and i went to Hongdae and then parted ways.
then i helped translate some Korean-Englishness for a foreigner who i met in the cellphone store--this felt empowering.
then i continued my reading of an Orwell book while i ate kimbap for dinner.
waiting at exit 5, i wondered about certain omissions my Korean Korean friend had begun to reveal about her relational business. people will never cease to amaze or surprise me.
when i met this Korean friend, we talked. and talked and talked and talked. in the sweetest little cafe, over a piece of cheesecake and tea, i realized what a breakthrough we were having. she admitted that she had not been quite honest w/ me about certain things (sex) and we got into a deep deep discussion about relationships and men and women and all of those pressing concerns. and the process of my divorce. and who i was before. and where i came from.
ah. humanity.
our hang-ups.
this beautiful life.
we thought we'd end up catching the last bus home, but she got a text from a friend who wanted to meet up for drinks.
and then some flirting.
and then, we ended up under flashing lights and loud music, smashed into a mass of bodies at a club. a 23 year old boy was into my body. i could feel him. but, as i gazed into his baby face, i got bored. you haven't seen enough of life, honey. let's not pretend something's going to happen here. well, let me not pretend.
"i have to go find my friend."
at some point, i gave some guy my number. i wonder if he's going to call me today like he said he would. i honestly don't give a shit. and actually, i hope he doesn't. i'm tired.
and then a 29 year old boy was into my body. and i was kinda into his. he kept on trying to kiss me. so, in Korean:
"stop. i don't even know your name."
_______
"still. stop."
i really want to kiss you.
"i... don't... honestly, i can't even remember your name. i'm a kyopo. Korean names are difficult for me."
_______. please don't tease me.
"no."
did i want to kiss him? yes. sure. but i didn't.
so i'm home, alone, hearing the morning birds chirping and the morning dogs barking. this feels ok. good even.
there is some vague lesson i've learned, somewhere along the way.
i've gained back a lot of the weight i lost when i stopped eating 10 months ago. must go on a diet and start working out again. kinda let it slip my mind for the past few weeks. emotional eating, it was.
i wasn't sure what this weekend was going to bring and i'm riding alternating waves of uncertainty and joy, mixed with splashes of the forlorn and swirls of chagrin. i suppose the quest for figuring out who i am and where i am going is going to be a lifelong journey. damnit!--i wish that there was a little more definition.
i will dance until my body fails me--this is a fact. i've been in a bachata class for the last month, and it's been a really fun experience. i'll always have left feet while trying to imitate set dance moves, but my body's actually beginning to find some of that bachata rhythm. my class last night was nice because it provided a little structure for my 'free time'. for all of my Friday nights since i started this class, i've had to run to meet people right after class. yesterday however, i actually stuck around b/c i didn't feel like meeting w/ girlfriends for a late late evening of super expensive drinks and dancing at the Hyatt.
i am definitely the odd one out in my bachata class. my lack of Korean speaking ability makes me intimidating to both the men and the women. i'm one of the younger women in the class, and would hazard to even say that of the dozen women there, i'm one of the more physically desirable ones. this makes the women avoid me even more.
the men, on the other hand, have hesitantly ventured forward a few times to try to speak w/ me (flirt w/ me?). two late 30s men tried to make some fumbling moves on me a few times--to which i just played the wide-eyed innocent. another pretty good looking metro has been hitting on me every class, but i can tell that there really isn't much to this guy. i don't want to bother.
there is also this one cutie--who i can tell is fun and really funny sweet--that i wanted to befriend. Pree-oz suggested a language exchange. he's a great dancer and has always grabbed me for at least one dance before i have run off for the night. i have loved learning this kind of organized dance b/c though it's sexy, it doesn't feel so sexual to me. so, i'm into this guy as a dance partner. when he grabbed me for a dance several times last night, it was fun, but something was different--the way he breathed and looked at me. charming, b/c he was charming--but internally i cringed a little and shrank and wondered: what the hell is wrong w/ this world? am i just a sexual object? is there nothing more to me than this fabulous ass of mine? damnit! damnit.
i shouldn't complain. i am still struggling w/ the issue of feeling desirable and attractive. i think i might be; i've been told this directly--but it's hard to believe.
and isn't that the most important part?--really, personally believing these things about yourself? fuck. i know i'm a handful.
though i like affirmation, i want more than that. i want to understand what that means to the person who is giving me the affirmation. does that mean that you just wanna fuck? does that mean that you just like the way i move my body? does that mean that you like what i have to say and have queries about what the inside of my brain looks like? what?
this is why men will not want to date me. i have too many questions. i am not just an easy lay. there are too many whys and whats. why do i have to complicate things?
b/c that's who i am.
i am too damn old and damaged not to ask these questions. and moreover, i believe that every woman should ask these questions.
don't sell yourself short ladies! ask these questions.
so, after dancing a little and being smothered by the embrace of yet another man whose breasts were larger than mine, i bowed out and walked home.
the magnolias are in blooming right now. there was something amazingly beautiful about them in the cold blue Yonsei streetlamps as i click clacked home in my faux leather boots. i had to pause to take a few photographs while students passed me w/ amused and inquisitive looks on their faces.
and then into bed, hugging myself in my turquoise blankets.
this morning, i was awoken by a text from Pree-oz b/c we had made plans to go to the 2ndary palace here in Seoul. we met and grabbed a cup of coffee and then caught a bus that whipped us past some of this unbelievable cityscape. so far, i haven't stopped appreciating the urbanness of this place.
the puzzle pieces of buildings ranging upwards and downwards, cars chasing cars, and varied-colored everythings jumping and flowing in different directions--this was the same bus route i took w/ the Belgium boy a few days before on his last day in Korea. it's bizarre that i've only seen this crazy complexity 2-3 times before and it already looks familiar. this is actually becoming a city of mine. i think i'm falling in love.
we grabbed another gulp of caffeine at a cute coffeeshop where they dragged a table and chairs outside for us b/c we wanted to smoke cigarettes. covering our knees w/ fleece blankets, we talked and processed our lives: the drama, the failures, the uncertainties, the fears, the pleasures, and the faith that brings us through all of it. when we paid and were walking down the stairs to leave, the cute waiter ran out to bid us farewell. this Korean courtesy. i love it.
the palace was beautiful. the 100+ acres were arrayed w/ Roses of Sharon, cherry blossoms, and the most endearing tour guide w/ terribly accented English. this was one of the waves of joy. we laughed at the fact that we had wanted to take the English tour but could hardly understand what she was saying. the only thing i could completely make out from her endless explication was her sad sad story about how Santa lost his way down the chimney and thus never came back to visit the Chosun dynasty. she thought that Santa should've done his research about the mechanics of Korean chimneys before coming to visit this mysterious land. classic Confucianism.
Pree-oz and i went to Hongdae and then parted ways.
then i helped translate some Korean-Englishness for a foreigner who i met in the cellphone store--this felt empowering.
then i continued my reading of an Orwell book while i ate kimbap for dinner.
waiting at exit 5, i wondered about certain omissions my Korean Korean friend had begun to reveal about her relational business. people will never cease to amaze or surprise me.
when i met this Korean friend, we talked. and talked and talked and talked. in the sweetest little cafe, over a piece of cheesecake and tea, i realized what a breakthrough we were having. she admitted that she had not been quite honest w/ me about certain things (sex) and we got into a deep deep discussion about relationships and men and women and all of those pressing concerns. and the process of my divorce. and who i was before. and where i came from.
ah. humanity.
our hang-ups.
this beautiful life.
we thought we'd end up catching the last bus home, but she got a text from a friend who wanted to meet up for drinks.
and then some flirting.
and then, we ended up under flashing lights and loud music, smashed into a mass of bodies at a club. a 23 year old boy was into my body. i could feel him. but, as i gazed into his baby face, i got bored. you haven't seen enough of life, honey. let's not pretend something's going to happen here. well, let me not pretend.
"i have to go find my friend."
at some point, i gave some guy my number. i wonder if he's going to call me today like he said he would. i honestly don't give a shit. and actually, i hope he doesn't. i'm tired.
and then a 29 year old boy was into my body. and i was kinda into his. he kept on trying to kiss me. so, in Korean:
"stop. i don't even know your name."
_______
"still. stop."
i really want to kiss you.
"i... don't... honestly, i can't even remember your name. i'm a kyopo. Korean names are difficult for me."
_______. please don't tease me.
"no."
did i want to kiss him? yes. sure. but i didn't.
so i'm home, alone, hearing the morning birds chirping and the morning dogs barking. this feels ok. good even.
there is some vague lesson i've learned, somewhere along the way.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
the beginning and end of today's story
ok. so on principle, i refused to directly write about the Belgian boy while he was here.
which principle exactly?--this is a good question. it's hard to articulate exactly--and the strange complexities in our relationship prohibited me to say anything about him on this blog because i didn't want to confuse things between us or cause conversations that would likely end w/ the night completely gone and the sun already up the sky somewhere. this has happened several times.
a little obnoxious, no? considering we've only had about 12 weeks to even know each other.
i also didn't want to write about him extensively before, b/c this would have felt too much like exhibitionist chronicals of a process during the process itself.
he's literally left my room an hour ago. the first thing i had to do was remove traces of him. made the bed. put his towels in the laundry. emptied the ashtray. tossed his toothbrush and then took out the plastic bag lining the "bin". didn't want to look at opened plastic wrappers. not sure what my reaction should necessarily be at this point. except some bewilderment?--maybe? some disbelief that i could have connected w/ someone like this in such a short period of time and suddenly, he is missing?
he won't be around this weekend or the next or the one after that. when i pointed this out last night--(now, maybe only about 5 hours ago)--he shushed me and told me not to talk about it. sigh.
his person and our relationship almost feels like a dream--vivid, beautiful, intense, extreme at times, evoking deep emotion, and suddenly, i'm awake and left with just traces and rapidly moving images. this is only exacerbated by the fact that i am currently in a zombie no-sleep state.
discombobulated disarray.
i will miss all of the late night talking--though we got better about that after about a month of weekends or so.
in the dimness of the orangy streetlights last night, we looked at each other, faces close, his wide auburn eyes--and it reminded me of the first weekend we met:
we had been thrust together and kind of forced to spend a large quantity of time with each other by the most random of circumstances. his dear friend and my dear friend were more than friends. the boys had been worried that this newfound romance would affect their friendship and they would not be able to spend time together. we all met at a basement bar after they went to a show.
he was just some unknown Belgian stranger to me and i had to bite my lip at the problem of what would happen at the end of the night. if we were to hang out beyond midnight, the subway turned into a useless pumpkin and the dilemma became: where would he sleep? though we had not fully discussed how we would handle the situation, the most sensible and "proper" solution was to have the girls sleep in my room and the boys sleep in my friend's room.
the moon lifted higher and higher into the sky. soju got poured, jokes and stories were told, then eyes were beginning to shut sleepily. a decision had to be made.
at this point, i had really not spent enough time talking w/ the Belgian to invite him to crash in my room, but as our friends began to get sweet w/ each other, i didn't have the heart to separate them. i figured--it's only one night. if he's an asshole, i'll kick him out w/ no impunity.
i had no idea how this would affect the subsequent 3 months, and though i'm feeling pretty melancholy this morning at the advent of our separation, i am glad that i made this call on this first night.
when we got to my room, i was not sleepy at all and had planned to read a book on a mattress on my floor and let him sleep on my bed. as i began going through my winding down nightly ritual, i avoided eye contact w/ him. it was unnerving that this complete stranger was in my intimate space in this way--seeing me w/o my makeup, watching me brush my teeth, going bra-less, seeing me in my pjs and glasses. i could tell he was a little uncomfortable too. i think he was planning to sleep in his street clothes in my bed, which i didn't like at all. i wanted to break the ice and make him feel settled in and make the best of the situation. i offered him another set of pj pants that he would probably be able to fit into.
"pink? you're giving me pink pants to wear?"
come on!--seriously--it's no big deal! you're just sleeping in them.
"but pink?! nooOOoo. i'll just wear my jeans."
no way! you're going to be so uncomfortable! you won't be able to sleep! don't worry. i won't tell anyone.
he stood there with a look of indecision wavering on his face, but i was already finished getting ready for bed and lying on the mattress on the floor. he sighed and went to the bathroom to change. when he came back, i tried not to giggle at the sight. i put on a mask of nonchalance over my amused delight: a mysterious Belgian boy consenting to be slightly emasculated by a mysterious Korean American girl. he sat down on the side of mattress next to me.
"i have a problem."
oh no. what?
"i am an insomniac. i am probably going to have a very hard time sleeping."
what? damnit! i'm an insomniac too! i was planning to read while you slept tonight.
"really? i brought a book too. and i can catch the first train out at 6am."
oh, no. that's crazy. you should try to get some sleep tonight...
... ... ...
these ellipses are to indicate the lengthy conversation that ensued. we talked. and talked. and talked and talked and talked. i asked him for stories and he gave me many. i alluded to the inauspicious circumstances that resulted in my sojourn in Korea. he described his terribly drunken mistake of driving a car into a house which resulted in his displacement. we both raised our eyebrows. we were both curious. we smoked dozens of cigarettes and the room grew lighter with the dawn. wintery air blew in through the cracked window, along w/ the sounds of morning people beginning to stir and move around the world after a night of sleep.
i remember how close our faces were. a connection. a growing depth of sweetness for another human being. a mutual respect for each other's experiences. looking into his auburn eyes, i saw a strangeness and a depth. his responses were bizarre and intriguing. i think he found mine the same. at some point, he stretched out and lay next to me and this felt ok. we lay like a pair of chopsticks. we talked God and lost friends and joys and pleasures and hurts we'd both endured.
the next day, all of us friends had a good laugh about him wearing the pink pjs. following this, we all ran around a freezing Seoul--Myeongdong, Seoul tower, and then to Tei bar. all day, i felt a little awkward and exposed b/c of the amount of self-disclosure that had occurred between us, but i just shrugged and figured that it was something interesting that had happened. i felt like we ~could~ all be friends and the boys would not have to see too much less of each other.
that night, he came up to my room and got into the pink pjs and sat on the mattress w/ me again. you would think that the lack of sleep from the previous night would have resulted in us crashing hard. but again, our faces were close as we stared steadily at one another. we talked and talked--more sleepily this time, until the sun rose again. i know that we both knew that there was something beautiful and unique that was unfolding.
this was our first weekend together.
a quarter of a lifetime has passed since then.
so, this morning, there was a strange twisting in my stomach as i looked at his face and knew he'd be heading back to Belgium and his previous life in a matter of hours. his head was on the pillow next to mine.
those strange deep auburn eyes.
which principle exactly?--this is a good question. it's hard to articulate exactly--and the strange complexities in our relationship prohibited me to say anything about him on this blog because i didn't want to confuse things between us or cause conversations that would likely end w/ the night completely gone and the sun already up the sky somewhere. this has happened several times.
a little obnoxious, no? considering we've only had about 12 weeks to even know each other.
i also didn't want to write about him extensively before, b/c this would have felt too much like exhibitionist chronicals of a process during the process itself.
he's literally left my room an hour ago. the first thing i had to do was remove traces of him. made the bed. put his towels in the laundry. emptied the ashtray. tossed his toothbrush and then took out the plastic bag lining the "bin". didn't want to look at opened plastic wrappers. not sure what my reaction should necessarily be at this point. except some bewilderment?--maybe? some disbelief that i could have connected w/ someone like this in such a short period of time and suddenly, he is missing?
he won't be around this weekend or the next or the one after that. when i pointed this out last night--(now, maybe only about 5 hours ago)--he shushed me and told me not to talk about it. sigh.
his person and our relationship almost feels like a dream--vivid, beautiful, intense, extreme at times, evoking deep emotion, and suddenly, i'm awake and left with just traces and rapidly moving images. this is only exacerbated by the fact that i am currently in a zombie no-sleep state.
discombobulated disarray.
i will miss all of the late night talking--though we got better about that after about a month of weekends or so.
in the dimness of the orangy streetlights last night, we looked at each other, faces close, his wide auburn eyes--and it reminded me of the first weekend we met:
we had been thrust together and kind of forced to spend a large quantity of time with each other by the most random of circumstances. his dear friend and my dear friend were more than friends. the boys had been worried that this newfound romance would affect their friendship and they would not be able to spend time together. we all met at a basement bar after they went to a show.
he was just some unknown Belgian stranger to me and i had to bite my lip at the problem of what would happen at the end of the night. if we were to hang out beyond midnight, the subway turned into a useless pumpkin and the dilemma became: where would he sleep? though we had not fully discussed how we would handle the situation, the most sensible and "proper" solution was to have the girls sleep in my room and the boys sleep in my friend's room.
the moon lifted higher and higher into the sky. soju got poured, jokes and stories were told, then eyes were beginning to shut sleepily. a decision had to be made.
at this point, i had really not spent enough time talking w/ the Belgian to invite him to crash in my room, but as our friends began to get sweet w/ each other, i didn't have the heart to separate them. i figured--it's only one night. if he's an asshole, i'll kick him out w/ no impunity.
i had no idea how this would affect the subsequent 3 months, and though i'm feeling pretty melancholy this morning at the advent of our separation, i am glad that i made this call on this first night.
when we got to my room, i was not sleepy at all and had planned to read a book on a mattress on my floor and let him sleep on my bed. as i began going through my winding down nightly ritual, i avoided eye contact w/ him. it was unnerving that this complete stranger was in my intimate space in this way--seeing me w/o my makeup, watching me brush my teeth, going bra-less, seeing me in my pjs and glasses. i could tell he was a little uncomfortable too. i think he was planning to sleep in his street clothes in my bed, which i didn't like at all. i wanted to break the ice and make him feel settled in and make the best of the situation. i offered him another set of pj pants that he would probably be able to fit into.
"pink? you're giving me pink pants to wear?"
come on!--seriously--it's no big deal! you're just sleeping in them.
"but pink?! nooOOoo. i'll just wear my jeans."
no way! you're going to be so uncomfortable! you won't be able to sleep! don't worry. i won't tell anyone.
he stood there with a look of indecision wavering on his face, but i was already finished getting ready for bed and lying on the mattress on the floor. he sighed and went to the bathroom to change. when he came back, i tried not to giggle at the sight. i put on a mask of nonchalance over my amused delight: a mysterious Belgian boy consenting to be slightly emasculated by a mysterious Korean American girl. he sat down on the side of mattress next to me.
"i have a problem."
oh no. what?
"i am an insomniac. i am probably going to have a very hard time sleeping."
what? damnit! i'm an insomniac too! i was planning to read while you slept tonight.
"really? i brought a book too. and i can catch the first train out at 6am."
oh, no. that's crazy. you should try to get some sleep tonight...
... ... ...
these ellipses are to indicate the lengthy conversation that ensued. we talked. and talked. and talked and talked and talked. i asked him for stories and he gave me many. i alluded to the inauspicious circumstances that resulted in my sojourn in Korea. he described his terribly drunken mistake of driving a car into a house which resulted in his displacement. we both raised our eyebrows. we were both curious. we smoked dozens of cigarettes and the room grew lighter with the dawn. wintery air blew in through the cracked window, along w/ the sounds of morning people beginning to stir and move around the world after a night of sleep.
i remember how close our faces were. a connection. a growing depth of sweetness for another human being. a mutual respect for each other's experiences. looking into his auburn eyes, i saw a strangeness and a depth. his responses were bizarre and intriguing. i think he found mine the same. at some point, he stretched out and lay next to me and this felt ok. we lay like a pair of chopsticks. we talked God and lost friends and joys and pleasures and hurts we'd both endured.
the next day, all of us friends had a good laugh about him wearing the pink pjs. following this, we all ran around a freezing Seoul--Myeongdong, Seoul tower, and then to Tei bar. all day, i felt a little awkward and exposed b/c of the amount of self-disclosure that had occurred between us, but i just shrugged and figured that it was something interesting that had happened. i felt like we ~could~ all be friends and the boys would not have to see too much less of each other.
that night, he came up to my room and got into the pink pjs and sat on the mattress w/ me again. you would think that the lack of sleep from the previous night would have resulted in us crashing hard. but again, our faces were close as we stared steadily at one another. we talked and talked--more sleepily this time, until the sun rose again. i know that we both knew that there was something beautiful and unique that was unfolding.
this was our first weekend together.
a quarter of a lifetime has passed since then.
so, this morning, there was a strange twisting in my stomach as i looked at his face and knew he'd be heading back to Belgium and his previous life in a matter of hours. his head was on the pillow next to mine.
those strange deep auburn eyes.
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