talking to a giant Peach

why can't people believe that i like being single?

there's this woman in my office: mid-50s, cakey make-up, brassy Peach lipstick, and a blaring voice that now grates my eardrums whenever she nears. i am not exaggerating when i say that *every*time that Peach and i get into a conversation, she tells me how badly i need a man. i don't know why i bother to engage her, but i feel this strong compulsion to set her straight.
i know it's partly cultural, but there's some universality in the underlying presumption that every person should be half of a pair, right?

anyway, Peach ceaselessly harrangues me about going out on dates and how i won't be truly happy until i find LOVE, et cetera. last week, she drilled into me during a school 회식. there were seven 40+ year old women plus me, sitting around a beautiful table laden with Korean food. they were all married with children; i was definitely the odd-one-out. all of the ladies made complaints about their husbands at some point during the meal. of course, the topic eventually turned to me and my pathetic singlehood.

Peach wrinkled her nose at me, "i'm sad you're leaving us, but i'm so glad you're going to the university setting."
"thank you," i nodded, "i'm excited about the challenge."
she leaned over to me coquettishly, "i'm glad, because at a university you'll have a better chance of finding a man." she clasped her hands to her chest and dramatically gazed into the distance--(i'm not joking about this. she is *that* theatrical.)
i restrained myself from rolling my eyes, "i'm not in a rush. i'm happy on my own." some of the ladies around the table shook their heads.
"Mary," Peach jabbed a dumpling towards me with her chopsticks, "you really *should* be in a rush."
the assistant vice principal chimed in, "don't you want children?"
i slowly shook my head, "i don't know that i definitely want children." there was a murmur around the table. i shrugged, "i'm NOT going to settle for someone right now, simply because i want to have children... anyway, i've always planned to adopt a child."
Peach began waving her arms, "no! you need to have your own children!"
another lady spoke up, "you're only saying that NOW, because you're having such fun as a single woman."

that is exactly right. tell me again *why* i want to have a husband to complain about?
"being single is fun," i smiled. "i don't want to rush into anything." i was getting tired of repeating myself.
Peach let out a deep, forlorn sigh, "Mary, you're not in a rush because you just don't know what it means to love someone."

whoa. what? i had been ready to just sit back and let them continue to 잔소리 me without talking back, but that statement pissed me off. i am a nearly 32 year old woman. how can you possibly know what i have been through in life?
in a clipped tone i replied, "actually, i have been in love. i've been in love, and i've been hurt, so i don't want to get into a relationship unless it's really worth it."
Peach protested, "but you have to try--"
i cut her off, "look, i've said this all before. i'm not against dating, i'm just not into the idea of wasting my time. if the right match came along, of course i would be willing to date him."
"butbutbut--it seems like you don't like to go on dates," she sputtered.
"i don't like to go on dates," i said curtly. "i like to spend time with my friends. i like to get to know people over coffee. i go out with guys all the time, Peach--i just haven't found anyone i want to make my boyfriend. i'm selfish. when you date someone, you have to take care of them. i really don't want to take care of someone that isn't right for me."
the assistant vice principal put her hand on my arm and giggled to break the tension, "you two are coming from two completely different perspectives."
i laughed with her, "i feel pretty strongly against dating just to pass the time." i switched the subject to my Japan travels and the terrible railway system out there.

damnit. i am a HAPPY single woman!
well, i'm as happy as i can be. granted, i miss sex. sometimes. but celibacy is much easier to bear than the emotional roller-coaster that comes along with having a meaningless fuck. so, i will be content as a nun.

in other news, i did just buy tickets to Indonesia in January. i'm not sure the same rules apply out there. i'll have to see how healthy i feel.

journal of the recalcitrant female

urgh.

so, i began getting ready for bed, here, now at midnight, and decided that i need to open a bottle of wine and winge.

i looked at myself in the mirror and saw: a 30+ female who's kinda cute, fairly fit, and a divorced, soppy mess.

as it is winter, it's pretty cold in my apartment right now. i turned up the heat, but i don't understand how the thermostat works in here. the ondol sometimes turns the place warmer, and my feet'll randomly get nice and toasty, but it's capricious. the temperature seems to rise when i'm sweating, but the floors are always cold to the touch when i groggily stumble out of my bed. apparently, i can turn up the heat for the water as well, but my showers are still only lukewarm.

i'm cold tonight--this Friday night--and i'm actually *in* b/c the prospect of going out makes me curl further into my blankets with a book and Left-Eyed Leonard. or the remote.

when did this happen?

when did i prefer to wrap myself up in this warm little Spring/Fall jacket and cuddle with my sock monkey, rather than dance and flirt on the crowded dance floor?

and this stupid jacket.

i've worn this jacket every Spring and Winter for the past 5 years--forgetting that it actually has some kind of significance besides the pullover that keeps the chill out. but tonight, i'm startled to recall: Chris got me this jacket.

many seasons ago, in a suburb of Chicago, in a different lifetime, he had asked me what i wanted for my birthday/Christmas. i told him: "socks, undies, and something warm. maybe something Puma."

a bright fuchsia puma leaps from my collarbone, mockingly stretching it's lean body to the sky. reminding me that everything is connected, and my history is not something that can ever be escaped.

looking for a moment at that bright, lean figure in the mirror, i had sudden nostalgia of the time when cuddling was free, comfortable, and kisses didn't make me nervous. when everything was a soft, worn pair of pilled socks. Chris and i had jokes about farming mini-donkeys or hosting our own cooking show or i might stroke the first digit of his left thumb because it felt safe. and familiar.

i stared forever into his big green eyes and saw our bedroom lamp reflected back to me.

i saw the walls our first apartment with the crotchety deaf lady who blasted her TV every night.

the fishtank where he first got excited about fancy goldfish.

the townhouse where we bought IKEA furniture and then died in.

is this my life? did i actually live there sometime before today?

or is it a dream?

was there a point that my life was actually reflected on the surface of his big green eyes?

a bun in my oven?

i will be 32 years old in less than 3 weeks. i've got all kinds of pressures to 'settle down' and find a man. my biological clock is tick-tocking with an inexorable forward movement.
my parents really want me to bear children and make them grandparents someday. there really isn't much time left to make that happen, and with every passing year, the window for me to make a baby is closing ever more rapidly. it hurts a little to think about that because i've still got that childlike desire to turn cartwheels in order please my parents; but at the end of the day, my life is my own, and i need to make choices that fit who *i* am as a person.

are children in the cards for me?

last year, i came into the revelation that "no", i do not feel the biological necessity to procreate. when i finally came to that conclusion, i felt an enormous sense of relief. a huge burden was lifted off of my psyche because: no longer was my quest to find the right life partner dictated by the clock. i know it sounds paradoxical to say that in juxtaposition to the above statement, but i think it's a complicated issue.

last year, when i realized that i don't 'have to have' a baby, there was freedom in letting go that status quo expectation. in fact, when i came into that thread of thoughts, i rubber-band flew into the other extreme where i began thinking that: not only did i not NEED to have a baby, i did not ever WANT to have one. the idea of becoming a mother was frightening--almost offensive to my sensibilities. i wondered how i had even considered it as an optional life path.

i know that there is some curiosity about me at my school because i do not fit into the Korean stereotype of 'lady-likeness'. i am a happily single 30+ woman, independent, active, love to travel on my own, and will politely state that "i don't need a man" to anyone who insists that i do.

[it's not that i don't desire to find a partner, but i find that it is much easier to avoid annoying busybodies when i flat-out close that door.]

this past Springtime, i had a very enlightening conversation that turned the tide on my anti-baby attitude. it was with the only happily married Korean woman i know. it was unusual for me to be open about myself to a co-worker, but she was honest enough to straight up ask me some of those deeper questions, along with sharing about herself. as we got further into our discourse about our lives, i revealed that i'd been married and divorced. to my surprise, she wasn't surprised or disgusted. she didn't even really pause for too long on that point. she was more curious about why i didn't want to have children.

roughly translated:

me: i just don't feel the call to motherhood.

her: really? but... why not? what holds you back?

me: well, i think that it's not something that you should just step into because it seems like it's the natural progression of things.

her: indeed, having children is a major decision... but i cannot imagine not having mine.

me: i don't know. it's relieving that i don't have to let that factor into finding someone to live my life with. there's no time-line anymore.

her: but, it sounds like you actually wouldn't WANT to have children.

me: i don't think i do.

she paused, then: Mary, i think you should be careful not to close yourself off to being a mother.

me: i know. if i find the right person, of course i'd be ok with having a child with him.

i said these words automatically. they were well-rehearsed from saying them so many times. she looked wistfully off into the distance. i think she knew i was giving her a line--albeit, it was an ideal i believed in--but not one that i had really examined for a long time.

her: i really hope you find that right person. she fixed her gaze upon me. because truly--when you find that perfect match for you... that man will make you so happy that your love for each other will feel almost desperate. if you find that kind of match, you can't help but want to consummate that love by having a child together. a child that is mended together by both of your flesh.

it was like a bell rang in my head. her statement was nothing new, but the way she passionately, authentically expressed herself was beautiful. i could see that she really believed what she was saying, and with a rush, i suddenly realized that *me* having a baby was not so preposterous. in fact, i suddenly realized that i could actually desire mixing my DNA with another person's and procreating a being that was kinda like me.

it was a startling, fantastical moment.

many things have led me to this conclusion, but i can finally, happily say: come what may.

Motherhood is a privilege that i think i would like to experience sometime in the future. now, i don't want to be so arrogant to assume that even if i do find this mythical "right" man, that i will have the ability to have a child. so many couples just believe that they can make a baby whenever they feel like it; there's this general sense of entitlement to procreation that many couples have. so many are heartbroken when they can't.
if God blesses me with a little one of my own flesh and blood, that will mean that my life will have unfolded very differently than i can currently imagine. but hopefully, if a bun does end up in my oven, that'll mean that i have also found the person who can handle and adore my crazy.

napping during the War

i’m waiting for my male co-teacher to go to a class so that i can sneak off to my classroom for a nap. ridiculous, i know–but again: i’m at school for yet another day of desk warming while the students are preparing for their finals.

i’ve gotten a few inquiries about my reaction to the escalated tensions between the 2 Koreas and to be frank, i’m not worried about it at all. this is not for political reasons or me taking on a laisse faire attitude about what’s happening. i’m just simply not afraid of what is to come.

let’s take a look at the possible negative scenarios:
-worst case: a bomb gets tossed at us in Seoul and i am maimed/grievously injured. yes. that would really suck. i’d be pretty sad and mad if that happened. however, the possibility that i am personally injured in this way seems like a long shot.
either way, being a firm believer that “everything happens for a reason”, eventually i know i’d be able to accept losing an eye or an arm or having some other kind of disfiguration.

-another case: the DPRK invades the ROK. w/ Seoul about an hour and a half away from the DMZ–that is somewhat problematic, of course… but i dunno. my 엄마 told me stories of sitting on the back of my grandfather’s bike and riding away from the Japanese Army during the Korean War back in the 50s. i bring up that little tidbit because:
well, i have a brain–and if an invasion occurred, i would do what i had to do to survive. maybe i’d take the first flight out? or, if that wasn’t an option, i’ve got a few friends in my building w/ whom i would probably pool my resources and make/execute a plan for escape.

-along those lines: let’s say we didn’t escape.
becoming a POW is hardly likely, but if *that* actually happened–well damn. that too would really suck. i can’t even conceptualize what it would be like to be in a POW camp and get beaten up and starved and… whatever else that comes along with that. i’ve actually talked to people who have experienced some of those war atrocities and it’s not something that i would like to endure. but, bad things happen in life. i really don’t mean to sound cavalier in saying that, but you live and you deal. and you try not to lose who you are when experiencing terrible pain and tragedy.

-last scenario: death. let’s say that a bomb gets tossed over here or there’s a sudden attack with tanks and automatic weapons and i end up dead. honestly: oh well.
it’s not that i want to die, but i’m simply not afraid to. i feel very comfortable when i consider what will happen after i close my eyes for the last time. certainly, i hope that a whole lot of pain or screaming doesn’t precede that, but i’ve got complete hope in the outcome of my eternity.

my co-teacher has just left his desk. i will take this opportunity to sneak with a book and some hot tea to the couch in my classroom. maybe i’ll reflect on this very comfortable moment from the middle of a POW camp in a few months/years. who knows? i have no control over that. but, i sure can enjoy and appreciate what is left of today.

you suck. and so do i.

people suck.
i'm including myself in that mix.
i suck.
i'm super emotional, i sometimes talk shit, i'm selfish, and i can be so blinded by my 'point' when i feel "right", that i readily do the perfect swan dive into my arguments. i articulate carefully and precisely expecting that (of course!) the offended will understand and be convinced by my air-tight arguments.

but everyone gets emotional in relationships. particularly if there is an investment there. particularly if there is a history of small/large hurts that were never addressed between the parties involved.

when finally it comes to head, you are so focused on your version of the history, and how you have been hurt and wronged, you are able to craft a beautiful, distinctive argument enumerating your position. much to your chagrin, it doesn't get heard. s/he isn't interested in listening to your reasoning because *s/he* wants to be heard and understood and heralded as right.
people suck.
i suck.

i hardly ever fight with my friends. i don't like to stir up "unimportant" matters and i'd like to think that i don't really need to have it *my* way. i try to be respectful and usually will just 'go with the flow'. i don't care what we 'do'. the more important thing is 'who' i do it with, right?

you could be at the most beautiful place on earth, or the most fascinating, or the most exotic, and still have an awful time if you're with the wrong person.
or, you could be walking down a residential street in a boring little town in Central Illinois BUT you'll be having a ball, b/c the person who's walking w/ you is making you laugh.

i've been sick to my stomach all week b/c of a fight that has occurred between me and 2 close friends of mine. as this debacle has unfolded, i've had things said to me that i felt were unjust and hurtful. to be sure, i hold culpability in contributing to the breakdown of the relationships, but as i examine the heated emails and the conversations that have occurred, i realize how many layers of misunderstanding there are on both sides. both sides have fucked up by not addressing certain issues, but now that things have risen to the surface, suddenly there has been a clearing of obscurities--and there is pain in that.

what i mean is:

in relationships, people usually take the Low Road--the path of least resistance. we don't always do or say the hard things b/c we're lazy. or we're afraid. or we make justifications about why "now is not a good time", or "next time i'll do things differently". taking the easier path is necessary a lot of the times for the sake of getting along. we overlook things or just 'let things go' b/c stirring things up will only hurt the relationship.

HOWEVER, when we take the Low Road, misunderstandings begin to happen. these lead to a slow, but sure shifting of perception from Basic reality. small and large offenses begin occurring as a result of those misperceptions and a maladaptive dynamic forms. eventually, when there is enough friction, suddenly, seemingly from nowhere,

there is a spark.

and then a loud explosion

and then shock.

you find yourself sitting in a puddle of piss and shit--theirs and yours

a dizzying, disgusting mess.

you try to collect yourself--your heart thumping with adrenaline while you sift through the chunky, oozing excrement looking for answers. trying to figure out who's responsible for what, because surely, this can't be *my* fault, right?!

and as you examine yourself and examine the things that were finally FINALLY said, you see where you fucked up, and how they fucked up, and have no idea how to clean it all up.

unfortunately, it is no longer simply a matter of busting out a mop, some bleach, and some harsh cleansers. that lovingly weathered relationship is now soaked in the vile brine of your mutual misperceptions. it's going to take more than a little elbow grease to get to a fresh start.

because
you are pierced with the glaring reality that maybe you've been misunderstood for a substantial period of your history. that maybe they've been harboring resentment towards you... for months, or even years.

that is when your heart breaks.

you want to ask: is that who you thought i was the whole time? that terribly ugly, selfish person?

it is not that there is no recourse from this kind of fight. if the relationship is worth anything, you talk it out, or yell it out, or wring it out with whitened knuckles and raw cheeks.

the bottom line is: you've got to be brave and lay it all onto the table so you can clean it up and glue the pieces back together.

but right now, as i sit in this dirty stinking puddle, i feel lonely as hell.

the single pheromones

it's been a while since i've discussed my man/woman issues, so i'll go there...

i need to preface this by saying that i *know* i am not God's gift to men. i recognize that i'm kinda cute and can be charming when i feel like it--BUT, i am quite aware that i am no longer part of the super-sexy elite group in their early-to-mid 20s.
MEH. i wouldn't ever trade what i've learned in my 20s for more elastic skin.

anyway, i feel like i've got the "i'm single" pheromones coming out of my pores again, and it's driving me batty. allow me to elucidate: these special pheromones only manifest when you are thoroughly happy as a single person. this has happened once or twice before in the past two years of my singlehood--and each time, the pheromones attracted unwanted attention.

i'm tired of 'dating' and/or whatever it is that i've done w/ men. getting involved w/ someone--no matter how 'casual' it is--expends waaay too much energy. even though there are those fringe benefits when dating someone, i know myself. i can't be casual SO--i just don't want to date someone unless it's something substantive.

the other times that i was 'happy' as a single, i feel that my happiness was somewhat fleeting because it was not built on something really substantive. i remember feeling high on the idea of not having to be accountable to anyone for my comings and goings or feeling high on being completely free and uninhibited to do *whatever* i wanted. those are important things, certainly--but not bound to last for a long measure of time. eventually, loneliness/aloneness creeps back in while you're being so tra-la-la-la-free.
another thing that's different this time is that the random flirtations are a source of irritation for me. in the past, i didn't mind the coquette because i felt like it made things interesting. today, i want to avoid this guy and that other guy because i can tell that he wants to 'get to know' me. yikes. i don't know to 'get to know' him.

i know shouldn't begrudge the flirtations--afterall, i should feel some measure of flattery, yes? but, ugh. i feel grossed out by it all. SEX. urgh.
i feel him undressing me from across the room or while i'm climbing stairs or sitting at the next table. i can feel his eyes while i'm leaning against the subway pole or when my back is turned to him b/c i don't want to make eye-contact.

am i being paranoid or self-aggrandizing?
possibly.
but, there is NO QUESTION about the increase in my getting hit on in the past few weeks. i've been staying in and away from people because i don't want to party these days--so i'm not even entering into social situations where the sexy times are always happening. i've been all bundled up, messy hair under a floppy winter hat with no make-up: but that guy at the cafe and that other guy at my school and the gentleman on the subway all made passes at me.

there is no explanation for any of this, except: i am putting out quantities of those single pheromones that cannot be blocked by even the most shapeless, bulky winter coat. there are worse problems, i suppose.

the cleanse part II

well, i've thrown myself from the wagon at the advent of my Chicago girlfriend coming into Seoul. she now sleeps next to me on this (her last) night in town. it might have been stupid for me to forfeit my choice of "clean living" during her sojourn here, but at the same time, i'm a realist and i'm working towards a sustainable lifestyle--and not just one of austere "purity".

i feel messed up though. this week, i eschewed all of the healthy behavior i had committed myself to and i am left feeling a little empty, now that all of my lusts have been indulged in. my girlfriend knew that i had made these commitments--moreover, she attempted to curtail my behavior--but, that is nonsense.
i mean: what is an indulgence if you only go 1/2-way? if i'm going to indulge, i'm going to fully enjoy the experience. [maybe this is why i need to fully stop indulging.]
additionally, i do not do or not do anything for someone else. i make decisions for me. otherwise, the choices don't stick because they aren't significant to ME. duh.

anyway, i kinda knew it would come down to this again. i'm kinda glad i had a chance to wildly run around in this dirty playground again because it reminded me how fruitless it is to play on all of this rusting equipment.
frankly: the idea of doing another cleanse this week gives me a headache, but i know i should do it. i need to refocus and recenter myself. i need to get back to the heart of what i want my life to be about. i can't be there if i'm feeling unhealthy and/or out of control.

there is something beautiful that happens when you deny yourself something you want. often, what you are denying yourself has some delicious aspect of unhealthy (which makes the self-denial worth anything to begin with).
also, through the slight panicky moments of desire, there is a strange sense peace that you experience as you realize that you ARE the master of your lusts.
you CAN be strong.
you can be BRAVE.
YOU can do things that are hard.
your state of being can be BETTER than before.

it might be stupid to be so dramatic about denying myself certain foods and a few other indulgences this week--but this is part of a spiritual journey for me. outside of the foods, this week, i'm going to workout everyday, start a painting i have in mind, daily practice my uke, and read a few chapters of a few books.

all of that might sound a little ambitious, i know--but in my state of weary, it actually makes me hope and feel excited for some of that Rest i've been craving.

inked for the 7th time

i now have a fairly substantial back piece covering about a 1/3 of my back.

the 2.5 hour experience was intense, and i still have to go back to get the color filled in. EJ (my tattoo artist) and i conferenced extensively about her proposed designs before she finally set up the needles and the ink.
the tension built in my muscles as i waited for the process to begin. i knew it would not be pleasant. when i lay facedown onto the tattoo bed, i took a few deep breaths to calm/prepare myself for the pain.
EJ smirked, "you ready?"
i groaned and gave her a sad face, "i'm never ready."
she buzzed the ink gun at me a few times, "ok. well, i'm starting."
as the needle began puncturing the skin of my lower back, it was almost a relief. EJ is a perfectionist and a great artist. she pressed the needle in carefully so it wasn't *so* bad for about the first 1/2 hour. however, when she began working on the shading on my side, the pain suddenly spiked.
"oh Mary," EJ paused in her work when a little squeak escaped my throat, "this part is probably really sensitive, isn't it?"
i took a deep breath, "yes. 갑짜기 신각헤졋어." (literal translation: 'it suddenly got serious').
she laughed kindly, "well, i don't want to make things too hard for you. so, now that i've started on this part, i should do this all in one pass... do you think you can handle it?"
i nodded and laughed helplessly, "the way that i see it, i figure that i'll have this ink in my skin for life... feeling this sharp, intense pain seems right to me."
"i agree," she smiled, "ok... get ready..."

the next 45 minutes was excruciating as she pulled burning fishhooks through my skin. internally, i squirmed and screamed. i felt trapped. tortured. i wanted to push her the fuck off of me and run. but i held my breath and grit my teeth.

getting this tattoo was pretty spontaneous, but it wasn't at random. i've recently been feeling quite refreshed and happy in life. i've quit smoking, drinking, and staying out until the early morning hours (for now). i'm sure these factors play a major role in moving me into this good place. i don't feel any compusion to be at this or that party anymore. i just don't feel like i'm missing out. i'm investing in my closer friends, i'm getting involved in fruitful activities, i'm exercising regularly, and i'm eating healthy.
i feel fabulous.

i'm also done with random sexual encounters. not that i've had that many, but 2010 had a string of months where i succumbed to my lusty appetites whenever i was in the mood. all i needed was a decent-looking guy who was confident enough to flirt and proposition me to a casual introduction to his penis.
sure, there was a temporal pleasure i experienced (sometimes) while getting naked and sweaty with him or him or what's-his-name, but i either felt disgusted with myself or some shade of dark the following day. i got stuck in that pattern for several months, despite those dark feelings.

so, as i gritted my teeth against the searing, raking of needle against my skin, i blasted the tribal beats of one of my favorite bands into my ears and reflected on why i was putting myself through this pain...
it is for the pleasure of Life.
for the fact that--even though it took me a while to get here, i am here.
it is for the purpose of permanently marking myself and my commitment to this: the act of trying to be the best of exactly who i am with my bizarre brains. this is what God intended, sometime before the dinosaurs were duking it out.

He's always wanted ME to break free. to fully be who i am. He's always been drawing me out, sometimes whispering, sometimes yelling--agape love and unconditional acceptance.

i've always heard these messages, but never received them--throughout my sheltered youth, my sometimes troubled drugged/drunken adolescence and adulthood, my angsty married years, and the past two years in my post-divorce playground.
this history--my history, may describe me, but it doesn't define me. i sometimes get so wrapped up in my failures and Flaws that i forget that i am inherently valuable. to Someone.
SO, here's the ridiculously obvious conclusion: i don't need to be anything or anybody. i can simply be Myself. somehow, that is good enough. and *that* is lovely.

thus, the form of my 7th tattoo:
i chose the main subject to be flora, because it is living and organic. towards the base of the piece (which, ironically is the highest point of the tatt) is the symbol for love. along the branches are the symbols for joy and peace among cherry blossoms.
to be honest, the cherry blossoms weren't exactly *my* idea, but EJ really thought they would look good in the design, so i consented. afterall, i figured that getting a tattoo is a dynamic, artistic process for both artist and canvas.

why love, joy, and peace?
a few weeks ago, i asked a guy i just met: "what do you want to be when you grow up?" he expounded upon his future plans at some length. his ideas were somewhat specific and elaborated. what struck me was that he was able to name things; he seemed pretty clear about what direction he would *like* for his path to take.

though he never reflected the question back to me, i still thought about how i am very unsure about what the future will bring. moreover, i do not have any concrete idea about what i would like it to bring.

but, i still know what i want to be when i grow up.

i want to be someone who really loves people. i want my life and my actions to be reflective of Love. i also want to be a person who regularly experiences joy and peace. those kinds that are Real. those secret kinds that are not reliant upon purpose or possessions or circumstance.

these are the pretensions that got me through the waves of panic that hit me while EJ pressed that blazing, inky needle to my side.

Monday mania and the Korean man

another day, another round.

i was awoken to my phone ringing. i dazedly looked at the name and thought, "Melissa? who the hell is Melissa?"
"hello?"
"Mary?" said an anxious voice.
"yes?"
"Mary, where are you?"
i squinted at the clock and groggily tried to tap into the voice recognition portion of my brain, "i'm at home." and then it dawned on me. MELISSA. oh shit. it's MONDAY! i sat up and shook the cobwebs loose from my synapses.
"Mary, are you sick?"
"no, no! i'm not sick. i just didn't hear my alarm. i'll be at work as soon as possible."
she sounded nervous, "the vice principal was asking about you."
*that* was ominous.

it's mid-terms week, and actually, there is no real reason for me to be at work, sans the Korean work culture that lends to the notion that one's physical *presence* in the office is important. i smirked as i made my bed and sauntered into my bathroom. i hoped that i wasn't in too much trouble, but i dunno--i've been fighting the indifference that seems to come with this SMOE job.
the school itself has minimized the importance of the work that i do, and though i put in all of my efforts while in the classroom, outside of the classroom, i have just done my best to keep my head bowed and my eyes trained on my computer screen.
i don't listen to the announcements during the teachers' meetings anymore--not because i'm lazy or do not care--it's because i only understand about 80% of what is going on. that last 20% of comprehension is crucial to actually receiving a message, so i've taken to writing or reading or checking my email during that time.

well this morning, i got to the office about 45 minutes late, and i made a bee-line for the VP's desk. i was a little surprised at how it went down. Korean office politics severely highlights my problem with the Korean man.
my VP's voice was unnecessarily loud and boomed through the teachers room, "you didn't have class yesterday. you didn't have tests yesterday. why were you late today?" i cringed because i could sense that the entire staff was waiting for my response.
"yes. i'm really really sorry--"
"you're really very sorry?" he chuckled mockingly--imitating my bad Korean grammar.
i grit my teeth, but kept my voice in a submissive half-curtsy, "yes, i just didn't hear my alarm this morning."
"no? why not? why did you go to bed late?" is that your business?
"well, i was volunteering."
"what do you mean?" he leaned forward. a glimmer of curiosity interrupted his gleeful spanking.
"i do volunteer work on Sundays."
"tell me about this. what kind of volunteer work?" his voice shifted down to a normal volume.
"i go to Seoul Station with some friends--you know how there are a lot of homeless people there?"
he nodded slowly, "yes--there are many homeless people in that area."
i folded my hands in front of me,"my friends and i buy food and then distribute it until late at night."
the VP gave me a penetrating look, "and so that's what you did last night?"
i tried not to roll my eyes, "yes. i was very busy yesterday."
he leaned back in his chair. i could see that he was trying to decide whether/not he was done toying with me.
he was.
i returned to my desk.

however, all day, i had people coming up to me asking me if i was "ok". it was a little confusing. about half-way through the day, i discovered that at precisely 8:13am, the VP made a huge racket throughout the teacher's office about my absence. he ran up to Melissa and loudly questioned her about where i was, as if i were intentionally taking advantage of the system. he made sure that all of the employees could hear him.
the teachers who knew me felt compelled to ask what had happened because the VP had made such a scene about it. when i realized what a production was made out of my tardiness, i was a little embarrassed--but, actually more amused than anything.

i know i'm probably pointing this gun at my own foot, but this Korean 눈치 ("noon-chi") bullshit is just not working for me. and i think it's ridiculous for the Koreans to expect for me to *get it* when they themselves don't even get it.
the VP has been hinting that he wants me to be the editor-in-chief of the high school's English newspaper (ermm. who's going to read this?) but he hasn't clearly stated what he expects of me.
it's funny because when he alludes to tasks like translating pages of complex Korean into English, i giggle and cock my head to the side and politely explain the limitations of my linguistic abilities--MUCH to his exasperation. he's getting a little pissed that i'm not just DOING what he wants, no matter what the sacrifice (like his other employees). BUT i am not his bitch. he's not my boss--the Korean government is.
i know this is obnoxious to say, but despite my Korean face, i'm an American. i'm not going to guess what he wants. that shit's confusing.

so, here i am: wide-eyed innocence and fast, precise articulation in English. he gives up eventually, in frustration.
*giggles*

bang BANG! ouch! that's my foot!

happy

i'm in the middle of writing a quick itinerary of my comings and going in Japan, but i had to pause instead and write:
i'm extremely happy right now.
life is so good. phew! i can't remember feeling *this* happy and optimistic about my journey.

i know i feel this good b/c this isn't just a 'high' that'll fade. and hey--i'm realistic. life'll definitely bring me things that'll make me cringe and cry. inevitably, life is full of intense pain and well--shit happens to everyone. but i'm actively talking to God again--and He's doing something mysterious in my insides.

i am experiencing an impossible feeling. there is no other way to describe it.

let me put this into some context.
the phrase: "relationship with God" is such an overused phrase that it has lost meaning. and honestly, it sometimes sounds like something a crazy, over-spiritualized, self-righteous Bible bangin' jerk would be haranguing about. but hell, i must speak of this--and i suppose you could call me one of those jerks.

i'm not going to be as arrogant to say that i've figured out what a "relationship with God" is, but i feel like i've suddenly found myself in a place where i'm experiencing it.
for many years i was lost in the land of the "do's" and "don'ts".
this wasn't it.

then, for a while, i was lost in the opposing jungle of eschewing all of the rules. i figured, if God loves me with an agape love, my actions ("good" or "bad") were unimportant.
this also, wasn't it.

finally, i have found myself in a place where i'm not thinking about any of that stuff, and i'm simply focused upon just getting to know Him. i've been trying to live inside this framework for the past few months--just doing my best to talk to God. i've been trying to *really* love people and learn what it means to be content.
somehow, this has spontaneously lead me into falling in step w/ the "do's" and "don'ts"--(BIZARRE!) i have not been trying to be *good*, but suddenly i find myself naturally being *good*.
I KNOW: the idea of "GOODness" is a very confusing and controversial concept--but it IS there. it floats around dynamically, nebulously--but it is a real thing. i would contend that most people--irrespective of belief system--can see and feel what "good" is, even if they cannot define it. even if they don't know where it comes from.

i have been startled by these random avalanches of joy. i know it sounds like hyperbole--but WOW--i have rediscovered the secret again, and it feels amazing.

i know that there is a plan for my life, and it's a good one. and it will make me happy. God likes me to be happy.
i know that there is a purpose for my existence on this planet, even though i'm not sure what it is. i'll figure it out at the right time.
and i know that whichever direction i go in these worn sneakers, God is holding my hand, walking with me. it is this--exactly this--that floods my insides with a crazy peace.