midnight again.

it's coming to the end of my week of Winter Camp and i've got mixed emotions about hitting up planes, trains, buses, and taxis over to Indonesia tomorrow.
on one hand, the warm weather and adventures that i always meet on the Road are exciting to contemplate, but the stunning news from the past few days has left me feeling restive and exhausted. i don't know if the sun will chase away these negative feelings or if i'll feel haunted by questions and insecurities as i begin to wander. i want to be around people who are *close* and not random merry-makers while i'm feeling so subdued.

though i have been quite fortunate in life, i feel forlorn and i have to ask: why the hell do i alway have to fall into those fucked-up, tragic, statistics?
i know it's dramatic to say "always", but shit. in my general demographic, i'm the only one who's experienced "x", "y", AND now "z". i know i'm certainly not the only person in the world with a closet full of painful experiences--the Net is full of all of those examples of that girl who... or that guy that... but having to experience the top #2, #3, and #6 of the most difficult challenges that are faced by modern-day Western people (according to psychological studies) feels a little unfair.

what the hell is "fair" though? my life has been more than "fair" and privileged in most ways. i just have the very American attitude of entitlement. we all want freedom from pain. it's a ridiculous notion.

anyway, i'm feeling a little conflicted about the timing of this all. i'd finally gotten to the point where i'd been feeling *ready* to stop with the wholly selfish manner in which i had been living. this was not in a superficial burst of surrender based upon some "high" or experience. i had just felt that i had been coming into the understanding what is actually meaningless and what is *not*.
this was followed by the News.
my heart sank. is sinking. and i'm asking the "why" question--more out of sadness and regret, rather than actually wondering "why?".
i know exactly *why*. i know the principles. i'm talking about the scientific ones.
though, damnit. it sucks to pay for something after the fact like this, huh? and the cost is too fucking high for that paltry, transient product. i have nothing to show for it now but lesions and inevitable, declining health.

UGH. resignation.

this is life. my life.

i will allow these moments of blackness about this for now and for maybe about a week. and then, no more.
i need a chance to grieve--and even if that means i'll be spending part of my travels to a tropical island in rainy cloud,
fuck. this my life that is happening and it's ok to feel sadness when something bad happens.

in the end, it's really really ok, and i know that.

i talked to a girlfriend from Chicago this morning over a piece of toast while i was waiting out the clock to go to class:
me: "so, allow me to be philosophical about this for a moment: even if i get the big "C" and worst comes to worst--even the 'worst' is not a bad thing."
her: "...umm, the phone's cutting out, so i'm not even totally sure what you're saying but, if you're talking about dying..."
me: "aw, c'mon--of course i'm talking about dying--we're all going into that space at some point."
her: "well, philosophy aside, i know that you'll be ok--so, can you stop being philosophical?"
me: "look woman. if there's ever a time for me to indulge in this kind of rant, it is now... i'm just trying to get the tears out--i know i've gotten myself a little screwed here. i need to let myself feel this pain."
her: "i know, Mary. i know."

readers: i'm not dying tomorrow, or the next day, or presumably in the next 20 years--but, who can count on that stuff anyway?

by night-light

damnit.
my life has been fairly consequence-free, despite my free-spirited relationship with danger.
suddenly i'm faced with unexpected consequences due to my wild romping and i have to shake my head at God's bizarre ways.

well, i guess that's bullshit. how can i possibly hold God responsible for the natural fallout of my own misbehavior? if anything, He's been warning me all this time--for many many years. and in fact, i've dodged the bullet a statistically improbable number of times; it's only sensible that some artillery finally ripped through my flesh.

well, nothing has changed. not really.
a few hours ago, i was informed of a potentially serious health problem. a problem that was not really known of, much less tested for 30-40 years ago. sooo... what can i say to this?
in my case, our medical advances have simply gotten better informed of the name of the thing going wrong with my body. there is more knowledgeability on the tactics of the demon that's fucking around in my system--but, to what end? what is the point of knowing said demon's name if the word "untreatable" gets thrown in next to it?

and so, what can i say?
except,
i'm dying. but that's been true since i first opened my eyes to my mother's face.
you're dying too, you know.
**i know that this probably sounds a little histrionic, i apologize. but, i feel like i'm allowed a moment of dramatization after getting the News and then hitting up the Net and reading words like "high-risk" and "no known cure" and... shit. i don't want to put that dirty word up on here.**

i called a friend that i've become close to these days, and her emotional sway was crazier than mine. i'm not sure if it's b/c it doesn't quite feel real?--but i feel pretty calm. maybe a little pissed. and a little regretful--and i hardly experience that emotion anymore.
however, mainly i feel a non-negative form of resignation.

honestly, whenever it's my time to go, it's my time, huh?

she kept saying, "it's going to be ok, i know it's going to be ok."
and i kept saying, "i know i know."
her: "well, Wikipedia says the majority..."
me: "...majority means 51%. plus, it doesn't matter what Wikipedia says. no matter what happens, i'm going to be ok."
her: "i know you will. most people are fine--you'll be fine."
me: "even if my health isn't fine, i know that i'll be ok. i'm not in charge anyway."
her: "if i were a praying person..."
me: "God listens to everyone's prayers, even if we don't know Him very well."
her: "then i'll pray."
me: "i would appreciate that."

my eyes feel kinda watery writing this out. not because i'm afraid of death or disfigurement or the implications that this news could have on my future. i feel emotional because i know that God can see me typing this out, by midnight night-light, surrounded by sleeping travelers, in a Jeju hostel. He can see everything inside my heart and mind and even in my bloodstream. and i can sense just how much He loves me. His daughter.

so, i can still say: 2011, so far, so good.

reflections and pre-travel mental prep

it's Tuesday, January the 11th.
it's hard to believe that i've got 5 days before i'll be on the move again. Jeju Island for a Winter Camp, then landing back in Seoul on Friday at 5:30pm, only to leave for Indonesia on the red eye at 11:20pm that same evening.

i have spent the last week and a 1/2 being a very non-productive agent in the world, and i've been excusing myself by saying how *sick* i've been. i've had a sinus-y head cold since the 1st of the year--my girlfriend gave it to me the night i cooked her dinner. i can't smell anything and my head feels like there's a strange hollow echo in it for most of the day.
all i've done is watch copious amounts of TV, read half-way through a murder-mystery, written in my journal, cooked/ate, and hit the gym 5 of 6 days a week. i've washed ONE load of laundry, vacuumed my floor, and have had brief moments of panic when i've considered the fact that i've got 2 pretty big trips to pack/plan for (and not much time to do it). it's a long list, but really, it's been 11, 24 hour days.

but, it's been a relaxing time. though i feel like a bit of a bump on a lump, this respite has given me a chance to regroup. if laziness is the only thing my neurosis is forcing me to feel guilty about, i'm pretty sure i can live w/ myself.

so, i'm regrouping.
i've completely sequestered myself in my apartment, only emerging for the gym, the grocery store, and the occasional coffee/dinner.
yesterday i met up with the woman whose wallet i had found on the train. there were about 12 different credit cards and nearly $200 in cash in it; though i (of course) felt slightly tempted by all of those green bills, i had to shake my head and think about how many times i've been the benefactor of the "Golden Rule".
and well, even if i hadn't been, i've got more money in this world than a dozen families in the average developing country. i know i'm incredibly fortunate; never have i been served wrong when i've consciously choose to trust in the Source of my blessings/wealth, rather than trying to personally hoard anything.

since the 1st, i've had time to quiet my thoughts and my heart about *me*. i will never ever be perfect, but i'm learning how to be ok with that. who knew that grounding/centering yourself back on the planet was such a process?
i've got a steady handle on things for right now and it feels pretty good. i'm trying to only respond to invitations from people that there can be a healthy mutuality. but, this isn't always possible--even though i've hidden in my warm little cave, i still am getting the occasional call to enter into noisy, smoky, sexy bars. to these obligations, i come out early, steel myself with the choice to be *loving*, then pull out my most recent hi-jinks to get a few laughs. i make a few connections, cough my lungs up around the smokers, then do double kisses on cheeks--pleading some lame excuse (like needing to make it to a booty-call). however, the more i go to these things, the tighter i have to grit my teeth at the apparent uselessness of it all.

shit. i'm being really high-brow, aren't i?

but really--i'm just tired of all of these unsubstantive events that are social just for the sake of being social. i'm not sure what i would presume to be substantive, but i wish for conversations that exist outside of the arena of self-pleasure or aggrandizement. SURE, i'm a arrogant hedonist myself--but can't we get excited about other things?

additionally, i'm done with the whole party scene for now. it's FINALLY happened. i'm tired of the late LATE nights, the boring conversations, and the super grope-y, super trashed 20-somethings that are just hoping to get laid.

i say all this knowing i'll be on 2 different party islands in less than 2 weeks. there'll be dancing and beautiful, moonlit bodies, and plenty of tantalizing opportunities to engage in debauchery.
but, the more research i do, the more opportunities i'm finding to get away from the partying/beaten path and experience nature in outdoor activities. i've been longing to be outside and breathing un-recirculated air since the Winter blues have descended. this'll have to be a conscious choice i make before i land in Yogyakarta, Indonesia.

i am easy prey to hedonism and it's been quite a while since i've engaged in certain carnal gratifications. vacation is nearing and entitlement for satisfaction and avoidance of discomfort always sets in. at the end of the day, i'm not one to feel like it's a personal apocalypse if i make *those* choices, but again: 2011 is my year for doing things differently.

i'm going to remember i've written this blog and re-read it after my trip. i'll give an honest recounting if decide to give one.

change is never easy, but i've gotta allow the process to begin to unfold
some place.
some time.
a celibate, surfing, hiking, teetotaling, snorkeling, maniacal neurotic on the Indonesian Islands in January of Twenty-Eleven? i hope that's as fun as it sounds.

rambling journal: parents, reflections, Week One

relationships are dynamic and ever-changing based upon circumstance and development (or regression). happy moments and tragedies and even the dull, humdrums are constantly influencing the way that we interact with our various *others*. i'm generally not one to cut anyone out of my life, but, it happens--sometimes on accident, sometimes on purpose.

that can't really happen with our parents though, can it?
ok, sure--we can cut our parents out of our lives and not allow them to have access to our comings and goings. we can stop them from talking to their grandkids or disregard anything they have to say about our financial decisions or romances or religious choices. we can coldly or dramatically vow to never see them again. scream. slam doors. et cetera.
but inevitably, we can never really forget that the genesis of our flesh and blood was from those two people. a man and a woman. there is heavy meaning and gravity when we think about the origin of the shape of our faces, the texture of our skin, the tenor of our voices, and the dys/functionalities in our characters.
for those of us who actually grew up under our parents' care, our relationships with him/her/them are strange things, huh?

whomever we grew up under, we begin those relationships completely dependent upon their care. our frail bodies are dependent on our caretakers to feed us, clothe us, take us into the sunshine, and (hopefully) shelter us from the violent storms that sometimes rage and rumble.
however, even for the most functional and loving of caretakers, they too are erring beings--and one day you're faced with that truth, which is frightening for the young mind to grasp: your "parents" are just as *human* and failure-prone as you are.
following that, you begin to grow and individuate--developing that fierce need to be your *own* person--a terrifying process to most parents (who are generally still more knowledgeable about the evils in the world).
then, the push-pull struggle ensues.

in Western culture, ideally, from this struggle, the youth emerges as an adult; this relationship between caretaker and the once frail, yowling bundle of joy, shifts into one of mutuality and respect.
of course, this is just the ideal. hardly commonplace. however, there is usually *some* semblance of this process for most of us who have made it into adulthood.

***
speaking from my 2nd generation, Korean-American experiences, i would conjecture that the young-adulthood struggle for mutuality with our parents is more complicated. many of our immigrant parents cling tenaciously to the Korean conservatisms they lived by--right before they immigrated (in the 60s-80s). Korean culture is a grandly patriotic culture that (supposedly) staunchly resists external influence and proudly claims all progress as It's own. [i suppose most cultures do that to a degree.]
this is an extremely interesting phenomenon for me see because i now live in a fairly liberal Korea. this not my parents' Korea.

the first generation of Korean immigrants into America experienced a loss of power and disenfranchisement because of racism, a lack of skills (i.e. linguistic, systemic, etc.), among other things. ill-equipped to fight back, they externalized these problems and held the 'screwed up (American) culture' as the culprit. they fondly held on to the memories and tenets of their Motherland--the place where they understood the social rules and had some measure of respect.
as a way of exerting control in the oppressive American system, the first generation attempted to re-gain respect by applying an exaggerated version of the Korean hierarchical rules into the only system that they could conceivably "control": their families.

[i make this major digression simply to point out that in the 70s, when my parents immigrated, Korean culture had more stringent standards for parent-child hierarchical boundaries than it does today. in fact, my parents' models were my Korean grandparents when *they* grew up in the 40-50s. complicated, huh?]

this cultural disconnect caused much dissension and misunderstanding between the first and second generations. i hardly meet Kyopos my age who aren't rife with issues regarding their conservative parents. they all lie about their smoking, drinking, and sexual habits--fearing excommunication and possible disownment.
again, this is fascinating for me as i talk to Koreans my age. these men and women are fairly open with their parents about what they do after they come 'of age' (20 years old). of course, Korean parents might cluck their tongues about their child's unhealthy habits, but as long as no one gets pregnant, it seems that everyone's pretty happy.
***

why do i explicate on this?
i've been told that i had an odd relationship with my Korean parents, and now maybe it has become even odder.
i had the boringly stereotypical conflict-laden-screaming-bloody-war relationship with my parents during my adolescence. they were extreme in their rules for me (my curfew was 9pm as a Junior in high school) and so my rebellion was extreme. the 'internet-safe' rebellions i can post are: sneaking out of my house to go to parties, making out with my boyfriends in their mini-vans parked around the corner from my house, smoking cigarettes, never keeping my curfew, etc.
i was *always* a liar to my parents. that was the only way for me to cope. i felt like honesty with the Mister and the Missus was dangerous--(our EPIC fights often me in tears and feeling self-destructive/suicidal). so, i lied or demurred about everything i did and jumped over their tattered fence of unenforced, unrealistic rules.
this, in fact, was much more dangerous, and i honestly marvel that i made it to age 32, fairly intact.

anyway, eventually, though things were never really hashed out--due to circumstance, my parents grudgingly began treating me as an adult. (i think part of it is because i got married. however,) i think most of it is because they began to see that my stubborn will would get me *far enough* in life.
at some point over the years, i stopped lying to my parents [this is VERY different from most of my Kyopo friends], but i still had built sky-high walls about certain, sensitive arenas... i had gotten so used to let those sleeping dogs lie that i didn't realize the beautiful (though arduous) connection i was giving up.

about 2 and 1/2 years ago, when my life fell apart, there was a huge shift in the way i related to my parents. my heart was so shattered that i just needed the protective blanket of love that only my Umma and Appa could give me. it brings tears to my eyes to think about this time because their reaction to my pain was not what i expected.
at the time, i'm not sure how i expected them to react to my impending divorce, but it certainly was not the amazing support and compassion and non-judgmental care that they covered me with. there was something so wondrously comforting about being able to do the aching, tear-streaming bawl to them.
that summer, my parents took turns sitting quietly with me while i lay crying on the couch in our darkened family room. they listened to my philosophical ramblings and drank pots of tea with me. my mother made me jook (rice porridge), peeled me mangoes, and laughed with me while we watched Korean dramas.

that tragedy broke through some of my distorted misconceptions about who my parents were.
and, on their end, i think this incident helped them to realize that they *really* could not protect their babies from the awful pain that comes with life.

wow, i really didn't mean for this entry to take *that* direction.

anyway, i've been pretty damn honest with my parents since the above-mentioned trial. they know about most of my indiscretions--in fact, i can tell that they've avoided asking me certain questions so that they don't have to know *everything*. (after all, if they knew *for sure* about my adult sleepovers, they'd have to lecture me about it.)
however, outside of the obvious, i've held some pieces of my life in the dark, fearing that they couldn't possibly understand. i feared reprisal. fights... i just didn't want to expose to them. i didn't think they could handle it.

but, this is a year for change. doing things differently.

my Umma is the sweetest, most heart-broken of souls. she has an enormous heart and growing faith that brings me amazing joy as i encounter it.
yesterday, she and i spoke for the second time this new year. while sharing something common, i unexpectedly grew emotional and began spilling some of the burdens i've wanted to share with her for many many months. she was quiet and thoughtful and then said something incredibly wise.
"do today as best as you can, and be grateful for that chance. just one day at a time, Mary. that's how i have to do it."

these moments of sunshine. my darling parents.
my sweet sweet Ummunim. she's wise as hell.

detox

last night was New Year's Eve. and today, suddenly we've crept into another year.
i spent much of the day feeling pretty shitty, but interventions gave me some renewal.

the 1st is always a bit of a wash b/c no one knows what to do w/ themselves. you're supposed to be thinking things through and making resolutions and reflecting on what's to come. i was feeling yucky and a little unhappy. i've been an emotional mess lately for those bigger Questions and worried about what is to come--though i had not externalized/talked about any of it. my shitty emotional state just manifested itself in unhealthy behaviors.
the strange thing about me is that when i repress/refuse to talk through/process that negative stuff that swirls around in my head, i get completely out of touch w/ those feelings. then, that manifests itself in bad behaviors. when i eventually sit down and examine what is actually making me feel uncomfortable, i've already made a mess of myself and then i just want to HIDE.

this is a problematic cycle for me and i *hate* these messes i create for myself.

i had one of my closest girlfriends visit Seoul for the past two weeks. though it was absolutely wonderful to have her here, i felt the pressures of needing to be a good host and keeping on a cheery face. though my smiles and laughter were not disingenuous, the repression of my negative feelings eventually exhausted me. inevitably, when the dam bursts, there's a flood.
on Wednesday, a crack appeared along the dam wall.
over a deep talk about life and friendships and the inconstancy of nearly everything, i started spitting venom over a fairly innocuous issue. the rant wasn't directed towards any one thing, but suddenly i could feel my eyes filling with tears and then i finally felt it. profound sadness.
only for a moment though. my friend only had 2 more days left in town and i couldn't let myself go *there*. it felt too self-centered and i didn't want to add that on top of my many other failings. (i know. i know. that was a quick, but gigantic pity party.) my girlfriend looked concerned, but i just shrugged it off, determined to unpack it at a more opportune time.
i spent Thursday feeling bluesy, but just looked towards the new year as a chance to rest and reflect. but then yesterday, i drank too much whiskey and headed home before the countdown. i didn't even get to really hug my girlfriend goodbye. i'm an idiot.

so, on top of finally facing myself and the things that've been depressing me, i spent the lonely hours of this first day of the year nursing a hangover and feeling the burn of yesterday night's cigarettes. (please note: i "quit" smoking about 3 months ago.)

but, there are mysterious Ways: my best friend in Chicago was available to talk for hours as she approached 2011 on her side of the world. we shared our hearts about our fears and insecurities. i got to admonish her about her unwillingness to tell off the FOB-y creepster that won't stop texting her--("call immigration on him, damnit!") her father jumped on the phone and wished me blessings for the new year. she prayed for me. it was encouraging, but i still felt a little blue. i didn't like that i had started off the year this way. plus, i sorely missed her. i wished she could come over and sit on my bed w/ me while pigging out and giggling about nonsense together.

after hanging up, i puttered around the house for a while and then my phone rang. it was a girlfriend who wanted to fill me in on yesterday's gossip. her stories made me chuckle and brought back a sense of normalcy.
"i wish you could come over so i could cook for you," i sighed--expecting that she would be unwilling to brave the winter to commute to my place.
"what are you cooking?"
i perked up, "anything you want, baby."
"salad? with chicken?"
"and some mac 'n cheese i've been saving for the right opportunity?"
"i'll be over in an hour."
we sat and we munched and talked in my cozy warm apartment, and her presence helped me to level out and gain some perspective. today was not a day for me to sink into self-flaggellation.
God knew that.
not being the overtly sentimental sort, my girlfriend surprised me by asking about new year's resolutions.
"i don't do new year's resolutions."
"you don't? really?"
"nah. i don't like to fool myself with unrealistic expectations that are based upon the turning of the clock."
"you're so jaded," she laughed.
"damnit. maybe," i smiled. "but seriously, i just want to get healthy. spiritually, emotionally, and physically--i've been in a rut lately." i shared my thoughts about my emotional make-up and acting out behavior. i then turned the question back on her.
"me too. i want to get healthy," she nodded at my responses. "also, i just want to spend more time around healthy people with healthy energy." this warmed and encouraged me. she and i had been hanging out a lot more in the recent months; much of this was based upon her initiation. i feel profoundly fortunate for the people in my life.

my girlfriend surprised me again by mentioning that she had lately been thinking about spirituality. this girl always side-steps away from this topic--and i am not a proselytizer. i share about my faith sparingly because it is a very special and intimate thing for me. i blinked and encouraged her to start seeking on her terms.

this year, though inauspicious at it's onset feels exciting, fresh, and terrifying to me. i'm going to try to spend the first 2 months of it seeking w/ my whole heart. that means complete detox, quiet focus, and not responding to the many invitations of Complication. i'm a sucker for those invitations, but hell--2010 was a crazy year that left me w/ a hangover. i have 365 days to do things differently.

the end, the beginning

it's the end of the year. i'm within about 26 hours from the beginning of 2011 and i'm feeling a little melancholia creeping into my sensibilities. on one hand, i've got so many things to look forward to--i've got a one week writing class on Jeju Island, a 2 week excursion to Indonesia, a new apartment, new job...
but on the other hand, i'm *still* just me. the same person with the same failings and issues as i had 365 days ago. it's not that i haven't grown in a lot of ways, i just have a lot of problems. i know i know: it is unrealistic to be "perfect", but it really irks me that i carry some of the same problems with me from year to year.

i wonder if i can change. if i can be different. i wonder if i'll stop having crazy dreams about my ex-husband. i wonder if i'll *do* something this coming year. i wonder if i'll be able get over this apathy that has crept into my sensibilities.

but optimism always bubbles back to the surface. as depressed and dark things are sometimes, i know that the time i have on this planet is precious. that something about Today's passing was valuable, even though i spoke to and interacted with very few people.
this new year is an opportunity for something different to happen, but i'm not fooling myself. true change is not based upon the turning of the calendar pages. it's a stumbly journey of mistakes and development and growth and fuck-ups. for now, new days will continue to dawn and the Hope that warms me when i *really* think about the universe is a mercy that i'm profoundly grateful for.

good-bye 2010. it was an aiight run. but i'm gonna cheat on you with 2011.

my life is AWESOME

i was just informed that i will be "working from home" for the next two months. i have to come into school for one week in February and submit about a semester's worth of lesson plans, but that's it. i'm already half-way done with that.
if you care about that AT ALL and/or are cognizant of what this implies in the context of the Korean educational system: i'm swearing you to secrecy! please, don't hate. that's the way that things roll, you know? sometimes you find a $100 bill on the ground and sometimes your friend does. sure, you might feel a little envious, but you wish them well and accept the pack of gum they buy you from the next convenience store you pass.

the idea of 8 weeks of freedom is a little overwhelming. what will i do with myself? unstructured time is not something i deal with very well. i'll need a project.

writingWRITINGwriting. certainly. i'm not sure what i'll write about... maybe restart my book? ugh. probably not. start a new one?

i'll be taking care of myself. sleeping a lot. eating right. cooking yummy food. oh! maybe i'll learn how to cook a new genre of food! Thai, maybe?


also, i'll definitely be working out everyday. Indonesia's in 4 weeks. i want to drop about 10 pounds, but i think i'll have to settle for about 5.

reading! (i've got about 5 unread books on my desk right now.)


categorizing my music! yikes! *so many gigs* AND!! find MORE music!

maybe i'll explore some part of Korea?!

snowboard?!

spend time with friends!

AHHHHH! LIFE IS GRAND!!!!!!!!!

4 lettered words

this REALLY is a blog about nothing.
i'm having yet another existential crisis.
yuck.

i have to be meta-cognitive and acknowledge the ridiculous nature of these quarterly moments of angst--but damnit! i hate feeling this way. my insides feel uncomfortable as i question my Purpose. i wonder if my presence on this planet has meant anything thus far. have i made any impact at all? does my Person have any value?
i blush as i reread those previous sentences. i know how self-involved i'm being--but c'mon: we ALL want to feel validated as a Being. we all grasp for meaning and hope that there is at least a minutiae of significance in our actions and our words, no?

i have to ponder if there is much that i've done since the last time this niggled my consciousness. i know how selfish i am. i chase after insatiable lusts and comforts and get pissed or retreat when something gets in my way. i gnaw on rocks, trying to fill my hunger, only to be chagrined by badly chipped teeth and the not-so-profound recognition that: rocks have no nutritional value.
it's a lesson i get to re-learn every quarter. *sigh*
...
.......
although, i have to say that i'm getting a little better when having these tantrums. i don't feel quite as dark about it all. though i'm definitely brooding about those big Questions, i know it's not the end of my world. irrespective of how troubling i find these meanderings, i always will have some Hope.

maybe that's part of what i'm supposed to be learning this time around. that i don't have to just give into all of those black feelings. that i don't need to fall into the rabbit hole of self-loathing. that resting in certain Joys is always an option.
also, i'm finding that there is a distinct correlation between my exhaustion and my angst. i always feel sucked dry and sick-of-myself-sick-of-life when i'm not really reflecting on those Joys. i don't *have to* wallow. i can remember how much people do care about me. that people like to hug me and laugh with me. that i've at least had a brief moment of connection with every important person in my life in the past 24 hours.
but more importantly, irrespective of my worst, filthy, most violent actions:
i am Loved.
i am worth Dying for.

i know. it's too simple. and inexplicable. but there it is.

my life might not always make sense to me, but knowing those things help me to keep on.
Love. and Death. big words. i know.
i've stumbled across my Purpose a number of times: if there is any Thing i am supposed to do in this life, it is to Love, even when everyone around me seems like a fucking bastard. even when i'm being a fucking bastard.
if there's anything that'll grow and grow and grow from the tiniest of seeds, it is this. Love. *really* planting Love (and even tougher--receiving this seed) softly and surely kills off that selfish beast inside of me. it changes me. it helps me to understand something about the Universe.

shit. so that's my boring conclusion: Life is my confusing hell, and Love is my only true cure.

[existential crisis averted? well, at least i've bought myself some time.]

money and a shotgun

as i mentioned, i just bought airfare to Indonesia for January. i felt a little sad right after i purchased. i know that's partly menstrual, partly financial, and partly existential.

Financial: now that i've got a uni gig, i've got to strike out on my own and actually go through the Korean machinations to rent my own apartment. the independence of that is nice because it is more Real Life, but this means i will have about ONE dime left over in March, after i pay for key money and 1st month's rent. *sigh*
considering that made me wonder a little bit about MY life. out here in Korea.

a huge part of coming out to the Motherland was to pay off my student loans. but here i am, at the end of year 2, and i'm still 46K in debt. i've probably sent home about 10K this past year, but somehow none of that got applied to my loans.
i needed to help my parents do *this*, help my unemployed brother pay for *that*, deal with a *random bill*, pay for that unexpected *wedding gift*, take multi-destination flights to the States... yikes! it never ended.

i'm not complaining--i don't have any Real fiduciary problems--i know i'm wealthy as hell compared to the rest of the people in the world. i just HATE money. whenever i take pause and think about it, the relentlessness of the Rat Race depresses the hell out of me. over 7 years of paying down 50K of student loans and i've hardly made a dent.

i just want to be DONE so that i have the option of randomly taking a trip to... let's say... Kenya.
i can see myself randomly falling in love with the people, the community, the country--and then decide to eschew everything else: quit my job, leave behind my possessions--(bequeathed to 'my Family'), and live and serve the Kenyan people in a little mud hut by the river. i could work with my hands and carry water and contract tropical diseases and eat tropical fruit and be sunburnt all the time. eventually, i could curse my festering Kenyan sores and mosquito bites while musing about how little i understood about the romances of living in Africa. meanwhile, i could try to see if God sounds the same out there as He does in the other places i've been.
[by the way, by my experience, though He IS exactly the same, He somehow sounds/feels different in different places around the world. i have a feeling that *that's* because i don't really know Him that well.]

i guess that all bleeds into the Existential side of my little moment of sadness.
in the past 9 months, i've been to: Thailand, Laos, Cambodia, Korea, the US, and Japan. while i was doing the research to travel Indonesia, i mostly felt a bubbling excitement about the amazing sights and culture and people i would soon encounter.
but, during those quiet, exhausted, alone-moments, i began feeling a bit dizzy at the thought of all of the countries i've visited and all of the countries i wanted to see. the strength just got sucked out of my muscles as i considered how there never feels like there is enough time. how there are just *too many people*, too many stories, too many needs... there is just TOO MUCH of everything but also TOO LITTLE of everything.

and then, i began to consider: what's the point? after all of that complaining about the Rat Race, haven't i simply created my own form and imposed it onto myself?

on another, related thread: i think i should spend some time considering *why* exactly i don't really like traveling with others. everyone always talks about how traveling with friends is so much fun and et cetera--but i don't know. everytime i've traveled with people for more than a few days: i spend too much money, i get up too late, and i don't end up doing the things that i reallyREALLY want to do. at the end of the day, i feel exhausted because i feel like i've been entertaining the whole time.
i guess i'm a bit of a people pleaser/accomodater--which makes *me* a pretty good travel partner--but i don't know how much pleasure i derive from that experience. (i'm such an arrogant brute, huh?)
sometimes i just want to be completely alone and read a book or write in my journal or get lost in lonely thoughts while people-watching. when traveling, i just hate feeling pressure to do anything but exactly what i want to do. maybe i need to just be honest w/ my fellow travelers when i need alone time, huh?
(but i would argue that's it's hard to find someone secure enough about their personhood to not take the "i need some alone time" shrug personally.)

but again, i find it a little troubling that for most of my hobbies (and especially for my favorite hobby) that i have such a fucking selfish attitude about my pleasures. MINE!

i feel almost certain that inevitably i *do* belong in a pair, but as i thought about how i like to fly solo for my greatest indulgence in life, i felt a little frightened/saddened by myself.
will i one day take over my parents' acres of land in the backcountry of Arizona, Alone? will i wear my dad's old plaid shirts and raise goats and chop wood for the winter heat? will i have a dozen dogs that i all name "George" and deliriously shoot rounds into that painted sky, just so i can feel something?
damnit. that kinda sounds like fun.

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.