Reborn

Three years ago I stepped off a plane at Incheon Airport in Seoul, not knowing what I was exactly doing. Who I was then is certainly not who I am now. And I am forever grateful for that fact.

Weeks leading up to the initial departure of myself I had trouble breathing. I would be completely calm and then I would feel my heart begin to race. I couldn't take in sufficient oxygen to satisfy my lungs and I would stop and think, "what is wrong with me?"

I went to the Google doctor and diagnosed myself as having panic attacks. I didn't understand why I was panicking. Wasn't this what I had always planned on doing after I finished university? I was going to be reunited with two of my best friends from my adolescent-hood and I had planned to pay off my student loans, go on to grad school, then earn my doctorate like so many of my fellow English majors from Roosevelt University.

I realize now they weren't panic attacks. They were labor pains.

Well, not labor-labor pains. Allow me to explain.

I was about to be reborn. I was leaving the care of my mother and entering into a completely new world where I would have to fend for myself. Make friends. Learn a new language. Be misunderstood. Learn how to walk. Everything that goes along with a becoming a part of a strange, new society.

When I emerged from customs and saw Kat for the first time in years, we hugged. And like any newborn baby, I cried. I remember Kat asking me why I burst into tears. I just said that I didn't know. Because I didn't. I had no idea what was about to happen to me. Either did she. I don't think anyone knew, save for God.

The first years of childhood are all sorts of exciting. New places, new faces, it was all so fascinating. I knew from the first month of teaching that I wanted to be here as long as they would have me. I liked teaching. I liked being a part of an activist community (Mad love and respect for my V-DAY Crew).

I've learned much more about myself than I actually did in my real childhood. I learned how to live. How to love. How to be a better writer. A better teacher. A better human. These lessons were invaluable. And I'm still learning.

My mom would always tell me that getting a college education would provide me with the credentials I needed for my future. I used to think she was just trying to motivate me to finish school. In actuality, she was cheering me on to earn my own birth certificate. After all, I wouldn't be in Korea if it weren't for that piece of paper.

It's funny how everything is 20/20 in hindsight.

I won't say that there weren't missteps. There were always missteps. But with each stumble, I laughed. I didn't judge myself. And I picked myself up. My dad says that people don't count how many times you get knocked down, just how many times you don't get up. I thought I understood that as to never give up. To always get back up. And it is. But it isn't. I think the real truth is that even though we stumble, we should get up being thankful for it--because it brings you back to your goal. To your win. And when you accomplish what you came to do, someone will raise your hand and shout, "Winner!"

In fifteen days I will be heading back to Chicago and Florida for a month. Just a month. And I am excited to share who I was always meant to be with my family and friends back in the states. Much more that what blog posts, long distance phone calls, and status updates can bring.

But as excited as I am to get back to my family. I'm equally, if not more so, excited to get back to Seoul. My home.

Last year, I wrote a poetically written blog post about being in Korea. But as I set out to go back to the states after three years of living abroad, I know that Korea is not just a place where I am living. It is living inside of me.

Carrie Bradshaw, a fictional character--yes, I know; would always write about her great love. Not Big. Not Aiden. But New York City. She loved that city. And I totally understand her. Maybe I'll find an Aiden and a Mr. Big. But throughout all of it, I will always be in love with this city. My home. My Seoul.

Some say that true love is rare to find in this world. I don't know about that. What I do know is that, I hope all of you have a love like this. I hope you all have a place where you truly belong.

Finding my Shadow

I saw my shadow this morning as I was traipsing across the street to head to my favorite Starbucks to grade papers and enjoy a venti americano.

I don't normally enjoy looking at my shadow. It represents a false self. It lags behind, reminding me of who I once was, never allowing me to forget. I've hated my shadow for a long while. It was she who told me I wasn't pretty enough, thin enough, smart enough, good enough. But I never once stopped to consider who created my shadow. Who gave her life. Who was responsible for her. It was me.

I wasn't able to accept the sun shining upon me with its graceful rays, so I compartmentalized all the bad parts of me and forced them into my shadow, trying to shake her off. Never once did I stop to consider the weight of what I was doing. Instead of casting off my worries and false identity, I cast off a mile long shadow. I shoved my fears under the bed because that's where monsters are kept. And I became the princess and the pea, always feeling the uncomfortable writhing of my festering fears in the dark space between my floor and box spring. I pushed the skeletons into my closet, next to the ugly prom dresses and the cute coat I bought at a vintage thrift shop that I would "one day fit into," but never did. Everything else was consumed by the shadow. Anger. Hurt. Envy. And she took it, never once complaining.

She never once said no. She never sighed as I piled more and more upon her. She gave me the space.

Later, I learned that when you are dealing with a monster, you must give it space to be a monster. Only then can the monster transform into who he or she is meant to be. I viewed my shadow with contempt. I filled her with every evil part that has been a part of me. But she never judged. Never wavered. She gave the monster space. I was the monster.

So when I saw her today, I looked at her differently. She didn't look scary anymore. She didn't seem like a mass of darkness. She was me. She is me. And she is rather beautiful.

I took away her anger and her pain. I threw it away. I took her rags that i had clothed her in and dressed her warmly for these cold Korean winters. I told her I was sorry. She forgave me. And I forgave myself for virtually shitting all over me. For not finding worth within myself.

My shadow doesn't trudge along behind me anymore. She dances all around. In front of me, at my side, twirling behind me, I've even caught her twerking. (Don't tell her I told you that, she'd be embarrassed. Still, she rocks it.)

So today, Thanksgiving Day, I am thankful for not being who I was, for being a better person for others but more importantly, for myself. I am infinitely thankful to God, Jesus, and for the path He has me on. Even if it feels as if I am treading water, I know He is there to help me walk upon it. I am thankful for my amazing family, friends, and work family--both at E-Spirit and ProtoStar. I am thankful and grateful for you, dear reader. Maybe we know each other and maybe we don't. But thank you for allowing me to share my life, my thoughts, and everything else in between with you.


Happy Thanksgiving everyone. Love and Light to you all.

Sick in the ROK

Many, many years ago, my great grandmother was living in Boston and she happened to cut her arm. Because she immigrated from Greece, she didn't speak English very well, if at all, and she refused to go to the doctor because of her lack of communication skills...well, in English anyway. She also didn't trust them because they weren't Greek, but that is another story for another time.

So the cut got worse. And worse. Gangrene settled in. And they had to amputate her arm.

When my Yia Yia told me this, I scoffed. "Come on," I'd begin, "that was stupid! Because she was too afraid to go to the doctor, she had to lose an arm? That's ridiculous."

Oh how privileged I was. I had no idea what it was to be a foreigner in a new land, and trying to make it a home. I felt no compassion toward this woman who I was related to but would never meet. Until, that is, I became her.

Wherever you are living, and then contract some sort of illness or mishap with your body, it's never a pleasant thing. But being an American was was living in an English speaking country, it mattered very little to me. The only thing that weighed upon me was the cost of treatment. And, as you are all aware of, it still is an issue that weighs heavily upon most Americans.

And then I moved to Korea. To teach kids. Who are the cutest little germ carriers ever. Make no mistake, I am not calling out Korean children as being dirty or germ infested...all kids are. And some adults too. Eww. ^^

Now I am the stranger in a strange land. I am Helen Tournas with my arm cut and bleeding.

In my first year, I was sick every month. New hours, new job, new kids, etc. Just sinus infections--nothing serious.

Then came my first real illness in Korea. I had this massive sore throat that wouldn't go away. I went through all the normal troubleshooting techniques I've picked up over the years.

Growing up, we didn't have a whole lot of money, so I relied on homemade chicken soup and vitamin C. When we were REALLY sick, that's when we'd see the doctor.

So naturally, for this first bout with sickness, I drank hot tea, made gallons upon gallons of chicken soup, and the like. Finally, my head teacher called and made an appointment for me to go to an ear, nose, and throat doctor. The ENT doctor spoke English but his staff didn't really. I was so afraid in seeing a doctor because my Korean was not efficient enough for me to say "Here hurts." I know that I live in Seoul, in Gangnam (Yes, that Gangnam) for that matter, and that many people speak English here. That didn't take away my anxieties that seemed to harden like concrete around my feet.

So the diagnosis? I had an abrasion in my throat. No clue as to how it got there, but there it was. And all the hot liquid I was putting on it was making it worse. (oops!) So I drank lukewarm to warm water, took the antibiotics, and I was at right as rain.

I have since discovered the Itaewon International Clinic, which is where I always go now. The staff is polite and everyone speaks English. I am spoiled. Especially when my doctor visits are only about $2.50 and the medicine is less than $10.00. I am insanely blessed here.

It's not easy being a foreigner. But there are some things that definitely make it worthwhile. I just wish my great grandmother could have been as fortunate as I am now.

Light Your Spark

There are so many things that we should be grateful for in our lives, but often we are so lost in the shadows of things we don't believe to be working in our favor to truly see how fortunate and blessed we really are. Heavy handed sentence? Yeah. I know.

I'm currently sitting in my Starbucks in Seocho, listening to random Korean conversations, beeps from the micro-oven, espresso machines and do I detect Rufus Wainwright amid the noise? But this is what it is. We are lost in the noise. The imbalance of what isn't that we can barely strain to hear what is.

But is it really worth it to be grateful for things when we could just be sad? I know, you read that right. Some people just want to be sad. I used to be that way. I wanted to be this tragic character, that everyone wanted to save. But no one ever did. Do you know why? Because I didn't want to save myself. Life is not meant to be some tragic series of events where you are stuck in a prison, waiting for someone to recognize how much you're worth so that they will save you. Life is not meant to be lived in a prison. And the saddest, yet most empowering thing was when I realized that I was stuck in this prison, and I had the keys, the map, the way out...and I had it all of the time. I could have left at any time. But I didn't see it until I accepted who I was. And loved me for it. For all of my scars. For all of my flaws. And do you know what? Those scars? What I found to be so ugly? They were beautiful. And they always have been.

I had to see the value in me. I couldn't before. I spent YEARS blaming others for locking me away. But I never looked out the window to see how many people were standing vigil, waiting for me to return to them. The interesting thing? They never wavered. They never left. But locked in that prison, I couldn't see or hear their songs, their candles that would have lit up the sky if only I would allow myself to see it. My eyes were on the locked door that lead to the hallway, yearning to be rescued. "Why aren't they storming the gates?" I would ask. "Why don't they care?" All the while, they were singing, "Why doesn't she free herself? Why doesn't she care about herself?"

I know I'm not alone in what I experienced. But to those of you who haven't seen the key that has always been on your side of the door: It's there. Grab it. It's real. It's not a trick. And when you see it. Realize your worth. Be grateful. As you are leaving this graveyard of a prison, you will pass by others who are screaming, "Why aren't they storming the gates?! Why don't they care?!" You can't open their door--the lock is on the inside. They will not hear you say that they are loved. They will not listen because they do not believe. But when you exit this prison, you will walk and join those who have waited. You will embrace. And they will hand you a candle, and you will sing with them for the others who are still there.

You will feel a range of emotions. Sorrow for lost time, but immense joy for being brought out into the love and light. But just know, that time was never truly wasted. You can use this prison tale, and you can write about it in a blog, sing about it in a song, paint the pain in a picture, and you can be a light to someone else in the dark. You were meant to shine. So it's time to light your spark.

Like Riding a Bike . . .

So here it is. Blog post number 70. I wonder what this one will bring...


It's been quite a while, my dear readers. I've been rather busy with the edits on the book I've been writing. Things are looking really great, I must say. The story is becoming much more cohesive now, which is fab. Today's editing meeting threw me for a loop though. The reason, you ask? Well, one of my main characters has to write a poem.

Now, most of you who truly know me, know that I got my start writing the girliest poetry known to mankind. My first poem was written at the tender age of eleven and it was about a picnic. We went through this unit in fifth grade where we all had to write poems and share them in the class (if we so desired). There was a boy in my class that would always write about war--and it was always wicked graphic and I remember thinking "ew." hahah My, how I've grown since then.

Truth be told, I haven't really written a poem since I've lived in Seoul. That's almost three years, if you're keeping score. I've been so busy with blog entries, short stories, and this particular novel that when I sat down to write the poem, I stared at the blinking cursor for ten minutes.

I'm reminded of a particular scene in Hamlet 2 where Steve Coogan's character acts out the creative process. It's genius. If you haven't seen it, well, just don't ever say I never gave you anything.

Writing is hard, incredibly hard. But what other reason do I have for living? Well, I suppose that's not accurate. But writing is what I love. And it is ultimately what I want to do with my life. So there's that.

So, I know what you're thinking. Come on, Shea. If you got your start in writing poetry, what's the big deal?
Well....

I not only have to write in a form that I haven't been using lately, but I also have to write as if I were a 12 year old girl. And that is proving itself to be a difficult task. I'm not saying it can't be done, but it's going to take some time and a whole lot of revisions.

I think it also has be said that I'm a little scared. I haven't written in prose in a while. What if I can't muster anything up? Writing is not like riding a bike. Or, maybe it is. A really scary bike that is willing to fall apart at any moment...and it's filled with reflective mirrors so the world can see your pain. And the mirrors squirt lemon juice in your wounds.

Okay, I'll admit that that particular scene is a bit dramatic. But you're still reading, right? So..yeah.

In other news, I have a wicked cold right now. Or maybe it's allergies. The change in seasons was rather sudden this year. So I'm currently riding this out. My voice is not the same tone at the moment--my register has gone much deeper. Which is cool, but it's not a sultry, husky voice. I just sound like a boy going through puberty. Hooray?

There has been a lot of updates that I have been rather negligent about, so I will do that all soon. I promise.

Until then. This will just have to do. Besides, I have a poem to write. ^^

Respect

Let's take a moment, how ever brief, to consider the human body. Or what you think you know about the human body.

Ok. That's long enough.

You probably thought of a healthy human body--or maybe you didn't. And perhaps you thought of the most beautiful kinds of bodies. Maybe your imagination ventured off to a medical text book with velum overlays of skeletal structures, nervous systems, and muscles. Then again, maybe it was a sketch you did in your period three art class in high school.

How many thought of the limitations the human body can have? What kind of limitations? Well, that all depends on the individual.

I know my own limitations, and I do try to push beyond them by hitting the gym. So this year, when I was given the opportunity to see some amazing athletes and dancers at R16, you better believe I was all about it. R16 Korea took place on July 13th and 14th at Olympic Hall in Seoul.

This is my second year witnessing the awesome power that encompasses R16 Korea. Last year was completely mind blowing, so I knew that this year would be no exception. Foreigners and nationals alike braved the battling rain (hello Monsoon Season...) and were able to become part of a movement that has certainly taken the world by force.

Unfortunately, my camera's memory card has malfunctioned and I cannot seem to upload any of my pictures from the actual event. My friend John did happen to take some pretty amazing shots on the second day (especially one random picture of Jay Park at the after party at Club Able in Itaewon).

So let me break it down for you.

Salah, the world famous popper was there as a judge and he performed during the second day. Jinjo, the winners of last year's best performance award served as an amazing opening act to Leessang's "Hard to be Humble."

There were some amazing individual performances on Day one--most notably that of Bboy Blond, a Korean native who now reps for SKB, an Australian crew.

When the judges came out to oversee the poppin competition...well...that was one of the highlights for me.



But the real story is about the winners: Korea's Morning of Owl. When they came out as the last crew in the showcases, I saw so much beauty and art being put forth into their style of dancing. They are so very light on their feet and while other crews are battling in the old school style, there is no way that any crew can compare in their quickness. I was worried each time Japan stepped up to battle, the same way I get nervous when the Yankees play my beloved Red Sox. You know they are good. And there is a lot of pride on the line, even though I am a foreigner living in Korea. You want Korea to win. Whether it's soccer, Dokdo, or a bboy competition.

But Korea brought it. They gave respect and it was given to them in turn.


So if you're ever in Korea, visiting me, or just coming out on your own, you need to check out this scene. It's thriving, much like this peninsula. Korea really is an amazing place to live, work, and above all, enjoy your life.


Respect.

c

A Step-by-Step Guide to Enjoying the Rain in Korea

Hello Rain! No..not that rain...this rain.


So yeah.... The rainy season is upon us in Korea and what have we to show for it but soggy feet because we were unprepared...Well consider this your guide to enjoy the rain while you're in the ROK. 'Tis the season, after all..


Step One: Get the gear.

Korean Monsoon Season survival depends on the best gear. So get the rain boots, for sure. But since you're in Korea, opt for colorful umbrellas. On the sunny days, they double as parasols to keep that pesky sun away.

And yes, get a cute one. Here is one I procured while in Itaewon.

Step Two: Shoes. If it's not rain boots, it's flip flops. **Note: this is my own personal preference. Do what you will.**

Step Three: Leave Early. You're not getting a cab in this weather.

Step Four: Soundtrack.

On the days where the rain is fairly light, I go for the Amelie soundtrack. It can make any drizzly day seem like a walk in Paris.

Step Five: Make it a Parisian Day!


Go to Paris Baguette or Paris Croissant. Get a baguette. Be French for the day. No one is watching. It's cool.

Step Six: Watch where you are going.

If you're not careful, you're going to step into a massive puddle or hit someone else's umbrella. And that's awkward...

Step Seven: Enjoy the rain!

Weather should never dictate how you're going to enjoy the day. So just enjoy everyday you're given! Even if the humidity causes your hair to go a little cray. ^^

On Creating

So living for two and a half years in Korea has stunted my culinary skills. Not that I had much prowess to begin with.... Cooking was much more of my sister's thing. Still, I enjoy creating things in the kitchen and the like, even though my kitchen is teeny weeny. I currently reside in what is known as an officetel.
As you can see from the link, the kitchen is über small. And this is when I first moved in--I have stuff now. Lots of stuff. And while I have grown to really enjoy living in such a small, yet incredibly functional space, being able to only use two burners kinda sucks, or at least puts a limitation upon what I can do. Also you'll notice there wasn't an oven in those pictures. I have since procured a toaster oven and a microwave, but trying to use those in the summer just heats up the entire flat and its just too hot.

So around the first of July, I went to the foreign markets because I was craving some feta cheese. When I lived in Chicago, every night there was feta on the salad--even if it weren't a Greek salad, there it was. I was soooo tired of it and longed for something else. Now feta is all I want. Oh life, how funny you are.
While I was out I actually found some Kalamata olives and some Greek yogurt. I haven't had Greek yogurt in two and a half years.

Plain yogurt in Korea is like vanilla flavored yogurt back home. It is all way too sweet and nothing is as thick as Greek yogurt. My Yia Yis used to make her own yogurt, but I never bothered to ask her how she did it. Anyway. I was ELATED about finding Greek yogurt. I even posted a picture of it on facebook in my excitement. Yes. A Picture. Most people post pictures of their children, their loved ones, their pets...me? Greek yogurt I find in the foreign market.

Anyway. Because I found the yogurt, I was reminded of one of my most favorite recipes from my childhood. Chicken with yogurt. I know it sounds strange--but trust me, it's delicious. I gathered most of the ingredients that I could find (had to get a can of chicken broth, some cayenne pepper, and some chives). Only I couldn't find the chives. ANYWHERE.

So last night I ran to the local mart to grab some green onions because I heard that they could be used as a substitute for chives and ended up getting a bunch of veggies to sauté. But first...first...the chicken with yogurt.

I didn't have the recipe sitting in front of me, so I had to go by my memory of when I last made it, which was over three years ago. And it actually came out to be pretty good. ^^ I was worried for a bit but once I got it on my plate, it tasted just right--at least how it always did.
As it cooled, I began sautéing my veggies (yellow and red bell peppers, button mushroom tops, onions, garlic, and zucchini) and it was glorious. I was happy to be creating something within my cramped kitchen.

Here is a picture of the chicken with yogurt:

And the sautéd veggies:

So I guess having a small kitchen really has nothing to do with what I can create. I have always had everything I've always needed. I was just blinded by a simple notion that what I had wasn't enough. And trust me, I have enough. I am enough.
And the same is for you.


Love and Light,

c

On individualism

As an American, I have been brought up with the notion that Individualism is best even though collectivism works well too. We should strive to do our best, to be self motivated, yadda yadda yadda. I loved Emerson's view point of Self Reliance.

There’s a river flowin’ in my soul and it’s telling me that I’m somebody. Trust thyself. Don’t look to others...look to oneself. You can pull yourself up by your own bootstraps.

In college, this helped me get through so many trials of paper writing.

And indeed, it is quite something to be motivated enough by one's own self.

I do see the value in collectivism. But of course, being the American, I looked at it, patted it on it's head and said, "Oh, that's nice dear."

There is a Japane proverb that states, "The nail that sticks up gets hammered down."

And I always found fault with this. As if this brand of thinking was imploring us to be the same, no matter your beliefs. No matter who you are. You are not yourself. You are your family. You are your culture. You are your people. There is no you. There is only we.

Obviously, you can imagine how this bothered me. But I didn't get it. I still could not see.

Then I started reading a different Lois Lowry book, "Number the Stars" where one of the Jewish characters in the story is telling her friend's daughter (a Danish girl) to take a different route to avoid being seen by the same German soldiers that were occupying Copenhagen:

"They will remember your faces," Mrs. Rosen said, turning in the doorway to the hall. "It is important to be one of the crowd, always. Be one of many. Be sure that they never have reason to remember your face."

And then I got it. When you are in a country that is being occupied, you have to remain faceless. It is safer. Korea is no stranger to being occupied. I get it now. And America has never been occupied. But we have been occupiers. That is for certain.

This is not to say that individualism is wrong for any reason, but collectivism isn't wrong either. But it's just funny how things are made to be "wrong" when they are not a value within your own culture.

More on this later.

xox,

c

Think of something clever....doh!

I sneeze in pairs. True story. I know people who sneeze three times in a row, but I'm not one of them. Even if I sneeze 5 times in a row, I know that one more will be coming to even it out.

I haven't the slightest as to why I just gave you that interesting (was it really?) tidbit about me. Maybe so you would feel that you know me a bit more. Maybe so you could find someone else like you. Words, feelings, memories are meant to be shared.

Let that last part sink in.

Words. Feelings. Memories. They are meant. To be. Shared.

I just finished reading Lois Lowry's book "The Giver" because I am teaching it to my highest level student. He is so wonderful to talk with. He is a 6th grader and he loves books. And he loves talking about them. Analyzing them. He isn't afraid to say he doesn't understand something, which I find that many students are. He is probably my favorite student that I teach because we can just sit and talk about books. The concepts of them. The themes. Whatever.

We have read some challenging ones together: "Farhenheit 451," "The Lord of the Flies," and now "The Giver". Next we are reading "The Red Badge of Courage." I remember reading that on my own at the request of my dad. I really enjoyed that one so I hope he will too.

I hope that once I start having children of my own that they will come to find solace in books as I have. I know that some kids just aren't into them...but I will be one of those parents who will avidly read to her children and take them to a magical place called The Library. ^^

As far as book editing is concerned... (yes. Not much of a transition there) it is finished. Hallelujah!!
We finished up the editing last Sunday and sent it off for a proper assessment. The assessment editor will tell us if we have everything ready to go or if we need to edit further. I'm obviously praying for the former but all in all, I just want the book to be perfect. So if it's another round of edits to get it right, then so be it.

It's just been nice to have somewhat of a life back. Not that writing is a terrible waste of one's time. But it is consuming in time, energy, and sometimes sanity. But there is nothing I'd rather do. I love teaching children in Korea but I know it won't last forever. But who knows? Maybe it will.

I will have more time to update the blog now that I'm seemingly done with the edits. So there is that. But if you care to have more of a connection with me, you can always follow me on twitter: @thatsheagirl

Summer is in full swing in Korea, which means it is incredibly humid and hot. Not a fan. I didn't care for it in Florida and I certainly don't like it here. But at least I can have a fall, winter, and spring to look forward to.
So that's something. But to be honest, I'm sitting in Starbucks, admiring the view. And from where I am sitting, all is beautiful. I just won't go outside. ^^

I suppose that's all for now. See you soon.


Love and Light,
c

On Stories...

So we've reached the third round of edits for the book. Everything is so much clearer now, it's rather amazing how one little idea formed into such a massive project. The way that a wink can be ever so subtle and can result in a fifty year marriage with a slew of children and grandchildren. Spring is certainly in the air, here in Seoul. Everything is blossoming with the mind set on fruition.

I should actually be writing the story right now. But I feel I've neglected the blog ever so slightly and you are all in a need of an update.

When last we spoke...or really, I wrote, I was discussing words and their power. Poetic? Absolutely. But true nonetheless. Said blog entry was created on March 10...It's now May 5. (Happy Cinco de Mayo to my Mexican amigos...to my French amis...Well, you can still drink right?)

In Korea, it's also Children's Day...which means I can't go to a park or go by The Han...unless I want to be around a slew of families. I don't have anything against families. I love families. I love my own...most of the time. ^^ I'd rather not venture out today. Which is why I am holed up in a Starbucks, doing some research and some writing. Yes...that's the story I'm sticking with. ^^

Today I do want to talk about something though...I want to talk about stories. And the reasons why they were made up. To entertain? Surely. But let's take mythology for instance.

Mythology was used for explaining things that had no real explanation. Like how a spider was created. Or why wars were waged. This was the case of the Greeks. Hundreds of stories came from the gods they created. When you hear about these stories, especially the ones about Zeus and his conquests, you think "Eww. What a perv." Being that I am of Greek decent, I'm not at all surprised. Years later they did give the world Oedipus, mind you. Democracy too, yes. But Oedipus. And Yanni. Need I say more?
The Romans were no better--they copied their gods from the Greek ones. At least this is what the Greeks are told. "Everybody stole from us." ^^

As children we are told mythologies from Greek and Roman tradition but from other cultures it is a little hard to come by unless you are of a different culture/actually wish to study it. I read Celtic myths on my own and I have done minimal research on the Indian and Norse Gods. Egyptian? I never really heard stories from them. Just how they influenced Egyptian life. So I did some research. And yeah, there were actually some stories. It wasn't just all hieroglyphics and ways to explain their daily lives. I know that sounds really ignorant of me, but I was never taught this back in school. I learned that Egyptians made beer, made paper, and there were tons of crocodiles in the Nile, solidifying that I would NEVER want to take a dip in it (have I ever mentioned I'm deathly afraid of alligators and crocodiles??).

When Neil Gaiman came out with his amazing book American Gods, he sparked my interest again with mythology. But it's taken a long time for this spark to catch fire.

Lately I have been doing a lot of research on Egyptian mythology...all for the book I'm writing. Hint Hint. ^^ Will my mom think it's strange that I'm not using Greek mythology? Probably. Will I be the recipient of the dreaded Greek Guilt Trip? More than likely. But doing this kind of research has really made me miss school. I loved doing research and finding hidden gems that were in sync with what I was writing. I think that is one of my favorite part of the writing process...doing the research. Coming up with ideas. Seeing how the story unfolds... saying, "What if..."

I wonder if that is how myths truly began.

Like a conversation.

"Father, why does ____________ happen?"

"Well, a long time ago...."

And a story was created. Or perpetuated. The dots all connecting between an actual occurrence and an explanation. That moment that all the dots are connecting, yeah. I'm there.

On Words

Anne Sexton once wrote:

My business is words. Words are like labels,
or coins, or better, like swarming bees.
I confess I am only broken by the sources of things;
as if words counted like dead bees in the attic,
unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings.
I must always forget how one word is able to pick
out another, to manner another, until I have got
something I might have said...
but did not.

Your business is watching my words. But I
admit nothing. I work with my best, for instance,
when I can write my praise for a nickel machine,
that one night in Nevada: telling how the magic jackpot
came clacking three bells out, over the lucky screen.
But if you should say this is something it is not,
then I grow weak, remembering how my hands felt funny
and ridiculous and crowded with all
the believing money.

"Said the Poet to the Analyst"

I recently read this poem as it is a part of a massive collection of her work and quite frankly, I was floored. This is not the first time I have been leveled by Sexton's poetry--far from it. But as the second round of rewrites is coming to a close, it really struck a chord with me. Words are my business. Words are funny. Words mean things. Words can be words, at face value, but they can be so much more. I love words.

But words can also hurt. They can be used to express disapproval, disappointment, or sheer hatred of someone or something. We are told to choose our words carefully. They can be used against us.

Sometimes we have no words. Or they fail us. Do they really? Or do we fail words? Do we fail to put the written word with some emotion, some thought, something that cannot be explained. The amazingly wordy John Steinbeck once wrote, "In utter loneliness, a writer tries to explain the inexplicable." Perhaps truer words have never been written.

If you have read the Bible, then you know it begins in Genesis by saying, "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." But by the beginning of the fourth book of the New Testament, John writes, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." Jewish people cannot write the name God, as it is far too holy. Muslims believe that Allah and his prophets cannot be depicted as it is incredibly disrespectful as well as it can lead to idolatry...Cannot the written word do the same?

I said before that words can hurt. They can aid a bully in compartmentalizing someone or something. That old saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Whoever wrote that was a liar...or perhaps my words are too hurtful?

Words Are Powerful. They provide meaning. Context. They. Can. Be. Slowed. Theycanbespokenquicklyforadesiredeffect. Words can inspire. Words can deflate. Choose them carefully. Choose them as you choose your friends. In the end, you will be remembered by them.

Thoughts on the Book and other nonsensical musings

I have noticed an influx of readers as of late. Wow! Thank you all for being so supportive of my little ramblings that border on realm of insanity. I invite you all to subscribe to the blog as I will be using this more often to communicate thoughts and whatnot (and trust me, there is a whole lot of whatnot).

As of now, we are taking a break from the book that I have been writing so it should prove to be a relaxing weekend. At least that is the hope. We will have to wait and see how it plays itself out. Things will resume next week.

I suppose I should at least explain this interesting writing venture...

It started one Monday afternoon when I walked into my hagwon (a private academy in Korea--they can be English, Math, Science, Korean, History, even sports). I was asked how my weekend was and I mentioned the fact that I had actually taken the time to write on my blog and even wrote a short story. Then came the, "You're a writer?" question and the rest just kind of fell into place. I was given a character description and a genre and I wrote a fun mystery story about a kid who lives in NYC and likes to solve mysteries, sort of like Encyclopedia Brown. I wrote a few stories and when they were read by trusted reviewers, I was given the "Yeah, it's cute, but so what?" Once upon a time this would have devastated me. But I knew she was right. With the team, they pitched an idea to me and I thought about it, and said, "Okay. Let me see what I can flesh out from that..."

And that is how it all started. I have been working with Protostar to edit and publish the book. It has been so incredibly helpful to have a team of supportive people with me as I write this story. They've offered plot ideas, the same way a writers group would, and they have kept me on the path.

So often I don't see my creative projects through, simply because I have very little discipline. I can always tell someone how something is supposed to end rather than just write it.

Lack of dicipline. It was probably first noticed in my tap dance class. I would never want to sit down and learn the steps properly. I just wanted to listen to the noise my feet made. My instructor was probably about to go out of her mind when it came to the night of the receital. When it was time for the performance, it is no surprise that I was the only one doing a specific move from the other little girls. When my mom talked to the dance instructor, she laughed and said that I was the only one who remembered a particular move. Everyone else forgot. I still looked like the outsider but in all actuality, I was the one who did the right thing.
This little story has always reminded me that sometimes I may accomplish things in an unorthodox way. But the end result is the same.

So it should come as no surprise that I would write and self publish the book with Protostar. Self publishing, as a whole, always raises an eyebrow for those who call themselves writers. It's not the normal way. It's as if you can't call yourself a writer without getting rejected and feeling terribly inadequate about yourself as a writer, lover, human being, because you've received the worst kind of rejection...the equivalent of a fake phone number on a cocktail napkin after what you thought was a shared moment.
You mean we can bypass that self loathing and constant inquiry of "Why don't you get a real job?" from your parents, your lover/husband/wife, your friends, and most of all, yourself? Yeah. Kinda. You still have to write the book though. If it is to do well, then it has to be captivating. But in this era of indie everything, why not self publishing? Wouldn't the Modernists do the same?

If you have something to say, say it. If you have something to sing, sing it. If you have something to write, write it. Bring it to the world. You never know...someone could be waiting for that kind of blatant truth to enter their life.

And that's why we do it. To entertain? Yes. What writer wouldn't want the question, "What happens next?" posed to them? But it's about that connection with another person on a basic human level. That they see you, and you see them. And there is understanding. And from understanding there is acceptance. And from acceptance there is change. And from change there is peace. And from peace there is love.
And that's when it all comes into focus. When you see that the author is standing there on a bridge, meeting you half way, saying, "You don't have to go it alone."


You were never alone, dear readers...

c

A Mere Update On All Things Good

There is really zero time to be doing this but I feel that I have to at least update you slightly on what has been going on.

Round two of edits has been completed! THANK GOD! HALLELUJAH!

Editing is a harrowing process. It really is. But it is nearly over--we have a few testers who are reading it over and they will be giving us feedback. The early comments are pretty positive, which, quite frankly, I'm over the moon about that.

I actually wrote a Facebook note that only a few readers were privileged enough to see (my apologies dear readers, leaving you out may have been intentional but it was necessary to let only a few people see how crazy I really am), and the subject of said note was about editing. Editing the story. The eventual editing of this blog to make sure potential readers and fans of mine would not view any questionable material.

As JSJYC put it, "You're a celebrity now."

Am I? Maybe, maybe not. I mean, surely, that is the desired outcome. The next big thing. I can't begin to tell you the possibilities I feel from this creative venture. This is going to be big. I know that I shouldn't say such things...but I cannot contain myself anymore. I'm that little kid in the back of the classroom who has so much enthusiasm because she knows the answer THE question.

In other news, more friends have left Korea...I know I've said that it's the nature of the beast but man...it just doesn't get any easier when people you come to know, respect, and care for leave the ROK to go back home. I know that I feel tremendously at home with Korea, more so than I have ever been in America. It's like I was displaced. And before you ask, yes, I miss my family. It kills me daily to look at the pictures of my niece and nephews that my sister has sent to me through snail mail, email, and posts on Facebook. But sometimes you are meant to be somewhere. And I was meant to be here. If that ever changes, then it will be time to go home. For now, Seoul is home.

In other other news...Grad school has been weighing on my mind again...and this time I'm not considering an MFA...I'm thinking more of a Masters in Education or in TESOL. We'll see how it all pans out...it's just in the early stages of a thought process. There are too many unknown variables to postulate any sort of definitive answer. You'll just have to stay tuned.

Until then, dear readers and true believers....until then..

c

And So It Begins...

I begin the spring semester in T-minus 25 minutes. This will be a short update, Dear Readers.

Winter Camp was a beast and I'm not only looking forward to reading new books with my core 2 novel classes, but also awaiting the warmer weather. It's been brutally cold in Seoul and while the US is just now starting to feel the shiver of winter, we Seoulites have been dealing with freezing water pipes and the iciest roads known to man.

I normally can handle the cold fairly well, but DAMN it's been friggin' frigid.

I recall finishing my first Winter Camp in January of 2011 (got here in December 2010) and I went to a jjimjibang with Kat and Jane. It was a reward for getting through the hardest part of my teaching career (the beginning). I haven't been to one since, which is not because the experience wasn't great--I just don't ever make the time. It was just lovely to alternate between the hot and the cold pools, until my body went into shock because I did it so much...
I recall telling Jane that my throat felt cold, and she responded, quite cheerfully mind you, "Oh, your body is going into shock." ^^
My eyes bulged out of my head. "WHAT?!" She nonchalantly said it again. As if this were an everyday occurrence.

Thinking back on it, it was probably best to receive that information in such a way--if I were to freak out, then it would have been much worse. So I asked what I should do, and she just said to get out of the water until it didn't feel cold anymore...and to just relax. I did and I was fine.

This, of course, has no bearing on why I haven't returned. Nor is it the "being naked in public" bit" either. At 33, I've become much more comfortable with my body, especially since I started going to the gym.

Which brings us to the second year of teaching...I went to Cambodia and Vietnam shortly after Winter Camp ended in 2012, so that was pretty awesome. It was a welcomed treat to get out of the cold. My body didn't go into shock, although I did get a pretty nasty sinus infection from inhaling all the dust whilst riding in the tuk tuk.

To be honest, Seoul had an incredibly mild winter last year. It snowed all of three or four times and it didn't seem to be that cold.

Which brings us to the most bitter and Siberian-like winter I've ever experienced...I needed something or some place HOT. Like HOT HOT. But with a minimal amount of money in my bank account, what could a girl do? I surely deserved something tropical after the subzero temperatures. Right?

There was only one thing that I wanted...

So what did I do this year? Oh you know...nothing fantastic...just saw the BEST K-POP BAND EVER! My friend and co-worker, Sarah, and I scored tickets courtesy of her rad boyfriend, Kyu, and off we went to see BigBang!!

We were so close it was insane. At one point, Seungri (the maknae of the group)winked, waved, and mouthed "hi" to us. I've read many articles that he likes foreigners so "hey girl hey!"

TOP is still number one, but I have to say they all looked great, even Daesung, whom I normally could do without. Taeyang was amazing--he has mad skills on the dance floor... And G-Dragon...damn. That boy was so sexy. He has such commanding stage presence.

We sang our hearts out, and it was such a welcomed form of release from all the stresses of the winter intensive camp and it certainly gave us something to smile about when we told our students about the concert on Monday morning.

Pictures, you ask? Sure...keep in mind that they mostly aren't that clear due to the fact that these boys were always moving about, but I got a few good shots on my iPhone. I also didn't start taking photos until the encore performances because if security caught you taking pictures, they would kick you out. I saw one middle school Korean girl get ousted and she had tears in her eyes. I am not about to drop 100,000 won to see my favorite K-Pop group and then get kicked out. By the encore, no one cared anymore. ^^

This is Sarah and I on the way to the show. ^^

TOP!

Daesung and G-Dragon!

Dae and TOP!

Taeyang!

Seungri!

TOP and Dae!

TOP ^^

I just like this picture--none of the members are in it, but it just makes me happy.

Tae!


TOP, GD, and Tae!

GD in action...quite possibly my favorite shot of the night. ^^ G-Dragon just has so much swag. ^^

Sarah and I after the show. Still beaming!

We were in 001 section, right by the stage. ^^



So yeah...In my after Winter Camp excursions, I went from going into shock, to going to tropical temperatures, to going into shock over the hotness that was displayed before me...Progression is everything, I suppose. ^^

I can't wait until next year...

xo

c

Day One.

So here it is. Day one of a new year. How did you spend it? Hungover? Yeah. Me too.


Oddly enough, I'm not unhappy about that. In years past I would be--why would anyone want to spend the entire first day of a new year throwing up, sleeping, barely eating, and with the most excruciating headache?


But I had a shift. And the shift is this: I purged. I purged out the person I used to be. The ugly parts that I hid and could never accept but still held onto it because I thought they would one day turn from the ugly ducklings they most certainly were, into beautiful and graceful swans. They didn't. So they had to go. I don't need to hold on to them anymore. The regret. The guilt. The sadness. They didn't made me humble. They made me miserable. They didn't turn me into a brooding artist. I was already the artist. They just used up my ink, wasted my paper, and refused to see it any other way. They had to go.

They won't be put out in the recycling to be turned into something else. They have been put into the incinerator. Burned and out of my life, forever.

Yes. I slept. I needed the rest. Because only when you are rested, can you wake up anew. Refreshed. Hopeful. Embracing this new day of this new year. I will no more listen to the voices would have whispered to me, "You wasted an entire day." No. I dreamed. I danced. I soared. And I woke up to find that the dream is reality. No more exhaustion. No more mental anguish. No more mulling over the things I could have done or said in the waking hours. And by the way, sleeping is AWESOME. ^^

Barely eating. I can see where I may lose you on this one. This has nothing to do with weight loss--although that would be a great segway to the health goals I will follow through with during 2013. This is about having a new stomach. It was empty, like a new box and I get to decide what to fill it with. I decided what will fuel me. What will give me sustenance. I have control. I have power. To be honest, I didn't have much of a say in today's particular meal. It is customary in the South (I was born in Georgia, ya'll...no accent though, don't get excited) to eat pork and greens. I didn't have much in the way of greens but I did have some donkatsu. So why the pork? There is a little superstition that Southerns hold to on New Year's Day. My mom actually posted this on FB:

New Year's day good luck meal; eat pork, why? Because the pig Never walks backward always goes forward! Eat oranges or fruits that are around symbolizing coins for prosperity. Eat black-eyed peas or lentils because they are around and symbolize money. Do not eat chicken or lobster -chickens have wings and fly away and so will your luck. Lobsters swim backwards.

I reminded her that Chickens also eat by scratching the ground and then back up to eat their meal. Cows stand still when they eat.
Now I suppose you could ask me about fish...and I'll tell you that I don't really like fish. So there's that. ^^ And for vegetarians? Are there vegetarians in the South? hehe Kidding. Kidding. No really. Are there?

And then there was the headache. The one that happens because alcohol dries you out and you need a plethora of water to rehydrate. To flush everything. And that was the reminder--it's time to flush it out, C. You have the ability. You have the resources. Drink it. That's all you have to do. It's so simple. It's always been simple--discovering a new path was always there. Sometimes you just don't want to see it. Sometimes you see it but think you aren't worth it. But you are. You really are.


So yeah. This is how I spent the first day of the rest of my life. How was it for you?

xox...
c

Oh...and a very Happy Happy Birthday to one of the best and brightest among us, Kathryn Bokyung Park! I love you to pieces! MWA!