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