This word appeared on my screen saver, and since then, it has been haunting me. Sometimes I find it wandering in the bathroom confused by the shower. Other times, I find it on the streets sitting next to the old woman staring at her doubled reflection in the dingy window of the alley. Sometimes it seeps out of the melodies shifting in my ipod, and still other times, it makes itself boldly known in emails--and inexplicably in the absence of emails. It creeps and conjures doubt--self and artistic.
Status Update: I'm writing, and writing, and writing. "The difference between the right word, and the almost right word is the difference between lightening and a lightening bug." --Twain
Recently, I've been blessed with an artistic endeavor, but I can't make heads or tails of it. I have so many ideas, but no path. I think I have a mind that craves boundaries, but I refuse to give it any. I've always encouraged it to wander, telling it anything is possible, and anything can be done--in doing so, I have let it down. In short, I've spoiled my imagination, much like a wealthy parent spoils a child.
In the past, my artistic inclinations were always shaped by the people closest to me--my artistic colleagues in school, theatre, and life. I would divulge my ideas, and someone would help me shape them, help me root them. I've never been without a gardner. (ooh, clever). Their absence is beginning to take a toll.
So are the upcoming holidays, and the a lack of family.
And with the recent lachrymosity hauntings. . .well it's been interesting.
Status Update: I appreciate you, wine, and your ability to placate whine.
As the artist in me balances precariously on the edge of "the nothing" with a glass of red wine in hand and a bottle in her back pocket. . .let's take a gander at the general life happenings, as I haven't been to this little nook of the internet in a while. . .
I've been running. I run a lot. I can't stop running. And I don't really go a day without talking about running.
I love running.
No metaphor intended.
I am not running from anything or to anything--except perhaps towards a sleeker more healthier self. I simply enjoy hearing my breath, pushing my body, and clearing my mind. I wish my knees enjoyed it a little more. I've been having trouble with my knees due to concrete's inability to absorb any kind of shock. . .so, I've been reduced to the hamster life--I run on a treadmill most of the week. But on Sundays and Wednesdays. . .I get to run as far and as long as I want outside. It's perfection.
I also have pretty new running shoes that should help shock absorption, and knee issues.
Additionally, I've had a variety of adventures. I went up to Seoul, and then on to the DMZ. This was a fascinating part of my travels here, that I wasn't expecting.
I never really planned on going. I have felt that things like the DMZ are a side show for military junkies. That said, I admittedly have gone out of my way to visit Gettysburg and Nuremberg. Perhaps it is because those battles took place (what seems to me) so long ago, and they were by-products of growing pains in countries without identity. Or more likely, and less poetically, they were mentioned in history books, and the Korean War isn't something I was ever really schooled on, so I wasn't much interested.
Either way, I went. . .it was amazing. One of the largest and most pristine nature preserves in the world exist in the DMZ because it is land that is unable to be developed--to me that is perfect dichotomy. The Freedom Village that exists within its borders, and the 212 farming residents bring in over $100,000 a year per household because their rice and ginger (and even water) is some of the most sought out goods in South Korea because there are no pesticides or pollutants.
You learn of these nuances as you drive towards the demarcation line--the line separating two very different governments.
But the people? The people share ancestry.
Let's talk ancestry. I don't think my words in this blog can illustrate the bond between a Korean and his ancestry. This is a culture where the people know who they come from. They don't need a website or an over-zealous relative to discover their genealogy--oh no, because each family preserves its past through generations, simply through the art of explanation. There is a whole holiday--Chuesok--where families flock to visit their dead loved ones. And their loved ones are not simply buried in a grave in the middle of the city. Nope. See, in Korea, family members' burial sites directly affect the descendants, so they are buried on mountain tops and beautiful valleys throughout the country.
With that said. . .when the Armistice was signed, Koreans had to choose a side. They had to decide North or South. Many rushed to the North and many rushed to the South. These people left behind the graves of their elders--their ancestors. And, so at Chuesok on the South Korean side there is a designated "wailing wall". . .
For someone who finds her family to be her most valuable possession (yes, I know I am thousands of miles away from this most valuable possession, but that's another blog). . .the thought of Koreans unable to properly visit their ancestors breaks my heart. To them their family (past and present) is the focal point of their life, and two governing bodies drew a line in the sand, and said "Nope. You can't move past this line because those people over there don't like the same things we like."
I know I am trivializing it, but it some ways, these government actions should be trivialized. When the Armistice was first signed. . .some poor soldiers had to use masking tape and branches to mark the line from one side of the peninsula to the other. . .I did that in the bedroom I shared with my sister when I was 8. No branches, but I used the tape. Because she wasn't as neat as I was.
I find stuff like this frustrating and stupid.
The Tanner side of my family attributes that last comment to my bleeding heart liberalism.
I attribute it to my lack of understanding of people.
Status update: Wisest is she, who knows she doesn't know.
Korea is lovely. I really do like it.
I do have a confession: I find myself at odds with this blog. I created it in January as a New Year's resolution. Hoping that writing in a public space would force me to be creative and to explore--basically a place to hold me accountable and keep me moving forward. Much like my performance theory class forced me to write a paper each week. . .it keeps the brain active and contemplating.
But, when I made this site, Korea wasn't in my foreseeable future. I was moving to Chicago in a couple of months. I was pounding the pavement as an actor.
Also, I thought it would be easy recounting the efforts of a struggling artist.
It's not.
Especially since I am removed from my family and friends--the select few allowed to wander in this head of mine.
I have to sift through what to share and what not to share. Basically, this blog is becoming one of the most scattered, and difficult papers I've ever had to write. Thankfully, I am not presenting it at a conference any time soon.
Hmmm. . .lachrymose has wandered off for the time being.
It is important to note: I am not a sad person. I love life so much, and I adore my life here in Korea.
Also, I am forever thankful to the creators of the computer, skype and the internet--without them my world would not be possible. I would be in a home down the street from my Mom and Dad, and although that would be lovely, there would be a part of me desperately desiring more--and that is the foundation for a lachrymosity only a razor blade and a warm bath can cure.
I believe now it is time to leave you with a quote. . .
"Words are finite organs of the infinite mind. They cannot cover the dimensions of what is in truth. They break, chop, and impoverish it." --Emerson
Be well furry friends. . .play often and love hard.
