Something blogging this way comes!

Lachrymose.

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.

a blog within a blog

Forgive me internet, it's been weeks since my last confession. . .

I have only one confession. . .I find blogging narcissistic--because it is. . .ooh, I am so deep and profound. . .but I think that is why I haven't done it in a while. . .I feel, I dunno, egotistical. . .

I come to this vacant page in cyberspace, fill it with my ramblings, and post it for all the world to see. Then, I post it onto my equally vainglorious Facebook page to ensure people know about it.

Perhaps, I am not as humble as I think I am.

I do like to hear myself write.

. . .even more so, I adore writing sentences that make no sense. . .

The things you ponder while living in Korea. . .ah yes, Korea. . .let's get on to that, shall we? Or you can simply stop reading here. . .your choice, but don't you want to know about the orangutan? Read on. . .

Simply put--I am enchanted with Korea.

I admit, I was not sure at first. I felt overwhelmed and very unsure. The language--frustrating, the culture--intimidating, the ex-pat scene--typical and somewhat nauseating. The isolation from all my physical and familial comforts forced my introverted self to come out swinging (I appreciate the oxymoronic image in this last statement, and am keeping it on flibbertygibbit principle).

But time slowly went forward and so did I. . .

I have friends, have had some adventures, and I find myself venturing more often than usual. And in doing so, am growing to love this place.

The people here are incredible.

Last night, two friends prepared a traditional Chuesok (Korean Thanksgiving) meal, which consisted of shark, kimchi pancake, rice dumplings, something delicious wrapped in egg, and bi-bim-bap. The conversation was decadent and entertaining, and I found myself walking away quite content.

When language is limited, simple conversation becomes an event. Especially for me. Words are chosen carefully, ideas become fuller. Always looking for the precise word to perfectly clarify the meaning. I feel at times like it is an olympic sport. It is truly delicious. . .and daunting.

I have only made it out of Daegu once. . .and that was to go to the Haesina Temple, which is gorgeous and well worth the journey.

My lack of travel bothered me at first. . .how dare I be in this new part of the world and not explore every second of every moment??!?! But, the thing is. . every day is a new discovery--and I don't mean that in the cliched-mystical-hippy way (blah!). . .I mean, that every day, I find out something new. . .for example, I recently discovered the museum--so cool! And before that, I learned that in order to buy produce, you must first give it to the little man who puts it in a bag and then gives you a number--you cannot simply take an apple to the cash register. . .this causes the whole system to shut down and people to vocalize their frustration at you in seemingly incomprehensible utterances. . .(I'm just saying)

Also, I really like to chill at home. . .in my own space. . .MY OWN SPACE. . .have not had that for ages. . .and I relish it.

I do have a trip to Busan planned for next weekend, and a trip down to an island where some friends live. . .so I am getting out there. . .

I think I needed a period of adjustment.

Some other snippets from the goings on in my life here. . .

Every day I stop in at the Caffe Bene and see my sweet little crew of baristas. . .they ask me how my day is, and say things like "you are my friend." and "enjoy. delicious." They make me happy.

I found a lovely restaurant that serves up a mean pig spine soup, that nourishes and cleanses. . .

The heat is dwindling, and cooler air is on the horizon. . .

I've learned three chords on the guitar. . .

I am running six days a week, and hiking/walking on the seventh day. . .

My students give me the giggles on a daily basis. . .on a critical thinking project last week, they had to design a tomb for a pharaoh--complete with security features. One group designed a tomb that lived in the ocean, the section on the surface was shaped like poo and had an odor. In the top of the "poo" was a fake mummy-pharaoh, and the real one was stored at the bottom, which was 100 meters below the water's surface. . .it had a maze, and a three-headed snake. The drawing is impeccable, and will be going on my wall in my future house.

Also, I had an amazing performance theory moment. . .we were discussing whether or not words mean something if there is no action to back them up. . .and I brought up the ideas of J.L. Austin's--How To Do Things with Words--and his concept that words do perform. For example, saying "I do" at a marriage ceremony. . .simply saying those words change your state of being. Not metaphorically, but truly. . .uttering those two words in ceremony change your status. . .(it's more complicated than that. . you should check it out). . .either way, I explained the simple form to my students, and they got it! It was a really cool moment. . .

I got to be in a play with the Daegu Theatre Troupe. . .

Perform a monologue. . .

Coach a friend into an amazing performance of his own. . .

And create a theatre program at the school. . .and the kids were amazing.

So, I am in Korea and I am still able to make theatre central to my life, not only that, but I am allowing new experiences into my life to help shape my art.

So, I guess these snippets, and random thoughts culminate to the following life conclusion in this moment:

I am still an artist. . .I thought, for a time, I had put that aspect of myself on hold. . .

But I didn't. . .I can't. . .and I am relieved to know that.

So, I guess these narcissistic inclinations that cause me to blog also allow me discover bits about myself I didn't know before--and all I had to do was fill yet another small micro-section of this infinite internet space. . .that's positive for me, and I hope in a small way for you. . .

My furry friends. . .two quotes. . .as sleep beckons me. . .

"if a man knew anything, he would sit in a corner and be modest; but he is such an ignorant peacock, that he goes bustling up and down, and hits upon extraordinary discoveries." --R.W. Emerson

"in wisdom gathered over time, I find that every experience is a form of exploration" --Ansel Adams

Play on. . .Game on. . .Party on. . .

Oh, and about the Orangutan. . .um, read Murders in the Rue Morgue. . .*grin*

but I'm a blog. . .i'm a blogger. . .what the hell am I doin' here?

Two years ago, a friend and I were wandering down a trail back in Missoula. . .we had delicious sandwiches in our bags and our bikes to our sides. We wanted to walk and talk, so we just pushed our bikes down the gravel road. We were discussing the coming year. . .I was about to embark on my last year of grad school, and at the end of that year, I would be moving away from my home of three years, and catapulting myself into the world once again. . .

See, change was on the horizon and my friend and I had to deal with the consequences of that coming change.

Change. . .it comes in all shapes and sizes. . .sometimes it is subtle like the noticing of a new freckle, sometimes it is bold like a sudden lightening storm, sometimes it goes jingle-jingle in your pocket (see what I did there?). . .however, it happens. . .most people find it unnerving. My friend and I did that day. . .

I have to admit. . .I was ready to go. I loved that home, I loved Missoula, but I was ready to leave. I wanted to see where I would go. Trepidation certainly lurked in my gut, but as always, I looked at the world and the future with endless possibilities. My friend was a bit more hesitant. . .rightly so. What would we do without each other? She was my confidante. . .she was there to encourage me when my ridiculous relationships inevitably fell apart, she was there to celebrate every one of my performances, and she was even there when the insidious influenza wreaked havoc on my body. . .but. . .

I had to move on. . .

and so did she. . .

we just didn't like the idea. . .

but, I graduated (with straight A's for all three years--thank you), and I moved out. . .went on tour, and then moved to South Korea. . .

Change came. . .

as it always does. . .

In fact. . .Change just keeps on a' comin'. . .no matter where you are. . .BUT, I think change happens more frequently in South Korea, than anywhere else. .

Yesterday, there was a building in my alley. . .today, that building is gone. . .tomorrow, I bet there will be a newer and better building in that same spot. Koreans are perfect at makeovers. They would put 'Extreme Makeover' to shame. One day, there is a run down sort of store that sells beer and soju, and the next day, it is turned into a clinic that sells Biotech Body Products. . .whatever that is. . .there is no in between. . .when South Korean business men decide something needs to change, they do it swiftly and stylishly. . .

Now, if only one of them made the decision to modify the malodorous essence of this place. . . but that's another blog. . .

Accordingly, my life is in concurrence with the changing architecture. There is no sense of settlement in the life of an English Teacher in Korea. . .it is the embodiment of the transient lifestyle even though you are in one place. . .

let me explain. . .

People are on yearly contracts. . .and these contracts expire all the time. . .no one is ever on the same schedule. . .just like birthdays, you rarely find yourself on the same track as someone else. . .so you are either saying welcome, or saying goodbye on a daily basis. . .AND not only are people always coming and going, but you also find yourself amongst an extremely broad range of personalities, which are daunting, frustrating, and in those small moments exciting.

But, because time, place and people are so precarious. . .we are constantly juggling in and out of sorts. . .

We are constantly changing. . .

For one who traveled for nearly 10 years, you would think this lifestyle would be easy. . .It isn't. . .because, as I learn how precious time and people are throughout my travels, I invest more into them. . .so, losing them becomes harder.

Don't get me wrong. . .I always get a good return on the investment. . .

This summer, I made a lovely new friend. . .he came, he saw, he conquered Korea, and now he is gone. . .

In his wake, he leaves in me a new inspiration to learn guitar (I now know an E minor and an E major). . .I also gained lots of good times, memories, and friends. . .

However. . .

Like Shakespeare says. . ."parting is such sweet sorrow. .

'tis true. . .

But in the next line he says. . .

"I shall say goodnight till it be morrow."

We want the actual parting to be quick. . .so we can get to the missing, and so we know the 'meeting up' will be sooner, but because life is flippant and idiosyncratic, meeting up isn't guaranteed. . .

So. . . . .the ellipses in the last sentence note a pass in time. . .in the midst of writing, a Korean friend called me to hang out with him and his friends at a bar called Bar Gent. . .these are good people, good friends. . who miss (very much) my previously mentioned good friend. All of them, too, talked about change, we listened to songs about change and circumstance. . .we sang out loud to many of them. . .it was fun, it was sad, it was perfect. . .

My thought is this. . .the cliche is. . ."change is inevitable". . .yes. . .I agree. . .however, in dealing with the change we do find a bit of ourselves. . .I change when wonderful people walk into my life, and I change when they walk out.

My point is. . .we can't just note the change when bad things happen or even when the inevitable is on the horizon. . .we have to embrace all forms of change. . .the good and the bad and the architecture. . .(there is no ugly)

By investing everything we have into something, we get beautiful relationships and gorgeous buildings and amazing ideas. . .I think change comes from just 'doing life'. . .whatever that means.

By all means, fear it. . .cry at it. . .even flail your arms in a very gay like manner, but in the end, cherish the fact that all of it is a piece of you. . .

it has nothing to do with God, fate, or whatever religion you prescribe to. . .it has everything to do with taking it all as is. . .I learned that tonight. I hope you learn it, right now. . . DO IT NOW. . .(okay, you don't have to, but you'll regret it)

Now, my dear lovely readers. . .know, that I do love you no matter what you do. Because if you embrace life, cherish it, and take its adventures into your arms (whether it be through travel, marriage, parenthood, all three, or as a singleton). . .remember, in doing so, your passion becomes contagious. . .

and your quote. . .well two quotes. ..

"Our letters sound the same. Full of all our changing, that isn't change at all. Straight lines circle some times"--the Weakerthans-Left and Leaving

"Life belongs to the living. . .and he who lives, must live with changes. . "Goethe (one of my favorite people who inhabited the earth)

simple but easy quotes my furry friends. . .I had a lovely and unexpected night tonight because I went with the flow, and let what would be, be. . .I think if you remember the quote of my friend's mom in high school. . ."lock your door, wear your seatbelt, and remember who you are" (the last bit being the most important) then all will be well.

tight sleep. . .sleep sweet:)

Riddled Random (W)Riting

the red neon cross hovers. . .i am sure the absorption of the morning's sweltering heat makes its red color pungent and piercing. Wherever I turn there it is. . .i sense its beckoning, and wonder if its preached reckoning will come. . .my logic says no. . .

music plays into my ears from the small techno-contraption bouncing against my chest surrounded in lycra and sweat. . .the lyrics are distant, but the beat, I feel the beat driving me forward. . .my mind wanders on to all the things that were, that are, that could've been. . .but it doesn't linger. . .my mind prefers to pace along to the beat. . .and I am grateful

sweat drips and drops. . .sometimes I think it is raining. . .I look and reach out my had to see. . .but nothing. . .just gray skies with the beating sun behind it. . .he is pounding into my skin. My body pulsates, my head bumps. . .I convulse. . .my legs stagger, spots populate my pupil. . .a dry heave--didn't drink enough water. I stop. I breathe. My pulse slows, I pull myself forward. "That sun is relentless" I say out loud. . .not realizing my vocalization of the words until they startle a girl attached to a phone that is surely divulging the secrets of the universe--it must be by how she holds it and stares at it. I bow, a polite gesture that seems to be utilized more by foreigners than by locals. . .girl barely notices and seems to be slightly annoyed. I would be too, if some random white girl spat out inaudible English in heavy huffs.

I can't believe how much the heat still surprises me. . .

I wander on. . .

My mind drifting. . .again, no thought lingers too long. I appreciate that.

Then a strange thing happens. . .monologues begin to surface. First, Bunny. . .then the Librarian, then Rose, Mistress Quickly, Jean, and even Savage. . .the words come quickly and fluidly. I don't have to think. . .they are just there. . .they stumble across the lips and their emotions trickle through my veins. I wish I were in a quiet, private space, so I could release each character with the truth they deserve. . .

***Considering that last thought. . .I believe my three readers may find me a bit silly, or crazy. . .nothing new to me. . .but try this out. . .you know when you hear that song that stirs you so much you have to belt it. . .either in the shower, in your room, or--if you are a singer--on a stage. . .well, that's a monologue for an actor. A good monologue has the rhythm and the lyrics of a perfect song, and they leave their imprint on the actor. . .just like a song leaves its imprint on you. . .just like a line from a movie bounces around your head, until you find the perfect moment to say it. . .

Starred explanation aside. . .I awed myself. . .I don't remember things like that. . .I struggle for names, lyrics, and monologues on a regular basis. I don't know why or how these monologues surfaced word for word. . .perhaps it was the heat. . .perhaps the sweat oozing out of every single pore and dehydrated delirium caused them to unwittingly emerge . . .I don't know. . .but I was thankful. And when I got home. . .I took a shower and said them out loud--yep, I was monologuing in the shower. . .

and I fell in love with my craft all over again. . .

In other random news. . .

I listened to this podcast today--Stuff you should know--on Quantum Suicides. . .(I attribute this new podcast of joy to a lovely friend). . .and it explores the idea of how every choice we make basically creates another universe that plays out the choice we didn't make. The podcast explores many ideas, but this one really resonated. . .I find this idea interesting. . .because existentialism poses the idea that there are no wrong choices--there is only how we deal with those choices.

hmmmm. . .I wonder if we humans just create theories/philosophies to justify notions and actions that randomly float through us. . .but then again, there are no new ideas. . .tricky, tricky. . .

Out of my pondering mind and back to Korea. . .

A friend and I found ourselves swimming in a (rumored to be filthy) lake during a festival in Daegu this past weekend. We were fully clothed, fully intoxicated, and fully enjoying ourselves. . .and the Shisha bar has become a place of perfect joy. . .

Currently, I am pondering Goethe's idea that there is genius in boldness. . .and as the text of this piece delves fully into the sea of subtext. . .I shall depart. . .

But of course, my dear three readers, I leave you with a quote. . .

"What's the use in regrets? They're just things we haven't done yet. . .What are regrets? They're just lessons we haven't learned yet." --Sweetest Decline, Beth Orton.

Bathing Korean style

and so we meet again in this strange internet land. . .where I do all the talking without care or interruption, and you sit intensely on the edge of your seat drooling at my infinite insights and wisdom. . .

. . .didn't you know? in a blog, anything is possible. . .

so, i find myself in a state of total relaxation with my mind a-buzzing. . .about. . .bathing.

Yes bathing.

Now, a few years ago, I watched a week long History channel in-depth analysis of the History of the Bath--it was inspiring, magical, and down right interesting. I, of course, retained a bare minimum of the information. . .the only thing I can recall perfectly is that in the Middle Ages, men and women bathed together, took their time, and were even served meals on floating tables while musicians played. . .of course as my friends would point out this would be the one thing I remember because it contains my four favorite things. . .men, bathing, eating, and music (in no particular order)--however, what really sealed it in my memory is that it was the Middle Ages!--this is a time that seemed to have a dark sinister shadow in the shape of a church cascading across the land. . .of course, the church eventually extended its dirty fingers into this simple practice twisting the customs and contorting them to suit their needs--just like they did with theatre.

and now, I find myself in a convoluted tangent. . .

quick!

take a right turn. . .

now left. . .

flip a bitch. . .

and. . .wait. . .yes. . .whew!

got out of that one just in time. . .

now, back to bathing in Korea. . .

First, let's talk the home shower. There are no doors, no curtains, and no tubs. Every morning, I wake up, push a button for hot water, stumble into the bathroom and turn on the shower. My entire bathroom becomes the shower. . .if I needed to. . .I could shit and shower at the same time. As of yet, I have not needed to, and I don't think anyone ever needs to shit and shower simultaneously, but I do hope I find myself in that position one day. . .Needless, to say, the shower is purely functional. I cleanse. I leave. Cool.

Throughout the week this is fine. I am not one to take my time in the shower--I am there on business only. . however, when Sunday rolls around. . .the day I wash my hair (yes, I wash it once a week, deal with it), this is the day I take my time. Back home in America, this is when body got a total overhaul. . .on Sunday, my bathing turned into a 30 minute self-indulgent cleanse fest. I scrubbed, I scented, I relaxed, and I sang. . .some people go to church on Sundays. . .I get naked and wet.

All this changed when I got to Korea. . .because the bathroom is just so, so, so. . .well, functional. . .there is no tub to lounge, no fan to circulate the moisture, no real water pressure, just nothing conducive to a real Sunday body praising. . .I was fine with this. . .knowing, that in a year's time, I would once again be standing under the best shower in the world. . .however, a couple weeks ago. . .EVERYTHING CHANGED. . .

I was introduced the Jimjabong. . .the Korean bath house. . .

Here is the basic run-down. . .for about $4, you can enjoy, hot tubs, saunas, showers, and steam rooms. . . they are separated by gender and you go in the nude (yes, the nude, you crazy Americans).

Here is a typical day. . .you pay, take an elevator, enter the room, take off shoes, give ticket to lady, she gives you key, you go to locker, strip down, walk into room full of goodness. There are showers to the left and right. . .ahead you find a huge hot tub heated to 38 degrees celsius across from it is another tub with individual "chairs" that have personalized jets. . .next to that a hot tub at 42 degrees celsius. . .then another at 48 degrees celsius. . .then there are three saunas - 74, 64, 43 degrees celsius. . .then individual vanity stations with chairs, showers and mirrors.

The place is scattered with women of all ages and children. . .women are scrubbing women. . .chatting about this and that. . .drinking beer and soda. . .and generally having a good time. . .

No one is hindered. . .or impeded. . .they are just cleaning themselves, each other, and relaxing. It is simply amazing. At the risk of sounding mystic. . .there is a cleansing of body and soul here. . .scrubbing off the dead cells and the annoyances that built up throughout the week.

I hear some of my friends voices. . ."oh that's so unsanitary!" . . . "you know they don't keep that place clean!" . . . "how can you just BE naked in front of everyone?" My question is. . .why is being naked unsanitary? And my other response is. . .being naked is liberating. . .I think Americans would have a lot less body issues if we weren't so lost in our ingrained puritan beliefs.

And of course, we have the whole bath house stereotypes of the 80's. . .but, I won't delve into all that. . .what I will say is this. . .

I know my body is not perfect. . .I've got wobbly bits. . .I've got freckles. . .I've got mosquito bites (ugh!) and currently, I have a huge zit on the side of my huge nose. . .but I don't know. . .I walk into a Jimjabong, slip out of my clothes, and into a warm hot tub bubbling over as people fill the air with laughter and a language that (to me) is almost musical and well, everything yucky washes away. . .

I think everyone should have that moment. . .perhaps, then we will have world peace. That's what I would do if I were president. . .create bath houses all across the land. . .

But for now. . .I will enjoy my local bath house. . .and hope to find a friend that will truly scrub my back while I soak in a hot tub. . .

so, my furry friends. . .my mission to you. . .find a friend, steam up your bathroom, get naked, and soak in a tub. . .enjoy being naked. It's simple.

I feel the need to leave you with some Walt Whitman tonight. . .

"the art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity."

kiss me! I'm blogging!

hello furry friends. . .i do hope your realities and alter-realites are treating you well. . .

mine are good. . .thanks for asking.

so the rain begins. . .

Literally.

The sky has opened, and down comes the rain. Down and down it comes. . when it will stop no one knows. . .and I will have to keep borrowing umbrellas left behind by kids, until it stops, or I decide to stop being cheap and actually buy one.

Cheap. . .this is an interesting concept I've been contemplating, so let's explore it for a moment. I consider myself a conservative spender. Buy the necessities, pay the bills, and save. I don't like to spend money. . .but I have noticed strange idiosyncrasy. . .

I enjoy life (a lot). . .and life, well it takes money. I've never had a lot of money. . .I don't ever plan on having a lot of money. . .like most people I know, I hate money. However, I find that when it comes to actual life. . .I do not allow money to be an obstacle.

I realize this is dangerous. . .but let's consider the facts.

I wanted to go to college. . .no one had the money. . .I made it happen through scholarships and loans.

I wanted to go to New Zealand. . .I had a credit card. . .whilst in NZ I wanted to bungee jump, three jumps in one day that included the tallest jump in the world. . .I had a credit card. . .I wanted to go sledging (look it up). . .I had a credit card. . .I wanted to hike the Milford. . .I had a credit card. . .I wanted to . . . well you get the picture. . .

Did I regret any of those purchases even after I got back and had to work day in and day out while living with my parents to pay them off??. . .Nope. . .I think maybe only a handful of people can say they peed in a port-a-potty on a cliff, in a place called Mullet Bay. . .and yes that moment was worth the grueling hours of making sandwiches at a pretentious eatery called Soby's during the day and catering to rich assholes at night. . .absolutely. . .

This is a simple example. . .but I find things continually happen in which I do not live by my own cheap standards. I think life is supposed to be an experience, and well money, the devil's play thing, helps make those experiences happen. . .BUT. . .

lack of money makes them happen too. . .some of my other best moments in life have been when I had barely any money. . .for instance. . .slept in a hammock right by the ocean on a tiny island called Bastimientos off the coast of Panama for $2 because I had no money. To this day, it is my best sleep ever!

Also, I don't like when people around me are worried about money, so I find myself spending money on their good time. . .because for me, the people around me are what make the experience worth while. . .a shared moment is my favorite type of moment. . .

So this money-life philosophy leaves me always just getting by in the world. I don't own much--books, a computer and knick-knacks from travel--I am always struggling financially. . .

So, I find myself in this interesting situation. . .I am getting paid well, I have a comfortable place to stay. . .bills are being paid, money is being saved, and yet I am not in dire straits (heh-heh, that's a band!). . .I am wondering what to do. Currently, I buy the people around me, who are on budgets, a beer, or two or three. . .and I love doing it.

hmmmmmm. . .no conclusion. . .just an exploration into the cheapness and expenses of my life. . .

is it bad that I don't own anything more than books, a computer and knick-knacks?? It is just me after all. . .and things will change when I am responsible for people other than myself.

I find myself in a funny sort of life. . .who knew. . .the girl who couldn't talk to anyone, who hated to have people even to notice her, and who silently cried the first time she spent the night away from her family would end up in Korea miles away from anyone and anything familiar discussing money on a blog no one really reads. . .

I love my life. I love the people in it. I adore many experiences. I abhor many experiences. It is all grand by me.

Now I ask you. . .do you find yourself in a funny sort life?? Do you find yourself in a funny sort of blog?? I think I know the answer to one of those. . .

So, I leave you tonight with Robert Frost. . .a poet after my own heart. . .

Never ask of money spent

Where the spender thinks it went.

Nobody was ever meant

To remember or invent

What he did with every cent.

Sleep sweet, love hard, and enjoy every excruciating minute of this thing we call life, my fine furry friends.

a walk home. . .prepare for deep thoughts, but not the Jack Handy Kind

so, i walk home down the same alley just about every day.

there is nothing extraordinary about this alley. it is full of cars, trash, and cats. Occasionally, I get honked at while wandering back to my house. I don't mind it so much. I drop off my friends at their place of residence and move on. . .

tonight was different. . .

The reader's digest version. . .things on the "strip" turned out pretty standard. The guys I was with found the people they wanted to go home with. This sentence may sound snide, but it is not meant to sound like that. I appreciate all people and their encounters and the pleasure that ensues because of those encounters. . .I have never been a hater when it comes to physical pleasure. The only reason I mention the hook-ups, is that on seeing this, I realized the time had come for me to wander home. . .and so I did. . .

I stopped at a friend's house where we had conversation and laughter, an then I entered the alley. . .

The first thing I came across was a cat. . .scavenging out of the trash. . .not an abnormal sight in Korea mind you. . .however, I then came across what looked like a bloody piece of string and dirty fabric. Being the person I am, I had to investigate this "something" that seemed so strange in the street. . .upon further inspection, I discovered it was kitten. . .having been run over by a vehicle of sorts. It happens on a daily basis all over the world. . .but this was a fresh kill. . .the colors were still bright, and the fur was still wet.

In this moment I thought of three things. . .

First, damn, that's sad. . .

Second, wow, I am so glad Emilee is not here. . .

Third, hmmm, there is something quite artful in that. . .

That last thought made me stop and think. . .but, since it was almost 5am, I figured, the alley and that kitten didn't deserve my neuron energy, so I went back to humming a song. . .(David Boone's --Pieces of Art--if you must know). . .I admit now, it seems a bit selfish, but what could I do to fix that situation. . .

So I wander. . .

Humming my song. . .

Taking note of street lights, and the reflection of the wet on the pavement and buildings. . .

I am not oblivious to my thoughts on the evening mind you. . .I am taking in the actions of friends and foes and creepers. . .laughing to myself, and enjoying the freedom of my choices. . .then I think to myself, we call them choices, but are they really??. . .we women are silly creatures, we are very smart, but act so dumb. . .I shan't elaborate, but I will say this. . .sometimes, I think the smartest choices we make are when we are in an inebriated state--but only if we have experience to guide us in that moment. . .tonight, as I glanced around this bar full of expats and army assholes, I thought to myself. . .yep, I am here for a year.

In full disclosure and complete honesty, this is my full-on conclusion. .

Korea breeds an incestuous group of people. . .you see, the other night a friend explained that a person in a bar asked him "how long have you been here?" My friend replied, "one month", and the guy said, "good, you haven't been corrupted. Word of advice, don't stay here too long, or you will get weird." I admit, I am embellishing the language, and I did not hear if first hand. . .but I trust my friend, and I feel my language does the situation justice. . .you see. . .

I think that what happens is expats/foreigners latch on to each other in desperation. . .Korean bars feed this desperation by creating watering holes geared specifically towards this isolation and fear--they decorate them with Kurt Cobain, and familiar flags of popular football teams. . .making us feel comfortable and safe. . .playing on our emotions . .

I have no problem with these places. . .I feel they are necessary. I enjoy them, and they make me want to create some sort of international watering hole in every alley of the U.S.

Unfortunately, what happens. . .is these places temporarily quench this desperation by catering to these people of displacement (myself included). . .in this quenching, however, an incestuousness takes over. . .people feed the insecurities of others, which leads to the obsession and passion with others of their own kind, which cultivates an elitism and obnoxious behavior. This elitism causes a disassociation with other people, and hatred towards the locals. People begin to curse the culture and the habits of those around them--it's understandable that cursing happens because you find yourself in a new world and adapting to its habits. . .HOWEVER. . .I find no need in abstaining from the practice of the natural citizens of the current world around me. . .but, I feel we may become incestuous fools out of fear. . .

So tonight I broke away from the pack. . .I said blah to them. . and wandered along. . .had a moment of food and conversation with a friend, and then grabbed my umbrella and walked. . .where i came across a smlattered cat. . .(sorry Emilee, but it's true)

That moment made me think all the previous thoughts--why, probably because I had been partaking in adult beverages, BUT. . .then I hit a major alley intersection. . .and found a man wheeling--yes in a wheel chair--down the hill (my favorite hill in my neighborhood because it is covered with glittered asphalt that sparkles perfectly in the streetlights), and I thought, Wow. . .this doesn't happen every day. . .

In that moment, I remembered . . .I am here to learn, to feed my artistic inclination, and most importantly I am here to take in the world around me. A smlattered cat in the alley and a legless man in a wheel chair are apart of that. . .so. . .

My upstairs neighbor is puking. . .there is a baby crying outside my window, and I hear the faint meow of a cat who needs shelter in the rain. . .So, I will absorb their sounds with this moment of loss in my heart (I feel no need to expand on this point). . .I will remember my purpose, and be grateful for the theatre briefly surfacing in my moment here. . .

and to you, three readers, I impart this knowledge. . .women and men act exactly the same in bars all over the world. . .the music is loud, the alcohol flows, and all of them find a need to connect, but not in any real way. . .

told you I didn't know where this blog was going. . .

so two quotes. . .first lyrics from The Be Good Tanyas - "Promise me we won't go to a night club, I really think it's obscene/what kind of people go to meet people someplace they can't be heard or seen. "

the second. . .only because it is raining. . ."the rain on my car is a baptism, the new me, Ice Man, Power Lloyd, my assault on the world begins now." --Lloyd Dobbler--Say Anything.

sleep sweet furry friends.