First and foremost, I have to mention the cicadas.
I live in the city. Sure, there's the occasional tree, but for the most part, excepting the mountains, it's a pretty stark, neon-strewn urban landscape we're talking about here. Don't believe me? Here, have a look:
Now, granted, that's not exactly the street my apartuh is on. But you get the overall idea. Still, for the last couple of weeks, it's sounded like my grandparents' fucking farm outside my laundry room (or, as I like to call it, my veranda) doors.
Cicadas live underground for up to 17 years. After this period of time, they emerge and climb a tree. The males then emit an incredibly loud mating call (their bodies having been designed seemingly for this express purpose, and this purpose alone). After mating, the male immediately dies. The female cuts a slice into a piece of tree bark, lays her eggs, and then she immediately dies. The fucking-and-immediately-dying thing is bad enough on its own, but when you think about the fact that they live underground for up to seventeen years, waiting to do this....
Uh. I'm sure there's something profound to be taken from all of this, and I definitely felt profound the first time I heard it. But in the end, the only thing your mind returns to is the thought that these creatures live exclusively to fuck. Or reproduce. Or whatever.
Is it depressing? I don't know....
Anyway, they're out there, humming away. Along with what sounds like approximately four million crickets. It's bizarre -- I've never been in a city environment where these kinds of creepy crawlies have been known to do their thing.
Other than that, I've been (somewhat) going to Korean class, which has been a load of fun, actually, lately, do to our improved skills and the new-found ability to make jokes in Korean. Of course, it's something along the lines of exactly what goes on in my boys' middle school classes in English. But still. We're learning and growing. Even if the learning and growing involves references to double barber poles.
I've also been out with a different Korean guy every night this week (save for Tuesday night, when it was two), with varying degrees of resulting boredom. Of course, a couple of those were with what are quickly becoming dear friends. Those ones were alright.
I don't know what the deal is. I find it incredibly difficult to just sit in on a night off and keep myself company. It's bound to be something that would be considered relatively pathetic by the person who was my former self, but I've changed a lot, in spite of myself, over the course of the last ten months. Open-minded sounds like too positive a term, but it's something close to that. Maybe just open, in general.
I've a lot more to say, but I'll save it. For, probably, never. Tomorrow I'm off to shoot guns and eat steak (that's literally all the information I have), before probably meeting Mr. Willie in Hongdae for a drink or two. Sunday? Sunday, who knows. But I'm in to work on Monday to re-sign my contract, committing myself, finally and officially, to another year in the ROK. Did you see that one coming? Has it really almost been a year already? Aish.
Life plods on, ever forward, my dears.
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