Abracadabra.

Haha. I can't believe he did it. For anyone who doesn't know, that's one of the many dances from Kpop (Brown Eyed Girl's "Abracadabra") that's been making the rounds for the last few months. I see at least one student do it everyday. I've even been known to bust it out, from time to time. And, just for the record, the South Korean speed skating team is exactly what my third grade students look like. Except mine are usually taller.

The original, for your reference:



And the 2AM/2PM parody, just for fun:



It should be noted that Korean men, in general, don't get the whole two-girls-together-is-sexy thing, and they think American men finding that attractive is weird. To quote one of the conversations I've personally had about it, "But there is no man there! Why do I like that?" They also commonly refer to their (male) underwear, brief style, as "panty". Just so you know. Is it just me, or is Jo Kwon just a little too into the whole thing?

Sincerity.

These people with their damn phones. I can't get any rest or fucking peace and quiet. These fools phoning me up in the middle of all goddamn hours with their nonsense. First Smalltown starts in with thousands of misspelled texts about some dumbass thing his girlfriend did, and before I can even finish pecking out an answer, he calls me to have this stupid conversation with her sitting right there, using elaborate English words so she can't understand. When I tell him it was a dumbass thing to do, and I'd tell her to kiss my ass, he informs me that he's "not like me". Well, no shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue? And if you know that already, why the hell are you calling me at one o'clock in the morning to ask my opinion?

"No, no. You're right."

Of course I am. Not that you're going to listen to me or do anything about it.

Next.

Remember the Korean Body Builder? Neither do I, really. The history there is, meeting at the beach, hanging out a few times, running into each other the street while we both had company of the opposite sex variety with us, snickering snidely at each other about the situation while said company gawked at each other in confusion, and then one last night out where he got all territorial because I was chatting up The Boxer, and putting his arm around me even though he had a girlfriend. Which pissed me off enough to write him off as a complete asshole.

Now, six months later, 2 am....

KBB: "hi? haha^^"
L: "what in the hell...."
KBB:"hahaha howz going so far??ha"
L: "haha going fine. nothing interesting to report. how's things with you? what the hell do you want?"
KBB:"do well.where u at??"
L: "i'm at home asshole. it's 2 am. i'm a good girl these days."
KBB: "hahaha i just wanted u to ask a favor. im looking for my english.cuz im sitting test soon.so wondering if u okay will u be..... hahaha"
L: "fucking shameless. i don't have a lot of free time these days. what do you have in mind? maybe if you help me with korean...."
KBB: "haha yerp. we can teach each other. haha. u can meet up sometime for drinking coffee"


Lovely. I have always had a strange affection for this guy, because I know he's an asshole, and that basically gives me free reign to behave however I want with him. And he just accepts it, no holds barred. So whatever. I've got a stack of Korean questions piling up anyhow, and I think everyone around me is getting a little annoyed with them.

Well just call me Mother Fucking Teresa why don't you? The weirdest people show up again and again, out of nowhere here in the ROK. It's a social pattern I'm not at all adjusted to, and I can't seem to get control of my mouth when it comes to these situations. You're calling me now? Really? What the fuck do you want? No. No offense, or anything. But seriously -- what the fuck do you want? The thing I respect about KBB is, when I ask that question, I get a sincere answer. And that's all I'm ever really looking for.

Daytime Drinking.

"YOUR QUITE ILLUSIVE FOR A YANK-HAHA"
-- Smalltown, via text message, after a total of five unanswered phone calls.

Gotta love that little fucker. What a character.

In other news, Daytime Drinking: watch it. Song Sam-dong is my new crush, just for managing to be so utterly cringe-worthy. As Kel might be inclined to say, he needs an adult.

Hermit Kingdom: My apartment.

Yes, I'm the worst person in the world and I'm ignoring my phone again. Mr. Willie takes off back for The Real World today -- best of luck to our mister -- he will certainly be missed by this little hermit.

I had vague intentions, after growling a big, overly dramatic "noooooooo I'm not drinking ANYMORE!" down the phone to him last night, of ringing Smalltown to see if he'd be up for Indian food this afternoon, but blew it off in favor of scrubbing my bathroom for an hour, finishing yet another book, and going to the coffee shop up the way to try to make headway in the gigantic All of Korean History Ever book I've been creeping through (I'm almost up to 1945!).

One of the most annoying things one can encounter out in public (especially when one is already straining over generic jazz music blasting from a semi-faulty speaker overhead to understand a history book on a subject one is generally completely ignorant of) is The Young Korean Couple. God bless 'em. I'm happy for them, really. But do they always have to sit right next to me? I'm sort of asking for it, stepping foot in a coffee shop in the ROK to begin with. But between her smacking her kimbap in an intentionally childish, "cute" manner, literally whining and stomping her feet for no apparent reason, and him calling just about everyone in his phone book just to ask where they are and flamboyantly cuss them out for whatever their answer is, I really just want to pull a 9mm out of my bag and hold them at gunpoint, insisting they commit self-criticism and reform, for the good of the Korean public.

I try to be understanding that Koreans generally don't encounter the opposite sex in any real way until university, reasoning that American fourteen year olds can be seen making the same kind of scenes all over Bumblefuck, Middle America. But sometimes it's hard not to have a visible, physical reaction to a twenty-something grown ass woman letting out a high pitched shrieking whine, followed by a swift smack right across her boyfriend's face. Playful, of course. It's perplexing, to say the least.

Anyway, I didn't last long in that environment, pathetically milling through about 20 pages in just over an hour, so I peaced the fuck out and headed to the shop up the road to grab a screwdriver to put together some small furniture and some junk to make a nice Western dinner, which will be lovely after weeks of nothing but Korean food (even at home). Fuck the world. I can make a better iced coffee than anyone else in the ROK, and inside my apartment, I don't have to wear pants to read! It's a win-win.

And no more alcohol. Ever. Or at least for the next three incoming phone calls.

I have a question.

How come every neighborhood I live in anywhere in the world always ends up with a fucking rooster in it eventually? That's right -- roosters in Brooklyn. If you don't believe me, you've obviously never been to Brooklyn. This time, I suspect it's the monks up the road.

I would like to know. Because I didn't think owning roosters was that fucking common.

Is it me?

Kim Yuna sidewalk stand-still.

I got forgotten about for lunch again today and, to add insult to injury, went down to find the main office completely empty. Which means only male teachers were in today, and they all went out to a restaurant together (which the male teachers can do, with the VP, while the female teachers have to stay behind and man the phones and babysit the foreigner -- don't get me started). This has all culminated in me deciding that, after two years of literally no bitching about anything, if I decide that I want to re-sign with my school this summer, we're going to the goddamn negotiating table. I don't ask for much, but if they want to keep me on, instead of dealing with some green-as-hell FOB who misses her mom, is terrified of the students and only eats bread out of a bag (my school had a real nasty experience right before I came, involving one hell of a headcase midnight runner who refused to even try Korean food), the VP's going to have to agree to stop making me sit in a cold office alone for nine hours where I may or may not end up actually eating food at all, for reasons the other Korean teachers can't even begin to fathom.

I do take some consolation in that every teacher who encountered me during the last two months first asked if I had any classes, then asked if I had to come in every day, and then clicked their tongues at each other and muttered about how unreasonable our VP is. MJ Oppah straight up told me, "I know you are a very polite person, but sometimes you have to make some trouble." And, given that I've been a major source of face-saving for my school, after the last teacher took off after a month and with the board members who reviewed my demo class and interviewed me afterward saying I was so well-adjusted, they wished they could take me back to their schools, I think I've earned the right to make this one demand. If they reject it, I'll just take it as a sign and head for the country, I suppose.

Anyway, I wasn't having it today, and was plotting staging a one-man walk-out after sending a text to Coteacher informing her of what was going on, when my phone rang. "I think you should just leave. I'll explain the situation to the VP. You are right -- they are not answering the phone. They left you alone. Go home and enjoy your Friday -- you have really earned it."

Sweet.

A beautiful sunny day after months of prolonged, grey icy torture. Like fuck was I heading straight home. I made my way leisurely the mile and a half or so to the major stores on the other side of my neighborhood. In every shop and restaurant on every corner, under the cover of tents on the sidewalk set up by vendors -- even inside the major chain store -- Koreans had stopped going about their daily business and gathered in little clusters to watch Kim Yuna skate.

Korea's nationalistic pride can at times be a real thorn in the side of many foreigners living here, who have to hear about even the most trivial and banal absolutely any old thing related to anyone from Korea that can be interpreted as positive and makes even a drop in the bucket of recognition from the international press for literally months after the occurrence. But. Today, any foreigners who were out and about around one pm would have witnessed a moment of pure and genuine (and altogether deserved) pride on the faces of everyone gathered around a television set. For just a moment, I didn't hear about all this crap after the fact, but got to witness how much it means to Koreans to watch the spotlight be turned on one of their own -- for the world to watch and, for even a moment, acknowledge Korea. This isn't just more whackjob Kim Jong-il baloney (which, god knows Koreans abroad must tolerate countless ignorant comments about on a daily basis). This isn't Rain (who? oh, that ninja guy) being a "world" star. This isn't Lee Hyori (no seriously, who?) "breaking" in the US. This is Korea -- South Korea (creators of Samsung, which is not Japanese, you doggish Americans)-- doing something that the world should, and did, notice.

And, in that short twenty minute walk back to my apartment, I finally understood where all those Monday-morning-at-the-office bragging instincts really come from. It's easy to hear about it after the fact and label it as smug, desperate and ultimately annoying. But seeing the actual joy on the faces of the people stopped in their tracks, hearing the raucous uproar pour out of a department store from a society normally so composed in its daytime public displays, you can't help but cheer them on. Good for you. Good for us. And good for me, for having the privilege of witnessing it.

After returning home, I collected my package (more books) from the building ajeosshi, who was having a vicious argument with four workmen crouched around a gigantic hole right in the middle of the street leading up to our apartment complex. He put his angry negotiations on hold for long enough to smile madly at me and exchange a few pleasantries in Korean (which word has gotten out around the complex I can generally understand these days). On my way in, I passed my downstairs neighbor coming down the stairs carrying a huge piece of furniture (apparently moving out). She glared at me as she hulked the thing past me on the stairs, even as the Korean greeting was coming out of my mouth. I chalked it up to her unpleasant task and tried not to make it about me being a foreigner in her building, and, sure enough, when I passed her again taking the garbage out moments later, she gave me a huge smile, for no apparent reason, other than to make up for the glare from before.

This is why I need the warm weather. It's much easier to endure the little ticks of frustration that come from living in this country from time to time when the people are out and about in the sunshine, smiling at you, letting you play, for a few moments, with their children without acting nervous or suspicious, putting food into your hands and mouth as you literally pass them on the sidewalk. Instead of just rushing past, wrapped up tight in coats and under umbrellas, doling out cold stares. Yes, sir. Bring on the spring.

병신들

Ha. I just realized the window of my new office, which is one half of what used to be a study room, has a little message scrawled on the window, backwards: "이런 병신들아"

Can't say I didn't feel the same way when I was in school, to be honest.

Meal time with ajummas.

Everyone knows I love Korean food, and I know my way around it pretty well by now. Today, we will have not one, but two group meals with all of the teachers. Well. The first one doesn't really count, because it's with only the English teachers, and my co-teachers know better than to treat me like a child. But the second one will be my fifth meal with the other teachers this week, and I fear I really might lose my cool.

The female teachers who don't speak English, and therefore can only interact with me on the level of me being a child in their language, simply cannot leave me alone while I'm eating. They correct the way I'm sitting, assuming that they know a more comfortable way for me to do so, that I haven't thought of yet. They fill my plate with meat that I would really prefer to choose for myself off of the fire. They take turns pointing at various side dishes, insisting that I take a bite of this or that particular one right this very second, while they watch me chew and then ask me what I think of it. You should eat this now. You should eat that now. You should sit like this. You should take a drink of this. You should put your plate here. You should move your rice there. You should put this sauce on this food and this leaf around this meat.

It's important to stress that these are not just suggestions. I've grown accustomed to keeping up a constant muttering stream of, "네....네.... 네....네...." while I'm eating, but if you don't do what they've just suggested, they will continue to insist on it and (presumably assuming you haven't understood them correctly) eventually start putting their hands on you, physically moving you into position to do whatever it is they've just decided you should do themselves.

God knows it all comes out of a kind of motherly affection, even if it does assume a kind of idiocy that's a bit offensive. It's mostly harmless, and I can endure it with a sort of detached amusement most of the time. The one exception is breakfast meals, which I go out of my way to avoid with the other teachers, inventing all kinds of excuses, because someone pushing me around and touching me after I've just woken up and before I've had coffee really doesn't go over well.

But. As I said, this will be the fifth time this week already. I'll say a prayer for patience and hope the food is worth it.

Taking a stand: fail.

You know, what am I supposed to do? I'd had myself all talked up for it, and I always do when I'm just dealing with that ignorant woman. But then she shows up with her kids and dumps them off with me for three hours, which should have pissed me off....

But then we sit on the heater and eat kimbap and they fill me in on all the latest Kpop gossip. We play hide and seek and Yelin, the little one, reads me a story.

How can I punish them because their mother is a total douche? It'd be one thing if they went into the whole thing kicking and screaming like a lot of my boys do, but they spend the entire time fighting over one another for my attention, speaking in two completely different streams at the same time, so that I have to respond back and forth. If one dominates my attention for too long, the other will send her a text message on her phone to distract for long enough to jump in and take over. Yejin's so fucking hungry for American culture, and I'm her only connection back to that time. She spend the whole time talking about how things work in American schools, and asking me intricate grammar questions that her Korean teachers can't answer.

I dunno. I dunno what to do. The very sight of this woman makes my blood boil, and I don't know how she can have two such bright, well-adjusted daughters, have lived in New York City for two years, and still be such a bigoted imbecile when it comes to foreigners. I'm trying to do what I can to correct her urge to control everything about the situation. Today, she said we should go outside of the school. I informed her quite harshly that I was working -- on the clock -- I'm. At. Work.

Do you want me to tell the vice principal we are going? Yelin didn't have lunch and is hungry...

No. I'm at work. You asked me if you could bring your daughters to see me at work. You should have fed your children before you brought them to do what we already agreed to do. I know it's more convenient for you to take me out of the school and back to your house, where you can go about your business while I watch your kids for free, but I'm not a fucking book you can check out from the library. Stop changing my plans.

Ugh. Aish. Etc etc.

I don't have the heart to look into those two little faces and tell them I can't see them anymore, though. So I'll just have to keep pushing back where I can and make this woman understand that I'm not a dog she can lead around on a leash at her whim.

Shaking off the shrew.

Forgot my phone at home because I'm an idiot, but it's maybe all for the better since the Terrible Teacher started phoning me at about 6 last night -- she already asked me about seventeen times last week if she could bring her daughters up today for me to teach them while I was at work. I didn't answer the phone or call her back. I'm not getting paid to put up with her neuroses. I'm not going to answer eleventeen thousand phone calls at all hours of the day during my free time for the rest of my life because she thinks I'm an idiot and also wants to use me for the benefit of her children's education. Enough is enough. I didn't come to this country to Teach All Koreans English. That's not my purpose in life. I'm a human being with a personal life, whether she wants to respect that or not. And, guess what -- she really has no choice. She's ruined a pretty good thing she had going, which was basically a private native speaking English tutor for free, who came to her home once a week, by being obsessive and disrespectful. No doubt she's blowing up my phone right now, but I don't have to deal with it, because it's at home.

Coteacher mentioned something about how eager she was to have me over to her house last week at lunch, and I used the opportunity to grease the wheels of being publicly unhappy with this situation, by saying that she seemed quite, quite concerned about her children's English, and that I may just give her the phone number of a friend of mine who has an F2 and is allowed to teach privately. Coteacher said, "I think she's just interested in you." No. That's how she plays it off to you and the other teachers to save face for what she's doing. But it stops now. I may be a Westerner, but I'm not too bad at these little games. If she wants to continue pushing me, she's going to have to do it in public, or with the knowledge of the other teachers. I'm sorry -- I don't understand what you're asking me to do. Let's ask Coteacher to translate. Oh. Never mind? Well okay....

Can I come to your house tomorrow? Oh, I'm sorry. I can't. Maybe next week. Oh, no sorry. Can't make it then either. Maybe the next week.

I can do this ad infinitum for as long as it takes. I'll put up with a hell of a lot, but once you demonstrate quite clearly a complete lack of respect for me as a human being, that's pretty much the end of everything. When someone's doing you a favor, you don't treat them as though you're entitled to it. It's ungracious, and not a way she would behave with or in front of fellow Koreans. The same goes for "friends" who want you to perform when you meet their other friends, being "friendly" like a cartoon-character image of a foreigner is supposed to be, making the proper rounds to make sure everyone gets their five minutes of honest-to-goodness English practice. That kind of person can suck on a tail pipe, as far as I'm concerned. You're already getting the polite, subdued, Korean-friendly version of my personality. You wanna push a little harder and you're in for a surprise.

And from now on, anyone who wants their children to learn from a native speaker will promptly be handed an F4 or F2 visa holding friend of mine's phone number in response. I teach public school -- not private lessons. Looks like hard lining is the only way to go on this one.

For a moment look back, and then good bye.

What a fantastic little trip. We sat through literally half an hour's worth of ppt presentation, which I strained to understand in Korean and, from what I could gather, was mostly about how our system here is about to change drastically in favor of a more Western system (ie, the students will move from class to class, rather than the teachers going to them -- a major downplay of the homeroom heavy system which, at middle school age, I'm actually very much in favor of) and how to manage putting the students on "track" learning, meaning dividing them out by level of ability and comprehension. I'm in favor of all of this at the high school level, and divided on how I feel about level learning at middle school still, but I really hate to see the homeroom system go, in middle schools. I think the students need that sense of guidance still, at that level, and the comfort that comes with the homeroom system. But, even though the other teachers asked my opinion after the meeting, knowing that I know the pros and cons of both systems better than they do (being a product of the Western system myself), it really has absolutely nothing to with what I have to say about things. For more than one obvious reason.

We climbed mountains and saw temples -- how shocked are you to hear that? But I really enjoyed the temples we visited this time. One was what Coteacher called "the headquarters" of Cheontae Buddhism in Korea -- Guinsa. It was fucking massive, with its own post office and bus stop -- basically, a small city. I asked Coteacher how old it was, but she didn't know. Apparently, it was built in 1945, and construction is going on even today.

After the temple, we returned to the town below the mountains to positively gorge on dwaeji galbi marinated in a bright red sauce I'd never seen before -- indigenous to the area, of course. At dinner, the principal summoned me over to his table so he could pour a drink for me. I think I've gone into this before, but in Korea, pouring drinks for others is not a casual task. I knelt in front of him and held my glass with both hands while he poured, then turned my head away and covered my mouth to take the shot. I shook what was left of the alcohol out of the glass into an empty dish, wiped the rim on my sleeve and handed it back to him with both hands, lifting up on my knees to pour for him with both hands. Before he took his shot, he held it up to me to clink with my cider glass, shouting, "Cheers!"

After he took his shot, he told me in Korean, with a little help from one of my co-teachers (old man Korean is extremely hard for me to understand, still -- they speak in low, rattling voices and their words run into each other) that I had done extremely well adjusting to Korean culture. A head teacher interrupted him to tell him how much gochujang I had poured into my bibimbap at lunch, as though to support his point. He told me he was proud of me and happy to have me at the school. Also, some vaguely offensive comments about how small my face has become, which my co-teacher refused to translate, not that I needed it. He calls me "우리 엘리자베스 선생님" -- "our Elizabeth teacher" -- which makes me smile every time I hear it. Whereas the other teachers, with the exception of the PE teachers who seem to have made some kind of comfort jump with me, can't stop calling me "원어민 샘", which (in Korean) is respectful, I like hearing someone use my name, especially with the warm Korean "우리" coming before it -- as though somehow Korea has claimed me now.

We went back to the hotel to gather in a circle on the floor, where we ate dried squid and played a ridiculous card game called, as best I could gather, Vietnam Bomb. I won mancheon won, which the principal shouted over to our table this morning should have made my breakfast taste sweet, not bitter.

Then, today it was a cave near a shooting range, where apparently some of our students managed to steal a gun on their fieldtrip last year, which made the teachers tsk with shame at returning to the scene of the crime. We were also warned vehemently to mind our heads by the head teacher while inside, due to the fact that literally over a dozen of the students had to make a group trip to the hospital afterward. Morons.

Another temple in Yeongju, where the VP explained to me in Korean something about how the architecture is atypical for Korea. He used a phrase that in Korean means something like "bloated belly" to describe the columns, which were slightly rounded.

My favorite rest stop walnut "cake" and then home. All the snow has melted, and even now my back door is bravely slid open to let the fresh air in. It's nearly spring. I guess you could say, I fell back in love with Korea, or came out of my slump. Or whatever it was. But look at this shit -- how could I not?

Disco Ball World.

Off on a business-ee trip for a couple of days -- this time an actual business trip, in the Western sense, in that we are actually traveling. To where? I don't know. Why? Because every time I asked, I was given a completely different name. But it matters little, I suppose. Any little bit of traveling is alright.

My co-teachers seemed amused when they told me about the trip, asked me if I wanted to go, and I said, "Me alone with other native teachers or together with you?" and then agreed, only after they said they were going as well. Wouldn't I be more comfortable with other Westerners? Than with the teachers I've worked with for a year, and become rather close with?

Westerners aren't like Koreans, ladies. We don't have "pure" blood and Han in common. I bond with you, because I work with you. I don't know those other fools.

It's common place now, for the other teachers to comment casually and tease me about being "really Korean -- not like other foreigners" -- which always makes me want to ask them, how many other foreigners do you actually know?

Anyway, this two day/one night trip is all for what the VP says will be about an hour of actual work. The rest is "sight seeing". Better than idly sitting in the office for another two days. Plus, I love getting out of the city, if only for the couple of hours driving through the rice fields in between. It makes it feel like I'm actually in another country for a while, since the cityscape in the ROK has become so commonplace to me.

Plus, I love roadtripping with Koreans. It's always an event. It always takes a couple of hours to actually get on the road, because of all the prep that goes into even a two hour jaunt. Even when there's a whole busload of people involved, rations of bottled water, oranges and dried squid are passed around to everyone, to help them endure the hard journey ahead. Everyone wears hats and hoodies -- sunglasses and backpacks manifest themselves out of nowhere. All manner of cards for games to pass the time are produced. Group photos of us standing in front the building we work in every single day to mark the occasion. Plus, you stop every thirty minutes to eat some delicacy that's native only to that particular ten mile stretch of land. It's fucking cute as hell. And you feel then, more than ever, the "family" nature of Korean culture.

I'm thinking more and more about going ahead and making the move to the countryside next year. I wanted to wait until my Korean was functional, but I'm also thinking my Korean ever becoming functional might depend on just getting out of the city. It seems even when I genuinely don't want to spend the weekend dicking around, it can't be resisted. Of course, the real hesitation comes in leaving my school. But we'll see, as the time to re-sign draws closer, I suppose.

A song for you this morning. Take care, babies. Be back soon.

The Mapia.

I love how safe Korea is sometimes. I know there are dangerous people out there, but...

I just got caught by a gang of rough as hell 20 year old hooligans on my walk home (yes it's 4 am and I'm just coming home -- I don't want to talk about it). They swarmed in on me, claiming they were mafia and I was in big trouble.

I laughed and pulled off my coat. Oh yeah? Then where are your tattoos? I tugged up my shirt to put mine on full display.

Total dismay. Boy, did you catch the wrong girl. They all started removing various items of clothing to prove that they had ink of their own. They pulled out their pussy skinny Korean cigarettes. I pulled out a Marlboro red.

"Ya! How old are you? You can't smoke. Haksaengiya."

I had them calling me noona and speaking in the polite form in less than five minutes. They showed me their cars, unlocking the doors to prove they were really theirs. I told them their cars looked loud and that they shouldn't be drinking and driving.

Apparently, Noona smells like sul. Well, yeah. That's because Noona's old enough to be let into clubs, boys.

I told them all to get straight home to their mommies, and to be good boys. They'll shee me again. Here's hoping.

Reflections on: Ring Ding Dong and Hongdae clubs? Again? Really?

Lizzo says:
god this song is so awful... hang on ill share
youre not even going to believe this
i hate this group so much
stephanie says:
ring ding dong?
Lizzo says:
yes. ring ding dong.
stephanie says:
my laaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddy!
hahahaha
Lizzo says:
when my students do that dance i want to slap them

stephanie says:
cola cola cola cola so fantastic, elastic.
haha
well, it sounds like cola
haha
Lizzo says:
oh god. mullet.
stephanie says:
...this is scary.

Lizzo says:
it only goes on for four minutes but it seems like ten
seriously im banning the ring ding dong dance from the english only zone first thing next week.
im making a fucking sign.

stephanie says:
um, why do they grow wings at the end?
Lizzo says:
i dont know.
why are they drinking milk?

stephanie says:
complicated girl!
Lizzo says:
those outfits are complicated...

Lizzo says:
haha im posting this conversation in my blog....
anything qualifies these days


JH Unni forgave me for blowing her off last weekend, then texted to invite me out last night. I answered (at 10:30) that I was already in bed (and I actually was), and could we meet for lunch or dinner on Sunday? I'm already meeting Willie and Suki for lunch in Sinchon today, and my friend Mark in Bupyeong for coffee in the morning on Sunday. She texted back: "I'll be in hongdae tomorrow -- taking my Turkish friend to a club. Please join!"

Fuck. A Hongdae club is so not the place for me at the moment. But what can you do? How many times can you bluster around canceling on people and shooting down their suggestions before they delete you from their phones? Fuck.

This party girl shit has got to go. For real.

You cannot eat a poem.

Today, after we returned from the fish restaurant, smelling of fish -- in a bad way... because there's no good way to smell of fish -- I was graced with the very special presence of my Beethoven student and his best friend, Mincheol the bass player. They've already graduated, but continue to come in almost daily to assist their homeroom teacher with her paperwork. That's how great they are. Beethoven has excellent (but halting, due to his perfectionism) English, whereas Mincheol can understand a great deal of what I'm saying -- I know this because he repeats it back correctly in Korean under his breath, then tilts his head to the side, sucks air in through his teeth and says, "Ahni?" -- but refuses to speak any at all. I told Mincheol his hoody was cute and he proceeded to laugh nervously, turn bright red, and immediately stand up and exit the situation, leaving Beethoven to inform me that Mincheol likes a girl at their guitar academy (the word "noona" definitely came into this) but can't bring himself to talk to her.

I asked Beethoven if he has any amorous intentions toward any lucky young lady. He told me that before, when his hair was longer (which I commented on nearly everyday), he had "courage", but now that it's army-cut in prep for starting school next week, he has no more courage. And anyway, there's no one special around. I told him that he was smart, talented, honest, kind and hardworking -- hair? Who cares about hair?

Korean girl care about hair, Teacher.

Right. My bad. Most teenage girls the world over do. Their mistake.

We then proceeded to have the best conversation I've had about art -- specifically poetry and music -- that I've had with anyone in months. Unbelievable. He told me that when he started playing cello, at the ripe old age of ten, he wanted to know more about classical music, so he started seeking out video tutorials online. He then went on to give the most beautiful summation of his knowledge on the subject:

"In my head... there are rooms. There is a Beethoven room, a Chopin room, a Haydn room.... I think I must.... oh what? What what?! Not empty?"

"Full... fill up."

"Right! I must keep the rooms fill up."

He then started to tell me about a concerto he's been working on:

"At that time, writing, writer is ... was reading many poetry. Ahni! -- writing many poetry. So, in the music he have.... cello is dog -- pong pong!" He hummed the cello part for me. "Clarinet is -- how to say! -- tree.... wind...."

"Leaves blowing."

"Neh! Clarinet is leaves blowing..." Perfect mimicry of the clarinet part. "Teacher see? Song is poem."

"I see."

"I think... all art... what's word...." He interlaces his fingers. "Oh! Vocabulary...."

"Connected."

"Neh! All art is make connection! When poet watch painting, hear music, poet writes poetry. When musician watch painting, read poem, musician makes music. Connection."

Is it inappropriate to tell a sixteen year old student you would very much like to marry them? I thought so, so I didn't.

I asked him what he would study at university. The answer was a flat and definitive, "Law."

"Law? Really?"

"Yes. I want to be prosecutor."

"No... really though?"

"Yes I want to be."

"Do you know common sense?"

"Neh."

"Okay. If common sense was not important, would you study law?"

"Neh. I want to be prosecutor. Or detective. Maybe."

"Why? Who do you want to catch?"

A long pause. "Actually, I tell Teacher the truth. In my mind there is struggle.... music, law."

"I know that."

"My father says musician is fine, but cannot eat. So. I study law."

"What did I study at university?"

"Haha... Teacher studied poetry."

"Can you eat a poem?"

"Haha! No.... cannot eat..."

"That's right. But I did it anyway. And I eat everyday. I'm okay. You'll be okay too, whatever you choose." I patted him on the leg.

I gave him my email address with insistent instructions not to lose it.

I'm deeply disturbed to the core of my being that I can't find a grown man who can manage conversation like this in his native language. Deeply, deeply disturbed.

As I headed out the door, I called out Mincheol's name. His head snapped around, followed by a resounding, "Neh?" before he realized who was calling it and turned bright red, looking away again.

"Talk to the girl."

"Neh?"

Beethoven was chomping on an apple and nearly spit it all over himself. All of the teachers were watching with curiosity. I patted Beethoven on the shoulder. "You tell him."

"Neh. Yes. I will."

Korean phrase of the day, courtesy of Beethoven, who is an excellent teacher: 난 갈 때까지 갔어.

Literally, it means something akin to "I'm going until I'm gone." It's apparently said a lot during card games, to mean something close to, "I've played all my cards," and it's idiomatic meaning is something like, "I've got nothing left to lose." It's apparently, also, hilarious that I would ask about this phrase. But it's had me stuck for days.

Happy bunny.

Well, now that all the other teachers are back in my office, I'm not nearly so grumpy as I have been about having to come in for some reason. Instead of literally watching the clock for nine hours, now I can flit around from place to place bothering everyone, perch on the heater and read, have my little Korean conversations... the teachers have gotten into the habit of handing me little things of interest they're working on so that I can practice my reading in Korean. I feel a bit like a someone's small child that they've brought to the office for the week, but that's okay. I'm a pretty happy little bunny.

Our first graders are in today for placement testing, which made for the best walk to school ever, this morning. Sarcastically speaking, of course. They're pretty fucking big for first graders, and when I told one of the other teachers this upon entering the office this morning, she turned and nodded enthusiastically: "FAT!" Uh. I meant tall and broad, but whatever.

The bad news is, the head head teacher has decided to treat us all to lunch. Since he's about a million years old, this means we all get to gather around a big pot of horrible fish soup that absolutely all the teachers are exactly not at all enthusiastic about. Me, personally.... this is one of the few dishes in Korea that I can't even make the effort to pretend to enjoy. It's gross. All the teachers are irritated that we have to wait until 1:30 to eat, and it's something awful, so they're passing around all manners of nonsense to keep off the hunger. Like candy and coffee. Because things work that way.

Smalltown again with the soju last night. I told him he was allowed to come over on three conditions:

1. He brought the soju.
2. He didn't expect me to be wearing clothes.
3. He could only use my bathroom with the lights out, because I haven't cleaned it all week.

He asked me where to tell the cab to go and when I said, "______ yeok" out of habit, he said, "Wait... yeok? What is that?"

"Station."

"역 is station? Hang on I'm getting in the cab now... uh..."

Liz: "'_______ yeokiyo!'"

Smalltown: "_______ yeokiyo!"

Cab driver: "________ 역이요? 네...."

Smalltown: "Wow... he just... we're going.... that was easy."

Liz: "I know! It's like magic, right? Speaking Korean... ha."

Five minutes later he called back to say that his girlfriend was at his/their apartment cooking dinner so he had to turn around and go back. He's started to say things like, "I wouldn't really mind more time sort of like... you know I love to see her whenever... but... it would be alright if sometimes we...." etc. mundane etc. Funny. Funny because it's not happening to me. Haha.

Today my books come in! The bastard wants to beg his girlfriend for the night off tonight, but I'm not getting dragged out to that cold-ass nonsense, no way in hell. I'm going home to clean my damn bathroom and binge on nonfiction and coffee and Marlboros and to skype with Magnes about our great escape to Vietnam. If we can learn how to properly operate motorbikes, we may never come back.

Give them back to me.

I just try not to think about the fact that he's only four years older than my students.

Mr. Grumpy Pants has apparently decided to forgive me. He hopes the weather will be shiny tomorrow. (Me too.) I think his phone is now accidentally calling me from the hospital. And Smalltown's finally got a phone again, which means he calls me anytime his girlfriend's not around and tries to convince me to let him come over with soju at 11 o'clock at night (no). I've missed his random bad joke texts and listen-to-what-banal-mystery-of-the-universe-I-was-contemplating-earlier-while-I-wait-for-the-bus-or-walk-to-the-kimbap-shop phone calls. A little.

I've got to ditch the horrible woman who's children I've been teaching for free. She makes everyone in the office cringe with how inhumanly idiotic she assumes me to be. Even after hearing me interact with her children in Korean, she considers the fact that I can read a menu in Korean to be superhuman, and told my coteacher that we couldn't order jjajangmyeon because it involves eating with chopsticks (which she sees me use everyday). Today, after I situated my food on the table and was up getting some water, I turned around to have her hand it to me and tell me that it was what I had ordered. I'm not even into humoring this anymore, and simply rolled my eyes and put my food back down where I had it. She called me six times on Monday (a holiday), starting before I even made it onto the bus home and today she asked me if her rich children can attend the class I teach on Monday nights for POOR KIDS. Tasteless. And she knows it's tasteless, too, because when I referred her to Coteacher with that question, feigning ignorance, she was too ashamed to ask her.

I don't know why she doesn't just fucking hire someone to deal with her obsession with her children's English. It's seeming pretty much like a full time job to me. And, as I've said before, everyone else might be doing it, but I'm not breaking my visa rules for a little extra cash. Plus, you couldn't really pay me enough to put up with this person anymore.

Oi vey. Liz is one grumpy little hellcat lately, eh? Well. I'm not Jesus. My patience is not infinite. Unless we're dealing with my students. Which I'm not. At all. Anymore. For months at a time.

Oh god. Give them back to me. Now. Please.

Also, this has been making the rounds. I thought I'd throw a few of them up here, because, as most K-bloggers have been commenting, it's pretty dead-on and a great way to visualize and simplify some pretty drastic and complicated cultural differences. Western is blue, Eastern is red:

At a party:


The boss:


Way of life:


Anger:


Handling a problem:


Contacts:


Opinion:

Monster.

Good morning. And you're welcome.

Fucking fucking fucking fucking snow....

Books and conversation.

I'm having a boatload of books delivered to my door over the course of the next few days. After over a year of picking through the meager and overpriced English language selections available two hours in any given direction from my front door, I'm quite pleased with this. And resisting the urge to place a second 200,000+ won order until next month. One can only read so much at a time, no?

Life has settled down considerably and I still can't bring myself to make a nighttime appearance out on the bar scene (save for the short vacation down to Busan, of course, which was an obvious exception). Oddly enough, after convincing myself that just about nobody I know in Korea is worth the time of day (with a couple of obvious exceptions) and that I'm better off finally re-sorting my letter mailing schedule, some ten odd people have resurfaced out of nowhere. So I'm doing my best to stagger out little coffee dates here and there throughout my schedule, in a mild effort to keep some semblance of a social life alive and well until we reach the warmer months, when I'll no doubt be more enthusiastic about such things. Maybe. In the meantime, I'm spending the days doing my best with my feeble little American mind to begin to understand Korean history, pre-The-Forgotten-War, and making valiant (but small) efforts to improve my Korean.

Mostly, I hate not teaching. And I wasn't expecting two and half more weeks of it after the end of winter vacation. Sometimes I half-consider taking a year off to study full time in Korea, but then these little bouts come along and remind me that I'm useless to myself if I'm not on the other side of the desks at least some of the time in the classroom, these days.

I should have contacted home today, as yesterday (today, Texas time) was my grandfather's birthday. I didn't forget -- I just don't think I'd do well to talk to the family at the moment. That's hurtful and ugly behavior, and basically there's no excuse for it. But my family has forgiven me bigger things than this.

Spending so much time with other foreigners lately has put me weirdly back in touch with Reality in a way that I don't know quite what to make of at the moment. I've been sort of cut off, since Mike went back to New York, but now I look most forward to his little semi-daily emails. MJ Oppah is the only one really keeping me grounded in Korea Reality at the moment.

He quipped yesterday, while examining the various pages on Korean history I had open on my computer screen and my resulting forehead furrows, that he would have to read a few books to brush up on his own knowledge, so he can give proper guidance and we can talk together about it. He's eager to help in a non-threatening way that can be rare among any given population of people, when dealing with their own national pride or whatever you'd like to call it -- which is to say, not pushy or biased or weirdly invested. Which is good, because, for the time being, I'm pretty much done making exceptions based on the generous basis of "cultural differences" to keep someone who says something like (for example) women shouldn't smoke because they have to eventually have babies as a serious consideration for a staple position in my life.

Yesterday while he was explaining the recent tragedies he's been through, most of which are too personal to go into here, but which included (as a small part, believe it or not) the death of one of his (our) students, he told me that although he has many close friends he could have contacted to talk to about all of these things, for the past three days he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. He said he didn't know how to start those conversations, and instead he had been carrying it all alone. I don't know what made him come out with it all suddenly to me, but I apologized to him that, when he finally did get to speak with someone about all of this, he had to do it in a foreign language. "I'm sorry that you can't speak to me in Korean."

I was still a bit whatever from the fact that what he had to tell me had me actually crying (which is something that some of even my dearest friends have never seen), and the look on his face when I said this made me realize that it caused more guilt than consolation. He searched for the words carefully and then replied, "It's easier for me to say in English anyway. I wonder why that is. Why is it easier to say in English?"

Because you're divorced from the meaning. Which is another reason why I'm sorry you can't speak to me in Korean. But I'm working on it. Just as fast as I can.

Breaking point.

I've reached a breaking point. My own dumbass co-teacher forgot me for lunch today. Which means, not only am I sitting in a freezing ass office for literally no reason for 9 hours today, I'm doing it without any food and without anyone even realizing that I'm here.

I'm sending a message to Coteacher letting her know that I really actually need to eat food during the day, and, sorry to bother you on your day off, but is there anyway that that could happen? Also tacking on the end that it's a little hard for me to keep understanding why I'm here when no one even knows that I am. "I don't mean to complain -- you know me [and she does -- I never complain about anything ever, ever]. If I need to be here, that's fine. I just want to make sure that's right."

It's really stupid to waste two weeks doing nothing because I'm too fucking "suck it up and deal with it" with myself to even ask if this is the way that it's supposed to be, right? I don't know. I really hate complainers and, therefore, I really, really hate to be one. But honestly. It doesn't hurt to ask.

And as for that little punkass anonymous whiner who mentioned something about reporting me to the Seobu office, be sure to leave your name when you do so I can track you down and kick your fucking ass for being a pathetic little crybaby. I would say I'd just look for the person at the next district meeting who appears to have never coped with full-time employment before, but that wouldn't narrow it down much, now would it?

Sorry. I'm hungry and cold and bored, which are basically my three least favorite things to be, all at once. I'm totally serious about kicking someone's ass if they ruin me somehow getting out of this though. I'll send you back to your high school bedroom and the recession before you can say, "But it's too late to apply to grad school for the fall semester!" Test it.

In other news, how sexy are drunk Liz and Willie?



Edit: Coteacher has just written back about being extremely sorry, never having "imagined this situation" and her coming in and having a "heartoheart" talk tomorrow. Oh good sweet jesus in heaven. I just wanted to know if there was any chance to get out of the next two weeks of desk warming. I don't want to heartoheart. Not even a little bit.

For Magnes.

"New York is intolerable and unrepresentative."

-- Hunter S. Thompson, July 1968

Why I stay here.

Oh, darlings. Those kiddies down in Busan are cra-zy. We felt so damn old the whole time we were there. "Busan has broken me," was uttered more than once, on just about every night (morning?). They know how to have a good time, but we Seoulish people had a hard time keeping up, and imagining like... you know... just living that way. The foreigner community down there is such a clusterfuck, it's not even funny. We all have our circles up here in the northwest, and can generally be seen moving in packs but jesus.... they stick tight down there. It's a whole other world. They're always out of money.

After making our way, finally, to Texas Street (which every decent guidebook will warn you about), we found ourselves in a tiny establishment full to the brim with Russians and Filipinos. The San Miguel was cold and good, but we found ourselves dumping out onto the streets for a little walk and some fresh air after some time. After a few strolls up and down, Clara (a tall blonde) and myself being shouted at in Russian, with Willie as our only protection, I squeaked out in a small voice, "I want to go back to Korea...."

So we kissed the party kids goodbye and headed back to the apartment we were borrowing for the weekend, made our way to a completely empty (Seolnal Day) hof and mixed Hite and soju, until five or six Korean guys (one of whom we had already met that weekend) showed up. We ended the night in noraebang and everything felt like it was a bit more on track. It's funny when what's familiar becomes foreign, what's foreign becomes familiar, and what's normal is just something in between.

There was so much more than this -- there was the beach at night and Vietnamese food, and sharing beds and showering in the dark with cold water. There was Kpop and language exchange and meeting hordes of people. There was the most serious Party Girl like I've never seen since leaving New York. Numbers exchanged and saying goodbye... people with their plans to move on. Others who have been here forever, and those of us who are just somewhere in between. I imagine the facebook pages will be going crazy in a few hours, but for now it's time to clean the apartment, do a little reading and possibly get some sleep. Prepare to return to Life tomorrow. Although it won't be the same. And it never is. And I guess that's why I stay here.

Seolnal weather shenanigans.

Well the weather has decided to make a mockery of everyone's already tumultuous Seolnal travel plans and piss down a killer combination of sleet+rain+snow for two days, all of which has been melting and then refreezing in a wickedly slippery combination. Willie and I have opted to head out to Seoul Station a little early today to see if we might make our way onto a (possibly more reliable mode of transportation) train. Standing room only. I'm not really sure what that means, given that I've never taken KTX before, but Willie keeps mentioning cardboard and Kpop, which sounds like a great pretext for some sort of short story (possibly a chapter in a novel), but not really for a vacation. Nonetheless, I'm never one to turn my nose up at adventure. Well, actually, lately I am. But it sounds better than the walking-the-last-five-miles-to-Busan bus adventure, so we'll give it the old college try.

I am disappointed that this means no walnut "cookies" at the rest stop. I suppose I'll get over it, eventually.

Now I've got to scramble to get my ass out of here on time. As a side note, I think I may have at least semi-permanently pissed off JH Unni by canceling on her last night, due to a combination of the afore mentioned weather and sheer antisocial behavior. I'll try to fix it when I get back, I guess.

Oh well. Who really needs more than three friends, anyway?

No harm, no foul.

I'm not one of those foreigners who can find in their heart to bitch and moan about random kids saying hello, and in fact, most of the kids in my neck of the woods are usually too shy to just come out with it, but they will eyeball me as we're coming down the sidewalk toward each other and give the most adorable smiles. Usually, with a little prompting smile in return, they will end up coming out with it. In which case, I usually squat down and have a little chat with them -- in English if they want, and in Korean if they freak out. Crucify me for it -- I think kids are cute and they usually have more interesting things to say than adults.

Teenage boys, of course, are a different ballgame. They'll coming running full force toward your face (with enough peer encouragement) shouting "HIHIHIHIHIHILOVEYOUHIHIHIHIHIHI!" Which is not really that cute. But I tolerate it, because more than likely they'll eventually end up in my class, and then I (having an incredible knack for remembering faces) will pay them back by making them the constant target of, "Liz Teacher needs a volunteer! Seongjoon likes to talk! Let's make Seongjoon talk in front of the class! Yay! Everybody clap for Seongjoon! Seongjoon loves attention!" And it's all good.

Today, on my walk home, three boys were coming toward me through the back alley shortcut my students taught me. They were eyeballing, but the older of the three nudged one just as he was about to start in, and they walked past without incident. We got about three strides apart when the same little one suddenly shouted, "외국인!" in a manner, given the lack of "there is" or "it's a", and given that they'd already all three acknowledged my presence to each other, which was meant to attract my attention.

I turned around with a smile plastered on. The older boy had already began smacking the culprit in the back of the skull. And then what? Well my students are good little teachers themselves, as I've said many times.

"야.... 진짜 똑똑한 남자야!"

Giggles all around. The older boy gave me a thumbs up. I speak Korean very well. Byeeee! Shee you again!

No harm, no foul. It's the life.

Not so harmless was the gigantic "RUSSIA!" shouted in my face by a random ajeosshi shoveling snow outside my building. I stopped walking.

"저기요. 전 미국사람이에요."

"Ah! American?"

"예."

And just walking away. You can't win them all.

MJ Oppah, re the next two weeks of vacation that everyone gets, except for me, although there are no classes for me to teach:

"Even if someone notices that you don't come to school on vacation day, they will not have any idea what to do about that. Stay home." ♥

편의점

Drunken Tiger exalting the joys of a mid-night run to the 편의점 (convenience store). Anyone wanna bet that he actually sounds good when rapping live (unlike other hair-obsessed little homies we all know of)?

In other news, it's snowing. Again. I give up.

Attacked in my own hallways.

Good lord, what a day. I walked out on my beloved 313. I don't know what got into me. I think I was a little high-strung and overly-whatever because it was my last class with them ever. They were being huge pains in the ass about doing the work they needed to do for the activity and it just really disappointed me. I understand that tomorrow is graduation and they're only in school in body at this point, but you'd think they could be bothered to pick up on the fact that I was getting frustrated.

They didn't. And when it came time for them to move tables and they were grumbling and making me tug them around by their sleeves, I just lost it. I just stopped what I was doing and walked back up to the front of the classroom. I began gathering my papers and putting on my coat. A full round of, "I'm sorry Teacher!"s had started at that point, but there were five minutes left, and I didn't feel like being the adult in the room at that particular moment. I just told them, good luck at high school, and walked out.

It's usual for the Korean teachers to punish the older students with a kind of emotional blackmail. Coteacher will often inform me that she's pretending to be angry and hurt by her students, so that I can assist by informing them of this, by stopping by the classroom and saying, "What did you do to 박샘? She's really upset...." They're hurt and affected by this, more than any other punishment.

When I passed their classroom after lunch, they all ran to the doorway, but instead of stopping to make idle conversation as I usually do, I just kept walking.

On a lighter note, I walked out into the hall this afternoon and what appeared to be two men in street clothes saw me from way down the hall, and one began tugging the other by the sleeve, shouting, "빨리해!" They came charging toward me and cornered me up against the wall, as I backed up in what can really only be described as shock and fear.

"누... 누구세요?"

"엇! 한국말!"

"We are before students this school!"

"Um... okay. Can I help you?"

"He want talking with you because he go abroad."

The one who had been tugged down the hall was doing all the talking, while the tugger just stood there grinning like a maniac, tugging on his hair and covering his face with his hands.

"How many years ago did you go to this school?"

"Oh! Today he graduate the high school!"

"Oh... congratulations."

The tugger shoved the tuggee: "야! Thank you! 말해!"

"Thank you..."

"So... you will go abroad?" Addressing the tugger.

Tuggee: "Before I middle school one year Malaysia."

"Oh... really?"

"Bye!"

"Good grief... bye."

My students, who had been standing around watching this whole exchange, were smiling smugly for the duration. The boys may have been older and on their way to university, but my boys are like, so much more suave when it comes to talking to the foreigner. They couldn't resist strolling right up and casually exchanging a bit of conversation in English, with the older boys still watching from just down the hall. How cool they are.

I always make a point of telling my boys not to bum rush foreigners, particularly foreign women, on the street in large groups -- "It's scary." I know they don't mean for it to be scary, but it is. At this point, I'm pretty much used to the groups of high school boys coming at me out of nowhere, but it's still intimidating to be suddenly crowded around by a large group of male strangers, even after you understand that their intentions are not malicious. Plus, it's just uncouth behavior. My boys know that. And I think, after getting to know me, they would never dare. At least I hope.

Tomorrow night, after graduation, I'm out with JH Unni -- late. I won't have work on Friday so I don't have to worry about it. I am, however, hesitant to make a reappearance back on the Bupyeong bar scene. I've only been out there once since I've been back, with Willie, and we left at 10 before any of the regulars on the scene arrived. I don't really feel like doing that anymore. But I suppose JH Unni is worth it, and this is my last chance to see her before 설날.

Then it's off to Busan with Willie to observe what happens when an entire apartment building full of foreign teachers finish their yearly contracts at the exact same time, and have the last holiday weekend to celebrate before leaving the country. I, personally, am a little bit afraid. But it'll be nice to be surrounded primarily by foreigners for a couple of days. Before it's back here, back to this... work and the same ol', same ol' -- no native speakers for days on end.

똑똑

God bless 'em, they've decided that now it's a good idea to start telling me jokes in Korean. Because people just speaking Korean doesn't confuse me enough.

"Teacher! 이것 뭐예요?" (Knocks on my desk.)

"몰라요. 뭐예요?"

"똑똑한 남자요!"

("똑똑" is the sound of "knock knock" in Korean.)

Groan.

School's in.

Bank account danger: What the Book? delivers to your door. Troub-le. Of the absolute best, my-new-life-as-a-monk variety.

Finally started answering the phone today. Of course, my battery has died now. My boys are back, God bless 'em. I broke up two fights today. The third graders have done the most fascinating things with hair dye. I've never seen anything like it. Two more of my third grade goodbye classes. "I love you Teacher!" Oh god. I love you too. Don't go.

Some of the new little babies from the orientation last week have started to spot me out in the neighborhood already. Generation after generation of thinking saying, "Hello!" is really, really hilarious. And she said hi back! Way to go! High five-uh!

Had the center boys tonight and an extra special surprise -- a girl! God. Every time I teach girls I get really depressed about how stupid boys are in comparison. I love them and they know it, but girls just have a fucking clue way earlier in life. They're capable of concentrating, paying attention, applying newly acquired knowledge to the tasks set before them....

Instead of having to drag them around by their coattails back to their seats and constantly snap your fingers, as if addressing a group of dogs, "Here! Look here! Look! Look here! LOOK HERE!"

Not one second after I had walked in the door and a new little guy who's moving up to the junior high group who's name is Hyo-something (which I need to work out as soon as possible) ran up and shouted, "MANCHESTER!?" in my face and then keeled over in a fit of giggles. Great. This is like, a thing now.

The other teacher and I were left alone with our group in the center tonight and he instantly got more comfortable once it was just us. The older head teacher is always on his case about rough housing with the boys and teasing them too much. But he relaxed when she wasn't around. The boys love to tell me over and over again that he's a "richee" man with a BMW (which I highly doubt), which makes him go positively purple in the face. They also felt free to tell me an extremely animated story about how the head teacher got hit in the face with a basketball last week and apparently flipped her shit. Tact is not a strong point with this group.

Geonhee is having the hardest time ever not driving me absolutely crazy during lessons lately. He's no longer nervous around me at all and just keeps a constant chatter of Korean going on underneath whatever I'm doing, which is extremely distracting when you're trying to teach in one language, and involuntarily listening to another. He also insisted that he cooked dog for his family last weekend. Which is a huge lie, for anyone who's not a teacher in Korea and may not know. Jeongwoo is also a drummer, which is nothing but bad when he can get his hands on two pens at the same time. The way they both voluntarily offer up their necks for my punishingly cold hands once they get going, before I even reach for them, has me thinking there's some attention seeking involved in the behavior.

I've officially been granted the day off on Friday to go to Busan, as long as I don't go abroad, and luckily, Busan is not abroad. Thanks, VP. For giving strange and unnecessarily pointed answers to simple questions. Nobody needs to know that the only bus available was for 7 at night. I've got a few bills I've got to get to the bank and pay before I go, anyway.

Now it's time for this 할머니 to hit the sack with a little Hunter S. Thompson, before another grueling day of three bullshit classes begins.