My Deplorable Blogging Habits

I have 15 minutes before class so don't expect much. The last two weeks have pretty much sucked. I suppose that's a positive because its the first time that I've actually felt that things were going poorly and that I wasn't spending my time wisely. The weather has been erratic, I haven't been to the gym in ages and my sleeping habits have been for a lack of a better word, deplorable. Sorry to the community of Korean bloggers that expect a daily account of my bizarre misadventures. I'll admit that it would be nice to blog a little every day, and there certainly is at least one thing worth mentioning on the daily, but shit, sometimes I just can't bring myself to do it. So, while you won't be reading the lyrics to a DMX opus on my blog, you will have to settle for brief updates as I see fit. So there. And the honeymoon is over. I'm sick of Korean kids, cute or not, some of these rugrats are downright mean. Yesterday I told one spoiled little brat to leave the class after she threw a book at me. She stood up screamed in an ungodly pitch, sat down again, then a minute later stalked out of the room. She came back for the next class and then lied to the Korean teacher, then the school's boss about what had happened, like I knew she would, and that was that. I'm over it. It's going to take a whole lot of convincing to get me to come back to my particular school, and it's going to have to start with a bigger bed, premium cable and warmer blanket. I want Sportscenter, I want a bed where my legs don't dangle off the edge, and I don't want to wear woolen caps at night to keep me toasty. You hear me Mr.Jo? I'm blogging to you. It's not too much to ask. Right now I'm not looking forward to much but Halloween, which also happens to be the last day of my contract, draw your own conclusions.

Happy birthdays Mike, Hayden and Robin.

Peace

Happy birthday to my brother Alex!

Now will someone please bring me the head of Cedric Wilson? Come on man, what were you thinking? Wait don't answer that. "I was thinking endzone all the way" Then why were you running laterally for god's sake? I stayed up until 5:00 in the morning to watch that game and this is what I'm left with. Just for that devastating week two loss I'm being extra grumpy to Korean children today Cedric. I hope you can live with that on your conscience Mr. I-was-trying-to-take-it-to-the-house-from-the-thirty-yard-line-as-time-expires. Boo.
Go Giants, at least they seem to know what they're doing in crunchtime.

Oh my god. Forget the typhoon for one minute and look at these brilliant pictures Rob and or Sara took:

1. Cake!

2. Hoes beware!

#1 is self explanatory and shows the type of cake-eating monster this country has made me. #2 is much more subtle. It features drunken Kevin hauling drunken Andrew through the Red Light district in a wheel barrow on the holiest of Korean holidays Chusok. Kevin is screaming in Japanese, which is only natural given the circumstances. This is taken just before I fall into a puddle of mud and asbestos.

Hallelujah-- It's raining men. Rather it's raining men-size chunks of water, hail and debris. The typhoon is upon us, and I for one feel lucky to have survived this night with little more than soaked clothes, bag and and partially drenched notebook. I know I'm prone to hyperbole, but tonight's weather was absurdly intense. Getting home from downtown was like the freaking Poseidon Adventure. I'm not slight of frame by any means, but I was nearly blown into ditches, walls and poles on several occasions. My umbrella reversed itself not once but twice before it was rendered useless by Jah's mighty wrath, and I actually found myself considering how it would feel to be struck by lightening in Korea (would it be spicier? More efficient? Shorter than an American bolt?) and then have my lifeless corpse float down the rivers that had once been streets but are now rivers because of a lack of proper irrigation and sewage systems. I ushered an old lady across a crowded intersection, and though she was screaming when the thunder clapped she found time to thank me in English once we had reached the other side of the street. Now I've never been in this sort of inclement weather before and certainly it was an awesome display of God's displeasure with North Korea, but there were so many women screaming tonight, it was as if a bunch of foreign men had marched into the collective girl's locker room of Korea. Come on ladies, has Alien 2 taught you nothing? In space, which is much like a typhoon I imagine, no one can hear you scream. Or whimper, for that matter. Although I heard them, so none of that makes sense. Anyway it was scary, you get the picture.

For the rest-of-us, there's Festivus

Alright so I have some vacation time, and I can no longer forsake my blogging responsabilities for such cinematic gems as PCU and Jerry Maguire, so I will try to complete this entry in much the same way as Dorothy Boyd completes Jerry Maguire. As many of you know last Sunday was my 24th birthday, which was spent largely with me curled in the fetal position in my tiny bed warding off phone calls from loved ones in a desparate effort to sleep for five minutes more. It would have been quite the wasted day had not I partied like it was 1999 the night before. I had a great time on my birthday and I can safely say that no vomiting was involved, at least on my part, which always makes it a truly special occasion. This despite the consumption of Tequila, massive amounts of beer, kiwi soju, and a mystery drink tasting like something akin boxed wine mixed with Champale. Best Birthday ever. The day was unfortunately marred by a day of work, which was made a great deal easier by three, count them three class parties at school. In which Shrimp chips, Choco pies and napkins were distributed by me to my loving students. Some of these students gave me tokens of their appreciation ranging from pens and notebooks to a chocolate cake and three sticks of Odeng (A fish skin byproduct). These parties made me happy, although it left the secretary sad, as she had much to clean that weekend, but alas you only celebrate your birthday in Korea once, at least that's the plan. On to downtown, where I shared a predinner pitcher of beer with Rob, Sara and Fenton at a place called Festival American, which recalled the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer revives George's childhood holiday of Festivus. Christmas is for the masses, but for the rest-of-us there's a Festivus. Well said. From there we met Caleb at the Japanese seafood restaurant Yu-Me, where he handed me and ice-cream cake, a bouquet of plastic roses, and a deck of America's Most Wanted playing cards inside a Matzoball soup box. It was quite a collection. Eventually the rest of the guests filed in, I think there were around 15 or 16 of us in all, and then we gorged ourselves on fish, both raw and cooked, for the next hour in half. It was fantastic. Never have I supped on such tender fish flesh and had my personage celebrated at the same time, and it was tremendous. Lois also gave me a half-pound of cheddar cheese there. The night could never really top the pleasure of dining upon the fish, or "fishee" in Korean, but we drank our hearts out afterwards just to show that we had the eye of the tiger. We headed for a place called the Titanic, modeled not after the ill-fated ship but rather the crappy movie, to drink Soju and beer, and to consume the first of about five cakes which were eventually bequeathed to me. It was also here that I was feted Korean style and showered with whipped cream, fire and champale while a techno remix of "Happy Birthday" blares in the background, and strobelights pan the room. It was then that I wanted to puke most, and I hadn't even had the tequilla yet. After the Titanic, we went to a very dark place, in so many ways. The Commune is sort of a rock and roll dive with great music and style, but very little ventillation. Here the Irish girls that we had acquired at the Titanic forced me into new levels of drunken stupor, and it was here that Rob gave me the gift that keeps on giving, a shot of tequilla. While I received impromptu lessons if IRA toasts in Gaelic from Simon and the girls from Cork, I nearly past out several times. People kept on filling my cup, to the point where it runneth over and over. People I don't even know were liquoring me up, including one fellow dressed like Jesus. (Pre last supper, Romantic conception of him). I resorted to emptying glasses of beer in the toilet, which Fenton called me on right away. It was here that I though I would die, but surprisingly I didn't (Thank you Jesus. For the beer I mean) and somehow I stumbled to the Gypsy Rock where I got my arse spanked in pool, but, playing pool implies maintining verticality, and that much I did, and even begain to drink again. From there I went home, after losing most of the people in attendence at an undetermined point. Still I was quite happy with the night, and it was one for the ages. Good times. I think Caleb's photos are better than mine, so check out his gallery, near the bottom, but also I have updated my own, feel free to check that out as well. Also, here is a picture of a Dung Beetle. Enjoy.

The birthday blog arriveth anon, this much I promise. Photos are currently being edited, airbrushed and digitally altered in order to provide more aesthetically pleasing images to corroborate the fabrications which will soon ensue. All I can say in the mean time is thank you for all the birthday love from everybody who showered me with it. And those who didn't shower me... well that's a hollow threat if ever I've heard one.

I feel kind of embarrassed when I see someone talking with a piece of food in their teeth, don't you? I mean I'm sure it's happened to me on countless occasions, but still I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pity when it happens to someone else. I'm quite the humanitarian, I know.
Until tomorrow, perhaps?

Such is Rife

All is well with the universe these days, my own at least. I am now a white man with a bicycle. Though riding around my neighborhood invites more attention, I have gained some mobility and this is good. In fact, I would go so far as to say that me rikey. One of the brakes is squeaky, and I've already lost the key to the lock, but I'm pleased nontheless. Teaching continues to be interesting. My responsibilities have been expanded from repeating asinine and obscure sentences involving hamburgers and basketballs to administering tests and quizzes, and even grading them should the occasion arise. I'm climbing up the rungs of the hagwon hierarchy from token foreign commodity to pseudo-legitimate teaching-entity, which is novel. A minuses for everyone!
We are only allowed to grade as low as a "C," so no one's feelings get hurt, but only those receiving "A's" actually pass the tests. Not surprisingly, those who don't pass sit in the lobby after class and take it until they do pass. So in order to minimize hurt feelings, and reduce congestion in the high traffic area of the lobby, a lot of A-minuses are being distributed by this bicylce-riding foreigner.

Why is it that hangman so clearly reveals the ugly homogeny of Korean culture? On Sunday one of my students drew three consecutive dashes indicating a three letter word. I grew tired of haphazardly guessing at vowels and so I asked for a hint. He replied that there was only one in Daegu, and that there was one in the room. The two boys and I scanned the room for rare artifacts, looking at the china closet, the bookshelf, anywhere. We were at a loss, and then I remembered a conversation I had had with this student many months earlier. I decided to end this mystery and the lesson at the same time. "Jew" I said quietly, and then I waited for him to explain to his dim colleagues the origin of the seed of Abraham and Sarah, and the sad plight of the chosen people in Korea. I took my $25 and left, I had a bicycle to pick up.

I had my first, marginally-successful house warming party on Sunday, for some of my students and their parents, and despite my profuse sweating and a lot of embarrassingly dirty dishes, it went rather well. 14 people in a room with no chairs and an overworked airconditioner, with only beer, soju and grapes to amelliorate their growing claustrophobia. It was fun.

T-minus 5 days til the birthday.