Well...this morning I had to take Temp to the vet. Which was kind of difficult because it's a holiday and everything is closed around here. Lucky for me, the vet lives upstairs in the same building. I woke up this morning to the coughs of my dog and soon realized she was coughing up blood. Where I live is almost completely deserted because everyone went on holiday except me and a few other people. I actually had to call a cab and wait to take Temp in. She obviously was not doing well. It's cold out and has been snowing on and off all day. In the car I had a feeling I would not be returning with her. To my surprise the people at the office were very understanding especially since they were not supposed to be open today. We were let into the office and Temp was examined. It's amazing the things that can be understood purely through body language. The doctor looked up at me and simply shook his head and looked at the light green tiles on the floor. I called my friend Hujeong on the phone and asked her to translate for me. We went into another room in the back and the doctor put Temp to sleep while I held her. I didn't have to hold her in place, she wasn't trying to get up or run away. I just had my arm around her and ran my hands over her head and ears. Dogs are big mouth breathers and it's kind of disturbing to witness that breathing stop.
I wish living things died like Yoda in return of the Jedi. He just closed his eyes, stopped breathing and then disappeared. But, that's not the case. There are decisions to be made and a body to deal with. In this case, I have to wait a few days before Temps body can be "processed." Which means burned to ashes and spread in a field somewhere. If she hadn't been throwing up blood and in obvious pain I'm not sure I would have been able to take her in. To be completely honest, I thought Nikki and Paul were going to be the ones to eventually take her in but life always has other plans. I should really have learned that much by now.
Temp was a good dog and I'm going to miss having her around. Even though it was hard to be in that room with her I'm glad I was able to be there. Endings always seem to pass me over in one way or another. It's always been that way for me. I'm either not around or I'm not invited for them. But, this time I had to be in direct control of the outcome. I feel a little guilty but I know it had to be done.
I have been speaking with a lot of people lately on the ol' skype. Just got a skype from a good friend while I'm writing this blog. The more I step back and think about it the more I realize how lucky I am to have good people in my life. I was chatting with an old girlfriend of mine on facebook and we had a really good cyber chat. We've been friends for years now and I still care about her deeply. She still feels the need to give me advice and I gladly take it. I know she has my best interest at heart. She's a good person and it seems like she has found another good soul to share her life with.
If I ever get into therapy again I think I'm going to dig a little deeper into the fact that the majority of my friends are female. I've been doing some good work on my own but it might be helpful to have another voice and a fresh pair of ears that is not connected to my life in any way. Of course my therapist will have to be a woman. I've been speaking with my friends lately about a phenomenon I will call "old man crush" at my work place. In this case, I'm the old man. I will tell you what I've been telling them. I'm not trying to start anything with anyone at this point in time. But, being that I am very attractive, intelligent, funny and of course, humble I do have my admirers. It can't be helped, it's only natural. I'm a social creature and I like to talk to people. But I just don't talk, I also listen, and apparently, there are not a lot of people doing the latter part. I think this is where the old man crush starts. They sense that I'm listening to them because I ask follow up questions. But this isn't some kind of move mind you. I'm just doing what I always do.
Except now I'm extra sensitive to giving people the wrong impressions so I'm upfront with them that I'm not looking for a relationship or intimate company. This statement seems to have the opposite affect however. But I think it is very important not to lead people on. There's nothing worse then thinking someone feels a certain way about you when they actually don't and I don't ever want to do that to someone. Even though it's pretty flattering it's important for me not to lose myself ever again. I am becoming more aware of the kind of people I want to spend my time with and the kind of person I want to share myself with. These women are good people but all I have to offer at this point in my life is friendship and old man stories. I can say, "I remember back in 1985 when....blah blah blah." God I feel old...and yet my body continues to remain young? Good genes I guess.
I just realized I'm making it sound like I have 100's of women pursuing me. Of course that isn't the case, I have three, rather aggressive young ladies, who have expressed interest in me. The oldest one is 26 and the youngest is 22, which is just wrong. I know lots of people don't think a ten year difference is a big deal but I'm of the mindset that that is true once everyone is 30 years or older.
The conversations that I've had in the past month have been awkward at times but I think it's still better than the alternative. I know that honesty, although difficult and uncomfortable sometimes, is the only real choice I have in personal matters. Truth be told, I'm still tired. For now, it is just easier for me to have friends. All that said...I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good to have people look at me with desire. It feels good to be wanted by someone. I honestly forgot what that feels like.
My time in Korea has really helped to inform me about the kind of person I am. Losing my dog this morning has reminded me that we have a finite amount of time here and I don't want to waste any of it worrying about things I have no control over. All I can do is listen to my heart and do what feels right to me. The rest is space and time.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Am I proud of Barack Obama?
I'm excited that we are going to have a new President of the United States in less than 24 hours. I don't believe that this man with the funny sounding name is a savior for our country. I'm pretty sure he will make mistakes and at times I will disagree with some of his policy decisions. But it feels good to have someone who, so far, has shown character taking the oval office over. It's nice to have a someone who looks more like me than any president in the history of the United States. Am I proud? Honestly...not really. I'm happy. I'm excited, thrilled even. But am I proud? I can't say that I am. I was raised in a household where thinking there would one day be a Black President of the United States was not strange or laughed at. I was brought up in a household that taught me to believe in myself and understand that I was much more than the color of my skin. I learned that I was a combination of peoples, nations and beliefs. I was raised by two parents who did not have the same advantages or family structure they themselves provided for their children.
Am I proud of Barack Obama? I don't know Barack Obama. I know what he represents to me. He represents the moment that the United States decided to open their hearts and minds. The moment that the United States decided to take a huge step forward and walk down a different historical path. I can hear the faint creak of the flood gate as it begins to slowly open up. Once that gate opens up I doubt it will ever be closed again. This truly is a brave new world we are all about to walk into. You can feel the fear and the joy and the excitement all melting together to become something new and unseen until now. Proud is not the word I can use to describe my feelings about Barack Obama. I'm not sure if the right word exist at the moment to describe my feelings. Perhaps there is some song out there that correctly describes my emotions on the matter.
I find that as this transition moves forward thoughts of my own father fill my head. The pride I feel for him is unending and unapologetic. In this moment in history I am more excited for my father than I am for myself. He cleared the path as best he could and my brother and I were able to walk more freely than he ever was. It's easy to take for granted the sacrifices people make so that you might live a more comfortable life. Poor, young, black male from Detroit makes something of himself isn't a unique story but it is the story of my father. It is the story that helped write me into existence and I am proud beyond measure of the accomplishments my dad has made during his life so far.
So if you ask me if I'm proud of Barack Obama I will say "no, but I'm proud of Benjamin C. Williams." I am excited about the new President beyond words. But I am more thrilled that my dad, who grew up in the segregated projects of Detroit Michigan, gets to live in a country where someone like Barack Obama can become its President. I am happy that my dad, a black man who had two sons with his wife, gets to have a little less weight taken off of those tired shoulders. My dad who inhaled one reality and gets to watch his two sons exhale a completely different one.
Am I proud of Barack Obama? I don't know Barack Obama. I know what he represents to me. He represents the moment that the United States decided to open their hearts and minds. The moment that the United States decided to take a huge step forward and walk down a different historical path. I can hear the faint creak of the flood gate as it begins to slowly open up. Once that gate opens up I doubt it will ever be closed again. This truly is a brave new world we are all about to walk into. You can feel the fear and the joy and the excitement all melting together to become something new and unseen until now. Proud is not the word I can use to describe my feelings about Barack Obama. I'm not sure if the right word exist at the moment to describe my feelings. Perhaps there is some song out there that correctly describes my emotions on the matter.
I find that as this transition moves forward thoughts of my own father fill my head. The pride I feel for him is unending and unapologetic. In this moment in history I am more excited for my father than I am for myself. He cleared the path as best he could and my brother and I were able to walk more freely than he ever was. It's easy to take for granted the sacrifices people make so that you might live a more comfortable life. Poor, young, black male from Detroit makes something of himself isn't a unique story but it is the story of my father. It is the story that helped write me into existence and I am proud beyond measure of the accomplishments my dad has made during his life so far.
So if you ask me if I'm proud of Barack Obama I will say "no, but I'm proud of Benjamin C. Williams." I am excited about the new President beyond words. But I am more thrilled that my dad, who grew up in the segregated projects of Detroit Michigan, gets to live in a country where someone like Barack Obama can become its President. I am happy that my dad, a black man who had two sons with his wife, gets to have a little less weight taken off of those tired shoulders. My dad who inhaled one reality and gets to watch his two sons exhale a completely different one.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
It's just feet...
Where to begin? Temp is still alive. Don't think I have the heart to pull the trigger....at least not until I get some things straight with the Vet. Long story short they don't want anyone in the area when the "procedure" is taking place and the fact of the matter is that's just not going to fucking happen. Sorry dude. But if the dog dies the dog dies with my hand rubbing her belly.
Been communicating more with my mom in the past month than I have in the last three years. It's not so bad. Who knew communicating with ones parents could feel good? I guess it doesn't really matter how old I get there will always be that childlike dynamic between me and my folks. I always think to myself "Why do they still treat me like a child?" but the answer to that question isn't really that difficult to answer. I am their child. I know, I know, I'm going to be 33 years old soon and I just figured that out. I can be slow sometimes.
What else? Oh, I've lost about 10 pounds probably more like 15 due to the fact that I've been sick more in this country than I've been healthy. I am left with only one conclusion and that conclusion is that Korean germs and viruses don't like black Americans. My buddy Dave can't stop getting sick either and we are sensing some kind of conspiracy. I am a student of history after all. I can't get sick again. Seriously, I'll snap. I will snap if I get sick again. I forgot what it's like to be able to breath out of my nose for more than two weeks at a time. And...some of you are not going to believe what I'm about to say but...I don't look good this thin! I know. I can't believe it either, but it's true. I need to gain my weight back.
Today, we are starting week three of the month long kids program at my work place. It's kind of nice getting to know these little ones. They are so smart. Some of them are really poor though and it's been pretty damn cold here lately. They only brought two pairs of clothes, non of which are that warm. So we have to come up with interesting ways of giving them warmer clothes. They won't just take it from, so one day for my group I had a writing contest and the top 5 winners (there are five kids in my house alone that needed jackets) won a "special prize." It was really funny cause these kids actually wrote pretty good stories and amazingly enough the top 5 winners happened to be the kids who needed the jackets. It was pretty funny, but they took those jackets. It's funny how hard it is to help people sometimes. It's like we are set up to deny help from others. I'm the same way, I'm learning still to take a hand when it's offered.
I have a massage appointment with the best freaking masseuse on the planet back in Portland on May 27Th and I will be counting down the days. Seriously, if I ever get rich I'm going to hire Luna to be my personal masseuse and I will pay her whatever she asks. She's that good folks!
I have a place that I'm going to sublet from a friend when I get back to Portland. The timing could not be better cause I was not looking forward to searching for a place to live over the summer. She is leaving town to recharge and reflect and I am moving back to town to remember and reconnect. Couldn't have worked out much better than that. Of course, I don't move in until the beginning of June which means my good friend Alex D gets to have me as a house guest for a couple of weeks. I know he's just as excited as I am. I can't wait to have Anya paint me. She's always wanted to do a nude of me and now we will finally have the time to make that happen. Al will of course be at work while I'm lying naked on his couch as his girlfriend paints me. By the way Al, I guess Anya is going to need to rub oil on my skin so that my muscles pop more...you're cool with that though right? For those of you who don't know yet, Al has decided to stop talking to me and only communicates through random emails. The thing is these emails are written in Italian so I don't understand what he's saying to me. I'm pretty sure he is calling me racial slurs however. This is the guy who is picking me up at the airport in May when I touch down by the way. Al, I don't speak or understand Italian so stop writing me in Italian!!!
Anyways, life is pretty much moving along in the ROK (Republic of Korea). It's been cold so there has not been much traveling going on. My mood is somewhat more stable or at least the way I'm looking at life seems to be leveling off. I talk it out with myself. If you could watch me for a day you might think I hear voices or something cause I spend a lot of time talking to myself. I work things out that way. Some of my friends here are beginning to notice that I have a lot of inner dialogue going on with myself and they look at me with raised eye brows at times.
I downloaded a new picture editing program the other night and was going through some of my pictures. Pictures are amazing little time capsules aren't they? Fucking pictures. By the way, one of my New Years resolutions was to stop swearing so much. How am I doing? I was talking to one of my good friends over skype last night and she likes to secretly therapize me and I allow her to think I don't know she's doing it. Anyways, we were talking about life and all that jazz and after I got off the phone with her I felt like editing some of the photos I have saved on my hard drive. So I'm going through these photos and I realized that I don't take a lot of pictures. I never did and I don't now. I mean, I'm in other peoples photos but I don't really take photos myself. But the photos I have taken have been gathering dust in the jail cell of laptop.
So I'm going through these photos and they all consist of Danielle and my friends from Portland. Some of these photos I used to have in my facebook albums but I deleted them all in dramatic fashion after "the break up." What's funny about my deletion of all my albums on facebook was that it wasn't even done in anger and I got rid of all my photos. All of them. Not just the ones with me and that beautiful little creature known as Battee. I got rid of all of them! Why am I such a drama queen? I don't know. But I am. I am a huge, big, fat, large, giant drama queen. Please feel free to contact me and argue this point. So, needless to say I have not seen or thought about a lot of these photos in a long time. But I'm looking through these photos and I started to remember how much fun I had with my Portland buddies. I miss you guys (except you Alex). I miss hanging out and chatting and having dinner with you all. I am thrilled to be coming home and spend my summer days and nights with you guys (except you Alex).
Then I found one of my favorite pictures I've ever taken. It's a simple photo and there's nothing very artistic about it at all. It's just a picture of my feet and Danielle's feet on a chair in an airport. It's just feet but it still brings a smile to my face. Fucking pictures.
I realized then and there that I'm not "going evil" this summer, whatever that actually meant in the first place? It's not who I am. I'm not evil. I'm not mean. I'm actually a pretty decent guy. I talk a lot and I think deeply about things. I love to laugh and I enjoy listening to people tell stories. I enjoy my friends and I hate Alex Deussen. I'm just this intelligent, handsome, funny, awesome dude who loves life! That's me. Talk to you all soon.
Been communicating more with my mom in the past month than I have in the last three years. It's not so bad. Who knew communicating with ones parents could feel good? I guess it doesn't really matter how old I get there will always be that childlike dynamic between me and my folks. I always think to myself "Why do they still treat me like a child?" but the answer to that question isn't really that difficult to answer. I am their child. I know, I know, I'm going to be 33 years old soon and I just figured that out. I can be slow sometimes.
What else? Oh, I've lost about 10 pounds probably more like 15 due to the fact that I've been sick more in this country than I've been healthy. I am left with only one conclusion and that conclusion is that Korean germs and viruses don't like black Americans. My buddy Dave can't stop getting sick either and we are sensing some kind of conspiracy. I am a student of history after all. I can't get sick again. Seriously, I'll snap. I will snap if I get sick again. I forgot what it's like to be able to breath out of my nose for more than two weeks at a time. And...some of you are not going to believe what I'm about to say but...I don't look good this thin! I know. I can't believe it either, but it's true. I need to gain my weight back.
Today, we are starting week three of the month long kids program at my work place. It's kind of nice getting to know these little ones. They are so smart. Some of them are really poor though and it's been pretty damn cold here lately. They only brought two pairs of clothes, non of which are that warm. So we have to come up with interesting ways of giving them warmer clothes. They won't just take it from, so one day for my group I had a writing contest and the top 5 winners (there are five kids in my house alone that needed jackets) won a "special prize." It was really funny cause these kids actually wrote pretty good stories and amazingly enough the top 5 winners happened to be the kids who needed the jackets. It was pretty funny, but they took those jackets. It's funny how hard it is to help people sometimes. It's like we are set up to deny help from others. I'm the same way, I'm learning still to take a hand when it's offered.
I have a massage appointment with the best freaking masseuse on the planet back in Portland on May 27Th and I will be counting down the days. Seriously, if I ever get rich I'm going to hire Luna to be my personal masseuse and I will pay her whatever she asks. She's that good folks!
I have a place that I'm going to sublet from a friend when I get back to Portland. The timing could not be better cause I was not looking forward to searching for a place to live over the summer. She is leaving town to recharge and reflect and I am moving back to town to remember and reconnect. Couldn't have worked out much better than that. Of course, I don't move in until the beginning of June which means my good friend Alex D gets to have me as a house guest for a couple of weeks. I know he's just as excited as I am. I can't wait to have Anya paint me. She's always wanted to do a nude of me and now we will finally have the time to make that happen. Al will of course be at work while I'm lying naked on his couch as his girlfriend paints me. By the way Al, I guess Anya is going to need to rub oil on my skin so that my muscles pop more...you're cool with that though right? For those of you who don't know yet, Al has decided to stop talking to me and only communicates through random emails. The thing is these emails are written in Italian so I don't understand what he's saying to me. I'm pretty sure he is calling me racial slurs however. This is the guy who is picking me up at the airport in May when I touch down by the way. Al, I don't speak or understand Italian so stop writing me in Italian!!!
Anyways, life is pretty much moving along in the ROK (Republic of Korea). It's been cold so there has not been much traveling going on. My mood is somewhat more stable or at least the way I'm looking at life seems to be leveling off. I talk it out with myself. If you could watch me for a day you might think I hear voices or something cause I spend a lot of time talking to myself. I work things out that way. Some of my friends here are beginning to notice that I have a lot of inner dialogue going on with myself and they look at me with raised eye brows at times.
I downloaded a new picture editing program the other night and was going through some of my pictures. Pictures are amazing little time capsules aren't they? Fucking pictures. By the way, one of my New Years resolutions was to stop swearing so much. How am I doing? I was talking to one of my good friends over skype last night and she likes to secretly therapize me and I allow her to think I don't know she's doing it. Anyways, we were talking about life and all that jazz and after I got off the phone with her I felt like editing some of the photos I have saved on my hard drive. So I'm going through these photos and I realized that I don't take a lot of pictures. I never did and I don't now. I mean, I'm in other peoples photos but I don't really take photos myself. But the photos I have taken have been gathering dust in the jail cell of laptop.
So I'm going through these photos and they all consist of Danielle and my friends from Portland. Some of these photos I used to have in my facebook albums but I deleted them all in dramatic fashion after "the break up." What's funny about my deletion of all my albums on facebook was that it wasn't even done in anger and I got rid of all my photos. All of them. Not just the ones with me and that beautiful little creature known as Battee. I got rid of all of them! Why am I such a drama queen? I don't know. But I am. I am a huge, big, fat, large, giant drama queen. Please feel free to contact me and argue this point. So, needless to say I have not seen or thought about a lot of these photos in a long time. But I'm looking through these photos and I started to remember how much fun I had with my Portland buddies. I miss you guys (except you Alex). I miss hanging out and chatting and having dinner with you all. I am thrilled to be coming home and spend my summer days and nights with you guys (except you Alex).
Then I found one of my favorite pictures I've ever taken. It's a simple photo and there's nothing very artistic about it at all. It's just a picture of my feet and Danielle's feet on a chair in an airport. It's just feet but it still brings a smile to my face. Fucking pictures.
I realized then and there that I'm not "going evil" this summer, whatever that actually meant in the first place? It's not who I am. I'm not evil. I'm not mean. I'm actually a pretty decent guy. I talk a lot and I think deeply about things. I love to laugh and I enjoy listening to people tell stories. I enjoy my friends and I hate Alex Deussen. I'm just this intelligent, handsome, funny, awesome dude who loves life! That's me. Talk to you all soon.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The Ponytail Kisser
I had to work until 9pm on New Years Eve. For those of us working that day there was an interesting energy in the air. It felt like any other day and in many ways it was. It's the beginning of a month long teaching program and the kids (800 of them) who's parents signed them up got here on Monday. Usually we recycle through the kids every week, but we have these little gems for a whole month and I'm actually looking forward to getting to know this bunch a little better than one week provides. So, I ended my work night last night doing an activity with about 45 kids. The plan was to hurry up after work, jump on the bus to Seoul, and find a group of friends who were already there. But after signing out I looked at my two good friends and I knew none of us wanted to do anything. We laughed and decided we were going home. No one felt like hanging out.
I got a couple drunk phone calls from friends like "Where the fuck are you?" and "Awww, man you guys suck!" but over all I think I spent my last New Years Eve in South Korea with good company. It was just me and Temp. She now lays on the lower half of my body when I type on my laptop. I think she enjoys the sound of the keys pressing down. I was busy working on a short story and didn't realize I had missed the count down. Before I knew it the time read 12:10am and 2009 had moved into my apartment like a shadow. I did manage to get a kiss from Temp though and that was good enough for me.
I spoke to a lot of my friends today back in the U.S. getting ready for the New Years Eve experience. It sounds like most of them are taking it pretty easy. I told one of them that New Years Eve parties are for people ages 18-28 and 45-100. So I'm stuck in the "engh,whatever." phase with New Years Eve for the next decade or so. I love the way certain holidays give people free reign to let all their inhibitions out and party like a rock star.
Today (Jan. 1st) is my friends birthday and she went out last night. She was one of the people calling me late into the night hurling insults for my "no show" into the city. I was looking for her today and she was no where to be found. Then I ran into one of her friends who was laughing while looking at a camera. I asked her what was so funny and she said that my friend was still passed out (it was 2:30PM) underneath her bed. Turns she got back around 4am in the morning and walked into this girls room and crawled under her bed and went to sleep or rather passed out. I was on my break and although I thought the image was a funny one I wanted to make sure she was not lying dead in her own vomit. We walked back up to her friends apartment and there lay my friend, eyes closed and slowly breathing away. She was fully clothed (this included her winter jacket and hat) and decked out in thick, bright make-up. It was both horrifying and comical at the same time.
I lay on the floor and whispered her name. A slight smile started to form on her greasy face. I said, "Hey...are you alright?" She didn't say anything but slowly shook her head up and down. At the sight of this her friend started to laugh and I couldn't help but laugh too. I said, "OK, do you wanna keep sleeping here?" She shook her head up and down again and chuckled a little bit. I started to get up from the floor but decided to ask her one last question. I said, "Did you have a good time last night?" There was no movement for a while and I considered the possibility that she just died. But after a moment she started to speak for the first time. With her eyes still closed and what was now a wide smile on her face she said, "I kissed a boy who had a ponytail and was wearing skinny jeans." She giggled and both her friend and I started laughing out of control. I congratulated her on getting some action and then her friend walked me to the door. Her little story made the rest of my day.
Although I'm sure she woke up with quite the hangover it seemed like she had a great time for her New Years. I hope all of you had a wonderful time welcoming 2009 into existence. I hope you brought the New Year in with people (or animals) you love and/or care about. I'm wishing everyone in my life has 365 days that are filled with adventure, growth, surprise and wonder.
I got a couple drunk phone calls from friends like "Where the fuck are you?" and "Awww, man you guys suck!" but over all I think I spent my last New Years Eve in South Korea with good company. It was just me and Temp. She now lays on the lower half of my body when I type on my laptop. I think she enjoys the sound of the keys pressing down. I was busy working on a short story and didn't realize I had missed the count down. Before I knew it the time read 12:10am and 2009 had moved into my apartment like a shadow. I did manage to get a kiss from Temp though and that was good enough for me.
I spoke to a lot of my friends today back in the U.S. getting ready for the New Years Eve experience. It sounds like most of them are taking it pretty easy. I told one of them that New Years Eve parties are for people ages 18-28 and 45-100. So I'm stuck in the "engh,whatever." phase with New Years Eve for the next decade or so. I love the way certain holidays give people free reign to let all their inhibitions out and party like a rock star.
Today (Jan. 1st) is my friends birthday and she went out last night. She was one of the people calling me late into the night hurling insults for my "no show" into the city. I was looking for her today and she was no where to be found. Then I ran into one of her friends who was laughing while looking at a camera. I asked her what was so funny and she said that my friend was still passed out (it was 2:30PM) underneath her bed. Turns she got back around 4am in the morning and walked into this girls room and crawled under her bed and went to sleep or rather passed out. I was on my break and although I thought the image was a funny one I wanted to make sure she was not lying dead in her own vomit. We walked back up to her friends apartment and there lay my friend, eyes closed and slowly breathing away. She was fully clothed (this included her winter jacket and hat) and decked out in thick, bright make-up. It was both horrifying and comical at the same time.
I lay on the floor and whispered her name. A slight smile started to form on her greasy face. I said, "Hey...are you alright?" She didn't say anything but slowly shook her head up and down. At the sight of this her friend started to laugh and I couldn't help but laugh too. I said, "OK, do you wanna keep sleeping here?" She shook her head up and down again and chuckled a little bit. I started to get up from the floor but decided to ask her one last question. I said, "Did you have a good time last night?" There was no movement for a while and I considered the possibility that she just died. But after a moment she started to speak for the first time. With her eyes still closed and what was now a wide smile on her face she said, "I kissed a boy who had a ponytail and was wearing skinny jeans." She giggled and both her friend and I started laughing out of control. I congratulated her on getting some action and then her friend walked me to the door. Her little story made the rest of my day.
Although I'm sure she woke up with quite the hangover it seemed like she had a great time for her New Years. I hope all of you had a wonderful time welcoming 2009 into existence. I hope you brought the New Year in with people (or animals) you love and/or care about. I'm wishing everyone in my life has 365 days that are filled with adventure, growth, surprise and wonder.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
An Open Letter to Al D.
Dear Alex,
Last night I had an intense dream about you and Anya, therefore I feel it is my duty to write you this open letter. This morning when I woke up I knew two things for sure. First, I now know what kind of tattoo's I'm going to get (I've wanted a tattoo since I was in the second grade and a guest speaker had one on his arm). That's kind of a strange statement and deserves further explanation which I will give shortly. The second thing I realized this morning was that you and Anya should get married. Before I go into details about that let me explain the whole tattoo comment.
I like tattoos and I've wanted one for over two decades now but I could never think of anything that I wanted carved into my flesh...until now. Nothing ever spoke to me so my skin has remained unbroken, but last night my dream pointed me in the right direction and I woke up with a smile on my face. Alex, last night I had a dream that I was sitting in the crowd at your wedding (why wasn't I a groomsmen?). It was a surprisingly large ceremony and even though I didn't look around I knew it was full of people I knew. Here's where it gets a little strange, I was sitting next to a woman who I assumed I went to the wedding with but I could not turn my head to look at her. The only thing I could do was look up at you and Anya saying your vows (which I could not hear) and I could also look down at my hands. It was while looking down at my hands that I noticed two tattoos on the bottoms of my left and right wrists. On the left wrist was a detailed tattoo of the Moon and on my right wrist was a flickering Sun. After concentrating on my wrists for a while the audience started to clap and I looked up and saw that you and Anya were kissing to loud cheers. I still couldn't look at the woman next to me but she grabbed my hand and I was able to look at her hand. I noticed she had something on her wrists and right as I was about to take a look them I woke up.
Now, being that you're Alex I know you don't really care about the part of my dream that concerns me so I won't keep talking about my tattoos I'm going to get when I come back to Portland for my farewell tour. But I will say this last thing, I also know that Anya, being the wonderful artist she is, is supposed to design my tattoos for me so please let her know (never mind, I'll tell her myself).
Okay, the rest of this blog will be dedicated to you Al. First things first buddy...you're an asshole! I love you like a friend who I'm only friends with because I've known him since the second grade so I'm able to call you an asshole. You were on my mind yesterday when I went to the children's home to set up the whole gift giving for their Christmas morning. As I was talking to some of the staff and saying hello to some of the kids I started thinking about you for some reason. This probably led me to have a dream about you last night actually. I was hanging out and I started wondering why I pretend to be such a Grinch when I know I'm not. Then I started thinking about real life Grinch's that I know and your name kept popping up.
This has nothing to do with the fact that you've destroyed my car which I entrusted you with before I left for Korea. It has nothing to do with the fact you are going to charge me for lodging my car at your place. It also has nothing to do with the fact you will only let me stay with you and Anya for one week when I get back in May. It does have a little bit to do with your refusal to take the clothes I left in my car trunk out for the winter and wash them for me. It may have a lot to do with the fact that Toby, yes Toby, is the person who is going to buy a new battery for my car because you refused to take the five minutes to start it up every so often and the old battery died. It may have a lot to do with the fact that you think it's funny my car "mysteriously" has a flat tire. It may have something to do with the fact that I know, even though you promised to pick me up at the airport in May, something will "come up" and I'll be left to take a taxi to your house. It absolutely has to do with the fact that you went all the way to Italy one year and brought me back a can of "Axis Body Spray...African Scent." I'm use to you mocking my heritage but you gave me a gift from a foreign country that I could have bought at the local drug store. You still think that's funny...it's not...you're an asshole!
What does all this have to do with my dream? Nothing really, I just think it's important for you to hear these things sometimes. Now you and Anya have been dating for a long time my friend. You love her. You've actually learned to love someone besides yourself. For some reason she loves you too. She doesn't just love you though, she likes you. I don't understand it, Toby doesn't understand it, none of us do, but it's the truth. She loves you. Sometimes, when I'm hanging out at your house and you go to the bathroom I quickly turn to Anya and ask her what you have over her that she's stayed with you this long but she always says nothing. I was sure you were blackmailing her but it turns out I was wrong. The only time I really truly like you is when you are directly next to Anya. She actually makes you a likable person. I can't believe I'm about to write this but you two work well together. It just seems right. I love Anya and I'm nervous that she's not going to be around when I get back in town. I mean, come on man. She's smart. She's funny. She's an amazing artist. She's beautiful. She's in tune with her emotions. And for some reason she's been by your side for all this time. She has all these things going for her and yet she's with you Al....she's with you.
Now lets look at you. You're not a good looking man. You're balding. You are not funny...at all. You have no soul. You have no fashion sense what so ever. Where as I am getting better looking the older I get, you just seem to be getting larger...have you seen your hands? They look like Italian sausages for Christ Sake! I'll admit it Al, in your younger days that Italian/German blood flowing through your body made you look like a young Frank Sinatra. But now....well now you look more like an old Jerry Lewis.
I don't want to come off like you don't have any positive attributes though. You play the violin like an angel. It is truly a beautiful thing to witness. I know I'm going to regret saying this but you are also very intelligent. So there it is...you're a smart violin player. Don't say I never gave you any compliments.
Some people reading this might think I'm being mean to someone I call a friend. These people have obviously never met you. I'm writing this to you because I care about you Alex. Do you wanna end up like me and Toby? I think not. Sure I'm handsome, smart, creative, funny, physically superior and humble. Sure Toby is...is...a certified clown, but we are both broken men. We are both broken, alone and old my friend. Toby self medicates and I keep growing beards. It's ugly Alex, it's ugly.
But you, you have the chance at living a beautiful life. It's too late for me and Toby, but not for you. The new year approaches Alex. Grab hold of it. Grab hold of that love you have in your life....and remember, if you guys get married this summer, I can take care of your house while you go on your honeymoon. I will do that for you guys, it will be my wedding gift to you. I'll take care of your place for free. I hope this letter finds you and Anya in good health. I love both of you but I love her more. Please, have my car in working order by the time I get home. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year my friend.
Love,
Chris
Last night I had an intense dream about you and Anya, therefore I feel it is my duty to write you this open letter. This morning when I woke up I knew two things for sure. First, I now know what kind of tattoo's I'm going to get (I've wanted a tattoo since I was in the second grade and a guest speaker had one on his arm). That's kind of a strange statement and deserves further explanation which I will give shortly. The second thing I realized this morning was that you and Anya should get married. Before I go into details about that let me explain the whole tattoo comment.
I like tattoos and I've wanted one for over two decades now but I could never think of anything that I wanted carved into my flesh...until now. Nothing ever spoke to me so my skin has remained unbroken, but last night my dream pointed me in the right direction and I woke up with a smile on my face. Alex, last night I had a dream that I was sitting in the crowd at your wedding (why wasn't I a groomsmen?). It was a surprisingly large ceremony and even though I didn't look around I knew it was full of people I knew. Here's where it gets a little strange, I was sitting next to a woman who I assumed I went to the wedding with but I could not turn my head to look at her. The only thing I could do was look up at you and Anya saying your vows (which I could not hear) and I could also look down at my hands. It was while looking down at my hands that I noticed two tattoos on the bottoms of my left and right wrists. On the left wrist was a detailed tattoo of the Moon and on my right wrist was a flickering Sun. After concentrating on my wrists for a while the audience started to clap and I looked up and saw that you and Anya were kissing to loud cheers. I still couldn't look at the woman next to me but she grabbed my hand and I was able to look at her hand. I noticed she had something on her wrists and right as I was about to take a look them I woke up.
Now, being that you're Alex I know you don't really care about the part of my dream that concerns me so I won't keep talking about my tattoos I'm going to get when I come back to Portland for my farewell tour. But I will say this last thing, I also know that Anya, being the wonderful artist she is, is supposed to design my tattoos for me so please let her know (never mind, I'll tell her myself).
Okay, the rest of this blog will be dedicated to you Al. First things first buddy...you're an asshole! I love you like a friend who I'm only friends with because I've known him since the second grade so I'm able to call you an asshole. You were on my mind yesterday when I went to the children's home to set up the whole gift giving for their Christmas morning. As I was talking to some of the staff and saying hello to some of the kids I started thinking about you for some reason. This probably led me to have a dream about you last night actually. I was hanging out and I started wondering why I pretend to be such a Grinch when I know I'm not. Then I started thinking about real life Grinch's that I know and your name kept popping up.
This has nothing to do with the fact that you've destroyed my car which I entrusted you with before I left for Korea. It has nothing to do with the fact you are going to charge me for lodging my car at your place. It also has nothing to do with the fact you will only let me stay with you and Anya for one week when I get back in May. It does have a little bit to do with your refusal to take the clothes I left in my car trunk out for the winter and wash them for me. It may have a lot to do with the fact that Toby, yes Toby, is the person who is going to buy a new battery for my car because you refused to take the five minutes to start it up every so often and the old battery died. It may have a lot to do with the fact that you think it's funny my car "mysteriously" has a flat tire. It may have something to do with the fact that I know, even though you promised to pick me up at the airport in May, something will "come up" and I'll be left to take a taxi to your house. It absolutely has to do with the fact that you went all the way to Italy one year and brought me back a can of "Axis Body Spray...African Scent." I'm use to you mocking my heritage but you gave me a gift from a foreign country that I could have bought at the local drug store. You still think that's funny...it's not...you're an asshole!
What does all this have to do with my dream? Nothing really, I just think it's important for you to hear these things sometimes. Now you and Anya have been dating for a long time my friend. You love her. You've actually learned to love someone besides yourself. For some reason she loves you too. She doesn't just love you though, she likes you. I don't understand it, Toby doesn't understand it, none of us do, but it's the truth. She loves you. Sometimes, when I'm hanging out at your house and you go to the bathroom I quickly turn to Anya and ask her what you have over her that she's stayed with you this long but she always says nothing. I was sure you were blackmailing her but it turns out I was wrong. The only time I really truly like you is when you are directly next to Anya. She actually makes you a likable person. I can't believe I'm about to write this but you two work well together. It just seems right. I love Anya and I'm nervous that she's not going to be around when I get back in town. I mean, come on man. She's smart. She's funny. She's an amazing artist. She's beautiful. She's in tune with her emotions. And for some reason she's been by your side for all this time. She has all these things going for her and yet she's with you Al....she's with you.
Now lets look at you. You're not a good looking man. You're balding. You are not funny...at all. You have no soul. You have no fashion sense what so ever. Where as I am getting better looking the older I get, you just seem to be getting larger...have you seen your hands? They look like Italian sausages for Christ Sake! I'll admit it Al, in your younger days that Italian/German blood flowing through your body made you look like a young Frank Sinatra. But now....well now you look more like an old Jerry Lewis.
I don't want to come off like you don't have any positive attributes though. You play the violin like an angel. It is truly a beautiful thing to witness. I know I'm going to regret saying this but you are also very intelligent. So there it is...you're a smart violin player. Don't say I never gave you any compliments.
Some people reading this might think I'm being mean to someone I call a friend. These people have obviously never met you. I'm writing this to you because I care about you Alex. Do you wanna end up like me and Toby? I think not. Sure I'm handsome, smart, creative, funny, physically superior and humble. Sure Toby is...is...a certified clown, but we are both broken men. We are both broken, alone and old my friend. Toby self medicates and I keep growing beards. It's ugly Alex, it's ugly.
But you, you have the chance at living a beautiful life. It's too late for me and Toby, but not for you. The new year approaches Alex. Grab hold of it. Grab hold of that love you have in your life....and remember, if you guys get married this summer, I can take care of your house while you go on your honeymoon. I will do that for you guys, it will be my wedding gift to you. I'll take care of your place for free. I hope this letter finds you and Anya in good health. I love both of you but I love her more. Please, have my car in working order by the time I get home. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year my friend.
Love,
Chris
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Temp and Cheapo (long blog, but worth reading)
I wasn't really planning on writing another blog until the new year but sometimes things happen and you gotta talk about them. I've been keeping to myself a lot lately because I've had a lot on my mind. I'm officially on my vacation now and have been catching up on some much needed sleep and finishing and starting books I've been meaning to get to. It's cold but not nearly as cold as I've heard about back in the US. I miss snow days, there has not been much snow here but the wind has been cold and fearless. I'm finally feeling better and have been going on long jogs to clear my head and get away from things. Not that there is that much to get away from out where I live. When I go on my longer jogs I jog by this place I have nicknamed "the killing fields" because it is full of cages that house different kinds of animals. These animals range from deer to dogs. I'm pretty sure they are being housed to be slaughtered at a later date. The cages are pretty rusty and everything except the deer stay in cages. The deer are kept in more of a pin that has nothing but dirt in it. I've been jogging by this place for the past month and usually try to avoid making eye contact with the animals. Until last week I never actually saw any of the dogs I could just hear them barking loudly, so loud I can hear them over my headphones.
Long story short, I've become the foster parent of a runaway dog. I took an early morning jog yesterday it was cold as shit. I didn't even plan on it being a long jog but I was feeling Forrest Gumpish and just kept running. I ran past the killing fields and it was pretty quiet. Usually, I run a loop and end up back at my apartment, but I decided to just turn around after a while and double back. When I passed the area of the killing fields again there was this light brown dog along the side of the road near the deer. It was looking pretty beaten down and skinny. I didn't stop so much as pause. We made eye contact and it start following along the fenced area as I jogged along. I scanned ahead and saw an opening about a quarter of a mile ahead. Now this dog looked like it was hungry and in a bad mood. It didn't bark at me but it was following me like it wanted to kick my ass. I can't really blame it, I mean, I'm pretty sure this dog was an "eating dog." Most of the dogs in Korea are small but this is a medium sized dog and looks like a cross between a lab and some kind of wolf. Needless to say I was preparing to climb up a tree if I needed to. It kept following me along the fence and then it came to the opening and poked through. I stopped and we looked at each other for a while. I could see it's breath in the air and even though I was warm I knew it was very cold outside. I kind of just stood there for a few seconds to see if it was going to attack me but it just stood near the opening of the fence looking at me breathing out clouds of cold air. I think I may have winked at it and then kept jogging. I looked back and it was walking at a fast pace keeping it's distance but obviously following me. I was a couple miles away from home and I thought it would turn around and make the death march back to the killing fields at some point but this is one smart dog. It stayed with me the entire time. I kept telling myself if it followed me all the way back home I would keep it around and see if anyone wanted a dog where I live. People actually pick up strays all the time at my work place, although it has happened for a while and the dogs are usually a lot smaller. She must have read my mind cause she kept pace right up to my building. I got to entrance of my building and stopped and turned around. There she was, skinny, tired looking down at the ground every once in a while waiting to see what I was going to do. I couldn't' help but smile and walked into my building, she didn't budge. She stayed outside and I thought about taking a nice warm shower and then seeing if she was still there when I got done. I didn't. I went back outside and invited Temp (I named her Temp cause she's temporary) in. She accepted and for the past few days I've been living with a dog.
I've always wanted a dog but never thought I could take care of one the way it needed to be taken care of. Now, I have a dog, at least for a while. I went jogging with Temp today and I was curious if she would run off but she didn't. I decided it wasn't a good idea to jog past the killing fields today though. She's actually looking at me right now as I'm typing this blog and I gotta tell you it's kind of nice being around something that likes you. At least I think she likes me. We're still getting to know each other. Good thing I'm not going any where for the holidays, give me a little bonding time. I've got a couple people in mind who might want to take Temp but they are all on vacation right now. I figure I have a few months to find an appropriate home for her and truth be told I'm not in a hurry to unload her. She sleeps on the couch right now but I wake up at night and she'll be staring at me like she wants to get on the bed but isn't quite comfortable enough yet to make that leap. It's kind of funny. I can't blame her. I'm probably the first black person she's ever seen plus my Korean isn't that great. I gotta find out Korean commands and sayings for dogs.
BUT I DID NOT DECIDE TO WRITE A BLOG BECAUSE I'M HOUSING A DOG AT THE MOMENT...
I decided to write a new blog because I met a woman today who is the definition of life. I'm still in awe actually from her story and her overall energy. I went into Seoul today to buy some refried beans at this foreign market I like to go to. I finished all my shopping and had about an hour to kill before the bus came to take me back to where I live. I decided to go into a coffee shop and read a book I brought with me. I don't drink coffee and I don't really drink tea so I ordered a hot chocolate. I had forgot how right it feels to drink hot chocolate on a cold day. I settled down in my chair and started the last chapter of "Anansi Boys" by Neil Gaiman. I'm a very observant person but lately I've developed the ability to go deep inside of my own world and I was zoned out in the coffee shop reading this book. I don't know how long she was standing there talking to me but it must have been at least ten seconds. I looked up and standing over me was this midnight skinned woman with tightly braided hair. She repeated the title of the book I was reading but I didn't understand what she was saying until she pointed to the book itself and said "Anansi, that's African." Being that my personal bubble had just been burst I was a little slow and said something like, "yeah, it's a good book." She laughed and asked if she could sit down while she waited for David. Two things came across my mind at this point. The first was that she had an accent which sounded like a combination of French and Spanish, the second thing I thought was who the hell is David. She said David like I knew who David was and it was at this moment that I realized she is one of those people who has the ability to talk to anyone at anytime. I politely folded my book pages together and said "sure." She sat and I asked her who David was. David is her fiancee from Canada. She is from the Republic of Congo and has been living in South Korea for over 4 years now. It took everything I had not to mimic her voice. I love accents! She met David last year at some convention in Seoul. Her name is Cheapo. I know I didn't spell it right but that's what it sounds like. As soon as she shared this information with me in the first minute she sat down I knew I would not be opening my book again in that coffee shop. She looked at me for a while and didn't say anything, so I looked at her too. I noticed she had a deep scar down the middle of her forehead. It didn't take away from her features one bit though. Cheapo is really striking actually. Her skin is flawless and shines a deep black. She has one of those faces that could be 20 or 40 something. I gathered later in the conversation that she had to be in her 40's. Cheapo has the body of a long distance runner. She has the kind of smile I've always wanted. Her teeth are perfect, so perfect they look fake actually. Against the color of her skin those teeth demand your attention when her mouth opens.
She was talking with that wonderful accent for a few minutes and then she said, "Why are you so sad?" It took me a while to register the question. It seems that even drinking hot chocolate in a coffee shop while reading a book I emit a energy of sadness to complete strangers. I opened my mouth to answer but she didn't moved on and followed up with "you look like my younger brother James...he's dead." I could feel the energy at the table shift instantly and I realized that although I had been listening to her talk for a while I wasn't really hearing what she was saying. Now I started to hear her. I waited and then asked her about her brother. To my own surprise I didn't say "oh I'm sorry" which would be my standard response to information like that. I just said "when?" But sometimes the shortest questions get the longest answers. I think Cheapo sat down with me because I reminded her of her brother who she loved deeply and misses every day of her life. I'm sure the holidays don't help. James was murdered in front of Cheapo five years ago in Congo. I got the impression that the man who killed Cheapo brother James killed her innocence right after that.
There's this moment when people are telling you true stories of horror when you can respond with a gasp or look away. I'm pretty sure Cheapo was looking into my eyes waiting for this moment. That moment didn't' come and she kept on talking. Again, I have to give credit to my graduate school professor Isbel Ingham. It sounds so strange but she taught her class or at least she tried to teach her class how to listen to peoples stories. If you really listen and hear what people are telling you the world becomes so much bigger. It's amazing. So Cheapo kept talking and her story was heart breaking. She didn't cry until she started talking about my ears. I know that sounds strange but I guess James had small ears too. I don't' think about my ears much but she asked to touch them and I didn't feel it was something I could refuse. She started to cry but didn't' make a sound. The tears just rolled down her face leaving a glassy trail. She wasn't embarrassed by the tears and she didn't apologize like most people would have. Cheapo has the heart of a lion. She is strong beyond measure. I noticed that her tears didn't leave a shadow of salt like mine do. They just seemed to dry and evaporate leaving no hint of their existence.
I wondered why my ears had sparked tears from her eyes and she spoke like she read my mind. Cheapo had raised her younger brother since he was a baby and she used to stroke his ears when he was a boy to calm him. I have to admit, when she stroked my ears there was something calming about the action. So James had been murdered in front of Cheapo and she had been violated like she was not a part of the human race. But she still smiles and she still jokes around. She still sits down and talks to complete strangers at a coffee shop. Her trust in humanity has not been broken. Cheapo is the reason I have so many female friends. Women are so much stronger than men (my personal opinion). I felt this need to apologize to her for the cruelty that happened to her back in the Congo. I didn't. I just smiled and told her she should write about her experiences. That's what she's going to do when she moves to Canada with David. She's excited about going back to school and it is at this moment when she repeats her original question to me. "Why are you so sad" she says. At first, I thought she was making fun of me like she was daring me to talk about my life after sharing a bit of her world with me. But when I looked into her eyes I realized she was serious and genuinely wanted to know what my deal was. I told her that I didn't really FEEL sad but that I've been giving off this sad vibe for a while now. She didn't say anything, she was listening to me now but I didn't really have much to say. She waited and I didn't say anything. She started to smile and I felt like this must be what it's like to have a sister.
She held both her hand out to me like she wanted me to take them. But then she motioned for me to put my hands out like hers were with the palms up. It was at this moment that Canadian Dave walked into the shop with a "what the hell is going on" look on his face. Dave is about six feet tall and the exact opposite of Cheapo in appearance. He has deep green eyes and sandy blond hair. His skin is looks like it hasn't seen the sun in a long time. But they have the same smile. They look good together. He sees me with my palms up and he rolls his eyes saying "Oh, watch out, she's about to read your future." Cheapo smiles and they kiss. Introductions are made and Dave excuses himself to order a coffee. Cheapo smiles and then tells me that she's not going to "read my future" she's just going to "see" what's going on in my life.
I have this strange fear of palm readers, star readers, card readers all of that stuff. I feel like they are going to flip a card or look at a line on my palms and tell me I'm a dead man in a week. But, I decided to let Cheapo do her thing. She started looking at my hands. Squeezing them and holding them every once in a while. David returned and I looked at him but he put one finger over his lips and sat back to watch the show. Cheapo asked when my birthday was and a couple other formal questions. Then she looked at me and said "you have a deep sadness in you that started before your mother gave birth to you." She said I experienced a loss before I was even born. This sent a chill through my entire body and I started to take her a little bit more seriously. She told me I had the spirit of a healer. I shot David a look and he seemed more interested in what she was saying too. She told me that I don't embrace my natural talents enough and that it's time to embrace them wholly. She told me I was "bursting with love" which made me giggle inside and it was again like she read my mind because she said "I'm serious, you're bursting with it." I looked at David and he just hunched his shoulders up. She ended my palm reading by telling me to give "the fear" a big hug and a kiss the next time I see it and it won't be fear any more. I took this to mean I was going to die soon. Just kidding, I actually don't know what she was talking about but I'm sure I'll come up with some theories later (which will all involve me dying I'm sure).
All in all, it was a good day and it's been an interesting week. I have a temporary dog and I got my palms read. I also met a really decent human being who shared a part of herself with me that I will never forget and am very thankful for.
Today I am reminded of this passage from an Eckhart Tolle book I read. It says something like "Nothing has ever happened in the past that can prevent you from being present now; and if the past cannot prevent you from being present now, what power does it have?"
Long story short, I've become the foster parent of a runaway dog. I took an early morning jog yesterday it was cold as shit. I didn't even plan on it being a long jog but I was feeling Forrest Gumpish and just kept running. I ran past the killing fields and it was pretty quiet. Usually, I run a loop and end up back at my apartment, but I decided to just turn around after a while and double back. When I passed the area of the killing fields again there was this light brown dog along the side of the road near the deer. It was looking pretty beaten down and skinny. I didn't stop so much as pause. We made eye contact and it start following along the fenced area as I jogged along. I scanned ahead and saw an opening about a quarter of a mile ahead. Now this dog looked like it was hungry and in a bad mood. It didn't bark at me but it was following me like it wanted to kick my ass. I can't really blame it, I mean, I'm pretty sure this dog was an "eating dog." Most of the dogs in Korea are small but this is a medium sized dog and looks like a cross between a lab and some kind of wolf. Needless to say I was preparing to climb up a tree if I needed to. It kept following me along the fence and then it came to the opening and poked through. I stopped and we looked at each other for a while. I could see it's breath in the air and even though I was warm I knew it was very cold outside. I kind of just stood there for a few seconds to see if it was going to attack me but it just stood near the opening of the fence looking at me breathing out clouds of cold air. I think I may have winked at it and then kept jogging. I looked back and it was walking at a fast pace keeping it's distance but obviously following me. I was a couple miles away from home and I thought it would turn around and make the death march back to the killing fields at some point but this is one smart dog. It stayed with me the entire time. I kept telling myself if it followed me all the way back home I would keep it around and see if anyone wanted a dog where I live. People actually pick up strays all the time at my work place, although it has happened for a while and the dogs are usually a lot smaller. She must have read my mind cause she kept pace right up to my building. I got to entrance of my building and stopped and turned around. There she was, skinny, tired looking down at the ground every once in a while waiting to see what I was going to do. I couldn't' help but smile and walked into my building, she didn't budge. She stayed outside and I thought about taking a nice warm shower and then seeing if she was still there when I got done. I didn't. I went back outside and invited Temp (I named her Temp cause she's temporary) in. She accepted and for the past few days I've been living with a dog.
I've always wanted a dog but never thought I could take care of one the way it needed to be taken care of. Now, I have a dog, at least for a while. I went jogging with Temp today and I was curious if she would run off but she didn't. I decided it wasn't a good idea to jog past the killing fields today though. She's actually looking at me right now as I'm typing this blog and I gotta tell you it's kind of nice being around something that likes you. At least I think she likes me. We're still getting to know each other. Good thing I'm not going any where for the holidays, give me a little bonding time. I've got a couple people in mind who might want to take Temp but they are all on vacation right now. I figure I have a few months to find an appropriate home for her and truth be told I'm not in a hurry to unload her. She sleeps on the couch right now but I wake up at night and she'll be staring at me like she wants to get on the bed but isn't quite comfortable enough yet to make that leap. It's kind of funny. I can't blame her. I'm probably the first black person she's ever seen plus my Korean isn't that great. I gotta find out Korean commands and sayings for dogs.
BUT I DID NOT DECIDE TO WRITE A BLOG BECAUSE I'M HOUSING A DOG AT THE MOMENT...
I decided to write a new blog because I met a woman today who is the definition of life. I'm still in awe actually from her story and her overall energy. I went into Seoul today to buy some refried beans at this foreign market I like to go to. I finished all my shopping and had about an hour to kill before the bus came to take me back to where I live. I decided to go into a coffee shop and read a book I brought with me. I don't drink coffee and I don't really drink tea so I ordered a hot chocolate. I had forgot how right it feels to drink hot chocolate on a cold day. I settled down in my chair and started the last chapter of "Anansi Boys" by Neil Gaiman. I'm a very observant person but lately I've developed the ability to go deep inside of my own world and I was zoned out in the coffee shop reading this book. I don't know how long she was standing there talking to me but it must have been at least ten seconds. I looked up and standing over me was this midnight skinned woman with tightly braided hair. She repeated the title of the book I was reading but I didn't understand what she was saying until she pointed to the book itself and said "Anansi, that's African." Being that my personal bubble had just been burst I was a little slow and said something like, "yeah, it's a good book." She laughed and asked if she could sit down while she waited for David. Two things came across my mind at this point. The first was that she had an accent which sounded like a combination of French and Spanish, the second thing I thought was who the hell is David. She said David like I knew who David was and it was at this moment that I realized she is one of those people who has the ability to talk to anyone at anytime. I politely folded my book pages together and said "sure." She sat and I asked her who David was. David is her fiancee from Canada. She is from the Republic of Congo and has been living in South Korea for over 4 years now. It took everything I had not to mimic her voice. I love accents! She met David last year at some convention in Seoul. Her name is Cheapo. I know I didn't spell it right but that's what it sounds like. As soon as she shared this information with me in the first minute she sat down I knew I would not be opening my book again in that coffee shop. She looked at me for a while and didn't say anything, so I looked at her too. I noticed she had a deep scar down the middle of her forehead. It didn't take away from her features one bit though. Cheapo is really striking actually. Her skin is flawless and shines a deep black. She has one of those faces that could be 20 or 40 something. I gathered later in the conversation that she had to be in her 40's. Cheapo has the body of a long distance runner. She has the kind of smile I've always wanted. Her teeth are perfect, so perfect they look fake actually. Against the color of her skin those teeth demand your attention when her mouth opens.
She was talking with that wonderful accent for a few minutes and then she said, "Why are you so sad?" It took me a while to register the question. It seems that even drinking hot chocolate in a coffee shop while reading a book I emit a energy of sadness to complete strangers. I opened my mouth to answer but she didn't moved on and followed up with "you look like my younger brother James...he's dead." I could feel the energy at the table shift instantly and I realized that although I had been listening to her talk for a while I wasn't really hearing what she was saying. Now I started to hear her. I waited and then asked her about her brother. To my own surprise I didn't say "oh I'm sorry" which would be my standard response to information like that. I just said "when?" But sometimes the shortest questions get the longest answers. I think Cheapo sat down with me because I reminded her of her brother who she loved deeply and misses every day of her life. I'm sure the holidays don't help. James was murdered in front of Cheapo five years ago in Congo. I got the impression that the man who killed Cheapo brother James killed her innocence right after that.
There's this moment when people are telling you true stories of horror when you can respond with a gasp or look away. I'm pretty sure Cheapo was looking into my eyes waiting for this moment. That moment didn't' come and she kept on talking. Again, I have to give credit to my graduate school professor Isbel Ingham. It sounds so strange but she taught her class or at least she tried to teach her class how to listen to peoples stories. If you really listen and hear what people are telling you the world becomes so much bigger. It's amazing. So Cheapo kept talking and her story was heart breaking. She didn't cry until she started talking about my ears. I know that sounds strange but I guess James had small ears too. I don't' think about my ears much but she asked to touch them and I didn't feel it was something I could refuse. She started to cry but didn't' make a sound. The tears just rolled down her face leaving a glassy trail. She wasn't embarrassed by the tears and she didn't apologize like most people would have. Cheapo has the heart of a lion. She is strong beyond measure. I noticed that her tears didn't leave a shadow of salt like mine do. They just seemed to dry and evaporate leaving no hint of their existence.
I wondered why my ears had sparked tears from her eyes and she spoke like she read my mind. Cheapo had raised her younger brother since he was a baby and she used to stroke his ears when he was a boy to calm him. I have to admit, when she stroked my ears there was something calming about the action. So James had been murdered in front of Cheapo and she had been violated like she was not a part of the human race. But she still smiles and she still jokes around. She still sits down and talks to complete strangers at a coffee shop. Her trust in humanity has not been broken. Cheapo is the reason I have so many female friends. Women are so much stronger than men (my personal opinion). I felt this need to apologize to her for the cruelty that happened to her back in the Congo. I didn't. I just smiled and told her she should write about her experiences. That's what she's going to do when she moves to Canada with David. She's excited about going back to school and it is at this moment when she repeats her original question to me. "Why are you so sad" she says. At first, I thought she was making fun of me like she was daring me to talk about my life after sharing a bit of her world with me. But when I looked into her eyes I realized she was serious and genuinely wanted to know what my deal was. I told her that I didn't really FEEL sad but that I've been giving off this sad vibe for a while now. She didn't say anything, she was listening to me now but I didn't really have much to say. She waited and I didn't say anything. She started to smile and I felt like this must be what it's like to have a sister.
She held both her hand out to me like she wanted me to take them. But then she motioned for me to put my hands out like hers were with the palms up. It was at this moment that Canadian Dave walked into the shop with a "what the hell is going on" look on his face. Dave is about six feet tall and the exact opposite of Cheapo in appearance. He has deep green eyes and sandy blond hair. His skin is looks like it hasn't seen the sun in a long time. But they have the same smile. They look good together. He sees me with my palms up and he rolls his eyes saying "Oh, watch out, she's about to read your future." Cheapo smiles and they kiss. Introductions are made and Dave excuses himself to order a coffee. Cheapo smiles and then tells me that she's not going to "read my future" she's just going to "see" what's going on in my life.
I have this strange fear of palm readers, star readers, card readers all of that stuff. I feel like they are going to flip a card or look at a line on my palms and tell me I'm a dead man in a week. But, I decided to let Cheapo do her thing. She started looking at my hands. Squeezing them and holding them every once in a while. David returned and I looked at him but he put one finger over his lips and sat back to watch the show. Cheapo asked when my birthday was and a couple other formal questions. Then she looked at me and said "you have a deep sadness in you that started before your mother gave birth to you." She said I experienced a loss before I was even born. This sent a chill through my entire body and I started to take her a little bit more seriously. She told me I had the spirit of a healer. I shot David a look and he seemed more interested in what she was saying too. She told me that I don't embrace my natural talents enough and that it's time to embrace them wholly. She told me I was "bursting with love" which made me giggle inside and it was again like she read my mind because she said "I'm serious, you're bursting with it." I looked at David and he just hunched his shoulders up. She ended my palm reading by telling me to give "the fear" a big hug and a kiss the next time I see it and it won't be fear any more. I took this to mean I was going to die soon. Just kidding, I actually don't know what she was talking about but I'm sure I'll come up with some theories later (which will all involve me dying I'm sure).
All in all, it was a good day and it's been an interesting week. I have a temporary dog and I got my palms read. I also met a really decent human being who shared a part of herself with me that I will never forget and am very thankful for.
Today I am reminded of this passage from an Eckhart Tolle book I read. It says something like "Nothing has ever happened in the past that can prevent you from being present now; and if the past cannot prevent you from being present now, what power does it have?"
Saturday, December 6, 2008
I think I'm engaged!!!
Tonight I had dinner at my friends parents house. I made the mistake of telling Jo Young I wasn't feeling well yesterday after work and he insisted that I come into Seoul with him on Saturday for dinner with his family. So tonight I ate with Jo Young, his mother, his father, his grandmother, his younger brother, his two sisters, and some woman who seemed lost. This is obviously my the week of awkward events because this dinner was awkward as hell. It was also one of the most entertaining nights I've had in a long time. So when Koreans eat they eat. It's a freaking spread man. That table was full of soups, meats, veggies, fruits, dried fish, booze and of course cakes. Being that I don't feel that great I tried to stick to the soup but momma Young was not having it. I'm pretty sure papa Young was talking shit about me when I attempted to politely refuse the booze. I looked a Jo and he made his eyes real big which I took to mean "just drink the damn soju!" So I did. Papa Young didn't know who he was messing around with. Let's just say when I left I had a slight buzz but papa Young was sloppy...it was sad!
Truth be told I feel a hell of a lot better. The English at the table was okay, at least among the younger crowd but my interactions with the older folks consisted of smiles, a few winks, grandma young touching the hair on my arms and the strange lost lady staring at me like I killed her cat. I had a special Korean soup (the name escapes me) that was made "especially" for me to cure my sickness. As I drank this broth mama Young looked at me triumphantly. Seriously, it was a look of great pride on this woman's face.
I'm not pretending like I know the ins and outs of Korean culture. I think I would have to be here for at least 5 years before I started to really understand things but I'm pretty sure I violated some serious rules tonight. Before I go into that let me explain something a little further. I'm not one of those people who goes to a foreign country or becomes friends with people from different cultures and then starts acting like they know everything about the people. The truth of the matter is I will never really know what it's like to be Korean or have an understanding of the culture the way Koreans do. All I can do is be open to this experience and learn the lessons that are being taught to me. I think it's kind of ridiculous when people start acting like they wrote the book. I'm a little frustrated right now because this person who works at my school started arguing with the Koreans about what it's like to be Korean. I was about 2 seconds aways from telling him to shut the fuck up when he got upset and walked out of the computer lab. Total side story. Back to my dinner.
So Jo's younger sisters are both in college studying art. Their stuff is all over the house actually and they seem to have some real talent, in particular with paper crafts. Again, I don't pretend to be an expert on Korean culture but I'm pretty sure I'm engaged to Jo's younger sister now. I don't really know how it happened or what I said exactly but I'm gonna have to talk to Jo on Monday and let him know that the kid is not available for marriage!
Here's what happened. Papa Young was getting drunk off the soju and I was feeling loose. Mama Young was bothering Jo about being single and Jo was deflecting on to me. Kim, one of Jo's sisters who has really good English started chatting me up. I mentioned that I liked this paper lamp they had in their house and she blushed. I looked at Jo like "what the fuck is going on?" and Jo just sat there oblivious. Kim then said something in Korean to her sister and they started giggling. Whenever I hear Korean women giggling after looking at me I assume I'm being compared to something I probably don't wanna be compared to. But the night went on, dishes start to get cleared and here's where I think I really messed up. I got up and started to help and I took my dish, Kim's dish and Cho's dish (Cho was the other sister).
Now the look on Jo's face told me I fucked up. Mama Young had a look on her face like I just urinated all over the table and papa Young started laughing like a mad man. I think it was the laughter that saved me cause the other people at the table started laughing. Mama Young slapped my hands from the dishes while shaking her head but the look on Kim's face was one of amazement. I got the impression that a man has never tried to clear her dish for her and I also got the impression I had accidentally shown some kind of interests in her.
Anybody who knows me knows that I am clueless when it comes to a girl liking me. I'm sure my ex-girlfriends might say I'm also clueless when it comes to a girl not liking me too but that's not what I'm talking about right now. When it was time for me to leave and I was saying good-bye Kim comes up to me with the lamp I had admired in her hand. The room grew quiet and Jo looked as confused as I'm sure I did. She told me to take the lamp and I started to refuse but the look on the rest of her families face told me I should just take the lamp, bow and say thank you. I thought about asking Jo how to say "You don't want anything to do with me I'm a broken man" in Korean but I didn't. It's a nice lamp but I think it means I'm now engaged to Kim. I have no desire to marry and I will flee the country in the dead of night if I have to. The fact that Kim looks like she's 13 years old doesn't really help either. Oh Korea.
Now that my time in this country is winding down I want to hang out with some of the Korean friends I've made during my time here but if I accidentally get engaged every time I go to a family dinner this is going to be a long 5 months.
Truth be told I feel a hell of a lot better. The English at the table was okay, at least among the younger crowd but my interactions with the older folks consisted of smiles, a few winks, grandma young touching the hair on my arms and the strange lost lady staring at me like I killed her cat. I had a special Korean soup (the name escapes me) that was made "especially" for me to cure my sickness. As I drank this broth mama Young looked at me triumphantly. Seriously, it was a look of great pride on this woman's face.
I'm not pretending like I know the ins and outs of Korean culture. I think I would have to be here for at least 5 years before I started to really understand things but I'm pretty sure I violated some serious rules tonight. Before I go into that let me explain something a little further. I'm not one of those people who goes to a foreign country or becomes friends with people from different cultures and then starts acting like they know everything about the people. The truth of the matter is I will never really know what it's like to be Korean or have an understanding of the culture the way Koreans do. All I can do is be open to this experience and learn the lessons that are being taught to me. I think it's kind of ridiculous when people start acting like they wrote the book. I'm a little frustrated right now because this person who works at my school started arguing with the Koreans about what it's like to be Korean. I was about 2 seconds aways from telling him to shut the fuck up when he got upset and walked out of the computer lab. Total side story. Back to my dinner.
So Jo's younger sisters are both in college studying art. Their stuff is all over the house actually and they seem to have some real talent, in particular with paper crafts. Again, I don't pretend to be an expert on Korean culture but I'm pretty sure I'm engaged to Jo's younger sister now. I don't really know how it happened or what I said exactly but I'm gonna have to talk to Jo on Monday and let him know that the kid is not available for marriage!
Here's what happened. Papa Young was getting drunk off the soju and I was feeling loose. Mama Young was bothering Jo about being single and Jo was deflecting on to me. Kim, one of Jo's sisters who has really good English started chatting me up. I mentioned that I liked this paper lamp they had in their house and she blushed. I looked at Jo like "what the fuck is going on?" and Jo just sat there oblivious. Kim then said something in Korean to her sister and they started giggling. Whenever I hear Korean women giggling after looking at me I assume I'm being compared to something I probably don't wanna be compared to. But the night went on, dishes start to get cleared and here's where I think I really messed up. I got up and started to help and I took my dish, Kim's dish and Cho's dish (Cho was the other sister).
Now the look on Jo's face told me I fucked up. Mama Young had a look on her face like I just urinated all over the table and papa Young started laughing like a mad man. I think it was the laughter that saved me cause the other people at the table started laughing. Mama Young slapped my hands from the dishes while shaking her head but the look on Kim's face was one of amazement. I got the impression that a man has never tried to clear her dish for her and I also got the impression I had accidentally shown some kind of interests in her.
Anybody who knows me knows that I am clueless when it comes to a girl liking me. I'm sure my ex-girlfriends might say I'm also clueless when it comes to a girl not liking me too but that's not what I'm talking about right now. When it was time for me to leave and I was saying good-bye Kim comes up to me with the lamp I had admired in her hand. The room grew quiet and Jo looked as confused as I'm sure I did. She told me to take the lamp and I started to refuse but the look on the rest of her families face told me I should just take the lamp, bow and say thank you. I thought about asking Jo how to say "You don't want anything to do with me I'm a broken man" in Korean but I didn't. It's a nice lamp but I think it means I'm now engaged to Kim. I have no desire to marry and I will flee the country in the dead of night if I have to. The fact that Kim looks like she's 13 years old doesn't really help either. Oh Korea.
Now that my time in this country is winding down I want to hang out with some of the Korean friends I've made during my time here but if I accidentally get engaged every time I go to a family dinner this is going to be a long 5 months.
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