The Here and Now

Things of green

2009-07-14T11:16:00.000-07:00

I could give you promises of keeping up with this blog thing better.
I could promise to tell you the stories of what I have been up to since leaving the other side of the world.

I could promise I will be a better person, eat my vegetables, quit swearing, and save puppies.

But I won't. I will just make an attempt to do better.
(And puppies deserve whatever they get!)

So, one thing I have done recently is start a garden on my porch. It's a fairly decent little garden regardless of the limited space. I have even been able to eat a few of the peppers!

Here are a few pictures...

growing

2009-07-14T11:15:00.000-07:00

Tiny Tommies

2009-07-14T11:13:00.000-07:00

Hot hot hot

2009-07-14T11:11:00.000-07:00

A rose by this name...

2009-07-14T11:08:00.000-07:00

Aged to perfection

2009-03-06T15:26:00.002-08:00

Today I was walking through the airport.
Headphones on, listening to old episodes of Dragnet from the 1940’s.
Minding my own general business, when something strange occurred.

A man looked my way and gave me a smile. A kind of flirty smile.
It took me aback. This man was in his mid thirties/early forties. Way too old to be shooting me a smile.
I automatically thought, “Dude he’s like 1000 times my age!”

Then I realized something. He was not 1000 times my age. He was not twice my age.
He was relatively close to my age.

How did I get old? When did age appropriate men start to include those in their 30’s? What the hell!

A new one

2009-03-06T15:26:00.001-08:00

Currently, I am on a plane heading back to the US of A. Soon I will touchdown on the tarmac of freedom.
The Airfield of English.
The landing strip of the slightly new and potentially exciting.

I am, believe it or not, moving back to the “real world.” (The “realness” of said world is still being debated.)

Like, right now.

In a matter of hours I will be landing in a world of wonky culture shock. There are things I am excited for. There are things I am dreading.
There are things that make me kind of queasy.

But here goes nothing.

A new chapter is starting. Hopefully this chapter will have a lot more pages than the last.

Die Hard is right

2009-03-06T15:24:00.000-08:00

Remember Die Hard 4? I could argue that it is one of the top 12 movies of all time. I think I would win that argument. (Partly because of my debate skills, mostly because the movie speaks for its wonderful self.)

Any who.

There is one thing that always bothers me about that movie is the language issue. The henchmen talk in some random guttural language, they never speak anything but their own tongue.
Their boss is an American who speaks in perfect English, he never speaks anything else.

When they talk to each other they each only speak their own languages and yet they completely understand the other.

Is there ever a situation were you would understand rapid-fire idioms in a foreign language and yet do not have the skills to answer. Why the hell would the writers do this?

It just doesn’t make sense.
Until, today. Well, technically, yesterday. But I am counting it as today.

A few of my South African friends were having a long conversation about Rugby. Two of them are fully fluent in Afrikaans; the third was raised around it, but had a family that tended toward English.

Half of the conversation was in Afrikaans and half in English. It was nutty.

Proving once again that Die Hard has a completely accurate and plausible plotline.

manly men

2009-03-06T15:21:00.001-08:00

There is one thing that I will desperately miss about Korea, about Asia really.

The man bag.
The murse.
The manly handbag.

Asian men carry handbags. Not the metro type messenger bags of the west but actual purses. Some are leather with fun flirty colors. Sometimes they are canvas with cartoon characters slashed across the sides.
I even saw a man with a vinyl bag with rhinestones and rainbows.

The strange part is, these men and manly types. They are just as likely to have a wallet, paperwork and a few tools in their purse, as they are to have chap stick, hairspray, and a fluffy bunny.

Not the best...

2009-02-03T08:59:00.000-08:00

I had a much better picture that had the details of this situation.

I spent a few days on an island that, by law, was legally required nothing in the way of motorized vehicles. Instead, there were just a few horse drawn carriages to take you from place to place.

In just one of these carriages was a full sound system. Something like this...

The Beach in Bail

2009-02-03T08:40:00.000-08:00

At Sunset, Almost...

A Weak Substitution

2009-02-03T08:20:00.000-08:00

As it turns out, that computer crash was a wee bit more serious than I had previously thought. The shiny new computer ended up with the type of crash that results in a trip to the Apple store. Not the simple trip with a small hardware fix. No, it is more on the lines of a 20% chance that I will actually be able to fix the problem without completely replacing the entire unit. That and the fact I will not see an Apple store until shortly after landing in the US of A, means a long wait for pictures.

I love technology.

But, as I recover the past potential posts and pictures I will respond to a comment left by one of the best teachers I know. She is also great at the coaching of sports of all kinds.

So, the books I read…

1. It all started with the new-ish Grisham, The Innocent Man. Not his best work, but useful for a long flight. Just interesting enough to make it through without falling asleep, but not quite enough to keep me from missing a round or two of the flight attendants and their wonderful drink carts.

2. Next came the atrocious A Tale of Two Cities. As it turns it is just as bad in adulthood as it was when I was in 7th grade. It has a great story line but that Charely Dickens is screwed up writer. I can honestly say that I have read that damned book and, this time it was not in the Cliff Notes edition.

3. Now came what I like to call fluff. Fluff is great for vacation. It means mindless fun. Jeffrey Deaver’s The Vanishing Man. Not terrible. A great form of mindlessness. Decent book.

4. Now my mind was found wanting of something less dreamy and more thought provoking. The Two Koreas. Great book, a little too heavy for the beach, but it held my interest at least ¾ of the time. Sun burning to that type of book is not recommended, though the book itself totally is.

5. Harry Potter One. No Comment.

6. Harry Potter Two. No Comment.

7. Keep with mindless and add Iris Johansen’s newest (in paperback). Quicksand. If you like mindless detective novels, you will love this one. It’s a whole lot of awesome.

8. Shit, there were a few more than the afore mentioned 7. Kathy Reichs, Devil Bones. She is a forensic anthropologist who writes about the more extreme possibilities in a job such as that. Nothing too realistic; more along the lines of CSI type crazy-ness. Great author though, one of my favorite for the fluff.

9. Stephen King’s Bag of Bones. I am nearly through with this one. Nearly. It is not bad. It is not good. I haven’t figured out what it is yet. Give me time, just give me time.

So those are the books I read over vacation. When I mentioned the 7 books read, I knew I was estimating, but I kind of though I was rounding up. As it turns I missed the mark by a few. (Though Harry Potter Should only count as a half…)

Hopefully before this week is out I will have Paint type replacements for the picture victims of the computer crash of 2009.

Moral of that story is… back your shit up. Back it up now.

Oh No!

2009-02-01T05:34:00.000-08:00

I just made it home from a wonderful amazing relaxing vacation.

My flights were long, but they allowed me to finish my 7th book of the week. Which, frankly, is awesome.

I have a series of pictures and several mildly humorous stories about the trip, however, there became a problem.

On the plane back to Korea my computer crashed. My shiny fun computer, the one I just bought a few months ago. The one that I had just downloaded all my trip pictures onto. The one with all the stuff I had written on the trip and several things from the past few months.

Without back-ups.

There is hope, I don't have a lot of it, but there is some. I just have to wait for apple office hours and hope there is a quick and easy fix. Keep your fingers crossed.

I will attempt to re-write those stories and maybe use some sort of paint program to re-make the pictures.

My home away

2009-01-31T03:31:00.000-08:00

This is where I stayed.

There was much in the way of beach views and 20 ft ceilings.

This little cabin was mine and mine alone.

My little garden

2009-01-31T03:23:00.000-08:00

Sometimes things are weird

2009-01-31T03:18:00.000-08:00

Read line 4.

Thought you'd like to know

2009-01-24T08:26:00.001-08:00

I am currently on my way to Bali.
Indonesia.

Beaches.
Pools.
Awesome-ness.

Jealous?

You should be.

Maybe not... but it made me giggle

2009-01-20T01:26:00.000-08:00

This is not a funny story. It's not even a mildly entertaining story. But the incident involved made me and one of my uppermost bosses giggle, so I figured I'd retell it.

We were on a field trip today. A field trip to the art village across the street from my place of employment. We were walking outside, around the various buildings, trees, sculptures, and streams.

Off to the right of our procession of students was one such stream. Standing in the midst of the slow moving water was a man in thigh high rubber boots and a fishing hat. He had a small net, a few buckets, and what looked like a ladle. He was cleaning bits of trash out of the would-be pristine environment.

The kids were a bit excitable and began shouting hello to the older gentleman as he ladled through the murky water.

The young student directly to my left shouted something in a sing-song-y Korean.
Now, this being an English emersion program and the fact that the director of my school was not 3 feet in front of me, I glanced at the student and muttered our mantra, “English Only...”

She looked up, and in one of the creepiest little kid voices I have ever heard, repeated her previous comment in English.

“Don't drink the waaater...”

Meeting

2009-01-12T03:34:00.001-08:00

Today I had a meeting.

Today I had THE meeting.

I was in the big building with the administration all clad in suits and ties

I walked in with my ripped jeans and an old leather jacket ready for THE meeting.

I sat, we chatted, we mulled over the more serious of matters and chuckled over the lighter ones.

When I left the building there was a weight off my shoulders. I am officially not re-newing my contract. I am moving back to the states. To the lower 48. To the “Real World.”

It’s has been a long and difficult process to figure out what to do. Should I stay or should I go?
Should I continue on in a world so far away?
Should I move back to a place of gas prices and jobs where you actually have to work?

Today was THE meeting.

My boss looked surprisingly sad too see me not sign on the line and encouraged me to come back again someday. He also asked if I had any friends back home who would want to take my place here.

We discussed plane tickets. I should have a one way ticket in the next week or so.
We talked about my last paycheck and the housing deposit.
We talked about Visa’s and passports.

I am going home. Or at least to my home country. At least for awhile.
Only 45 more days…

Sticky

2008-12-18T02:57:00.000-08:00

Today I played with super glue.

I did my very best to keep the glue off my fingers and only on the proper sides of said project. However, between a combination of the tiny size of the project in question and my extreme lack of fine motor coordination, I ended up with quite a coating on nearly every digit.

I also managed to glue myself to my jeans, to a glass of water, and for a few brief frightening moments to my computers space bar.

Now, a thick film of glue, though not something exciting and fun on a normal day, is not really worth thinking too much about. Certainly nothing that would warrant a written account.

However, I find that a silly story such as this is a testament to my “ability” to function as a normal human. Plus my glue-y dilemma did not quite end there.

My place of employment uses a fingerprint scanner to clock in and out for work.

Can you see where I am going with this.

I was running a bit late for work this afternoon (due to an unscheduled amount of time in the bathroom spend hand washing), and ran from the house with bits of super-ness still clinging to my fingers.

I reached the sign-er in-er and pressed my finger to this high tech time punch.
Nothing.
I moved my finger to a more readable position.
Nothing.
I scrapped at my finger.
Nothing.
I threatened the wall mounted scanner of doom menacingly.
Nothing.
I cursed.
Nothing.

I tried one more time with gusto and optimism.
Nothing.

I, it seems, do not exist.

I ran off with fingers crossed (and very nearly stuck that way) without clocking. I can only hope that today is not the day they check the records to dock pay. I would hate to have to explain myself.

What?

2008-12-04T03:05:00.000-08:00

I mentioned that my work computer was infected with a deadly case of Korean. It has caused much pain and suffering over the span of a few weeks.

I have tried everything short of hitting the damned thing with a baseball bat to effectively do my work. The baseball bat is begining to look more appealing every moment.

But, the work must get done. I have bothered my coworkers (those for whom Korean is a native tongue), guessed, and clicked randomly with fingers crossed. Some things have been wildly effective. Others, not so much.

Tonight, I decided to be pro-active. I hopped onto Babel Fish, ready to translate the necessary key terms. I was going to get some work done if it killed me.

I typed the Korean words as accuratly as possible.
This was the result.

Where the hell is that bat?

Jobs.

2008-11-30T05:36:00.000-08:00

So an interesting thing happened to me a few weeks back.

On my campus there is an office, the Head teacher’s office.
At some point this week I walked into said office carrying a clipboard, as I often am known to do. Upon my arrival, the soon to be wife of our HT gave me an odd look.
“Hey have I missed something? Are the you the new Evening Leader?”

“Good God No!” I exclaimed.

Her soon to be hubby explained that the new position holder had not been announced yet and that I had not applied.

Her response was one of dismay, “Why not?”

“Well, the job requires actually working, where I have made a lifestyle out of avoiding such things” I answered quickly. I may already be the leader of the cooking department, but I have found many ways to avoid actually putting in an honest days’ work.

Suddenly there was a barrage of questions and queries from the both of them about why I have not applied. I was stunned. What do I do?

As I left the room I simply said, “Ok, fine, have it your way. But I swear, as God is my witness, I will not work at that job.”

A few days later I received the “good” news. I am now the Evening Leader.

That’s right, a promotion. When I thought my last few months here would be full of slacking and debating on when to step down from my current position, I was dead wrong.
They are really making me work.
A lot.

I will be designing a new curriculum for the upcoming holiday program, as well as streamlining the current programs.

I will not, however, be in the kitchen anymore. (Thank God)

The upshot is that I have my own desk in the leaders office and I will have computer time throughout the day to work on many projects, including this little old site.

So, for the next few months I will be found in an office, pouring over power points, obsessing over order forms, manhandling obsolete manipulatives, and sulking over a Korean operating system. (That’s right, the computer sitting on my wonderful desk has a Korean operating system. Even the “Start” button is in Korean)

Wish me luck in the gig. (I am defiantly going to need it!)

Say cheese!

2008-11-30T05:31:00.001-08:00

I was sitting in Seoul in some random train station restaurant.
I was sitting, minding my own business, ipod on, and mind definatly somewhere else.

A man approached. He was a youngish sort wearing a face mask* that hid his mouth and nose.
He mumbled something in broken English, pulled out a phone, and showed me a picture of myself. "Remember me?" he asked.

He had been a student during military week at some point last year and still had pictures of all his "favorite" teachers on his phone.
It was an odd moment. Teaching and living on a campus such as mine I often wonder what happens to all the pictures that are taken. I live in an amusement park, and the teachers provide the amusement.
Everyday pictures are taken. Sometimes they are group shots with a handful of students and a teacher or two. Sometimes they are individual poses. Sometimes action shots during class. Sometimes they are taken by surprise by the day visitors who see us eating and want proof.

It's an odd thing.

So pictures are taken every day. Pictures of the people I work with. Pictures of me. what happens to all these photographs? Where do they go when they leave the village? Are they downloaded onto a hard drive and forgotten? Are they added to a screen saver slide show for a few weeks and then replaced with bigger and better things? Are they posted on Facebook or Cyworld (the Korean version of Facebook)?

Are they printed out and hung on a living room wall? Possibly sitting peacefully on a mantel.

Are pictures of me all over this bloody country?

After the initial shock of being recognized we talked for a moment. He showed me the other pictures he had taken at the Village. Then his food arrived at a nearby table and he scurried back. The next few minutes were fairly awkward as his was pointing at me and speaking speedy Korean. He was, it seemed, telling the group at his table about me and the village.

I tried to eat without getting food all over my face or dripping on my shirt.

* The mask I am referring to is one of the medical-ish masks that many in Asia wear when they have a cold or sometimes out shopping or traveling around large groups of people. Since it is nearly cold and flu season they have been popping up everywhere.**

**Which, by the way, is why I thought it ludicrous when the Chinese was all up in arms about the American team arriving at the Olympics wearing the black face masks. Every body wears them. Hell, they sell kid sized ones with teddy bear mouths on them.

It's Magic

2008-11-12T06:20:00.000-08:00

Ah, Konglish.

It's that strange combination of Korean and English that produces a variety of new words the love and use.

Sometimes Konglish is made of simple words that are almost 100% recognizable in an English setting.
Like "Aircon" instead of "Air Conditioning."
Or "hand phone" instead of "cell phone."

Sometimes it takes a step further.
Like "Autobike" for "Motorcycle."
Or "Open car" instead of "convertible."

There are times it goes farther still.
Like "eye shopping" instead of "window shopping"
Or "stetson" for a "stapler."
Even "Rolling papers" for a special stationary for passing notes to your friends.

With all the fun and exciting Konglish out there it is difficult to pin down the best. But I have done it. I have found the absolute best Konglish word in the entire made-up dictionary.

"Magic Day"

Magic day, means, well, it means the time of the month when a women is… uh… least fun to be around.

Magic day.

Doesn't it have a great ring to it? In the West we come up with little pet names for this "special" time. Rarely are they pleasant or uplifting.

But Magic day is just that. It is innocuous enough for a man to say it without blushing and optimistic enough to almost make a girl feel better about the whole situation.

So next time you struggle to explain your condition, take a tip for this side of the world.
It's not "that time of the month."
"Aunt flo is not visiting."
"Ruby from Virginia is not making the rounds."

It's simply another Magic Day.

Driving this Daisy

2008-11-10T08:00:00.001-08:00

Something happened this weekend. Something strange and unusual. Something that has not happened in a very long time.

Something that I have been waiting for, that I have been missing, that I have been pining for for a very long time.

I drove a car.

That's right, I drove a car. I drove an actual gas guzzling, people moving, vehicle.

A few of us wanted to hit up the grocery store, a task that requires a taxi or two. As we prepared from the arduous journey one of our car owning friends offered up their mode of transportation.
As it turns, however, there was only one person in our little group that had the skills to drive a stick shift.

One guess as to who that was.

I got to drive. I drove fast and I drove slow.
I drove up hill and down.
I turned both left and right.

I freaking drove.

Right now I can imagine that you are shrugging your shoulders with a "who cares" kind of look on your face. Your thinking, "driving, heck, I do that everyday."

But but but, I haven't. I haven't driven a real true car in over a year.
I mean, sure, I have my bike. But there is defiantly a difference between riding a crouch rocket and driving something with doors.
Cars keep you a bit warmer.
Cars have a trunk.
Cars have much more comfortable seats.

Plus, you don't end up with helmet hair.