I finally plowed through the final scenes of my book! I might write one more epilogue style scene, but right now I'm reserving that for after I do some serious reconstruction work on the last several chapters. It feels really good, but there's still a lot of work to do in the writing--and then after that, after that I get to start the difficult process of looking at agents--understanding what that business all means--and sitting on my hands while I wait for someone to tell me if it's good. Publishable.
But this time I really am going through with it. This time I am going to close and finish one of my many projects, and maybe for once in my life I'll be able to walk away from something without leaving it unfinished.
Also, in Soccer News: North Korea lost to Portugal by SEVEN. SEVEN TO ZERO. How on earth do you lose that badly??? How did they even get into the World Cup in the first place?
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
And today
Even though my patience completely expired, and I wanted to hide in the bathroom--I still left the school loving teaching and loving my kids. I feel this way.. maybe 1 week out of the month.
I started to write things down when they struck me. Today in my 2.25 class, the kids were role playing the story (which they call "CHARACTER, TEACHER!!!") when one of the student's pants started to buzz uncontrolably. He had a wind-up monster in his pocket--and no that is not a keyword for some thing children should not get a hold of. He literally had a monster doll stuffed in his cargo shorts, and some part of the mechanism had been tripped when he moved--and amidst his perfect pronunciation of "Here you go, Sally" the thing started to go wild. And I just stared at him with this "wtf" look, and he gave me the biggest "I am so guilty and I am enjoying it so much" grin I have ever seen.
I also gave this kid his English name. I named him Paul after my dad and brother's middle, and I knew he was going to be one of those over enthusiastic, slightly-trouble inducing fellows.
In my 3.30 class I am so proud that my little student--Mina--who refused to talk until maybe a week ago, is raising her and and answering questions. Her voice is still tiny, but she answers them. It's so amazing.
At my 4.35 class, I walk into the wrong classroom. They changed it around, switching two of my classes around--but nobody thought it prudent to tell me. But I just turned around and walked out, because I recognized immediately that I was in the wrong place, and my brain connected the two occurrences, and it was just "business as usual."
In my 5.50 class, I called the desk on a student who was pissing me off. Another student refused to talk to me for the entire class, I thought because I failed to produce the stickers I had promised. I honestly went looking for them, and then I discovered that a student potentially stole them out of my unlocked desk drawers. Or I buried them under presentation papers. Who knows. After class, her two friends explain to me, in very broken English (and with a drawing on the board) why she was angry. It had nothing to do with me. But I think maybe the failure to produce stickers kicked her off the edge.
In my 6.55 class, one of my older students insists on screaming the Korean word for "delicious" in a demon voice. We have a great connection, this kid and I. He exhausts me when I'm already tired, but when I'm in a good mood I love to tease them. They tease me back and its hysterical. In this class I have a student, no joke, named "Major Joseph." He has an epic stutter and is the most nationalistically indoctrinated child I have ever met. I love him, but today I was so exhausted that I could barely deal with it. They drove me up the wall, but I loved them anyway, after walking away from the class. "Delicious" kid came back and talked to me for a while. He erased my board for me too. I used to buy coffee from his mom every day at the Dunkin Donuts below us. I always bow and wave at her now, if I come in that direction and catch her eye.
In my 8.00 class, there are two students. Ricky does his work, which is rare, and then the new girl, the one who has a really cool English name, and walks like she is from the hood, tells me all about her exploits as a teenager. She tells me about alcohol and smoking, and her friend that died because he crashed his motor bike at 160 meters per hour. I don't know if I believe her, but I keep asking her questions, and keep asking her: "Why are these people your friends?" She shows me her fake ID that she supposedly stole. And a visa card that she supposedly stole. I'm not sure what is what. They use English and I think it's kind of a joke to them. They don't know that they're really communicating, because all matters of substance to them happen in Korean. And I'm not sure she really thinks I'm a real person. She might be trying to impress me because there's this stereotype that Foreigners only drink and party. She tells me about clubs. I don't have the guts to ask her what clubs she's been to--or to tell her that they are all epicly lame. I'm not sure if I should even be having this conversation with her. But the hagwon camera is on, and she's doing all the talking. I'm asking questions--and occasionally telling her that she should make good, safe decisions. At one point, I tell her that the most important thing that anyone, anywhere, in any country can learn is how to choose friends who make you feel safe and happy. Hastily, after the bell rings, she tells me that she goes to church and believes in Jesus. I wonder if it wasn't just a joke to begin with.
I leave Little Fox and I go over to Taekwondo, where the dojeong is empty except for her brother. I sit next to him, ask him a few questions (he acts out just as much as she does--but mostly he charms the ladies), sit with him for a minute before I change my clothes. When I get back, he's on his way out and I start training.
Then I come home and I go to buy a beer at the corner mart next to my house, and I run into another foreigner, who lives next door to me but I've never really met. She's freaked out my my word-vomit "Hi, how are you? Who are you? I can't believe we're neighbors--can I have your number?" -- and she says, "Actually I'm leaving in three weeks." So I give up, don't make a new friend, and buy a liter of beer instead.
And I've been reading testimonial stories on Teach for America's website. Hence the out pour of love for the students, even when I hate their guts. I feel weak because I don't have enough patience, but I think the more I write it down, the easier it gets to keep that patience up. Who knows.
I started to write things down when they struck me. Today in my 2.25 class, the kids were role playing the story (which they call "CHARACTER, TEACHER!!!") when one of the student's pants started to buzz uncontrolably. He had a wind-up monster in his pocket--and no that is not a keyword for some thing children should not get a hold of. He literally had a monster doll stuffed in his cargo shorts, and some part of the mechanism had been tripped when he moved--and amidst his perfect pronunciation of "Here you go, Sally" the thing started to go wild. And I just stared at him with this "wtf" look, and he gave me the biggest "I am so guilty and I am enjoying it so much" grin I have ever seen.
I also gave this kid his English name. I named him Paul after my dad and brother's middle, and I knew he was going to be one of those over enthusiastic, slightly-trouble inducing fellows.
In my 3.30 class I am so proud that my little student--Mina--who refused to talk until maybe a week ago, is raising her and and answering questions. Her voice is still tiny, but she answers them. It's so amazing.
At my 4.35 class, I walk into the wrong classroom. They changed it around, switching two of my classes around--but nobody thought it prudent to tell me. But I just turned around and walked out, because I recognized immediately that I was in the wrong place, and my brain connected the two occurrences, and it was just "business as usual."
In my 5.50 class, I called the desk on a student who was pissing me off. Another student refused to talk to me for the entire class, I thought because I failed to produce the stickers I had promised. I honestly went looking for them, and then I discovered that a student potentially stole them out of my unlocked desk drawers. Or I buried them under presentation papers. Who knows. After class, her two friends explain to me, in very broken English (and with a drawing on the board) why she was angry. It had nothing to do with me. But I think maybe the failure to produce stickers kicked her off the edge.
In my 6.55 class, one of my older students insists on screaming the Korean word for "delicious" in a demon voice. We have a great connection, this kid and I. He exhausts me when I'm already tired, but when I'm in a good mood I love to tease them. They tease me back and its hysterical. In this class I have a student, no joke, named "Major Joseph." He has an epic stutter and is the most nationalistically indoctrinated child I have ever met. I love him, but today I was so exhausted that I could barely deal with it. They drove me up the wall, but I loved them anyway, after walking away from the class. "Delicious" kid came back and talked to me for a while. He erased my board for me too. I used to buy coffee from his mom every day at the Dunkin Donuts below us. I always bow and wave at her now, if I come in that direction and catch her eye.
In my 8.00 class, there are two students. Ricky does his work, which is rare, and then the new girl, the one who has a really cool English name, and walks like she is from the hood, tells me all about her exploits as a teenager. She tells me about alcohol and smoking, and her friend that died because he crashed his motor bike at 160 meters per hour. I don't know if I believe her, but I keep asking her questions, and keep asking her: "Why are these people your friends?" She shows me her fake ID that she supposedly stole. And a visa card that she supposedly stole. I'm not sure what is what. They use English and I think it's kind of a joke to them. They don't know that they're really communicating, because all matters of substance to them happen in Korean. And I'm not sure she really thinks I'm a real person. She might be trying to impress me because there's this stereotype that Foreigners only drink and party. She tells me about clubs. I don't have the guts to ask her what clubs she's been to--or to tell her that they are all epicly lame. I'm not sure if I should even be having this conversation with her. But the hagwon camera is on, and she's doing all the talking. I'm asking questions--and occasionally telling her that she should make good, safe decisions. At one point, I tell her that the most important thing that anyone, anywhere, in any country can learn is how to choose friends who make you feel safe and happy. Hastily, after the bell rings, she tells me that she goes to church and believes in Jesus. I wonder if it wasn't just a joke to begin with.
I leave Little Fox and I go over to Taekwondo, where the dojeong is empty except for her brother. I sit next to him, ask him a few questions (he acts out just as much as she does--but mostly he charms the ladies), sit with him for a minute before I change my clothes. When I get back, he's on his way out and I start training.
Then I come home and I go to buy a beer at the corner mart next to my house, and I run into another foreigner, who lives next door to me but I've never really met. She's freaked out my my word-vomit "Hi, how are you? Who are you? I can't believe we're neighbors--can I have your number?" -- and she says, "Actually I'm leaving in three weeks." So I give up, don't make a new friend, and buy a liter of beer instead.
And I've been reading testimonial stories on Teach for America's website. Hence the out pour of love for the students, even when I hate their guts. I feel weak because I don't have enough patience, but I think the more I write it down, the easier it gets to keep that patience up. Who knows.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
World Cup and My Neighborhood
There are a lot of things I love about this country--and partially about being abroad in general. It's always amazing to watch soccer with people who really, really care about soccer. When Korea played Argentina on Thursday, it was a wild mess. Classes were canceled. (Not mine, though.) The streets were empty, and the game could be heard or seen from every television in the entire city. In the bar, everyone wore red--the Korean team's color--and howled and cheered with a kind of fanaticism that only comes from doing things in crowds. It was truly amazing--even though they lost.
And they didn't just loose. They REALLY lost. Soccer is a low scoring game, and to loose 4-1 is something that takes skill. In fact, the Korean players actually scored two goals in the game--one of them was Argentina's first. Bad luck, guys.
Anyway, next they're playing Nigeria, and Nigeria's not been having a good season. They lost to Argentina and to Greece. (Which the Koreans beat.) I am secretly rooting for all the African teams (but Ghana the most--duh.) Lucky for me, I have like 3 teams that I want to win, so I've got a great chance of being pretty excited with the final outcome.
In other news, I'm spending a much deserved and much wanted weekend being lazy at home. It's great. I am cleaning, fiddling with my decor, and finally getting my kitchen into shape. My neighborhood mystifies me for the contracts that I see here. I live in a non-descript, typical Korean small-size apartment building. An elderly woman owns it, collects money for bills, and maintains general order. On the other side of the street, there are the megolith blocks of 25-story buildings, all identital to each other, with their numbers painted on their sides, but here on this side of the street, strange things sit next to each other.
The trash dump across the street from me has been cleaned up. The lot used to be blocked off with aluminum siding, gated, and full of garbage. The lot across from me used to be a cabbage feild. Now it's an expensive looking duplex--the exterior is finished and now they're starting on the interior. There are men skirting around the skeleton structure on the outside. Next to me is the little mart, filled with all sorts of household items and food. It's family owned and the owners are excited to hear every new Korean phrase I learn.
But in addition to that, there are enormous houses, suburban enormities that for most Korean families are not the things they, themselves dream of owning, but the things they would buy for their parents if they suddenly won the lottery. One house looks as though it was designed by a rockstar architect in the sixties--it's all square and sharp lines, and Frank Loyd Wrighty--f-the Victorians. Though the expensive windows of that house don't look out onto a open feild, a forest, or even another house. They look into a cabbage patch the size of another suburban lot, and next to that there's another new apartment structure going up, and there are tanned men, covered head to toe, jumping around on scaffolding on its edges. There's a Chinese delivery restaurant that always has two or three moto drivers speeding food around town. One of them always waves at me when he sees me driving by. He invited me to drink coffee with him once, and I was really disappointed that I couldn't do it. He speaks no English. I have no idea what we would have talked about.
And in all these expensive houses, little plots of farmland, and construction projects, old women walk around with bent backs, picking up good cardboard and putting it on carts. There are no dumpsters even in rich suburbia, and piles of garbage sit outside in bright green bags--the color prescribed by Yuseong's garbage collection agency. One of these tan, ancient women recognizes me as she goes through the houses looking for boxes. She smiles sometimes, if I give her a little bow.
It doesn't seem to make sense--all this richness living right beside the farms, and the trash-picking grandmothers, and the little corner mart that would be in a poor but successful small town. This is one of the reasons that I really do enjoy Korea.
And they didn't just loose. They REALLY lost. Soccer is a low scoring game, and to loose 4-1 is something that takes skill. In fact, the Korean players actually scored two goals in the game--one of them was Argentina's first. Bad luck, guys.
Anyway, next they're playing Nigeria, and Nigeria's not been having a good season. They lost to Argentina and to Greece. (Which the Koreans beat.) I am secretly rooting for all the African teams (but Ghana the most--duh.) Lucky for me, I have like 3 teams that I want to win, so I've got a great chance of being pretty excited with the final outcome.
In other news, I'm spending a much deserved and much wanted weekend being lazy at home. It's great. I am cleaning, fiddling with my decor, and finally getting my kitchen into shape. My neighborhood mystifies me for the contracts that I see here. I live in a non-descript, typical Korean small-size apartment building. An elderly woman owns it, collects money for bills, and maintains general order. On the other side of the street, there are the megolith blocks of 25-story buildings, all identital to each other, with their numbers painted on their sides, but here on this side of the street, strange things sit next to each other.
The trash dump across the street from me has been cleaned up. The lot used to be blocked off with aluminum siding, gated, and full of garbage. The lot across from me used to be a cabbage feild. Now it's an expensive looking duplex--the exterior is finished and now they're starting on the interior. There are men skirting around the skeleton structure on the outside. Next to me is the little mart, filled with all sorts of household items and food. It's family owned and the owners are excited to hear every new Korean phrase I learn.
But in addition to that, there are enormous houses, suburban enormities that for most Korean families are not the things they, themselves dream of owning, but the things they would buy for their parents if they suddenly won the lottery. One house looks as though it was designed by a rockstar architect in the sixties--it's all square and sharp lines, and Frank Loyd Wrighty--f-the Victorians. Though the expensive windows of that house don't look out onto a open feild, a forest, or even another house. They look into a cabbage patch the size of another suburban lot, and next to that there's another new apartment structure going up, and there are tanned men, covered head to toe, jumping around on scaffolding on its edges. There's a Chinese delivery restaurant that always has two or three moto drivers speeding food around town. One of them always waves at me when he sees me driving by. He invited me to drink coffee with him once, and I was really disappointed that I couldn't do it. He speaks no English. I have no idea what we would have talked about.
And in all these expensive houses, little plots of farmland, and construction projects, old women walk around with bent backs, picking up good cardboard and putting it on carts. There are no dumpsters even in rich suburbia, and piles of garbage sit outside in bright green bags--the color prescribed by Yuseong's garbage collection agency. One of these tan, ancient women recognizes me as she goes through the houses looking for boxes. She smiles sometimes, if I give her a little bow.
It doesn't seem to make sense--all this richness living right beside the farms, and the trash-picking grandmothers, and the little corner mart that would be in a poor but successful small town. This is one of the reasons that I really do enjoy Korea.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Images that stick in your head
Last night, a little restless and bored, unable to sit down to read or write, I called up Kristen and we went for beers at the local convenience store. Sitting outside on a summer night, drinking liter bottles of beer outside of a convenience store is something quintessentially Korean, which I have really desired to do since I got here.
However, instead of sitting at the store (which was about to close), we headed up to the park and sat on benches for a little while, drinking our beer, eating ice cream, and discussing life and its charms and drawbacks. Slowly it started to rain, little drops that turned into big ones, few and far between, until we couldn't really sit out in the open any longer. We moved to sit under the park's pavilion, a raised table-like structure. Another man was already sitting there, eating cup ramen and watching the world cup on his cell phone.
We finished our beers as the rain got extravagant--huge monsoon style drops that fell so fast and so hard that the only audible thing was the roar of the water. The man next to us tried to start a conversation, but it didn't work, since English was terribly limited. But we shared a little moment as he showed me that the world cup game was Ghana vrs. Serbia.
Finally we decided to make a run for it, and got completely drenched in the less-than-100-meter stretch from the park to my apartment. Sneaking around piles of junk so that we could walk under awnings, flip flops soaked and slippery, drenched in summer rain.
Those are the images that stick with you.
However, instead of sitting at the store (which was about to close), we headed up to the park and sat on benches for a little while, drinking our beer, eating ice cream, and discussing life and its charms and drawbacks. Slowly it started to rain, little drops that turned into big ones, few and far between, until we couldn't really sit out in the open any longer. We moved to sit under the park's pavilion, a raised table-like structure. Another man was already sitting there, eating cup ramen and watching the world cup on his cell phone.
We finished our beers as the rain got extravagant--huge monsoon style drops that fell so fast and so hard that the only audible thing was the roar of the water. The man next to us tried to start a conversation, but it didn't work, since English was terribly limited. But we shared a little moment as he showed me that the world cup game was Ghana vrs. Serbia.
Finally we decided to make a run for it, and got completely drenched in the less-than-100-meter stretch from the park to my apartment. Sneaking around piles of junk so that we could walk under awnings, flip flops soaked and slippery, drenched in summer rain.
Those are the images that stick with you.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
On why I haven't posted in forever
I've been doing a lot of stuff. Last weekend I traveled to Busan for a little while, sat on the beach, enjoyed Mexican food, and listened to friends of a friend rap their little hearts out at an expat beach bar. Lot's of fun, I'll tell you. (I was even purchased a non-alcoholic shot by the wonderful bar tender, who refused to leave me alone about drinks, even though I insisted that I refused to drink.)
However, my writing inclinations have been leaning in a different direction. I've been completely absorbed by a novel that I'm working on, yet again. With a good six months between me and National Novel Writing Month, I feel as though I'm finally ready to finish this sucker. And it's coming out beautifully. Characters have taken weird turns, and they've done things that I didn't really want them to do, but despite that, I believe that's the beauty of good writing. Characters do what must be done, whether or not you enjoy it. More or less, I feel like a real writer again, and the writer's block has dissipated. And when that happens, folk, that's the thing I have to focus on, come hell or high water.
Anyway... I'm working on the final scenes and I've been rather antisocial as of late because of it. I'm interested in getting some readers, just people who can let me know what they think, get to know the characters, and let me know if the book is a good read.
The synopsis is as follows:
Victoria, the youngest of the late King and Queen of Coqueron, was cursed from birth with an allergy to the sun. In a world where the god of the sun and the goddess of the night are constantly in battle, Victoria is ostracized and kept away, because her eldest brother, the now-king, professes a love to Solaron, god of the sun. Left in a cold, dark house, without any children her own age, Victoria's first friends become the ghosts that live there. However, when she turns fourteen, her brother suddenly calls her to the palace of Coqueron to be initiated into court life.
However, my writing inclinations have been leaning in a different direction. I've been completely absorbed by a novel that I'm working on, yet again. With a good six months between me and National Novel Writing Month, I feel as though I'm finally ready to finish this sucker. And it's coming out beautifully. Characters have taken weird turns, and they've done things that I didn't really want them to do, but despite that, I believe that's the beauty of good writing. Characters do what must be done, whether or not you enjoy it. More or less, I feel like a real writer again, and the writer's block has dissipated. And when that happens, folk, that's the thing I have to focus on, come hell or high water.
Anyway... I'm working on the final scenes and I've been rather antisocial as of late because of it. I'm interested in getting some readers, just people who can let me know what they think, get to know the characters, and let me know if the book is a good read.
The synopsis is as follows:
Victoria, the youngest of the late King and Queen of Coqueron, was cursed from birth with an allergy to the sun. In a world where the god of the sun and the goddess of the night are constantly in battle, Victoria is ostracized and kept away, because her eldest brother, the now-king, professes a love to Solaron, god of the sun. Left in a cold, dark house, without any children her own age, Victoria's first friends become the ghosts that live there. However, when she turns fourteen, her brother suddenly calls her to the palace of Coqueron to be initiated into court life.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
One of Daejeon's Famous Places--and I finally got there!
Yesterday was election day, and so I had a very exciting holiday, in which I *finally* made it to Gyereong National Park. It's probably the only place in Daejeon that's famous, and it was really wonderful.
The park is huge, with many peaks to climb, but we took a short (and very steep) course up to some small pagodas and a tiny mountain hermitage. It was only about 1 mile (1.6 kilometers) but it was so steep and so abrupt that it took us almost two hours to get up.
The green and the summer smell is making me really happy these days. It gives me a lot of joy, even though I am battling with the homesickness of missing Minnesota summers. Oddly enough, I'm also getting waves of homesickness from Eagle Harbor-like vibes too. That's kind of sad, because I don't even know the next time I'll be able to go there.
The view from the top of the mountain was fantastic. The mountains were bathed in the green trees, except for enormous pieces of that tan-yellow Korean rock that peaks to give these particular mountains huge bald spots. Like the back of a boar, or perhaps something from a really good fantasy novel.
Speaking of fantasy novels--I'm looking for some good ones to read. I'm going to order some books on the internet so I'm in the market for good reads. Here's my list so far...
Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found
About Mumbai--the city I'm going to in India!! Woo!!
Adventure Divas: Searching the Globe for Women Who are Changing World
Really excited about this one: part travel memoir, part service to our sweet globe. Super exciting.
Holy Cow: An Indian Adventure
This book looks good because the author, at first, HATES India, and this is her story of learning to love it.
Haroun and the Sea of Stories
Salman Rushdie is such a big name these days... I want to read the Satanic Verses, too, since it's such a huge controversy, but the plot of the book looks a little out of my league.
The Darkness that Comes Before
A good old fashioned Fantasy novel to add to the mix--this one seems to have some good reviews, and the website says that it is similar to authors that I like.
Anyway, that's a lot... I need some help narrowing it down, but I'm hoping with all these books to read, I'll spend less time running around spending money. Right?
The park is huge, with many peaks to climb, but we took a short (and very steep) course up to some small pagodas and a tiny mountain hermitage. It was only about 1 mile (1.6 kilometers) but it was so steep and so abrupt that it took us almost two hours to get up.
The green and the summer smell is making me really happy these days. It gives me a lot of joy, even though I am battling with the homesickness of missing Minnesota summers. Oddly enough, I'm also getting waves of homesickness from Eagle Harbor-like vibes too. That's kind of sad, because I don't even know the next time I'll be able to go there.
The view from the top of the mountain was fantastic. The mountains were bathed in the green trees, except for enormous pieces of that tan-yellow Korean rock that peaks to give these particular mountains huge bald spots. Like the back of a boar, or perhaps something from a really good fantasy novel.
Speaking of fantasy novels--I'm looking for some good ones to read. I'm going to order some books on the internet so I'm in the market for good reads. Here's my list so far...
Maximum City: Bombay Lost and Found
About Mumbai--the city I'm going to in India!! Woo!!
Adventure Divas: Searching the Globe for Women Who are Changing World
Really excited about this one: part travel memoir, part service to our sweet globe. Super exciting.
Holy Cow: An Indian Adventure
This book looks good because the author, at first, HATES India, and this is her story of learning to love it.
Haroun and the Sea of Stories
Salman Rushdie is such a big name these days... I want to read the Satanic Verses, too, since it's such a huge controversy, but the plot of the book looks a little out of my league.
The Darkness that Comes Before
A good old fashioned Fantasy novel to add to the mix--this one seems to have some good reviews, and the website says that it is similar to authors that I like.
Anyway, that's a lot... I need some help narrowing it down, but I'm hoping with all these books to read, I'll spend less time running around spending money. Right?
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