Tag Archives: south korea

Rambling Thoughts on a Friday Afternoon

warning: post may include vapid soliloquy (also: TL;DR)

The thoughts I had regarding this all have really left me feeling lost. Nevertheless, I continue. Thinking, breathing, living. And what do I have to show for it? Well, let others be the judge. I can’t so much as remember the last few days, caught in a haze of work, sleep and television. And still the computer glare dims my eyes. I feel like I’ve been slowing leaking out my mind into the electronic universe. What to do. Where to me. How to feel. Not so much empty, as muted. I drift, and stumble, bored and unamused. I want to feel. I want to participate. I just can’t seem to find myself. How long have I sat here, without regard for time and space and duty. Have I so easily lost my drive? Where has it all gone. Whether or not there’s to be an end of it, I do need a change. I need a change in scenery and in daily routine. A change in thoughts and feeling. A change.

So where to start. Where to begin looking for inspiration and for a release from doubt? Frustrated and seemingly hopeless, yet not. How much is it my own sense of melodrama and charades, and how much of it is simply my inability or simply desire to move on. To change. To accept the fact that so far the past four years have been lovely, but rather inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

Four years of experience, seeing the world, experiencing its tumultuous citizens. Beautiful memories, and painful scars etched like pink ribbons across my body and soul. Yet, I do not have any regrets. It has been a time of exploration and discovery, and I wish all who have crossed my path well. Forgive and try to forget. Others, remember and fondly nurture the thoughts of one day reuniting, somewhere, somehow. The past isn’t a threat. The past isn’t a fear, or a worry. The future is what makes my stomach turn, and my heart start to race.

The future. That unknowing tomorrow, full of wonder and terror and possibility. Yet, I feel reticent to pursue it. I feel that I am keeping myself back, keeping change at bay. Again, the question begs for what reason? Fear? Simple unknowing? As the final days dwindle down to fewer and fewer, I start to wonder where I will find myself this time next year. If I close my eyes and wonder, I can honestly say I see myself with a certain someone. Or at least, I hope to see myself standing next to them. The thought of being in Korea, still, or better yet, again, makes me feel uneasy. Is it the thirst for change and novelty, that pushes me? Or perhaps, a sense of urgency that I need to be somewhere specific, and that Korea is not that place? It all circles the maze back to the big question.

What will you do when you grow up? To write. That was the easy answer. To write and to share my life’s joys and discoveries, pains and heartaches. To give of myself, to pass on my life to the outside world. A need perhaps born out of my intense hermetic self, uncomfortable in the presence of many strangers, eager to retreat to the safety and cool haven of home. Writing is my connection. It is my umbilical cord with which I connect to you. To them. To all of us. Yet, so what. Write? Write what? Write how? Where to live? How to live? Can I truly get behind this endeavour and give it a proper, honest shot – at last? Here the fear of failure is strongest. My self-professed calling – picturing it crashed down on the rocks below, in dismal rejection – that thought sends my brain to red alert. What then? What is I can’t write? What if I don’t write well? What if they don’t like it. What if it doesn’t sell. What else?

Another desire, teaching. To connect and share with others. To pursue and enrich my own knowledge, while sharing, and learning, from those who are on earlier paths than mine. If I were to pursue a life of academia, would it be successful? Do I have what it takes to succeed? Am I smart enough, or good enough, or do I even have “it” in me?

Questions, questions – indecision. Are these all fear, or rooted in genuine concern? I can’t tell. I don’t think so. I sit and think, and think and wonder. What will the next year bring?

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some thoughts on a spring afternoon

I’ve really become quite accustomed to this place. The waves of uniformed youth flooding the small streets in their regulation haircuts, the gradual warming of the spring air, and the bothersome arrival of pollen and Gobi Desert sand storms. Yes, it must be spring. New school year heralded by brand new backpacks, supervisor visits, and standing at attention. How familiar this has all become. Ever more so poignant, as I count down the last months of living in South Korea. What a journey, what a ride, what an experience. And yet, scattered throughout the tumulus moments were these instances of wonder and reflection. The ever present music wafting in from cafe and cellphone stores and arcades, blending in with the beeping of delivery scooters, and restless chirps of little birds. The sound of Korean spring. I close my eyes I can see the rush of waves at Haeundae beach, hearing the foam upon the surf, the seagulls, the endless murmur of Korean conversation. When I open them again, I’m back home, here in Ulsan. Surrounded by mountain ranges and countless fried chicken shops, this has become my home. And now as I face my upcoming departure, I sit and wonder just how much I’ve grown, and how much I’ll be leaving behind.

Freedom, friends, frustrations and folly – such were my years in the land of the morning calm. I close my eyes again and I’m back at the airport, almost four years ago. Exhausted, exhilarated and quite worried that I’ve gotten lost already. Fearless, and fate on my side, here I am, alive and well, and with a new smattering of wrinkles and scars in tow. How much have I grown? How much of it was due to living in East Asia, and how much was inevitable? I’d like to think, both factor in with important measure. Things will come to be, no matter where we are in life. Choices, decisions, taking a new path or a new turn, this is us, our free will. How it plays out? Out of our hands, and into the grasp of fate. God? Destiny, perhaps. I think fondly, rather amused, at my rambling thoughts. They have been my erstwhile companions these years. There is much to be said of the experience of living alone. Living apart. Away from family, friends and familiar territory. When nothing is familiar, and now, everything looks like home. I sit here and wonder, how much of home will I be leaving behind.

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