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Archive for the ‘major days’ Category

i’ve had this post open and writing for about 3 weeks now. but in an honest-to-blog diary-esque sorta way, i’m all okpo factored out.

(side note: if this post does indeed turn into some sort of raging wordy rant, i’ve taken the necessary precautions and littered my words with pictures of kids, flowers, and baked goods. because these are the things that make everyone feel better. well, except maybe if you’re charlie sheen.)

(additional side note: i actually don’t really even understand my above reference to charlie sheen. i’m just attempting to convince you all that i still understand every single pop culture reference ever happening everywhere in the world. shit man, quit being so hard on me!)

i’ve heard of these bumps happening for any (and probably all) ESL teachers as it comes to the point in their contract where they are exhausted with the daily over-pronunciation of their own words and the consequential simplified downfall of their grasp of the English language (if you pay any attention to detail, notice that i capitalized the “e” in english. if only to stray away from my usual writing style to prove to myself that i still understand english. wait, i mean English. damn.)

i don’t feel like writing about okpo anymore, much less south korea in general. although the novelty of some korean nuances remain, the whole rhetoric of my day-to-day has left me certifiably, in the dumps.

in any event, it doesn’t help that this whole blog attempt has not exactly reached the intended readers.  the most popular search terms that lead people to this site include: “strips clubs in okpo,” “okpo massage parlour,” and “how to get a girl in okpo.” and now those leads are just going to spike exponentially since they are explicitly written in this post. fuck. i’m failing all over the place here.

now by no means is this some sort of indefinite hiatus.

we’re just on a break for now, okay? you can see other people (or read other blogs….whatever really makes this analogy sound wittier).

as for me?

i just really need to figure out why charlie sheen even matters.

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sometimes people ask me (okay maybe like, once) “eh you! what’s the one single thing you miss most about home?”

it takes a lot for me to not quickly banshee out some gleeful response like “NOTHING! THIS PLACE IS DA BOMB DIGGITY. I’M NEVER GOING HOMEEEE!”

instead, i have to try (really hard) not to look like an asshat.

and in doing that, i also have to remind myself that my locational opinion and human being status fluctuates by the minute. (no, for real. forget that “i’m never going home” bullshit. get me on a plane outtaaaa here…. pronto!)

 

 

(okay no no. for real this time, i really do like it here. maybe one day i will devise some sort of witty top-ten list on why this place is the bee’s knees. and in doing so, i’ll try not to use phrases like “da bomb diggity.” you’d forgive me, right?)

 

in all seriousness, the thing that i miss most about home is not really a thing at all. you see, the thing that i miss the most (and am currently missing big-time) are the shows.

 

 

i know, i know. single me out for being the lamest girl on the planet.

 

 

of course i miss my pals, and the brunches, and the choice of more than two beers on tap. but i know that those things will remain constant. they are still there and will continue to be there. (i mean really, if aunties and uncles ever decided to change up their dill roasted potatoes, they would have to deal with a serious angry mob of starch-driven hipsters).

but those darn shows. the idea of them, the environment of them, the aftermath of them (which inevitably involved more than two kinds of draft beer). all of it. miss. it.

 

 

and not only do i miss going to shows, but i feel like i am missing a lot of bands that are touring my favourite haunts and a lot of bands showing up on the same bill together and a lot of things at shows that will probably never happen again ever and a lot of moments that will go underappreciated by the sweaty kids at shows and……no, i have to stop there.

 

yeah, those things are not exactly constant. and probably as i type this, i am missing some (if not all) of them.

 

 

perhaps it was the recent summer festival announcements that got me all nostalgic or austin’s own sxsw (and my lack of attendance) that had me reflecting on those “things” i miss the most. whatever the case may be, i’m restraining myself from reading recent reviews of shows or even searching out the next new pornographers hometown show.

 

 

and it’s probably for the best…

i just wouldn’t want to know what i’ve been missing.

 

 

(in an attempt to combat this ridiculous influx of self-pity, i recently scoured through pictures of the shows that i was lucky enough to be a part of, just in the last year. these were some of my favourite moments. favourite aftermaths. and favourite underappreciated moments.)

 

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with the awful nautical disasters happening in japan, all of my mundane musings seem wildly insignificant (and that much more mundane).

normally a st. patrick’s day would leave me giddingly bouncing around and counting down the hours until consumption starts.

but those words can wait for now.

instead, let’s send a little luck across to japan. i think they could use it.

http://www.shelterbox.org/

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by celestial standards, the first day of spring is march 21st.

but i don’t care what any solar calendar has to say. i’m declaring it officially spring here in okpo. (what? you don’t think i’m a qualified weather forecaster? well the hoards of kiddies that know the difference between “rainy” and “sunny” because of ME would likely disagree with you. plus it was something ridiculous like 17 degrees. ya, try and argue with THAT.)

it’s a good thing too. i was running out of ways to avoid the strangely unexpected bitterness of a south korean winter.

(i mean come on, there’s only so many times you can go tobogganing on the local golf course with children’s life perservers acting as a stand-in for your krazy carpet or GT racer.)

and so it was…gingerbread pancakes, fireworks in the middle of the afternoon, and countless soju bottles littering the beachfront.  

today just kind of punched bad-times winter right in the face.

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as a reckless undergraduate, i often took it upon myself to reason ridiculous nights of cheap lagers and free buses home. my rat didn’t die in psyc class today. let’s celebrate! i thought i lost my jacket but then remembered i was still wearing it. let’s get another round! i failed my driving test for the third time today. hello last call!

somehow, valentine’s day also squeezed itself onto that list of “reasons to excuse surliness.”

without much thought (and probably out of yearly habit), i shot off some loose-laid plans about pints and nachos to open tb ears. but then, just as it always seems to, okpo happened.

the whitening crunch and cancelled transit system meant the postponement of pints.

instead, i helped a wackload of 16 year old korean boys decorate semi-burnt cookies for their giggly and over appreciative girlfriends.

and as i finish off this post, i took a sip of what i expected to be chai tea. and what should have tasted like a blend of cinnamon and delicious indian spices, was actually a watered-down whiskey from dinner. i guess i got my excuse after all…

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admittedly, i am often a user (and abuser) of extremist language.

never, ever, always, best, worst, all of it, none of it. these are the words that practically pollute my vocabulary.

now in cases of extremist talkers, the whole boy-cried-wolf scenario is often assumed. was that really  “the best brunch EVER?” and come on let’s get serious, “you’re never drinking again?” these same assertions are heard again and again so can any of my claims really be taken seriously?

probably not.

but in my defense, things just seem a lot more certain if they are falling off either end of a spectrum (especially when discussing brunches and hangovers).

with that disclaimer in mind, i am pretty sure i may have very well experienced my worst week ever in geoje. now sure you can take this with a grain of 50% less sodium salt but hear me out….

recall my last post about the efficiency of pharmacists and over-the-counter medicines in south korea (and more specifically, okpo). all gravy right? wrong.

soon after i hit “publish” on that post, i started to notice some serious blurry vision in my right eye. not cool eyeball, not cool.

thinking i just needed a switch up in eye drops, i visited an actual eye doctor and hoped that this time, i could actually follow through with my whole award-winning charade skit. but instead, things took a turn for the ophthalmologically worst. (extremist alert).

after photographing my eyeball, doctor okpo let out a sigh and started saying “terrible” over and over and over again. at this point, i truly believed that i had met my extremist match. not really taking him too seriously, i quickly ran through my charade request for a better prescription or some cure-all formula for the double-double tricks of my eye. but then doctor okpo started getting real time serious. he was struggling to find fitting english words for his diagnosis (because we all know that “terrible” just doesn’t cut it in the medical world) and finally, probably out of pure translation exhaustion, settled on the word “permanent.”

permanent.

now that’s not one of those extremist claims that can be altered the next time you have a delicious bout of hollandaise sauce or a tasty microbrew.

i don’t think “permanent” can even be considered adequate vocab by us extremists. but confident with his choice of words, doctor okpo repeated this diagnosis for what seemed like ages.

fine dude. so this double, blurry, hazy vision is really “permanent” (i felt the need to mock doctor okpo by using hand quotations for his albeit wrongful diagnosis). up my prescription, give me a new batch of swan touch, surely something can be done to fix this whole mirror-in-a-hot-steamy-room vision thing.

but doctor okpo was insistent. with my permanent double-vision, nothing could be done. this was actually permanent. i would spend the rest of my life thinking there were two cans of pbr in front of me. for the rest of my life, i would not be  able to see the finer details of my belgium waffles. this was more than a bummer. this was the worst.

although this event on its own would be enough of an excuse to drop some extremist bombs, geoje had to up the ante a bit and toss out a bitter cold front that caused all the water tanks in our poor lil building to freeze. any turn of the tap meant nothing. no running water.

us extremists would deem this the worst week ever.

why you ask?

because now (with my permanent double-vision), im staring at not one, but two frozen water tanks.

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if the influx of activity on the book is any indication, new years eve is a kind of a funny human social practice.

next to st. patrick’s day, it is probably the most pressured drinking day of the year. and not only do we often test the limits of our livers, but we also put pressure on ourselves to evaluate our personal yearly accomplishments and size em up in some critical and unstandardized way.

 

 

and to make matters even worse, we then attempt to perspective it all by putting tons of importance on the last minutes of any given countdown as a reflective example of our time spent since last year’s countdown. we put on pretty new dresses, order rounds of the harshest shots, quadruple book ourselves with 30 of our closest friends, and make all those other last-ditch efforts just to validate those behaviours and decisions that we have made over the last year.

 

silly, silly, humans.

those lasting moments of the countdown, the final seconds of the passing year, are even funnier in and of itself. us humans will use those ticking seconds deciding if the way you spend the countdown is indicative of your last year OR predictive of the next 364 days of your life. and before you can even decide which is which, the moment is gone and you are left staring into an empty red plastic party cup and a room full of people who are searching for an unclaimed set of lips.

 

but sometimes those moments are more significant than new digits on our dated documents. sometimes we unintentionally make certain choices that then become these fate-like predictions of what we are meant to experience. as i write this, with a ridiculous grin on my face, i think of the aftermath of 2010’s countdown. i avoided my inevitable plane ride back to vancouver by head-nodding away in a vinyl booth at a late-night korean bbq haunt on bloor st. maybe this place was chosen because of its convenient across-the-street location from our bar of choice. or maybe, just maybe, this was some sort of ironic fortune-telling experience that would only play itself out in almost exactly the same way exactly one year later (save for the fact that this year’s haunt was a bit more authentic, my bibimap was far tastier, and my intoxicated chopstick skills have improved immensely).

as us humans declare the end of a year, we also overwhelm ourselves with these self-induced “possibilities” and “opportunities” that await us behind door number three (you know, the one labelled “2011”). we have this innate need to be held accountable for these unclaimed possibilities so in doing so, us humans decide to create unrealistic resolutions that we then announce to the world by any means necessary.

 

even though the motivation to change or even understand our own vices is inspiring enough, the realism of it all is that we most likely forget or probably even fail at achieving these unrealistic tasks before nhl playoffs even start.

but don’t be too hard on yourself ya hear? after all, you’re only human.

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