First, a mini-rant.
I hate, hate, hate, when all children's movies (and books, for that matter) must have a bad guy.
Sure, this is more dramatic -- Jafar (Aladdin), Gaston (Beauty and the Beast), Lord Farquaad (Shrek) were sure fun to despise -- there's no denying that. However, real life usually doesn't have such clean-cut good guys and bad guys, and it does a disservice to children to teach them to think in such "good/evil" terms. Most people who make your life miserable aren't being spiteful or evil; they're just not thinking about the consequences of their actions, or they have some other thing that's more important to them than your happiness. He didn't rip you off to make you unhappy; he ripped you off because he needs to put food on his kids' plates, and the loan collectors came by again last night. In movies for grown ups, I don't mind bad guys -- grown-ups have enough life experience to know this is fiction, while that over there is reality, and let's be honest -- a good bad guy makes a good movie, especially (mostly) in action films. (That's why Spiderman 2 was better than Spiderman 3, Batman 1 was better than Batman 4, why Hook was so much fun and Superman Returns was so lame. In each of those movies, the measure of the villain is the measure of the movie (to some extent). For a case in point, just look at which James Bond movies are memorable, and which ones are just limp. Everything else from one movie to the next is the same (other than the inventiveness of the chase scenes), so the villain is really the measure of the movie.) But with kids' movies. . . first of all, villains scare kids. Second of all, does it really help Billy to start thinking of Tommy in third grade as a villain, who's evil, and whom he must therefore vanquish (rather than just trying to make peace)? I don't think so.
That's why, especially for children's movies and stories, I really, really respect and admire the ones that have no bad guys. To me, Winnie the Pooh is the best example of this. Every character in Winnie the Pooh is unique, they're all friends, they usually get along, and they sometimes clash. The conflicts come out of their respective personalities -- Piglet gets scared on a windy night, Rabbit doesn't want to share his food with Pooh, Owl's tree blows down, Eeyore lost his tail, Piglet discovers a new game. There's no "snatcher" who comes out of the woods and kidnaps one of them from time to time, they just act like normal groups of friends in normal situations, like the ones their readers (kids) experience.
Well, I have another one.
Everybody, if you get the chance get your hands on Hayao Miyazaki's movie "My Neighbour Totoro" (Tonari no Totoro). Miyazaki is one of the best animators working right now -- his drawings and style and animation quality, as well as his sheer storytelling inventiveness and sense of wonder, all set wonderful standards for Japanese animation. Add to that the fact his stories are actually ABOUT stuff, rather than just being "evil alien robots (that are really well animated) invade earth, so humans have to invent new (really cool-looking) fighting styles, and wear (really neat) robot suits, to defeat them in really nifty fighting sequences with amazing explosions and dialogue shouted over kewl sound effects". A major theme in Princess Mononke was exploitation of the environment (rather than just cool mecha robot suits and schoolgirls in impossibly short skirts, common themes in some anime movies). All his movies are suitable for kids, though there are senses of whimsy and mystery that might be haunting, in the same way the book "Where the wild things are" haunted me, and stuck in my mind, when I was little.
The movie begins with a father and his two daughters moving into a quiet country house, a more relaxed place, where the girls can be a little more at ease than in the city. They need to do this because their mother is sick. She is in the hospital, with some unspecified but worrisome sickness that means she can't be with her daughters, and requires a lot of bedrest.
***spoiler warning*** I'm about to give away plot details, so if knowing a movie's plot points ruins the watching experience for you, then skip to the spot where it says ***spoiler warning over***
The younger sister wanders off one day and meets Totoro, a big, behemoth-sized creature of the woods, who happens to have magical powers. He has a huge, terrifyingly large mouth, but the teeth of an herbivore and a cute smile. He's a gentle, content monster, who often seems to smile like a Buddha. The little girl's first reaction, rather than abject terror at seeing this sleeping beast (we first meet him when he's asleep) is to fall asleep herself, right on his chest. Implicit trust.
The older sister meets him too, and, while they don't really have adventures per se, they have encounters with him that show he has a funny, quirky way, he has a few magical friends, and, most of all, he's looking out for them. During these girls' missing mother anxiety, a magical woodland beast happens to show up, to make them feel a little safer again.
The climax of the story, rather than being about a bully, a monster or some other such antagonist, comes with a letter from their mother's hospital, which brings the girls' anxiety about their missing mother to a head.
***spoiler warning over***
In all the situations, especially in the crisis at the end, both the girls' reactions are totally true to life, and show the storyteller's deep compassion for their anxiety, and the way Totoro and his magical friend resolve the crisis is sweet, gentle, and heart-breakingly true.
Sure, in part it's because I saw my own mother sick, so I intimately know and understand the anxiety these girls feel, but the ending, quite frankly, had me in a puddle, sobbing at the purity of the girls' love and concern for their mom. It's amazing that a filmmaker could catch such a primal emotion and strike right to the heart of it, in such a simple resolution.
And I thought, why ISN'T a child's love for its mother enough to be the main dramatic impetus for a movie? Why DON'T we see movies like this more often? That connection is so profound and deep, how shallow is it that we prefer watching a movie about some guys planning to rob a casino, where the main emotion and impulse is greed, rather than seeing tender films like this more often? How often are movies made about greed, revenge, or sheer survival, rather than being about love, loyalty, or commitment? Even when there's a "worthy cause" movie like Braveheart, where everybody's fighting for (let's all say it together) FREEEEEEEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!, they have to add his own, lower (clicheed) impulse (revenge: they killed his wife), and make it personal. (Have I ever mentioned how much I hate Braveheart? Another post. Another post.) Sure, there's nothing heroic or superhuman about the emotional journey these girls go through in "My Neighbour Totoro", but dammit, it's TRUE. The superhuman stuff highlights the human stuff, and draws it into sharper focus, rather than subsuming or even replacing it. The other problem, I suppose, is that it's so easy to take those emotions -- love, commitment, loyalty, dedication, doing right, redemption, etc., and make something sentimental and tawdry and manipulative with them, which sells real life short just as much as an oversimplified good guy/bad guy matrix.
Here's my favourite minute and a half in any animated film, ever. It perfectly shows Totoro's character, and the way he enjoys his life, and it made me think that Miyazaki must be a poet, to notice something like this, and then to put it into his movie.
He's roaring in delight. If you can find another ninety second clip that shows innocence and joy that purely, I wanna see it.
I'd rather read a book like that, I'd rather watch a movie like that. . .
Movies and books that are about those kinds of topics, that are compassionate and also true, that don't sell short their subjects, that respect their characters, that never lapse into sentimentality:
The Little Prince
A Complicated Kindness
Finding Nemo
Marvin's Room
again, Casablanca
(for its other flaws) Changing Lanes (with Ben Affleck and Samuel L. Jackson)
(if you look carefully enough)
Magnolia
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf -- ugly behaviour, but there are diamonds in that mud!
again
(even Jonathan Livingston Seagull let me down at the end, by becoming too mystical, and losing its moorings)
Please tell me: what else should I be reading or seeing?
one expat's life in Korea
Friday, May 18, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
Getting old and staying young
I've completely forgotten all the reasons I gave for not going out dancing every weekend (yes, this may just be the afterglow, but so what if it is?)
DJ -- house, trance, d'n'b (drum and bass) -- these are instrumental styles of music built on recorded bits of music -- a rhythm, an instrument noise, played and layered on top of each other, to create (as one sub-genre is named,) a trance-like state. A good DJ doesn't so much perform, as creates a space where dancers can cut loose, and then pokes and prods that space, through shifts in dynamics and sounds, to raise the crowd into a completely different place. After a whole night of this, the sheer sense of community, of having danced myself silly for four or six or eight hours, of having poured sweat with these other people, creates a sense of community among the dancers who remain as the party wears on. Everybody is your friend. The whole world is a beautiful place. Music is enough.
There's something wonderful about really dancing with abandon. For a cerebral fella like myself, who thinks everything to death and then some, to do something so physical is a return to my senses, to my body, like exercise or yoga, it re-balances me. This, of course, is quite healthy. I'm glad I went: I almost didn't. I've had a few other nights recently where I've thought, "Hey, I should go dancing," and then thought, "Oh, it'll be so crowded," or "I never make new friends when I go dancing anyway; why should I bother?" or some other excuse, but the fact is, once I'm actually out there dancing, if I'm actually there just to dance, the rest of the world backs off pretty quick. As soon as my heart-rate goes up, really.
As we get older, it seems many/most of us become less inclined to go out and jump into some new experience. Sure, sometimes those things are uncomfortable. . . but are they actually uncomfortable, or just unfamiliar?
Young people accuse old people of being too conservative, of never trying new things, of thinking too readily in the set forms. At what age, at what point, do our minds close, and is that a natural/almost inevitable part of growing old, or is it a choice we each make? I don't think it happens at one clear watershed moment -- or some people would be sharp enough, and sensitive enough, to realise, "this is the point where I choose to continue learning new things, or choose to stay in my groove until it becomes a rut", and choose new, adventurous paths. In Julius Caesar, Shakespeare wrote, "Cowards die many times before their deaths" -- each time he chooses the easy way instead of the path of right, or the path of greatness. Might growing old be like that too? Is it those thousand little deaths, those thousand little "no"'s piled up on top of each other, until leaning into the familiar and shunning the unknown/uncomfortable becomes part of our nature? Is there anything wrong with that, or is that another (negative) way of describing the natural process of putting down roots?
On the other hand, part of it is our responsibilities. It's harder to go out and dance all night if one is committed to a 10am Men's breakfast, or church attendance, or family Saturdays. As your life gets more involved, more rooted, one must make cancellations, if one would do something spontaneous. And let's be honest -- some people go have adventures because their friends are, rather than because of any open-mindedness on their own part.
Might it be that we forget to break routine, that it simply stops occurring to us?
I don't know. Anyway, I've been thinking about what it means to grow up, the difference between growing up and growing old, and such things, lately, as I've met people who have told me I'm young-hearted, and other variations on that theme. It seems that usually when I'm called young-hearted, it's closely connected with my willingness to try new things, or to try and understand things on their own terms, rather than trying to force my own filters of understanding on them. Among the people I've spoken with, there seems to be some kind of implicit assumption that one of the divisions between youth and age is some kind of . . . I hate to say shutting of the mind, so let's say some kind of entrenchment in ones' own ways. Of course, this entrenchment can be caused by a lot of different things -- I think often it's dictated by the requirements of one's commitments -- the schedule required by work, by family, etc., that leads people to becoming "responsible adults". Sometimes the main determiner is sheer physical health, or budget -- some people stop drinking heavily simply because their bodies start taking three days to recover from one night on the town, or because they need to make their car payments.
I'd be interested to hear what some of you (my lovely readers) think about this. What do YOU think is the difference between growing up and growing old, and, especially, what changes inside a person when they become an "adult" -- is it something external, or internal, or a combination, or is it another of those frustrating things that's totally different for every person alive? (Probably, eh?)
(For a really beautiful insight on growing up, watch the movie "Finding Neverland", one of the most touching, tender movies about growing up and staying young I've seen. It's so compassionate toward its characters, the movie loves its characters, which makes YOU love them, too. It's really wonderful.)
By the way: here are some of the movies I've seen that have made me love or care about their characters recently. They also double as some of my favourite movies of the last five years. (Go figure.) In my world, if you don't have compassion, why are you writing a screenplay, book, play, etc.?
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind -- the truest look at how people love each other, and hurt the ones they love the most, I've seen. Might be the wisest love story ever to come out of Hollywood.
Million Dollar Baby
Finding Neverland
Leaving Las Vegas (so so sad, but also so respectful of both main characters.)
Going back a bit, you just gotta see Casablanca. Really.
k. love you all
later
rob
(addendum:) I read a few comments on this blog, and I want to add. . . how terribly judgemental I sound here! I've thought again about what I said there, about those thousand little deaths, the thousand little no's -- there is much more than that. Maybe there's a difference between closing one's mind, and simply choosing to focus one's mind in a chosen direction. There must be. Some people choose "no" -- they choose to stay in a rut, rather than working to improve their lives. However, I think some people also simply commit to the choices they've already made, and by doing that, they open up new channels that can't be opened if you don't commit to them.
For example: marriage. If looked at one way, it's a way of saying "no" to every other potential mate in the world. How terribly narrow-minded! Why would anyone ever do that? Yet in another way, it's a way of saying "Yes!" to a future with a single person. The options and possiblities that can open up when one commits to that kind of future, are amazing, and beautiful, and praiseworthy. So maybe, a person isn't so much saying "no" to some kinds of new experiences, as saying "yes" to deepening and committing to another kind of experience. That's another kind of growing old/growing up, but it's good, as long as one doesn't start insisting others follow the same path, and judging others who choose a different way (that's where crotchety old men/women come from. . . maybe). Some people choose a path, and grow. Some people choose a path, and grow old. Maybe you don't really grow OLD until you've stopped growing on the path you've chosen. . . and I bet you start growing old much faster if you start regretting that chosen path, but do nothing to change your outlook.
There. Is that a more even-handed, less "young-and-single"-centric view of growing old?
DJ -- house, trance, d'n'b (drum and bass) -- these are instrumental styles of music built on recorded bits of music -- a rhythm, an instrument noise, played and layered on top of each other, to create (as one sub-genre is named,) a trance-like state. A good DJ doesn't so much perform, as creates a space where dancers can cut loose, and then pokes and prods that space, through shifts in dynamics and sounds, to raise the crowd into a completely different place. After a whole night of this, the sheer sense of community, of having danced myself silly for four or six or eight hours, of having poured sweat with these other people, creates a sense of community among the dancers who remain as the party wears on. Everybody is your friend. The whole world is a beautiful place. Music is enough.
There's something wonderful about really dancing with abandon. For a cerebral fella like myself, who thinks everything to death and then some, to do something so physical is a return to my senses, to my body, like exercise or yoga, it re-balances me. This, of course, is quite healthy. I'm glad I went: I almost didn't. I've had a few other nights recently where I've thought, "Hey, I should go dancing," and then thought, "Oh, it'll be so crowded," or "I never make new friends when I go dancing anyway; why should I bother?" or some other excuse, but the fact is, once I'm actually out there dancing, if I'm actually there just to dance, the rest of the world backs off pretty quick. As soon as my heart-rate goes up, really.
As we get older, it seems many/most of us become less inclined to go out and jump into some new experience. Sure, sometimes those things are uncomfortable. . . but are they actually uncomfortable, or just unfamiliar?
Young people accuse old people of being too conservative, of never trying new things, of thinking too readily in the set forms. At what age, at what point, do our minds close, and is that a natural/almost inevitable part of growing old, or is it a choice we each make? I don't think it happens at one clear watershed moment -- or some people would be sharp enough, and sensitive enough, to realise, "this is the point where I choose to continue learning new things, or choose to stay in my groove until it becomes a rut", and choose new, adventurous paths. In Julius Caesar, Shakespeare wrote, "Cowards die many times before their deaths" -- each time he chooses the easy way instead of the path of right, or the path of greatness. Might growing old be like that too? Is it those thousand little deaths, those thousand little "no"'s piled up on top of each other, until leaning into the familiar and shunning the unknown/uncomfortable becomes part of our nature? Is there anything wrong with that, or is that another (negative) way of describing the natural process of putting down roots?
On the other hand, part of it is our responsibilities. It's harder to go out and dance all night if one is committed to a 10am Men's breakfast, or church attendance, or family Saturdays. As your life gets more involved, more rooted, one must make cancellations, if one would do something spontaneous. And let's be honest -- some people go have adventures because their friends are, rather than because of any open-mindedness on their own part.
Might it be that we forget to break routine, that it simply stops occurring to us?
I don't know. Anyway, I've been thinking about what it means to grow up, the difference between growing up and growing old, and such things, lately, as I've met people who have told me I'm young-hearted, and other variations on that theme. It seems that usually when I'm called young-hearted, it's closely connected with my willingness to try new things, or to try and understand things on their own terms, rather than trying to force my own filters of understanding on them. Among the people I've spoken with, there seems to be some kind of implicit assumption that one of the divisions between youth and age is some kind of . . . I hate to say shutting of the mind, so let's say some kind of entrenchment in ones' own ways. Of course, this entrenchment can be caused by a lot of different things -- I think often it's dictated by the requirements of one's commitments -- the schedule required by work, by family, etc., that leads people to becoming "responsible adults". Sometimes the main determiner is sheer physical health, or budget -- some people stop drinking heavily simply because their bodies start taking three days to recover from one night on the town, or because they need to make their car payments.
I'd be interested to hear what some of you (my lovely readers) think about this. What do YOU think is the difference between growing up and growing old, and, especially, what changes inside a person when they become an "adult" -- is it something external, or internal, or a combination, or is it another of those frustrating things that's totally different for every person alive? (Probably, eh?)
(For a really beautiful insight on growing up, watch the movie "Finding Neverland", one of the most touching, tender movies about growing up and staying young I've seen. It's so compassionate toward its characters, the movie loves its characters, which makes YOU love them, too. It's really wonderful.)
By the way: here are some of the movies I've seen that have made me love or care about their characters recently. They also double as some of my favourite movies of the last five years. (Go figure.) In my world, if you don't have compassion, why are you writing a screenplay, book, play, etc.?
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind -- the truest look at how people love each other, and hurt the ones they love the most, I've seen. Might be the wisest love story ever to come out of Hollywood.
Million Dollar Baby
Finding Neverland
Leaving Las Vegas (so so sad, but also so respectful of both main characters.)
Going back a bit, you just gotta see Casablanca. Really.
k. love you all
later
rob
(addendum:) I read a few comments on this blog, and I want to add. . . how terribly judgemental I sound here! I've thought again about what I said there, about those thousand little deaths, the thousand little no's -- there is much more than that. Maybe there's a difference between closing one's mind, and simply choosing to focus one's mind in a chosen direction. There must be. Some people choose "no" -- they choose to stay in a rut, rather than working to improve their lives. However, I think some people also simply commit to the choices they've already made, and by doing that, they open up new channels that can't be opened if you don't commit to them.
For example: marriage. If looked at one way, it's a way of saying "no" to every other potential mate in the world. How terribly narrow-minded! Why would anyone ever do that? Yet in another way, it's a way of saying "Yes!" to a future with a single person. The options and possiblities that can open up when one commits to that kind of future, are amazing, and beautiful, and praiseworthy. So maybe, a person isn't so much saying "no" to some kinds of new experiences, as saying "yes" to deepening and committing to another kind of experience. That's another kind of growing old/growing up, but it's good, as long as one doesn't start insisting others follow the same path, and judging others who choose a different way (that's where crotchety old men/women come from. . . maybe). Some people choose a path, and grow. Some people choose a path, and grow old. Maybe you don't really grow OLD until you've stopped growing on the path you've chosen. . . and I bet you start growing old much faster if you start regretting that chosen path, but do nothing to change your outlook.
There. Is that a more even-handed, less "young-and-single"-centric view of growing old?
Sunday, May 06, 2007
my most asinine post yet. (don't worry: the end is better than the beginning)
ok, dont bother watching, but hit play on this clip when you start reading this post: that way, you'll be listening to good music (well, good by MY measuring stick) while you read. More about the band at the end of the post. Push play, and then move down. Dont watch (unless you really, really want to). Just move on and read with music playing.
Frederica, by Do Make Say Think
I think I'm stealing somebodys wireless, but the fact remains, I have internet at home today. (Goodbye free time. Sigh)
The upshot of my loss of free time is that I can show you some of the pictures I've been taking.
I'm doing well -- even looking well.
Compare.
Here's me giving the toast at my brother's wedding, July 2005. One of my girlfriends* looked at this picture and her first impression was "Wow. You're fat in this picture." Not long after that, she went away. Banished for life from the glorious land of Roboseyo.
(* now ex)
This next picture was me in September 2006, I think.
Work stress and things, yah yah yah. (In Korea, instead of saying "blah blah blah", Koreans say "shalah shalah shalah" - apparently THEY're the ones who put the Shalah in the Shamalama-ding-dong! (you may come over and shake their hands if you like; I still don't know who put the bop in the bop shabop shabop, but it may also have been Koreans, because bap means "rice" here, and Koreans put bap in almost everything.) Anyway, since starting my new job, I've been eating better, because my eating habits have been more intentional -- rather than eating a comfort food at the end of a tiring day, and vegging out, my new schedule helps me feel productive, so that I'm making intentional choices toward better health, rather than just choices that help me feel better (as a reaction to stress/exhaustion/boredom). I've been walking more, doing yoga more, eating fewer snacks between meals, and making healthier food choices. See the next picture: that's how I looked three weeks ago. (I also weighed myself: I'm lighter, too.) You may think I'm just sucking in better, but I assure you, I still havent learned how to suck in my forehead.
Now that I've started doing Yoga every day, you may notice a slight change, even from three weeks ago, to these pictures I took of myself this morning.
It's amazing what healthier lifestyles can do for us.
Enough self-congratulation, then. I have to admit some details of the last few paragraphs and pictures were slightly exaggerated or fictionalized; I haven't actually started doing yoga daily, for example.
Yesterday night, after my friend went home, I was wandering around Jongno, the party district, at about midnight, stone-cold sober, watching drunk people walk around and have fun, but not feeling like drinking myself. Then, this blonde fellow came up to the street food stand where I was eating (I was also eating street food), and started a chat. He was a Polish/German tourist named Raphael, who was on a one night layover between Australia and Germany, and he wanted to catch a sniff of Korean culture in the ten hours he had in Seoul. Little did he know he ran into exactly the right person. Anyone who's come out to Seoul to see me (that's two: Dad, and Mom, for all you keeping score) knows how much I love to give a tour, so I took him to eat one of the most traditional dishes (barbeque pork with soju, strange-tasting Korean liquor) (soju and samgyupsal is about eighty percent guaranteed to be the food and drink you'll have if you go out in a group with more than five Koreans -- it's like Pizza Hut, Earl's, White Spot, and Red Robin's all combined, and cheaper, in Korea -- the safe, inexpensive, inoffensive choice that nobody will disagree with, that eventually becomes the default "can't think of anywhere else to go" choice.)
So we had that, and it was fun, and I talked about Korea's culture and history a bit, and he talked about his desire to experience new cultures, and I talked about the odd sensation of being a white, visible minority in Korea, the unique solitude born of being in an ocean of people speaking a language one doesn't understand, etc.. Anyway, it was great meeting another world traveller, another culture-chaser. Much more interesting and edifying than getting half-hammed and sweaty in a dance club, just like a hundred other nights. This guy was really cool and open-minded, and if I'm ever in Germany, I'll definitely look him up, and he'll return the tour, and show me around his town.
These two sculptures were right next to each other in the park outside Seoul's city hall. I won't go into detail, but I think the symbolism is overt enough that I don't need to.
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Konglish persists in Korea. Try and guess what this shirt means.
Once I saw a t-shirt whose caption actually was:
Ill gosdfsdfsdfsdf
jlkjlkjlkljsdkljfsf
ghdfhghg
It was awesome.
I want to be the one who writes the nonsense captions for Engrish t-shirts. I want to make up intentionally nonsensical phrases that seem to have just enough intention behind them to make people shake their heads and say "what are they ACTUALLY trying to say?" because the best ones ARE trying to say something, but get it wrong. I also want to invent captions for shirts where the main fun is trying to find letters that look cool together.
What do YOU think is the coolest word just to look at? My nomination is "ogopogo" -- so many circles (plus, it's really fun to say).
(The other best ones are the ones the people wear and have NO idea what it means. Innocent, sweet girls wearing t-shirts saying things like "Deep throat" (and a picture of a giraffe) -- this was a secretary at our school. She turned violent puce when I explained to her why she shouldn't wear that shirt to work again.
or "I like to get it on with guys who vote", or just ridiculous phrases, like the fifty-year old woman who walked by me with a shirt saying, "you be breakin' on me, I be breakin' on you")
Spring is here.
I like spring.
Here are some fantastic foods available for you in Korea: my old boss used to brag that Koreans used every part of the animal. Including. . .
The intestines. I found a special restaurant dedicated to eating cow intestines! You can also buy pig's feet here; it's said to be really good for your skin, so you'll see young women holding a big ugly pig's claw, trying to gnaw the meat off it (without getting grease on their cheeks), as if they were holding a corn dog that accidentally had bone in it. At the pig foot restaurants, sometimes you can also see the entire pigs face, set out to dry (for what purpose, I have no idea. Haven't gotten around to investigating yet. The day is so short, you know!)
Fortunately, if you don't like all that, you can buy a toothpaste that will kill your bad breath. . . and your calculus.
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I have some packages that ought to be arriving soon. . . I hope they do. They seem a tad late. I hope I got my mailing address correct when I sent it out.
I went back to my old school the other day. That was nice -- to see the little ones. They were SO excited to see me! It was like being a Beatle. . . if the Beatles were twice as tall as ordinary humans. All the kids who knew me crowded around and tried to hold my hand, and they all tried to tell me -- something. Anything. Really, it wasn't important what, just that they were talking to their old teacher, of course. "Teacher! I have a loose tooth!" Basically means "I'm happy to see you again," in kid speak. I do miss those people. . . but not quite enough to go back. Caleb and Heather aren't there anyway.
As the blog goes, I'm thrilled that people have been commenting on my posts. It really helps me feel like people are reading it, and know what's going on. The site doesn't count how many people come and visit my blog (or at least, I don't know how to check), so if you leave your "footprints" as one person said, it helps me know that you've been here. And that warms my heart.
The problem is this: I now have a myspace page, a facebook page, and a blog, all of which have different people who check them, etc.. While facebook etc. is nice (if you want to put in the time) to create a "me" space more individualized than a mere e-mail address -- you can put links and lists of friends up and stuff -- it's starting to get harder to keep track again; instead of getting an e-mail from a friend which I can immediately open, read, and answer, I now get an e-mail from the facebook administrator, or the myspace administrator, saying "xxx sent you a message in Facebook" or "wrote on your wall" and I have to click a link and log on to read what I used to be able to read immediately. Just funny, is all. I'm not really complaining: I've heard from people I would never have gotten back in touch with otherwise -- including some grade school friends, and long-lost connections. That's neat, but I wish I didnt need five different logins and ids and passwords just to keep tabs -- it's sort of like having six different discount cards in your wallet, each for a different set of restaurants and shops, and having to sort through your wallet each time you make a purchase, for the right card to swipe. Time consuming.
I wish they could consolidate all those into a single swipe card (or just a thumb print), instead of making me wait in line for the person ahead of me who owns every discount card on the planet, and needs to know if she can save 18% by paying with her debit card, rather than just saving 15% by paying with her CocaCola Credit Card, along with the JLX Fast Food Alliance Membership Discount Card. Yug. So I want to consolidate all the "internet in touch" services, instead of having myspace, facebook, blogspot, and yahoo e-mail (as well as a g-mail address), I want to just have a "myblogface G-hoo mail account". With one password.
I just made a set of cds called my "joy of life trio" -- it's a collection of all the songs that put a big old smile on my face, whether from silly happiness, from some kind of reflective satisfied feeling, or from pure elevation. Music is so wonderful at taking us to another place. If you ask really nicely, I'll post the playlists, so you can find those songs and be cool like me. (And happy like me.)
One of my favourite bands for "elevation" these days is a Canadian instrumental group called "Do, Make, Say, Think". This is a live clip of one of their songs -- I highly, highly recommend their CDs "You, You're a History in Rust" and especially, "Winter Hymn, Country Hymn, Secret Hymn" Give them a try, if you like music that takes you on a journey. Really, seriously. You've been listening to a live clip of a song from "Winter Hymn Country Hymn, Secret Hymn" called "Frederica" that nicely shows how they play with dynamics and composition -- the sound quality's a bit poor (live recording), but the music is great.
Anyway, that's a little of what's been keeping a grin on my grill lately.
And here's one more music clip -- this might be the most beautiful live performance I've seen in my life. If you aren't into modern music, don't bother with "Do, Make, Say, Think", but if you love things of beauty at all, watch this one.
Landslide (Stevie Nicks) -- dead link. sorry.
Peace.
-Rob
Frederica, by Do Make Say Think
I think I'm stealing somebodys wireless, but the fact remains, I have internet at home today. (Goodbye free time. Sigh)
The upshot of my loss of free time is that I can show you some of the pictures I've been taking.
I'm doing well -- even looking well.
Compare.
Here's me giving the toast at my brother's wedding, July 2005. One of my girlfriends* looked at this picture and her first impression was "Wow. You're fat in this picture." Not long after that, she went away. Banished for life from the glorious land of Roboseyo.
(* now ex)
This next picture was me in September 2006, I think.
Work stress and things, yah yah yah. (In Korea, instead of saying "blah blah blah", Koreans say "shalah shalah shalah" - apparently THEY're the ones who put the Shalah in the Shamalama-ding-dong! (you may come over and shake their hands if you like; I still don't know who put the bop in the bop shabop shabop, but it may also have been Koreans, because bap means "rice" here, and Koreans put bap in almost everything.) Anyway, since starting my new job, I've been eating better, because my eating habits have been more intentional -- rather than eating a comfort food at the end of a tiring day, and vegging out, my new schedule helps me feel productive, so that I'm making intentional choices toward better health, rather than just choices that help me feel better (as a reaction to stress/exhaustion/boredom). I've been walking more, doing yoga more, eating fewer snacks between meals, and making healthier food choices. See the next picture: that's how I looked three weeks ago. (I also weighed myself: I'm lighter, too.) You may think I'm just sucking in better, but I assure you, I still havent learned how to suck in my forehead.
Now that I've started doing Yoga every day, you may notice a slight change, even from three weeks ago, to these pictures I took of myself this morning.
It's amazing what healthier lifestyles can do for us.
Enough self-congratulation, then. I have to admit some details of the last few paragraphs and pictures were slightly exaggerated or fictionalized; I haven't actually started doing yoga daily, for example.
Yesterday night, after my friend went home, I was wandering around Jongno, the party district, at about midnight, stone-cold sober, watching drunk people walk around and have fun, but not feeling like drinking myself. Then, this blonde fellow came up to the street food stand where I was eating (I was also eating street food), and started a chat. He was a Polish/German tourist named Raphael, who was on a one night layover between Australia and Germany, and he wanted to catch a sniff of Korean culture in the ten hours he had in Seoul. Little did he know he ran into exactly the right person. Anyone who's come out to Seoul to see me (that's two: Dad, and Mom, for all you keeping score) knows how much I love to give a tour, so I took him to eat one of the most traditional dishes (barbeque pork with soju, strange-tasting Korean liquor) (soju and samgyupsal is about eighty percent guaranteed to be the food and drink you'll have if you go out in a group with more than five Koreans -- it's like Pizza Hut, Earl's, White Spot, and Red Robin's all combined, and cheaper, in Korea -- the safe, inexpensive, inoffensive choice that nobody will disagree with, that eventually becomes the default "can't think of anywhere else to go" choice.)
So we had that, and it was fun, and I talked about Korea's culture and history a bit, and he talked about his desire to experience new cultures, and I talked about the odd sensation of being a white, visible minority in Korea, the unique solitude born of being in an ocean of people speaking a language one doesn't understand, etc.. Anyway, it was great meeting another world traveller, another culture-chaser. Much more interesting and edifying than getting half-hammed and sweaty in a dance club, just like a hundred other nights. This guy was really cool and open-minded, and if I'm ever in Germany, I'll definitely look him up, and he'll return the tour, and show me around his town.
These two sculptures were right next to each other in the park outside Seoul's city hall. I won't go into detail, but I think the symbolism is overt enough that I don't need to.
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Konglish persists in Korea. Try and guess what this shirt means.
Once I saw a t-shirt whose caption actually was:
Ill gosdfsdfsdfsdf
jlkjlkjlkljsdkljfsf
ghdfhghg
It was awesome.
I want to be the one who writes the nonsense captions for Engrish t-shirts. I want to make up intentionally nonsensical phrases that seem to have just enough intention behind them to make people shake their heads and say "what are they ACTUALLY trying to say?" because the best ones ARE trying to say something, but get it wrong. I also want to invent captions for shirts where the main fun is trying to find letters that look cool together.
What do YOU think is the coolest word just to look at? My nomination is "ogopogo" -- so many circles (plus, it's really fun to say).
(The other best ones are the ones the people wear and have NO idea what it means. Innocent, sweet girls wearing t-shirts saying things like "Deep throat" (and a picture of a giraffe) -- this was a secretary at our school. She turned violent puce when I explained to her why she shouldn't wear that shirt to work again.
or "I like to get it on with guys who vote", or just ridiculous phrases, like the fifty-year old woman who walked by me with a shirt saying, "you be breakin' on me, I be breakin' on you")
Spring is here.
I like spring.Here are some fantastic foods available for you in Korea: my old boss used to brag that Koreans used every part of the animal. Including. . .
The intestines. I found a special restaurant dedicated to eating cow intestines! You can also buy pig's feet here; it's said to be really good for your skin, so you'll see young women holding a big ugly pig's claw, trying to gnaw the meat off it (without getting grease on their cheeks), as if they were holding a corn dog that accidentally had bone in it. At the pig foot restaurants, sometimes you can also see the entire pigs face, set out to dry (for what purpose, I have no idea. Haven't gotten around to investigating yet. The day is so short, you know!)Fortunately, if you don't like all that, you can buy a toothpaste that will kill your bad breath. . . and your calculus.
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I have some packages that ought to be arriving soon. . . I hope they do. They seem a tad late. I hope I got my mailing address correct when I sent it out.I went back to my old school the other day. That was nice -- to see the little ones. They were SO excited to see me! It was like being a Beatle. . . if the Beatles were twice as tall as ordinary humans. All the kids who knew me crowded around and tried to hold my hand, and they all tried to tell me -- something. Anything. Really, it wasn't important what, just that they were talking to their old teacher, of course. "Teacher! I have a loose tooth!" Basically means "I'm happy to see you again," in kid speak. I do miss those people. . . but not quite enough to go back. Caleb and Heather aren't there anyway.
As the blog goes, I'm thrilled that people have been commenting on my posts. It really helps me feel like people are reading it, and know what's going on. The site doesn't count how many people come and visit my blog (or at least, I don't know how to check), so if you leave your "footprints" as one person said, it helps me know that you've been here. And that warms my heart.
The problem is this: I now have a myspace page, a facebook page, and a blog, all of which have different people who check them, etc.. While facebook etc. is nice (if you want to put in the time) to create a "me" space more individualized than a mere e-mail address -- you can put links and lists of friends up and stuff -- it's starting to get harder to keep track again; instead of getting an e-mail from a friend which I can immediately open, read, and answer, I now get an e-mail from the facebook administrator, or the myspace administrator, saying "xxx sent you a message in Facebook" or "wrote on your wall" and I have to click a link and log on to read what I used to be able to read immediately. Just funny, is all. I'm not really complaining: I've heard from people I would never have gotten back in touch with otherwise -- including some grade school friends, and long-lost connections. That's neat, but I wish I didnt need five different logins and ids and passwords just to keep tabs -- it's sort of like having six different discount cards in your wallet, each for a different set of restaurants and shops, and having to sort through your wallet each time you make a purchase, for the right card to swipe. Time consuming.
I wish they could consolidate all those into a single swipe card (or just a thumb print), instead of making me wait in line for the person ahead of me who owns every discount card on the planet, and needs to know if she can save 18% by paying with her debit card, rather than just saving 15% by paying with her CocaCola Credit Card, along with the JLX Fast Food Alliance Membership Discount Card. Yug. So I want to consolidate all the "internet in touch" services, instead of having myspace, facebook, blogspot, and yahoo e-mail (as well as a g-mail address), I want to just have a "myblogface G-hoo mail account". With one password.
I just made a set of cds called my "joy of life trio" -- it's a collection of all the songs that put a big old smile on my face, whether from silly happiness, from some kind of reflective satisfied feeling, or from pure elevation. Music is so wonderful at taking us to another place. If you ask really nicely, I'll post the playlists, so you can find those songs and be cool like me. (And happy like me.)
One of my favourite bands for "elevation" these days is a Canadian instrumental group called "Do, Make, Say, Think". This is a live clip of one of their songs -- I highly, highly recommend their CDs "You, You're a History in Rust" and especially, "Winter Hymn, Country Hymn, Secret Hymn" Give them a try, if you like music that takes you on a journey. Really, seriously. You've been listening to a live clip of a song from "Winter Hymn Country Hymn, Secret Hymn" called "Frederica" that nicely shows how they play with dynamics and composition -- the sound quality's a bit poor (live recording), but the music is great.
Anyway, that's a little of what's been keeping a grin on my grill lately.
And here's one more music clip -- this might be the most beautiful live performance I've seen in my life. If you aren't into modern music, don't bother with "Do, Make, Say, Think", but if you love things of beauty at all, watch this one.
Landslide (Stevie Nicks) -- dead link. sorry.
Peace.
-Rob
Friday, April 27, 2007
Ooh ooh ooh! More Cirque!
I found clips online!
This is one of my favourite ones. The toys are called diabolos -- they're a juggling toy, similar (in a lot of ways) to a yo-yo, but bigger, and cooler-looking when you're in Cirque du Soleil.
This is a clip of the contortionist in curtains I described earlier.
The skinship act--in my show, it was a little different than this, but amazing, absolutely amazing:
This is one of my favourite ones. The toys are called diabolos -- they're a juggling toy, similar (in a lot of ways) to a yo-yo, but bigger, and cooler-looking when you're in Cirque du Soleil.
This is a clip of the contortionist in curtains I described earlier.
The skinship act--in my show, it was a little different than this, but amazing, absolutely amazing:
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Survey of the day.
Put your answer in the comments. They'll show up soon.
Question:
To you, what would be the coolest "first thing people say when your name is mentioned" possible?
For example, when somebody says "Hey, do you know Rob?"
I wish people answered "Rob? That guy enjoys his life so much, it makes me enjoy my life more, too."
I don't know if that's ACTUALLY what people say, but I sure wish it were.
What about you? What do you wish people said at the mention of your name?
(My runner up: "Rob. Yeah, he sure is rich.")
Question:
To you, what would be the coolest "first thing people say when your name is mentioned" possible?
For example, when somebody says "Hey, do you know Rob?"
I wish people answered "Rob? That guy enjoys his life so much, it makes me enjoy my life more, too."
I don't know if that's ACTUALLY what people say, but I sure wish it were.
What about you? What do you wish people said at the mention of your name?
(My runner up: "Rob. Yeah, he sure is rich.")
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Cirque Du Soleil
Let it be known that Cirque du Soleil (Circus of the Sun) is one of the most remarkable entertainment companies in the world. It's the high-art version of a Chinese Circus (known as the best in the world, which I saw in Shanghai) -- instead of just stunts and cool costumes, it's all tied together conceptually, with themes and choreography and characters and some (highly symbolic) storytelling.
Now I am a sucker for circuses -- just to be clear. I saw a Chinese-style circus in North Korea, and as soon as the lady with the plate balanced on a stick balanced on another stick held in her jaw, started swinging through the air on a trapeze without losing grip of the stick in her jaw, or upsetting the long stick balanced on that stick, or the tea set balanced on top of that stick, well, I was sold. Heck, I wasn't just sold, I was six years old again.
Cirque Du Soleil takes that kind of "golly gee whiz" amazing-ness and adds cool costuming and choreography -- there was a part where the protagonist (the girl in orange below), and singer, sits, and groups of clowns in white run around her banging on progressively larger drums, perfectly evoking a thunderstorm, like rainy day at home, alone with one's imagination, transitioning into the next jaw-dropping set of acrobatics. That kind of stuff didn't show up in a regular circus, until Cirque du Soleil came along. They'd just throw some clowns on stage to distract people while they set up the trapeze. I liked this better. The music was all original, and. . . just wow. (*Plus, Cirque is a Canadian company, from Montreal, so that gave me bragging rights for a good, oh, three minutes!*)
The whole thing began with a girl putting on her imagination, in the form of a clown's purple hat. You can see her here, about to put the hat on.
Now I am a sucker for circuses -- just to be clear. I saw a Chinese-style circus in North Korea, and as soon as the lady with the plate balanced on a stick balanced on another stick held in her jaw, started swinging through the air on a trapeze without losing grip of the stick in her jaw, or upsetting the long stick balanced on that stick, or the tea set balanced on top of that stick, well, I was sold. Heck, I wasn't just sold, I was six years old again.
Cirque Du Soleil takes that kind of "golly gee whiz" amazing-ness and adds cool costuming and choreography -- there was a part where the protagonist (the girl in orange below), and singer, sits, and groups of clowns in white run around her banging on progressively larger drums, perfectly evoking a thunderstorm, like rainy day at home, alone with one's imagination, transitioning into the next jaw-dropping set of acrobatics. That kind of stuff didn't show up in a regular circus, until Cirque du Soleil came along. They'd just throw some clowns on stage to distract people while they set up the trapeze. I liked this better. The music was all original, and. . . just wow. (*Plus, Cirque is a Canadian company, from Montreal, so that gave me bragging rights for a good, oh, three minutes!*)
The whole thing began with a girl putting on her imagination, in the form of a clown's purple hat. You can see her here, about to put the hat on.
Then, all the normal rules for the world, and her (totally) mundane house/nuclear family arrangement, fly toward the ceiling, and it's imagination time! (With the music, the way her whole house started to float when the hat touched her head, was an immediate entry into the world of awe. Just like that, I was, once again, six years old.
I loved it so much I bought the DVD, just so I could post a few pictures and show you an inkling of what I saw.
Disclaimer: I don't own Cirque du Soleil or the rights to these images, I'm posting them for pure fun and information, not for profit; if you like what you see, go see the show. Seriously. Go see the show. Hopefully that endorsement will cancel out my mild copyright infringement.
There were a bunch of elements in the show that involved so much speed and motion that to show pictures wouldn't do them justice, so I'll just say that you're only seeing a very small bit of what I saw.
This was probably my favorite element of the show. A woman, a contortionist, hung from the ceiling, wrapped in these two long pieces of red silk. At first, when she appeared, she was invisible, covered by the red cloths, in an image that struck me as primal -- almost foetal -- and then she came out dressed in a leotard exactly the colour of the cloth and the light, so that she seemed nude (in keeping with the sense of birth, and primal life), stretched between the sky and the earth in these fantastic, bent-around, straining shapes, moving between gorgeous frozen-ness and surprising tumbles up and down the red lifeline. It made me think of the old greek myth about the three sisters who cut each person's thread when their life is through, her twists and bends, moving up and down that blood-red line, slowly working her way down to the end.
When she finished her stretches, I felt like her journey had completed; she wrapped the silk into a noose and hung by her neck, and the silk cloth lowered her closer to the ground, until one of the lead clowns (the one in purple, helping the girl put on her hat above) took her and carried her away. She never touched the floor, and if she had, I don't know what I would have done, after seeing her stretched between the top and bottom of the silk cloth for such a perfect seven minutes.
Umm, self-explanatory. Just look at these guys!
These guys were tossing each other through the air like cheerleaders, except more intricate, more dangerous, and more wow. (Can wow be an adjective? Just for today?)
Then, when I watched the show, they were in a line, passing the light ones from one pair to the next one, with the light ones doing a flip in the air before coming down, head-first into the next pair's hands. One of them nearly fell -- he came down at the wrong angle, or misjudged where to place his hands, or something, and we watched the three performers scramble to stop the small one from landing, head-first, on the ground. The strangest thing is, seeing that wrinkle, that one imperfection, made the rest of the performance more exciting -- it reminded everyone in the room that these were humans, normal humans made of meat and bone, and not just costumed creatures made of air, imagination and wonder. If that guy fell, he might have broken his neck, and some of those performers did their acts three storeys above the ground, some without harnesses.
Exactly because of that imperfection, the Shanghai Circus, of the ones I saw, was the least perfect, but also the most exciting -- there were several spots where someone almost lost balance (while blindfolded, walking around the outside of a hoop-shaped cage set inside a large, rotating ring) and fell two storeys. People in the crowd shrieked, and for the rest of that act, and also while they had eight motorcycles whirling around inside a steel-mesh globe, everybody felt this terrifying, thrilling, "if anything goes wrong" tension.
These ones spun around in hoops. It was cool. I like this shot, because it hints at all the action and motion their act contained. Most of the circus was so dynamic and fast, or slapstick funny (which doesn't translate into written descriptions) that pictures or words can't do any justice to it at all. Sorry -- I'm totally incapable of describing a lot of this circus to you, but I still want to share it, kind of like when a four-year-old hears a joke.
I said:
"Why did the chicken cross the playground?"
"To get to the other slide."
Four year old says:
"So, there was a playground, and the chicken came in, and he saw, like playground things, and then, um, he's a chicken, and he saw a slide, so he went down the slide. ACROSS THE PLAYGROUND!!! HAAHAHAHAHA!!"
This next series of pictures was the achingly slow counterpoint to the rest of the show. Beautifully slow. These two are balanced on each other, using nothing but the traction of their own skin on skin. There's a word -- it originated in Japan -- called "skinship" -- it's a word for the kind of relationship that forms through touch, as well as the act of touch, as used to build intimacy and closeness. In this act, when I saw it, I was blown away by how aware the two performers were of each other's bodies -- the intimate, total trust that comes of performing this way together. I think it would be impossible to perform this act together without dearly loving your performing partner, at least on some level. It was incredibly powerful to see such intimacy expressed in feats of balance, strength and flexibility. I'm still kinda speechless (but not TOO speechless).
This is a sequence -- you've seen acrobats go from the ground to balanced, hands on hands, but these two did it in slow motion. It was amazing to see.
Brilliant. Just brilliant.
I discovered a great spaghetti restaurant this week. These days, a restaurant needs to have five our six great dishes I've tried, just to crack my top five favourite restaurants in the neighbourhood. Boy I love my life!
I'm also still writing regularly, making some friendships, and finding my way around. I'm studying Korean more than I was before (though still not as much as I should).
A girl just sat next to me in the PC room, and she smells EXACTLY like one of my ex-girlfriends. It's almost frightening how evocative smell can be -- brings back memories as quick as a brick.
The other day an old man, drunk and stinking of soju, and wearing the traditional, ancient Korean peasant field-worker's outfit, came up to me and my friend, shook my hand, tried all his English out, and then gave me an alcohol stinking hug. It was fantastic, in its own odd way. I've witnessed four car accidents since I moved to this neighbourhood, and about a dozen shouting matches.
I don't know why but, in keeping with my people-watching habit, for some reason, watching people argue always gives me a kick. I think it's a bemused curiousity with the way, here in the big city, there really is just no privacy anywhere, so anything that has to happen between two people, pretty much has to happen in public. Couples don't go to each other's houses, either because of cultural expectations about the appearance of virtue, or just because most young people live with their parents, and nobody wants dad coming out of the bedroom to interrupt the fight by saying "Could you two quit arguing out here? I'm balancing the checkbook!" And this means that, in dark corners of parks, on subway station steps, in coffee shop booths, you can spot people arguing, confronting each other, fighting outright, as well as getting together, falling in love, praying together, and making amends. Some of these, I've done myself.
I also, perversely, enjoy watching arguments between family members, in Korea and in Canada -- watching how people argue with the ones who know them best is just interesting to me, the way people go immediately into the usual modes (be that passive-aggressive, or sullen-silent, or loud and angry, or whatever), and especially, the way family members know exactly which buttons to push to get exactly the kind of visceral, emotional response that can only be stirred by a scratch on a raw nerve or a sensitive spot. (Saw a couple get into a fight on the sidewalk today; last week, saw two ancient hobos ready to take swings at each other. I have no idea why this is to fascinating to me, but I can't look away from the raw human-ness of it.)
Take care, all! Go see Cirque du Soleil if you get the chance. It'll be pricey, but worth it, so pony up, and be ready for a really wow afternoon!
love:
Roboseyo
Thursday, April 19, 2007
King for a day
I discovered the ultimate answer to the question: "what law would you make if you were king of the world for a day?"
If I could make one law, this is it: Every high school student is required to spend one year in a different country, on a different continent (in a homestay).
Think about what kind of a young population we'd have if every young person in the country had a year's experience on a different continent, imagine how diverse the viewpoints and thinking styles would be! Imagine how impossible tribalism and bigotry would be to maintain! And I'm not just talking about first world countries -- every country. Wouldn't that be interesting? I like it.
Nothing personal, but the countries that need it most are the isolationist ones: America and Canada are too rarely exposed to a REAL paradigm shift in cultures. Island nations like Japan and England could benefit. Korea would benefit (Korea is functionally an island right now because North Korea is blocking it off from the mainland, and it's been known as isolationist all through its history: hence the nickname "The Hermit Kingdom"). Even countries like Belgium or Austria, which are surrounded on each side by different cultures and countries, would benefit from a trip to a whole other continent. It would also teach hospitality, and patience in the home countries, as each country played host to students from all over the world, even while it sent its students abroad. Students who travelled to third world countries would see the need, and it would be an immediate, urgent thing, rather than just a theoretical, distant, "Think of the kids in Africa" velleity.
There we go. That's MY way to fix the world. It would take some time to bear fruit, but wouldn't it be interesting to see how it played out?
(PS: velleity is the word of the day. Its definition is "a mere wish, unaccompanied by an effort to obtain it." -- a wish to do something that is not strong enough to take action. "oh. I should work out more often." "I should clean my room." "I should really organize my desk" "It would be nice to travel some time")
If I could make one law, this is it: Every high school student is required to spend one year in a different country, on a different continent (in a homestay).
Think about what kind of a young population we'd have if every young person in the country had a year's experience on a different continent, imagine how diverse the viewpoints and thinking styles would be! Imagine how impossible tribalism and bigotry would be to maintain! And I'm not just talking about first world countries -- every country. Wouldn't that be interesting? I like it.
Nothing personal, but the countries that need it most are the isolationist ones: America and Canada are too rarely exposed to a REAL paradigm shift in cultures. Island nations like Japan and England could benefit. Korea would benefit (Korea is functionally an island right now because North Korea is blocking it off from the mainland, and it's been known as isolationist all through its history: hence the nickname "The Hermit Kingdom"). Even countries like Belgium or Austria, which are surrounded on each side by different cultures and countries, would benefit from a trip to a whole other continent. It would also teach hospitality, and patience in the home countries, as each country played host to students from all over the world, even while it sent its students abroad. Students who travelled to third world countries would see the need, and it would be an immediate, urgent thing, rather than just a theoretical, distant, "Think of the kids in Africa" velleity.
There we go. That's MY way to fix the world. It would take some time to bear fruit, but wouldn't it be interesting to see how it played out?
(PS: velleity is the word of the day. Its definition is "a mere wish, unaccompanied by an effort to obtain it." -- a wish to do something that is not strong enough to take action. "oh. I should work out more often." "I should clean my room." "I should really organize my desk" "It would be nice to travel some time")
The Roboseyo code of taxes and bonuses
This is one of Rob Ouwehand's personal silly theories: the discount/tax system. It's a fun conversation topic. People's life choices ought to have financial implications: it might lead certain people to correct their behaviour. For example:
1. The stupid tax. People who do stupid things should get a stupid tax. Speeding on the highway is a ticket. Speeding in traffic, on a crowded highway, or being rude to the officer who pulls you over should be subject to a stupid tax at the officer's discretion. The stupid tax is also what you pay for things like forgetting to pay bills on time, not returning library books, etc. -- money you're paying that you shouldn't need to. SUV owners should be paying $20000/year of stupid taxes. Brand name items should have a stupid tax. . . or maybe a sheep tax . . . on them.
2. The smart bonus -- people who do things that make common sense should get the smart bonus -- people who consistently recycle, who put aside money for retirement, who buy used cars instead of new ones, etc., or avoid credit card debt, or write shopping lists to save making extra trips, should get a smart bonus.
3. The nice guy discount -- self explanatory. Just be polite, people. It's not really hard, and it makes everybody feel better. I just got a "nice guy discount" at my dentist, and managed to save a goodly bit of money! Maybe you should even be able to get "nice guy discount" vouchers for volunteering. . . but then it wouldn't be volunteering anymore, really.
4. The rude tax -- this is a big one. Rude people, if they won't care about other people because of pure human dignity, should learn to be polite because it'll hit their pocketbook if they keep pushing to get the empty seat on the bus, arguing with cashiers about prices (they don't set the prices, dumbass!), spitting in the street, and leering at young women wearing skirts.
5. The green bonus -- people who drive hybrid or low output cars, people who use public transportation, who recycle, carpool, use trash cans, conserve water and turn off lights, absolutely deserve a green bonus. SUV owners, people who drive everywhere, who buy over-packaged goods, may even need to pay a green tax. I think fossil fuels should be taxed right through the nose. As should cigarettes.
6. The sheep tax -- see "brand names" in point one. People who pay extra for brand names, people who buy celebrity gossip magazines, people who buy new clothes with each fashion season, who go to "trendy" places just to show that they're hip. Of all the taxes, this is the one that could have the most far-reaching implications, culturally (though the green bonus might be the most important one).
The sheep tax could even extend to counterculture people -- counterculture can be just as herd-ish as pop culture. If you shop at second hand stores because your friends do, if you hate certain singers or movies on principle, rather than because they suck, or get all your music or fashion choices from the "underground/indie" website/zine du jour, if you choose to dislike the Beatles or Shakespeare, for the pure sake of argument -- you're making choices based on other people's opinions, rather than focusing on what actually makes you happy, and that's just silly.
OK, now it's your turn. Post a behaviour that deserves one of these taxes or bonuses -- sound out! When you hit "post comment", I have to check it before it goes up, so you won't see it right away, but don't worry: it's there, waiting for me! Propose another tax or bonus I ought to add.
1. The stupid tax. People who do stupid things should get a stupid tax. Speeding on the highway is a ticket. Speeding in traffic, on a crowded highway, or being rude to the officer who pulls you over should be subject to a stupid tax at the officer's discretion. The stupid tax is also what you pay for things like forgetting to pay bills on time, not returning library books, etc. -- money you're paying that you shouldn't need to. SUV owners should be paying $20000/year of stupid taxes. Brand name items should have a stupid tax. . . or maybe a sheep tax . . . on them.
2. The smart bonus -- people who do things that make common sense should get the smart bonus -- people who consistently recycle, who put aside money for retirement, who buy used cars instead of new ones, etc., or avoid credit card debt, or write shopping lists to save making extra trips, should get a smart bonus.
3. The nice guy discount -- self explanatory. Just be polite, people. It's not really hard, and it makes everybody feel better. I just got a "nice guy discount" at my dentist, and managed to save a goodly bit of money! Maybe you should even be able to get "nice guy discount" vouchers for volunteering. . . but then it wouldn't be volunteering anymore, really.
4. The rude tax -- this is a big one. Rude people, if they won't care about other people because of pure human dignity, should learn to be polite because it'll hit their pocketbook if they keep pushing to get the empty seat on the bus, arguing with cashiers about prices (they don't set the prices, dumbass!), spitting in the street, and leering at young women wearing skirts.
5. The green bonus -- people who drive hybrid or low output cars, people who use public transportation, who recycle, carpool, use trash cans, conserve water and turn off lights, absolutely deserve a green bonus. SUV owners, people who drive everywhere, who buy over-packaged goods, may even need to pay a green tax. I think fossil fuels should be taxed right through the nose. As should cigarettes.
6. The sheep tax -- see "brand names" in point one. People who pay extra for brand names, people who buy celebrity gossip magazines, people who buy new clothes with each fashion season, who go to "trendy" places just to show that they're hip. Of all the taxes, this is the one that could have the most far-reaching implications, culturally (though the green bonus might be the most important one).
The sheep tax could even extend to counterculture people -- counterculture can be just as herd-ish as pop culture. If you shop at second hand stores because your friends do, if you hate certain singers or movies on principle, rather than because they suck, or get all your music or fashion choices from the "underground/indie" website/zine du jour, if you choose to dislike the Beatles or Shakespeare, for the pure sake of argument -- you're making choices based on other people's opinions, rather than focusing on what actually makes you happy, and that's just silly.
Now that I think of it, really, cigarettes deserve a stupid tax, a green tax, and a rude tax, and maybe even a sheep tax, if you started because your friends do. Can anybody think of anything that deserves to be taxed more than cigarettes and SUVs that never go off-road?
OK, now it's your turn. Post a behaviour that deserves one of these taxes or bonuses -- sound out! When you hit "post comment", I have to check it before it goes up, so you won't see it right away, but don't worry: it's there, waiting for me! Propose another tax or bonus I ought to add.
A few thoughts.
Regarding the Virginia Tech Shootings, even though every blogger in the universe is talking about it:
1. wow. Overwhelming. Sad. I don't know what to say about that kind of tragedy. For the families, I can't even imagine.
2. If the shooter had been a Spanish, Italian, German, British (that is, white) immigrant, his immigrant-ness wouldn't have mattered, wouldn't have been discussed.
3. Over here in Korea, there's a lot of shock and dismay at the fact the guy was Korean. A lot of head shaking, even some anxiety. I know if the guy had been Canadian, I would have just said, "wow. Some people in the world are messed up," and left it at that. Some of my Korean students are trying to figure out what aspect of Korean culture led to such an act. My answer has to be: none. There are fringe people in every culture; the only difference is that this guy had access to guns; sure, he fell through the cracks, but you also have to make choices, and I'd have to say, nobody but Cho himself is responsible for his making the choice to kill more than thirty people rather than to, say, take up vandalism as a hobby, or work his frustrations out on a punching bag.
4. I'm glad I wasn't in North America when it happened because I hate, hate, hate, the way North American news networks cover stories like this. The same day of the 9/11 attack, I was already desensitized to the images of the buildings falling down, because they replayed on TV again and again and again, and that's just wrong. Somebody's sticking a camera and a microphone in the face of a family member or a student who ought to be left alone to grieve, and footage is being played and replayed beyond reasonable limits, because people will watch, and advertisers will pay. Lurid. Gratuitous. Wrong.
In other, less heart-breaking news:
Once again, my friend Tamie's blog is turning out to be a goldmine. "Every activity we neglect to do which could make an outsider an insider makes us poorer." Click on the quote to read the whole entry. It's a discussion of outsiders and integration and community that sure rings true for a guy living in Korea, where I AM a visible minority.
Cool student story: I was teaching my students the phrase "butting your head against a wall", the idea of fighting against something that one could never actually change. One of my students explained that the Korean equivalent phrase is "attacking a rock with an egg" -- I LOVE that. The other one was: I taught "the pot calls the kettle black" and he said the Korean equivalent is "the dog covered in shit scolds the dog covered in dust".
I'm still happy over here, doing well, having fun. I'm in the process of getting a root canal, so my tooth is a bit delicate until the process is finished, but I'm doing well, still writing, making friends, eating good (inexpensive) food, etc..
Interesting development: my interest in movies has almost totally waned since I started writing more consistently. I just feel like I don't need them: I've got better things to do. Sure, I'll still take time for something like West Side Story, I'll watch a movie with friends, but it's no longer what I want to do with my free time.
Take care!
Rob
1. wow. Overwhelming. Sad. I don't know what to say about that kind of tragedy. For the families, I can't even imagine.
2. If the shooter had been a Spanish, Italian, German, British (that is, white) immigrant, his immigrant-ness wouldn't have mattered, wouldn't have been discussed.
3. Over here in Korea, there's a lot of shock and dismay at the fact the guy was Korean. A lot of head shaking, even some anxiety. I know if the guy had been Canadian, I would have just said, "wow. Some people in the world are messed up," and left it at that. Some of my Korean students are trying to figure out what aspect of Korean culture led to such an act. My answer has to be: none. There are fringe people in every culture; the only difference is that this guy had access to guns; sure, he fell through the cracks, but you also have to make choices, and I'd have to say, nobody but Cho himself is responsible for his making the choice to kill more than thirty people rather than to, say, take up vandalism as a hobby, or work his frustrations out on a punching bag.
4. I'm glad I wasn't in North America when it happened because I hate, hate, hate, the way North American news networks cover stories like this. The same day of the 9/11 attack, I was already desensitized to the images of the buildings falling down, because they replayed on TV again and again and again, and that's just wrong. Somebody's sticking a camera and a microphone in the face of a family member or a student who ought to be left alone to grieve, and footage is being played and replayed beyond reasonable limits, because people will watch, and advertisers will pay. Lurid. Gratuitous. Wrong.
In other, less heart-breaking news:
Once again, my friend Tamie's blog is turning out to be a goldmine. "Every activity we neglect to do which could make an outsider an insider makes us poorer." Click on the quote to read the whole entry. It's a discussion of outsiders and integration and community that sure rings true for a guy living in Korea, where I AM a visible minority.
Cool student story: I was teaching my students the phrase "butting your head against a wall", the idea of fighting against something that one could never actually change. One of my students explained that the Korean equivalent phrase is "attacking a rock with an egg" -- I LOVE that. The other one was: I taught "the pot calls the kettle black" and he said the Korean equivalent is "the dog covered in shit scolds the dog covered in dust".
I'm still happy over here, doing well, having fun. I'm in the process of getting a root canal, so my tooth is a bit delicate until the process is finished, but I'm doing well, still writing, making friends, eating good (inexpensive) food, etc..
Interesting development: my interest in movies has almost totally waned since I started writing more consistently. I just feel like I don't need them: I've got better things to do. Sure, I'll still take time for something like West Side Story, I'll watch a movie with friends, but it's no longer what I want to do with my free time.
Take care!
Rob
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
At the dentist.
So on Saturday, I climbed a mountain by myself. Since starting a job with less pressure and less stress, I've found myself leaning toward activities that I actually want to do, that actually make me feel better, and less inclined toward activities that are basically my various ways of responding to stress. This, of course, is a positive thing. Instead of wanting to veg out and watch a movie, I feel like reading, or writing, or getting some exercise. Or buying a calling card and trying to get in touch with people back home (nobody was home).
Today I went to the dentist, and got the first of three steps in a root canal treatment. Root canals are covered by medical insurance here, so they're fantastically cheap! (I paid 80000 won, which is about ninety dollars Canadian. . . depending on how strong the won is this week.) In other dentistry news, I now have a gold half-crown I've been running around and showing everybody I know.
Also, by being nice, and funny, and polite, I've won the affection of the entire dentist's office staff; they gave me a "nice guy discount" -- from 250-200 for the crown, and from 110-80 for the root canal. Nice.
I finished the first draft of my first novel last week, which means now I'm editing (and developing other projects). This makes me really happy.
I just watched a guy who might have been drunk, and had definitely just had his clock completely cleaned -- he was out of his mind and had bruises on his face -- get shooed off the bench in front of a restaurant. It was one of those funny situations with two loud ladies and a broom against a man who 1. didn't even know where he was, and 2. might just be extremely dangerous, if push came to shove. Fortunately, he eventually wandered off, making a butterfly-line (as opposed to a beeline) for the next nearest bench. Good thing there was a bench nearby: he was so out of his mind I wondered if he would wander right into traffic.
I opened up my old "Seoul Food Finder" food guide which, despite very poorly drawn maps, has all kinds of reccommendations for restaurants that serve up good stuff. The main drawback is simply that, as it was published in 2002, a good quarter of those restaurants have closed or moved since then. Oh well, it still has lots of great locations.
Still happy: this weekend, I just started feeling more alive again, despite never having noticed exactly when I stopped feeling alive all the time. Oh well: I'm glad it's back.
Be alive!
Have a vivid day.
love:
Rob
Today I went to the dentist, and got the first of three steps in a root canal treatment. Root canals are covered by medical insurance here, so they're fantastically cheap! (I paid 80000 won, which is about ninety dollars Canadian. . . depending on how strong the won is this week.) In other dentistry news, I now have a gold half-crown I've been running around and showing everybody I know.
Also, by being nice, and funny, and polite, I've won the affection of the entire dentist's office staff; they gave me a "nice guy discount" -- from 250-200 for the crown, and from 110-80 for the root canal. Nice.
I finished the first draft of my first novel last week, which means now I'm editing (and developing other projects). This makes me really happy.
I just watched a guy who might have been drunk, and had definitely just had his clock completely cleaned -- he was out of his mind and had bruises on his face -- get shooed off the bench in front of a restaurant. It was one of those funny situations with two loud ladies and a broom against a man who 1. didn't even know where he was, and 2. might just be extremely dangerous, if push came to shove. Fortunately, he eventually wandered off, making a butterfly-line (as opposed to a beeline) for the next nearest bench. Good thing there was a bench nearby: he was so out of his mind I wondered if he would wander right into traffic.
I opened up my old "Seoul Food Finder" food guide which, despite very poorly drawn maps, has all kinds of reccommendations for restaurants that serve up good stuff. The main drawback is simply that, as it was published in 2002, a good quarter of those restaurants have closed or moved since then. Oh well, it still has lots of great locations.
Still happy: this weekend, I just started feeling more alive again, despite never having noticed exactly when I stopped feeling alive all the time. Oh well: I'm glad it's back.
Be alive!
Have a vivid day.
love:
Rob
Thursday, April 12, 2007
This is from my friend Tamie's blog.
You can see it in its original form here.
Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal
by Naomi Shihab Nye
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well -- one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew -- however poorly used -
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been cancelled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we're fine, you'll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let's call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her -- southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies -- little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts -- out of her bag --
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo -- we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers --
Non-alcoholic -- and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American -- ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend -- by now we were holding hands --
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate -- once the crying of confusion stopped
-- has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
***rob again
I really love the sense of community in this poem, that community can still spring out in unexpected places.
I was walking home on Thursday night after posting this poem (I'm adding to the post now), and somehow my senses just switched "on" -- I've written about that sensation before. Suddenly I was just seeing everything around, and everyone was my friend. This was unexpected, because a friend had cancelled an appointment on me that night, and that usually bums me out, but tonight, the entire world was just glowing a little, as if wet, or catching sunlight on snow crystals. I walked home as slowly as possible.
Hope you all walk home slowly sometime soon.
-Rob
Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal
by Naomi Shihab Nye
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well -- one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew -- however poorly used -
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been cancelled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we're fine, you'll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let's call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her -- southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies -- little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts -- out of her bag --
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo -- we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers --
Non-alcoholic -- and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American -- ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend -- by now we were holding hands --
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate -- once the crying of confusion stopped
-- has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
***rob again
I really love the sense of community in this poem, that community can still spring out in unexpected places.
I was walking home on Thursday night after posting this poem (I'm adding to the post now), and somehow my senses just switched "on" -- I've written about that sensation before. Suddenly I was just seeing everything around, and everyone was my friend. This was unexpected, because a friend had cancelled an appointment on me that night, and that usually bums me out, but tonight, the entire world was just glowing a little, as if wet, or catching sunlight on snow crystals. I walked home as slowly as possible.
Hope you all walk home slowly sometime soon.
-Rob
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Osaka!!!
So I went to Osaka recently to renew my work visa. It was very nice -- it's just an overnight stay, but a necessary part of getting and keeping a legal job in Korea. One nice thing about doing this is that the Korean consulate in Osaka is smack in the middle of one of the coolest areas in Osaka. I had to walk around for a while, after handing in my form, to find a reasonably priced hotel, but after that, I had to wait overnight before my Visa was ready, so I just pretty much had time to kill for one night.
Now, last time I did an Osaka visa run, I wandered around all evening by myself, ending up with nothing to show for it except sore feet. This time, things went much better. Personally, I don't like travelling unless it includeds 2 elements:
1. food
2. people
If I travel alone, I'm not a happy cat, and if I don't enjoy the food, I'll have a sour taste in my mouth when I get back (har har har). That's why malaysia was so great to me: I was travelling with Anthony and Amy, my awesome coworkers, and I was eating fantastic food like, every single meal. Well, my first time in Osaka, all I really knew was that a lot of Japanese noodle dishes include buckwheat, one of my two allergies. This meant, since I couldn't read Japanese, I had to wander around looking at the picture menus outside restaurants to try and find a restaurant where the dishes looked like they didn't have grey noodles, and wish for the best. Plus, I was travelling alone.
This time, I was sitting in a Starbucks when a white dude swooped in on a seat as soon as a Japanese lady left. Turns out, his name is Paul and he is from Vancouver. He'd lived in Osaka for four years, so we had a nice, two-hour long conversation about living, as Western Canadians, in Korea and Japan. It was pretty fun. Then, before he left to meet his friend, I asked him the crucial question:
"Do you know any good places to eat around here?"
"Sure. Let me show you my favourite sushi place, and another place you gotta try."
SWEET!
So I went to a really delicious, inexpensive sushi place -- sushi can be two kinds. Pay a big price for "all you can eat" and they'll keep feeding you until you're stuffed, but you get what you pay for at a place like that. Low price = low quality and the worst cuts of the fish. There's also "all you can afford" sushi -- where it comes on revolving places that run around a track, and you can pick off different ones, and pay according to the colours of the plates you pick off. This adds up quickly, especially if you're hungry, and (like me) can eat sushi like candy. But Paul showed me a nicely priced place, and I ate fantastically my first night.
Then, later that night, I was wandering aimlessly again (a common practice among those who don't know the best places to hang out in a neighbourhood), and crossed paths with another fella whom I'd spotted several other times, on the flight, and then also at the Korean consulate. He was also living in Seoul, and doing a visa run. As we started chatting, it seemed like we had quite a lot in common. He and I both love writing, think along similar lines, and had similar upbringings.
Well, we just kept on chatting, about the people walking by, about Korea, about our life stories. We ate Japanese style ramen at a little place, spotted a hobo sleeping in a phone booth, and then, as we walked by an empty sort of plaza/courtyard, we spotted something fantastic.
Out there, in the middle of the courtyard, were about twenty-five kids -- teenaged or early twenties -- in mildly disorganized groups, dancing their hearts out! They didn't seem organized, there wasn't any instructor apparent; they just danced, practicing sequences, giving each other tips, some playing music and some moving to the rhythm in their heads. Some were extremely talented, others only moderately so.
I'm told there are, what amounts to street-dancing clubs, in some of the poorer countries in south Asia, too -- just dancing for the joy of it, for the fun, for the escape, maybe, but whyever they did it, there was this crowd of kids out there just doing something of pure joy. Especially, it was great to be watching such a thing of physical joy, with another lover of writing -- a different kind of expression of joy. We watched for about forty minutes, and still, they danced. Some tired and left, some stayed. Security guards from the building came by to watch, but instead of dispersing them or turning off the lights, just left them be.
The next day, I saw Mike again (the writer) -- we talked until late, and then went home. We met again at the consulate, and again, spent lunch and the afternoon walking around and chatting. He has an interesting history I'm still learning about, he's ALSO from British Columbia, Canada, and he's been in Korea for about five years, so we have a lot to talk about, and we both love going to cool restaurants.
Lunch that day, we went to the second place Paul had recommended to us. It was a dish called okonomi yaki, a cake made with a bit of horseradish and green onion with a nice flavour to it, topped with sauce, vegetables, and (at the specialty restaurant) anything else you wanted, pretty much. Here are the ones Mike, Steve and I ate.
This is probably in the top ten dishes I've eaten in the entire last five years. (And that's saying something, the last five years encompassing most areas of Seoul, trips to Malaysia Alberta and Tokyo/Yokohoma, but there you have it.) Ridiculously delicious! I don't know how to describe it, except to say, if you find a Japanese place that serves okonomi yaki, I won't guarantee it'll taste as good as what we had in Osaka (just like Kimchi in Canada doesn't even hold a match to Seoul Kimchi, much less a candle), but give it a try, I suppose. Here's what it looks like.
After that, we wandered around an underground shopping center, found a park and chased pigeons, tried to get lost but couldn't, and enjoyed the sheer variety of Osaka architecture.
Here in Seoul, I'm walking around finding new, cool neighbourhoods, and enjoying the hell out of my new job. The way Matt said (after a great, silly walk around his neighbourhood,) "at first, the job situation doesn't look that impressive, but then, on second glance, your current job fits you like a glove, Rob". I agree. I've been walking down the street and bursting into a silly grin at random intervals, just for pure joy of life. It's been nice.
More later everyone! Love you all.
also: thanks for posting comments! it lets me know who's been reading my blog, and that makes me happy. Feel free to add something.
Take care.
Rob
Now, last time I did an Osaka visa run, I wandered around all evening by myself, ending up with nothing to show for it except sore feet. This time, things went much better. Personally, I don't like travelling unless it includeds 2 elements:
1. food
2. people
If I travel alone, I'm not a happy cat, and if I don't enjoy the food, I'll have a sour taste in my mouth when I get back (har har har). That's why malaysia was so great to me: I was travelling with Anthony and Amy, my awesome coworkers, and I was eating fantastic food like, every single meal. Well, my first time in Osaka, all I really knew was that a lot of Japanese noodle dishes include buckwheat, one of my two allergies. This meant, since I couldn't read Japanese, I had to wander around looking at the picture menus outside restaurants to try and find a restaurant where the dishes looked like they didn't have grey noodles, and wish for the best. Plus, I was travelling alone.
This time, I was sitting in a Starbucks when a white dude swooped in on a seat as soon as a Japanese lady left. Turns out, his name is Paul and he is from Vancouver. He'd lived in Osaka for four years, so we had a nice, two-hour long conversation about living, as Western Canadians, in Korea and Japan. It was pretty fun. Then, before he left to meet his friend, I asked him the crucial question:
"Do you know any good places to eat around here?"
"Sure. Let me show you my favourite sushi place, and another place you gotta try."
SWEET!
So I went to a really delicious, inexpensive sushi place -- sushi can be two kinds. Pay a big price for "all you can eat" and they'll keep feeding you until you're stuffed, but you get what you pay for at a place like that. Low price = low quality and the worst cuts of the fish. There's also "all you can afford" sushi -- where it comes on revolving places that run around a track, and you can pick off different ones, and pay according to the colours of the plates you pick off. This adds up quickly, especially if you're hungry, and (like me) can eat sushi like candy. But Paul showed me a nicely priced place, and I ate fantastically my first night.
Then, later that night, I was wandering aimlessly again (a common practice among those who don't know the best places to hang out in a neighbourhood), and crossed paths with another fella whom I'd spotted several other times, on the flight, and then also at the Korean consulate. He was also living in Seoul, and doing a visa run. As we started chatting, it seemed like we had quite a lot in common. He and I both love writing, think along similar lines, and had similar upbringings.
Well, we just kept on chatting, about the people walking by, about Korea, about our life stories. We ate Japanese style ramen at a little place, spotted a hobo sleeping in a phone booth, and then, as we walked by an empty sort of plaza/courtyard, we spotted something fantastic.
Out there, in the middle of the courtyard, were about twenty-five kids -- teenaged or early twenties -- in mildly disorganized groups, dancing their hearts out! They didn't seem organized, there wasn't any instructor apparent; they just danced, practicing sequences, giving each other tips, some playing music and some moving to the rhythm in their heads. Some were extremely talented, others only moderately so.
I'm told there are, what amounts to street-dancing clubs, in some of the poorer countries in south Asia, too -- just dancing for the joy of it, for the fun, for the escape, maybe, but whyever they did it, there was this crowd of kids out there just doing something of pure joy. Especially, it was great to be watching such a thing of physical joy, with another lover of writing -- a different kind of expression of joy. We watched for about forty minutes, and still, they danced. Some tired and left, some stayed. Security guards from the building came by to watch, but instead of dispersing them or turning off the lights, just left them be.
The next day, I saw Mike again (the writer) -- we talked until late, and then went home. We met again at the consulate, and again, spent lunch and the afternoon walking around and chatting. He has an interesting history I'm still learning about, he's ALSO from British Columbia, Canada, and he's been in Korea for about five years, so we have a lot to talk about, and we both love going to cool restaurants.
Lunch that day, we went to the second place Paul had recommended to us. It was a dish called okonomi yaki, a cake made with a bit of horseradish and green onion with a nice flavour to it, topped with sauce, vegetables, and (at the specialty restaurant) anything else you wanted, pretty much. Here are the ones Mike, Steve and I ate.
This is probably in the top ten dishes I've eaten in the entire last five years. (And that's saying something, the last five years encompassing most areas of Seoul, trips to Malaysia Alberta and Tokyo/Yokohoma, but there you have it.) Ridiculously delicious! I don't know how to describe it, except to say, if you find a Japanese place that serves okonomi yaki, I won't guarantee it'll taste as good as what we had in Osaka (just like Kimchi in Canada doesn't even hold a match to Seoul Kimchi, much less a candle), but give it a try, I suppose. Here's what it looks like.
After that, we wandered around an underground shopping center, found a park and chased pigeons, tried to get lost but couldn't, and enjoyed the sheer variety of Osaka architecture.
Here in Seoul, I'm walking around finding new, cool neighbourhoods, and enjoying the hell out of my new job. The way Matt said (after a great, silly walk around his neighbourhood,) "at first, the job situation doesn't look that impressive, but then, on second glance, your current job fits you like a glove, Rob". I agree. I've been walking down the street and bursting into a silly grin at random intervals, just for pure joy of life. It's been nice.
More later everyone! Love you all.
also: thanks for posting comments! it lets me know who's been reading my blog, and that makes me happy. Feel free to add something.
Take care.
Rob
Sunday, March 25, 2007
So I started this new job yesterday. . .
After stomping around jongno and myeongdong to find a pc room where you're actually allowed to log onto blogger (some places won't let me log on -- nature of their networks or something, I guess), I've finally found a spot, and the time, to fill you in, my loved ones.
(Yes, I do still love you all. You've been on my mind. Really.)
Well, for the first time, I don't have any cute kid stories. Instead, I have cool grown-up stories.
I'm teaching at a school right in the middle of downtown Seoul, near the city hall where all the insane soccer-game-watched-by-a-million-people kind of stuff happened during the world cup (you can check my post about the world cup: I added some pictures.)
This is really great for me, because I'm realizing that one of my great pleasures in life is eating out in restaurants. Discovering the best chicken soup, or the best california roll, in my neighbourhood makes me really happy, and gives me something to share next time a friend comes by. So, I've been systematically trying new restaurants all month at lunch time (my split shift means dinner is usually something light), to find the best of certain dishes, and just to find more good eats.
To get my visa, I travelled to Osaka.
I'll do a separate post on Osaka when I have another free three hours, except to say it was fantastic: miles better than last time I went there.
But here's the great thing.
Yes, I love my area -- I live a block over from an "old korea" souvenir market, a block the other way from a quiet shrine that's also one of three "UNESCO World Culture Sites" (that's an interesting thing to read up on, world culture sites -- check which famous places made it and which didn't -- my favorite world culture site was "head smashed in buffalo jump" in Alberta. I'm also a block from a restaurant that serves one of the most delicious foods I've ever eaten, right next to two movie theaters, all of which can be accessed through a network of winding little back alleys in the old traditional Korean style, with cobblestones and elaborate doors and just enough width to push a cart. I do need to stock my fridge yet, and I also need to find a clothing repair shop to fix two pairs of pants I own, but I still love my area.
However, the thing that's made me most happy is this:
a 530am wakeup call. Yes, that sounds counterintuitive, but here's how it works:
To get to work before 7am (and pick up a McDonalds coffee on the way), I have to set my alarm at 530 -- time to wake up, shower, and dress. Then, I start walking at 630, with Sonober, my cool coworker.
To wake up at 530am with enough sleep to make it through the day, one must go to bed early. I usually shoot for 1030 or 1100, with 1130 as my MUST HAVE LIGHTS OUT BY cutoff. The things I used to do between eleven and one AM (my previous lights out cutoff) were almost never productive: drinking a beer with Anthony (as nice as he is) never got me closer to achieving my life goals. Nor did chatting on MSN, visiting humour websites, or watching movies. These days, because of my split shift (yay teaching adults!), most of my free time is between 1pm and 7pm, which are much more productive hours than 11-1. I think I wrote about a hundred pages in the last month, in different short stories, poems, and a few plays. I've finally finished a notebook I was working on for more than a year. This is immensely satisfying, and as I accomplish more writing, I WANT to write more. This, unlike MSN and the rest, is getting me closer to my life goals, and so, between living in a really fun neighbourhood, eating great food, and writing every day, I'm kicking butt!
I hope all of you have had equally satisfying months!
Sorry it's been so long since I posted, but once I have internet in my house I'll be more consistent again.
Love you all!
Next time: Osaka!
(Yes, I do still love you all. You've been on my mind. Really.)
Well, for the first time, I don't have any cute kid stories. Instead, I have cool grown-up stories.
I'm teaching at a school right in the middle of downtown Seoul, near the city hall where all the insane soccer-game-watched-by-a-million-people kind of stuff happened during the world cup (you can check my post about the world cup: I added some pictures.)
This is really great for me, because I'm realizing that one of my great pleasures in life is eating out in restaurants. Discovering the best chicken soup, or the best california roll, in my neighbourhood makes me really happy, and gives me something to share next time a friend comes by. So, I've been systematically trying new restaurants all month at lunch time (my split shift means dinner is usually something light), to find the best of certain dishes, and just to find more good eats.
To get my visa, I travelled to Osaka.
I'll do a separate post on Osaka when I have another free three hours, except to say it was fantastic: miles better than last time I went there.
But here's the great thing.
Yes, I love my area -- I live a block over from an "old korea" souvenir market, a block the other way from a quiet shrine that's also one of three "UNESCO World Culture Sites" (that's an interesting thing to read up on, world culture sites -- check which famous places made it and which didn't -- my favorite world culture site was "head smashed in buffalo jump" in Alberta. I'm also a block from a restaurant that serves one of the most delicious foods I've ever eaten, right next to two movie theaters, all of which can be accessed through a network of winding little back alleys in the old traditional Korean style, with cobblestones and elaborate doors and just enough width to push a cart. I do need to stock my fridge yet, and I also need to find a clothing repair shop to fix two pairs of pants I own, but I still love my area.
However, the thing that's made me most happy is this:
a 530am wakeup call. Yes, that sounds counterintuitive, but here's how it works:
To get to work before 7am (and pick up a McDonalds coffee on the way), I have to set my alarm at 530 -- time to wake up, shower, and dress. Then, I start walking at 630, with Sonober, my cool coworker.
To wake up at 530am with enough sleep to make it through the day, one must go to bed early. I usually shoot for 1030 or 1100, with 1130 as my MUST HAVE LIGHTS OUT BY cutoff. The things I used to do between eleven and one AM (my previous lights out cutoff) were almost never productive: drinking a beer with Anthony (as nice as he is) never got me closer to achieving my life goals. Nor did chatting on MSN, visiting humour websites, or watching movies. These days, because of my split shift (yay teaching adults!), most of my free time is between 1pm and 7pm, which are much more productive hours than 11-1. I think I wrote about a hundred pages in the last month, in different short stories, poems, and a few plays. I've finally finished a notebook I was working on for more than a year. This is immensely satisfying, and as I accomplish more writing, I WANT to write more. This, unlike MSN and the rest, is getting me closer to my life goals, and so, between living in a really fun neighbourhood, eating great food, and writing every day, I'm kicking butt!
I hope all of you have had equally satisfying months!
Sorry it's been so long since I posted, but once I have internet in my house I'll be more consistent again.
Love you all!
Next time: Osaka!
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Tomorrow I start my new job.
I'll go to a new place called Jonggak, which is right in the beating heart of downtown Seoul. This is exciting to me. I'm within walking distance from Seoul's most important cultural landmarks: the national theatre, the palaces, the President's house (called the blue house), the park where the protests against Japanese occupation began, and the stream that symbolizes Seoul's effort to make beauty an important part of city life. I'll teach adults now, and I'm looking forward to that. I have my books and my schedule, I got my new passport (my old one was expiring) and now its time to move my things.
Also: I fleshed out the "holy cow my student almost died" post. You can find out how, and why he didn't.
More later!
Love:
Rob
Also: I fleshed out the "holy cow my student almost died" post. You can find out how, and why he didn't.
More later!
Love:
Rob
Monday, February 26, 2007
Saw a really cool movie.
So I saw this movie a couple weekends ago. . . I think it's also out in N. America these days. It's called "Bridge to Terabithia" and it's about an imaginative kid who's a bit of a loner, and I don't know when was the last time a movie managed to touch as many nerves all in such a short space.
Really enjoyed it -- don't want to say too much about what happens and how it kept tossing its darts right through me, bone-deep if you will, because I'll give away some of the film's surprises, twists and turns, but. . . touching, wonderful film. If you ever played "let's pretend" in a forest by your house, if you ever invented a new country in your imagination, if you ever had a best friend when you were a kid, or didn't get along with the other kids in your class, or got bullied, or fought with your sister, or lived in, or knew somebody who lived in a small North American town, and went to a small-town North American elementary school, well, you might relate to parts of it.
Maybe part of the reason I related so much to it was because of its rural, N. American setting, and the way I've been away from that for so long -- urban Seoul is about as different as you can get from rural N. America without being on a space station, but it sure got the texture and the details bang-on.
I saw it with a friend, who was disappointed that it was closer to real life, and not as deep into the fantasy world as "Chronicles of Narnia", but when a film is as true to life and true to its characters, as compassionate and honest as this (it's from a Newberry Award Winning book: no surprise there) I'll forgive that.
So, if you are, or ever were, 13 years old, go see this movie. Worthwhile. Plus, Disney just gave me a free wristwatch for writing this blog post! (I wish.)
(PS: While I worked at POLY School, which had a large library of English books for young readers, I got a chance to read a bunch of books for young adults, and gained a serious respect for writers of that genre. It's difficult to get it right, to relate to that age but also add grains of learning and truth. If you ever see a book with a "Newberry Award" sticker on its front, read it, or give it to the nearest 13-year-old you know. Just awesome.)
Really enjoyed it -- don't want to say too much about what happens and how it kept tossing its darts right through me, bone-deep if you will, because I'll give away some of the film's surprises, twists and turns, but. . . touching, wonderful film. If you ever played "let's pretend" in a forest by your house, if you ever invented a new country in your imagination, if you ever had a best friend when you were a kid, or didn't get along with the other kids in your class, or got bullied, or fought with your sister, or lived in, or knew somebody who lived in a small North American town, and went to a small-town North American elementary school, well, you might relate to parts of it.
Maybe part of the reason I related so much to it was because of its rural, N. American setting, and the way I've been away from that for so long -- urban Seoul is about as different as you can get from rural N. America without being on a space station, but it sure got the texture and the details bang-on.
I saw it with a friend, who was disappointed that it was closer to real life, and not as deep into the fantasy world as "Chronicles of Narnia", but when a film is as true to life and true to its characters, as compassionate and honest as this (it's from a Newberry Award Winning book: no surprise there) I'll forgive that.
So, if you are, or ever were, 13 years old, go see this movie. Worthwhile. Plus, Disney just gave me a free wristwatch for writing this blog post! (I wish.)
(PS: While I worked at POLY School, which had a large library of English books for young readers, I got a chance to read a bunch of books for young adults, and gained a serious respect for writers of that genre. It's difficult to get it right, to relate to that age but also add grains of learning and truth. If you ever see a book with a "Newberry Award" sticker on its front, read it, or give it to the nearest 13-year-old you know. Just awesome.)
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Holy Cow my student almost died last weekend!
So I came into class on Tuesday, the 20th, the first morning after a three day weekend. Here in Korea, Lunar new year is the second biggest family holiday of the year, kind of Thanksgiving to Chusok's Christmas. (Chusok is the Korean harvest festival, and it's amazing: EVERYBODY goes to their ancestral home/town/grandparents' house, offers up special foods and dishes to the ancestors in the old way, dressed up in the traditional hanbok clothes. I've seen the ceremony at a friend's girlfriend's house, and it's quite impressive.) The city empties out -- it's almost eerie. Even the street food stands are closed up! Then, at the end of the weekend, everybody returns to Seoul, and the gridlock begins fifty kilometers outside of the greater Seoul area, all the way into town.
{Tangential story alert: Once I travelled on a holiday weekend, and the trip took four hours out by bus, and twelve hours back, because of seventy kilometers (no joke) of stop and go traffic. Even better, the tour organizer had rented three movies to watch on the trip: X-men (not bad) Black Hawk Down, and Saving Private Ryan. That's comic book action movies: 1, Gory gory war movies: 2. Being trapped on a bus, in stop and go traffic, hung over (as most of the group was), with "Oh GOD IT HURTS" "I can't stop the bleeding Ty!" "You're gonna be okay, Eddie. You're gonna be okay. What's your daughter's name? You'll see her again, Eddie, I promise." "I feel cold Ty. I feel cold" for two hours is just hard to manage. So after Black Hawk Down (the noisiest, most overwhelming war movie I've ever seen: long and just gross), the guy was about to put on Saving Private Ryan (the second noisiest, most overwhelming war movie I've seen) on, and the entire bus vetoed the choice. At the next rest stop, somebody went to the DVD stand and bought "When Harry Met Sally" or "You've God Mail" or some Sandra Bullock romantic comedy, and the travellers were placated. End of tangential story.}
Well, some people go into the mountains, to see their ancestral gravesite, as did my student Lucas. As I asked about the students' weekends, this story came out, piecemeal, as Lucas remembered different impressions of his adventure. The total innocence in his eyes matched my own sheer disbelief at how close this kid came to being hospitalized, at least.
He saw a snake, and decided he didn't like having that snake in that spot. So, being a kid, innocent as all Eden, he chose to move that snake along by prodding it with his foot. "Teacher and then the tail is up and," he held his hand up and moved it side-to-side to copy a tail's shaking. Shaking a raised tail is a common warning signal for poisonous snakes (not just rattlesnakes, as I learned by research). He poked it again, and "teacher, it biting me in the pants" and he pointed to the cuff of his pants, right behind his ankle. Because it was February, and cold, the snake was slow; had he poked it in June, it probably would have had the speed and wherewithal bite him properly, but as it was, the thing missed his ankle. By then his father had spotted Lucas, and saw what was happening. His dad ran over and punted the snake, kickin it far clear of his son, but I don't think he saw the whole scene, because Lucas never mentioned an extremely angry father in the jumbled account of his story.
I was so incredulous I immediately went to the next class to tell Caleb about what had just happened. The kid never even realized how close he was to serious danger.
(Side note: there are four species of poisonous snake in Korea, in the viper/asp category. None are as deadly as the cobra, the black mamba, or the dreaded snakes of Australia, but none are to be trifled with either. Lucas being a child, the poison would have been more dangerous because he has a smaller body mass than say, me. Of the snakes in Korea, the one with the coolest name is called (in Japan) the mamushi. Just say that together with me one time. Mamushi.)
I'm glad Lucas made it through honouring his ancestors, without joining them. He's a sweet kid. Except when he isn't.
{Tangential story alert: Once I travelled on a holiday weekend, and the trip took four hours out by bus, and twelve hours back, because of seventy kilometers (no joke) of stop and go traffic. Even better, the tour organizer had rented three movies to watch on the trip: X-men (not bad) Black Hawk Down, and Saving Private Ryan. That's comic book action movies: 1, Gory gory war movies: 2. Being trapped on a bus, in stop and go traffic, hung over (as most of the group was), with "Oh GOD IT HURTS" "I can't stop the bleeding Ty!" "You're gonna be okay, Eddie. You're gonna be okay. What's your daughter's name? You'll see her again, Eddie, I promise." "I feel cold Ty. I feel cold" for two hours is just hard to manage. So after Black Hawk Down (the noisiest, most overwhelming war movie I've ever seen: long and just gross), the guy was about to put on Saving Private Ryan (the second noisiest, most overwhelming war movie I've seen) on, and the entire bus vetoed the choice. At the next rest stop, somebody went to the DVD stand and bought "When Harry Met Sally" or "You've God Mail" or some Sandra Bullock romantic comedy, and the travellers were placated. End of tangential story.}
Well, some people go into the mountains, to see their ancestral gravesite, as did my student Lucas. As I asked about the students' weekends, this story came out, piecemeal, as Lucas remembered different impressions of his adventure. The total innocence in his eyes matched my own sheer disbelief at how close this kid came to being hospitalized, at least.
He saw a snake, and decided he didn't like having that snake in that spot. So, being a kid, innocent as all Eden, he chose to move that snake along by prodding it with his foot. "Teacher and then the tail is up and," he held his hand up and moved it side-to-side to copy a tail's shaking. Shaking a raised tail is a common warning signal for poisonous snakes (not just rattlesnakes, as I learned by research). He poked it again, and "teacher, it biting me in the pants" and he pointed to the cuff of his pants, right behind his ankle. Because it was February, and cold, the snake was slow; had he poked it in June, it probably would have had the speed and wherewithal bite him properly, but as it was, the thing missed his ankle. By then his father had spotted Lucas, and saw what was happening. His dad ran over and punted the snake, kickin it far clear of his son, but I don't think he saw the whole scene, because Lucas never mentioned an extremely angry father in the jumbled account of his story.
I was so incredulous I immediately went to the next class to tell Caleb about what had just happened. The kid never even realized how close he was to serious danger.
(Side note: there are four species of poisonous snake in Korea, in the viper/asp category. None are as deadly as the cobra, the black mamba, or the dreaded snakes of Australia, but none are to be trifled with either. Lucas being a child, the poison would have been more dangerous because he has a smaller body mass than say, me. Of the snakes in Korea, the one with the coolest name is called (in Japan) the mamushi. Just say that together with me one time. Mamushi.)
I'm glad Lucas made it through honouring his ancestors, without joining them. He's a sweet kid. Except when he isn't.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
These video clips made me laugh.
Deb, I think you'll especially enjoy the second one.
This one is short. And funny.
You might recognize the thin, silly one as Hugh Laurie, now most famous as the abrasive star of the TV series "House". He actually has a background in comedy that goes all the way back to "Black Adder", the early '80s sitcom that also gave Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean) his first big break, and is FAR superior to Mr. Bean in every way. I also like Hugh Laurie's comedy stuff far better than the TV show house. . . what's with all the medical and crime investigative dramas on TV these days? Here in Korea there are only three or four channels that regularly play English programming, and at any given time, one of them is playing a Jean-Claude VanDamme movie (which cease to be entertaining even ironically after two watchings) and another is playing CSI, or one of its spinoffs, rife with grotesque modes of death and gratuitous autopsy scenes.
Sigh.
Oh well. At least it's weaned me off watching TV.
But THESE clips are funny. You should watch them.
This one plays around with actors, lines, and scene setups. It makes me smile, having acted on stage myself.
This third one. . . I think they're making fun of flag-waving singers. I'm not sure though.
This one is short. And funny.
You might recognize the thin, silly one as Hugh Laurie, now most famous as the abrasive star of the TV series "House". He actually has a background in comedy that goes all the way back to "Black Adder", the early '80s sitcom that also gave Rowan Atkinson (Mr. Bean) his first big break, and is FAR superior to Mr. Bean in every way. I also like Hugh Laurie's comedy stuff far better than the TV show house. . . what's with all the medical and crime investigative dramas on TV these days? Here in Korea there are only three or four channels that regularly play English programming, and at any given time, one of them is playing a Jean-Claude VanDamme movie (which cease to be entertaining even ironically after two watchings) and another is playing CSI, or one of its spinoffs, rife with grotesque modes of death and gratuitous autopsy scenes.
Sigh.
Oh well. At least it's weaned me off watching TV.
But THESE clips are funny. You should watch them.
This one plays around with actors, lines, and scene setups. It makes me smile, having acted on stage myself.
This third one. . . I think they're making fun of flag-waving singers. I'm not sure though.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Valentine's Day. . . meet a friend of mine.
I have a friend named Zooey. Here's a picture of him, partaking in a vice. . . usually he's not that bad. Really. Upstanding, even. (And let's give him a break: Leffe is a really good quality beer.)
Even though he sometimes drinks beer (he swears it was only that once), he also really likes to come to school with me and meet my students. He lives an adventurous life: adventurous enough that he often appears in the stories I tell to my students. He's a bit of a rennaisance elephant: he speaks tiger, bear, octopus, English, Korean, and a handful of other useful languages (not to mention African elephant, as well as Indian elephant).
When Sally the genius' family was struck by a tragedy that shall go unmentioned, I introduced Sally to Rhonda, the only other known mini-elephant. Here's Rhonda. (Un?)surpringly, Zooey and Rhonda hit it off when they met, and have been courting in the traditional mammothian way. Rhonda's even helping Zooey with his addiction to peanut butter.
Here's Rhonda.
My students love Zooey, and love to hear stories about Zooey. One day, after visiting Sally, I accidentally left Zooey at her house, and Zooey and Rhonda spent that whole week together. After that, Sally asked if Rhonda wanted to come to my house for a few days. I agreed, so that Rhonda could meet my students. My students loved her, and wanted to hear all about Zooey and Rhonda.
Then, two months after her appearance at SLP, on Valentine's day, Arooh made valentines for all her classmates, including me, and even one for Zooey. However, she couldn't remember Rhonda's English name, so she had to write her Elephant name.
Here is the card she wrote for Zooey and Rhonda.
.jpg)
It made me smile a lot.
I will be teaching adults next month: my contract with SLP is up, and I just couldn't imagine another year of teaching little kids, and mediating conflicts like "Kevin hit me." "James hit me first." "No, Zach pushing me so I hit you accident." However, I'll miss the sweetness of Arooh trying to sound out an elephant's trumpet.
For sure.
Even though he sometimes drinks beer (he swears it was only that once), he also really likes to come to school with me and meet my students. He lives an adventurous life: adventurous enough that he often appears in the stories I tell to my students. He's a bit of a rennaisance elephant: he speaks tiger, bear, octopus, English, Korean, and a handful of other useful languages (not to mention African elephant, as well as Indian elephant).
When Sally the genius' family was struck by a tragedy that shall go unmentioned, I introduced Sally to Rhonda, the only other known mini-elephant. Here's Rhonda. (Un?)surpringly, Zooey and Rhonda hit it off when they met, and have been courting in the traditional mammothian way. Rhonda's even helping Zooey with his addiction to peanut butter.
Here's Rhonda.
My students love Zooey, and love to hear stories about Zooey. One day, after visiting Sally, I accidentally left Zooey at her house, and Zooey and Rhonda spent that whole week together. After that, Sally asked if Rhonda wanted to come to my house for a few days. I agreed, so that Rhonda could meet my students. My students loved her, and wanted to hear all about Zooey and Rhonda.
Then, two months after her appearance at SLP, on Valentine's day, Arooh made valentines for all her classmates, including me, and even one for Zooey. However, she couldn't remember Rhonda's English name, so she had to write her Elephant name.
Here is the card she wrote for Zooey and Rhonda.
.jpg)
It made me smile a lot.
I will be teaching adults next month: my contract with SLP is up, and I just couldn't imagine another year of teaching little kids, and mediating conflicts like "Kevin hit me." "James hit me first." "No, Zach pushing me so I hit you accident." However, I'll miss the sweetness of Arooh trying to sound out an elephant's trumpet.
For sure.
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