I love you and I hope it helps and I hope we can talk more soon, even if it doesn't help. 

All my skimping (and my parents' unending financial kindness) has left me with $5,000 in the bank and two weeks till payday. I only mention this because my parents bought my laptop. That's the only way this makes mathematical sense. I don't know how I feel about this.

Also, upon reviewing my finances, I realize I could spend. And I got this ad for a website called Wish that ships clothes on sale internationally. But because I'm in Korea, all the clothes that pop up are the clothes popular in Korea. And men here are pretty...fashionable. And flashy. I don't think I can pull of flashy. But I kind of like how the clothes look on the mannequins. But they seem like too much of a hassle too. I'm being neurotic about clothes.

I couldn't wear this. But I wish I could right now and I'm not sure why. 

These are the scores I like to see, but still disappointing (especially that problem solving weak-ass shit). 

But the games are definitely rigged. The tutorials for each are mandatory the first go and they start you at level 1 where you score 20 points or something menial compared to later levels where you get 1,000 points. There are a set number of rounds per session so wasting time with these low levels is bollocks. The memory matrix games starts you in a 2 x 2 square where you have to remember the position of one square. Hooray you did it! Then you move up to 1 square in a 3 x 2, then 2 squares in a 3 x 2, and so on until you're half way through the game with barely 1,000 points! Later games, I'll get 36,000 points. Some games even require them to be played two or three times before you're at a stage where it's challenging. 

Those complaints aside, it was still quite a while before my memory was above 50th percentile. But the rust has been shaken off and I'm getting back into form.

Before I took out the trash

As a writing exercise, I took the sight of my trash and exaggerated it to interesting proportions. From the description, I could extract four sections to use in stories as if left as a single chunk, it's too much to bear. But it worked my ability to imagine from memory, to alter reality, and to use concrete nouns and verbs to set a certain tone (one of disgust). My actual garbage is not this bad, hopefully it's never been this bad, and it's been since emptied.

The pizza boxes piled high hid the trash bag. But the bag was split and spilt. Soda stuck the floor and a used Q-tip was trapped and colored brown. Syrup or ear muck? Leaves from broccoli, carrot peelings, and the grisly bits of pork spattered the wood floors and rotted. The bright letterings of a potato chip bag was legible through the thin plastic bag. Ripped underwear still smelled of ass crack, but that was the more pleasant scent tangled in its fibers—now rot, mold, and last week’s supper emptied from the catch fouled it. McDonald’s bags contained other trash, gathered from beside the pillow, but the bag had reeked when brought home and the chilled air had not dampened the smell. The toppings of a double quarter pounder were scraped by napkins but had missed the opening of the bag and slicked the sides of the plastic. Ramen, Kit-Kat, and ice cream sandwich wrappers blew when the door opened. The hand-vac was full and needed another to suck off its dust. The battery was dead and the charging chord exposed and frayed. Wet naps, browned from use, wadded in the bottom of the bag, keeping its space spotless and soggy. 

I love you. 

Writer's Block

I've never admitted to writer's block. I've always been steadily productive when I wanted, though I was often lazy or discouraged. Writing is hard when the idea isn't fresh and it took me much longer to finish my first novel than it should've. I finished the first half in a few months after an unusual episode of Bones inspired me, the rest in spurts over the next year. A large chunk was lost to computer troubles. It was fifteen pages, probably. They were good pages. And it was nearing the end of the story. And I had just gotten to Wales. So I spent a lot of time feeling sorry for my lost pages before starting NFG and then finally finished Ben Dau. I still think it's a great piece of angsty supernatural schoolyard adventure, but I can see why it never got really accepted. You tried to tell me when that scamming agent accepted it that it was genuine. Remember? I cried twice that day.

Spade petered out. Too little action, too much nostalgia, too much other stuff. The Blogger lost steam when I realized the plot was trivial and shameful. Let's Write Right was a lot of work to type up the awful story, type line by line suggestions and revisions, and have no one appreciate it. And eventually NFG suffered for it. It was already suffering from the start of the second book. I should've ended it with TK having to decide whether to trade his life for Stan's or some other major moral choice, not introducing Sven and continuing on till eternity with plans for demons, psychics, and betrayals. Too much Hollywood action, not enough character-driven story.

Then the whole sub shitstorm. I should just get over that, I know, but it hurt. What's safe to write? What's going to get me fired? What'll be misunderstood? What'll be unappreciated? What'll matter? I'm not much for writing controversy, but I wasn't hesitant to go with an idea because it might be morally questionable. Ben kills his best friend, by accident, to end Book 1 of Ben Dau. TK jokes about the carnage of his corpse.

And I'm not consciously afraid of that stuff, but I feel like everything I put down is boring, safe writing. I don't know what to write. I had brilliant idea for something for you too so I hope I get past this. Sorry I don't have a hint. 

We were talking about feelings in dreams earlier and I've never had a dream of crying, but a few nights ago, I had dream where all I did was taste something. I'm not sure what the drink is, but I'm told it's a yogurt drink. It also tasted like apple juice.

I have silly weird dreams. 

Ch. 8

Nele and I walked the wide streets after our run. She strolled. I hobbled. I had twisted my ankle on a downslope because the heather was slick. It was still early and only the buses were running, sputtering down the streets, backfiring, making me, as an American, jump though the country had no guns. No one crowded the streets, gawking at the oil stains of stone buildings or snapping pictures of the cock atop St. Giles. There was no one with change so even street performers stayed in bed. It was just us on the wide street. We were constantly bumping hands.

“Is it much farther to your place?” Nele asked. She had stopped to wait for me and for the WALK light though there were no cars. “We should really get you off your ankle.” The light turned and she went ahead.

“About a mile back the way we just came.”

She turned around in the middle of the street. “Then why didn’t we stop?” She came back for me and by then the light flashed so we stayed on the corner.

“I need to check the post office for a package.”

“Did you order something?”

“I sent something.”

“Where’d you send it?”

“Here.”

“But you’re here.”

“And I should check on it while I’m here.”

The light turned back to WALK. She didn’t walk. “Why didn’t you just give it to the person?”

“I don’t think they’re here.”

“So why’d you send it here?”

                                                                                                          

“Because they might be here.”

“They might be a lot of places!”

“The package has been mailed a lot of places.”

“Why don’t they pick it up?”

“I don’t know if they know it’s here.”

She gave up. She just walked off across the street, despite the light.

The clerk at the post office asked me how I was today and I told her I needed to check on a package. She asked for my name and I told her the recipient’s name, which was foreign enough that she didn’t know it was a girl’s name especially since the name derived from an alchemic movie star that no one in the Western world knew of. She rummaged through some unclaimed packages and said, “You’re in luck. Here it is.”

“That’s too bad.” I walked out. She stared at my back and then the door that closed until she shook it off and stuck the package on the shelf.

~

Me: I’ve got something for you.

: why

i’m not in germany

Me: Me neither. I finally got down to France. Like actual out and around. Paris has a lot of people. Lot of smokers too, but I think the UK was worse. Something like 70% of girls 16-18 smoke in the UK. That’s what I heard anyway.

: i’m not in france either.

Me: They have post office’s here.

: i’m not giving you the address

i couldn’t check the post even if i wanted

Me: You’re not curious? I’d be dying to know what it is. Begging, offering sexual favors—but you’re not really the sexual type. I’d brush your hair. I know you don’t like massages. They always make you giggle, right? Am I imagining that you told me that once?

: No.

You’re right.

Why do you remember that?

Me: I remember everything you tell me.

Versailles was colder than Wales but better than Germany. There was no snow, but my breath came out in puffs. The narrow street was foggy with life. The buildings were four high with the first floor obviously businesses, cafes and shops, but the ones above were a mystery. The sandy walls were broken up by hundreds of windows. There were only two designs, arched or rectangular. The left side of the street favored arched and the right liked rectangular. I sat under the blue umbrella of L’Aquarium. Only my table had it and who else would sit outside a mostly empty café, just a foot-swing from the chalkboard Specials menu, when inside was warmth? Some blonde in a scarf joined the table. Everyone in France wore scarfs.

Me: Except your birthday. October 12?

: 10th

Me: Damn. I was off by one day last time. I guessed the 11th and remembered that was wrong, but forgot if I was over or under.

: 10/10

Like a perfect score

Easiest thing to remember

A pigeon weaved through the tables and got at my foot. Maybe it’d mistake my frayed shoelace for a worm. It was fat. It wasn’t afraid. I could’ve punted it down the street.

: What’d you get me?

Me: It’s a surprise.

: You can’t mail it.

I wouldn’t be able to check the post.

Me: I want to give it to you in person anyway.

My coffee was in danger of freezing. My teeth nearly cracked on the iced chocolate chips in my muffin. Neither were very good. But they were cheap. My laptop was low on power, but I wasn’t worried. As a kid, my friend the scientist, educated our lunch table on tricks to extend the power of a battery. The most obvious and assured way was to stick your AAs in the fridge, but let’s say you were on a car ride to Grandma’s and while you were over the river but not quite through the woods, your Gameboy died. A sure-fire way to get you through to Grandma’s without sleeping was sticking them in your pits, one in each.

: I’m leaving Austria tomorrow.

Not sure where I’m going yet.

Or how long I’ll be there.

They don’t tell me much.

But maybe I’ll tell you when it seems like I’ll be somewhere for a while.

I love you.

Thank you.

I had typed “I love you too…” and was adding her name when my battery warning popped up. I had 7% battery life, 20 minutes it estimated. The computer shut down before I could punch the six keys—her name, space, enter. 

I love you.

One day we'll eat ice cream together. 

Last night I had a dream that I was in the Star Wars Episode I-III senate hall with all the floating platforms for the senators. I don't know if you've seen it so here. It was filled with old men who were possibly donating to the hagwon, because I was there with my fellow teachers. I was sitting next to Australia and explaining the difference between good writing and bad writing which is actually something I've been doing lately in reality because he's asked. I was also next to Scary-teacher, while Katherine-teacher was in the center giving a presentation. At some point, Australia put his hands over my ears and I just thought he was being weird and I ignored him. You know when you have earbuds in and you start talking really loudly because you can't tell how loud you're being? I was doing that. And so when I finished my spiel to Australia, Katherine-teacher was glaring at me. I turned to Australia and asked, "Was I being really loud?" and Scary-teacher said "Yes" and gave me her death stare.

I'm labeling this a nightmare. A funny one.

I know I don't have to write here, but I think I will. It felt weird not doing it. You don't have to read regularly or at all. But everything is here just in case. 

Odd

So lately I've been feeling odd about this blog. I still want to write in it everyday, just in case, but I started it thinking this might be our only means of communicating but you're pretty consistently available for chatting, which is great. But when I have something important to say, do I say it here? Or wait till we talk? It's not life-altering or anything, not for us anyway, but I do have information that I feel odd about. I could just say it here, but I'll just wait till we're talking. It's not good news.

But it doesn't have to do with us so that's good. I love you and I hope we talk soon. 

Cookies

Have you ever seen the movie Stranger Than Fiction? Probably one of the best movies I saw during high school that I didn't appreciate. It's got comedy, romance, literature! And cookies. Will Ferrell is an IRS agent auditing Maggie Gyllenhaal for refusing to pay 22% of her taxes because while she's in favor of repairing pot holes, she doesn't want to pay for national defense, corporate bail outs, and campaign funding. She's a baker. After a day of auditing her in which he tries to make nice, she offers him some cookies. He doesn't like cookies. But didn't his mother ever bake him some after a hard day? His mother didn't bake. He only got store bought. So now, an adult and slightly in love, he's being offered cookies because he just had a hard day--Maggie made sure of it. And they're delicious.

I'd like some homemade cookies. But I have no oven. Yet. 

Disappointed

I suck.

I have a load of excuses that I'll get out of the way first:

I'm a bit sick. I'm tired today. I've been tired lately. I'm still learning the controls and rules. I haven't been a student for a year and a half. I'm still shaking off the brain-rust. I had novacane which was injected into the back of my mouth and I have to believe some of that numbness spread from my teeth to the old thinker. Korea and my lack of daily communication with a wide range of people who are my intellectual equals has atrophied my brain (there's only one person keeping me from being near-vegetative mental status and that's you). It was a first try. The games are rigged as a marketing ploy to keep you hooked so you automatically do worse in the beginning and then continue with the service because your score climbs each time but really it's programmed to do just that. I was hungry.

And done.

Okay, have you heard of Luminosity? It was an iPhone app, and is now on computers and maybe other devices. It's full title and motto are Luminosity: Brain Games & Brain Training. Improve your brain health and performance with brain games designed by neuroscientists to exercise memory and attention. They have commercials and online ads and everything. 

I took the free test and scored 29,000; 22,000; and 4,200. Do these scores mean anything to you? Me neither because I don't have a reference point for what's good for each and as the one I think I did best on (I completed three out of three bird pictures!) is that 4,200 so obviously the point system isn't standardized. I bought the service. Two years for $3.33 a month? Hell yeah that's a good deal! If I could find four others interested in splitting the cost with me, I could get that down to $1 a month for two years, but I don't have that many friends. The "brain analysis" they promised me was a sham, but whatever. Those three scores don't seem to be recorded or up for comparison with others, but the daily test scores are. 

In school, I ALWAYS scored 90th percentile or above. My best was 97th if I remember right and I don't remember anything below 93rd. I made standardized tests my bitch. Even the practice ones. 

So when my best score (problem solving) is only the 80th percentile, I'm pissed at myself. Especially since my others are 31st (speed), 29th (attention), and 24th (flexibility). My memory hasn't been tested yet so I can't get my overall score or my Brain Performance Index but goddammit I'm pissed.  

I have a little magic trick for you. So follow the video as I roll a die and I want you to guess which number it'll land on. I guarantee you won't get it, but go ahead and guess =)

This was the science project yesterday.

I love you =)

A Night of Boxing

Sometimes I just feel like I did really well. My punches were crisp. My footwork was clean, except that time I tripped over myself and fell into the reflection of myself as I was right by the mirror. I had stamina to go for the whole round. And after I did a whole mess of leg stuff. I think my sparring match with Australia gave me a confidence boost, or maybe it's just the renewed spirit I've had lately. Either way, I'm hanging onto it for as long as possible.

Seriously, I feel cleansed though. I haven't felt too neurotic, except the toothpaste incident and tonight I wanted a protein shake but Coach Amy was talking with someone in Korean and I didn't want to interrupt. My classes have been better behaved. I'm being productive. I haven't looked at porn in nearly a week! That's not really that odd. I'm not an addict or anything who needs it every night, but for a while, I was feeling lonely and needed it every night.

But now, I'm happy. Because of you. Thank you. I love you. 

Directorometer

Director Lee rates everything by how expensive or cheap it is. If he describes something as good, the next sentence he'll try to get out will be about how it was under 10,000 Won. If something is so-so, it's because it's fun but expensive, which of course is relative and any meal over 10,000 Won, no matter how nice the restaurant is, can only be so-so or bad. Anything that isn't fun and is expensive is bad. I'd agree with him on that.

But everything is also qualified with a little.

"Are you feeling better?"

"A little bit."

"Was the meal good?"

"A little."

And he must understand what it means because he does the motion with his finger and thumb closing their gap. I wouldn't mind his quirk, except it makes him hard to talk to. I don't know his opinion on most things other than based on their price. Like once he was talking to me about these King Crabs they have in Korea during spring. They sell for as much as 250,000 Won. He bought one once and all he could talk about was the price so I couldn't even get out of him if it tasted better than a cheaper crab, like the snow crab.

He did talk about sea fishing today. He said it's about 80,000 won each if we can get 10 people together. I don't know who would fill out our party, but I'd go. He said you each catch about 50 fish and get to take them home and eat them.  Ultimately that comes to $1.6 a fish, which is surely an expensive fish but it's also about the experience and fun that goes with catching it. Though I'm not sure I could prepare the fish myself... And there's no way I could eat it with its eyes still on, just staring at me...

Anyway, I love you and your skin is radiant today! 

The List (In Progress)

So I've been thinking about the things you could do for me. While I suggested it to give you something to do, I also want to only include items that I'll really appreciate so you're not just doing busywork. That way I never take anything you do for granted and I'll be so grateful that you'll feel as valuable as you are (which is A LOT).

I could list it here if you want, but the list isn't long and my first thoughts were all lazy ones, like take a picture for me once a week so I can see your lovely face. Which, I'm not opposed to, I would love that, but then what am I valuing? That you're pretty? I'm glad you're pretty but it's not why you're precious to me. So I figure for every 4 items of actual worth, I might include a lazy, superficial, or sexual idea. And that ratio might change as I think more about what I'd appreciate from you. You can always refuse ideas too. I'm only posting this here because it's lunch time and that's usually when I post in the blog and you're sleeping (hopefully well!) so I'm entertaining myself with thoughts of you. =) They're good thoughts. 

I'm very very very sorry

Oh no! The thing I meant to post while at school yesterday didn't post! I missed a day! So I'll post twice today. Yesterday was just commenting on how I forgot to go to school at 10 for cooking class and Australia had to come get me. Wisconsin forgot too and I was only 10 minutes late and didn't miss anything. No big deal.

What will I post next? We'll see! 

The way the leaves change is nice.

I like it, but not even close to how much I love you. 

Editing

About a year ago, you might remember I started this blog, LetsWriteRight. I found stories online, generally from Wattpad, and revised them to much better form. I  wrote a handful of articles and one teen even asked me to do it for their story. When I got to Korea, or maybe just before, I started editing another story in the same way and I never posted it because I was busy adjust to life in Korea. Lately I've had a lot of free time at night. Sometimes I can't do my own writing and sometimes I don't want to play games or watch reruns. So I think I'll try this editing again. If I continue applying for MFA programs, it'll be something else to show off. 

These Are Big Deals to Me

I'm feeling so full of life today that I'm getting shit done.

-Cleaning the apartment - Finished
-Mopping the apartment - Finished but maybe should do again
-Editing and writing - After dinner
-Cooking egg fried rice - Finished, but there's an extra pepper so dinner is going to be the same
-Shopping for groceries - Finished
-Walking 5,000 steps - It's raining
-Washing dishes - Finished
-Doing laundry - Constantly...
-Smiling - Constantly

I love you. - Constantly

I know

I missed the midnight mark by two hours but I haven't been to bed yet so it still counts as today to me. I'll still be up in the morning. I'm only late because the Indian place was closed and we got KFC and then went to a jinjabong which is a spa basically. I'll tell you about it tomorrow. I'll be up in the morning.

I love you. I know it was never fake. 

Nipples

I love them. There's something perfect about how they look. They're odd, especially on men, which I don't love those, but the size and shape of a breast can make it good, but without a good nipple, it'll never be great. And small breasts that are otherwise unremarkable can be great if they have good nipples. I don't know what makes a good nipple, color, shape, size, bumps, but I recognize one when I see it and I like it when I see it.

But I hate mine.

Mine feel out of place. Why do I have them?! One is hairier than the other. I can always see them through my shirt just poking out. Some days, they stay flat and hide well, but other times I will change a shirt so they're not obvious. Why do they get pointy some days?! They're not cold! I'm very warm at the moment, almost too warm because my neighbor hasn't turned off their heat and I feel it in my feet! That rhymed. But why can't they just be normal? Very few people have such noticeable nipples and mine probably aren't to others but to me they are and Jennifer Aniston had them and so did Emily Beyers, who you wouldn't know because she was in my high school chem class and she had a big blue vein in her forehead and big blue eyes and one night we flirted through AIM because she thought I was someone else and the next day I went to school and made a comment to her referencing last night and she was confused and later her friend told me she thought my screenname was someone else's which was ridiculous because at the time my screen name was Foun10ofYouth.

Please love me in spite of my nipples and my worry over my nipples. 

Heat

The mornings start in the 30s or 40s. There was frost once, unless it was just steam making condensation, but either way it's cold. My place is warm enough because the windows are sealed and my fridge makes a bit of warmth as does the laptop and all my chargers. And I think I figured out the thermostat. Maybe.

But the school doesn't have an outer door that seals properly. There's an inch around the frame and between the two doors there's a space. But that doesn't even matter because the door is always open and so is the back entrance so there's a good breeze headed up to our second floor school. Also the windows are always open. The AC units are off and unplugged but the tubes carrying the drainage still hang out the window so I can't even close all of them when I get in the room. I need gloves for that building!

Then kids come to school in jumpers, jackets, long sleeves, and about ten layers. They complain that it's hot. I'm in a sweater and long sleeves and still chilled and they're trying the AC remote or begging for the fan.

I think I'll be stuck with a perpetual cold till spring comes. Hopefully they turn the heat on soon.

Come keep me warm. I love you. 

Do Not Ship without Bubble Wrap

Koreans are fragile people. Any sickness, just a little cold, is enough to send them to the hospital. Kids need a bandage when there's a little scratch that isn't even causing them pain, but it's visible so they need a bandage. If a kid's arm is aching, it goes in a cast. I told Director Lee I had a small cold and that it was getting better and he immediately asked if I'd been to the hospital and then urged me to go and get medicine for it. I told him in America we have a saying, but it's actually a Chinese saying my linguistics professor told us about:

Have a cold, take medicine, one week later, all better.
Have a cold, don't take medicine, one week later, all better.

Nickname

On Friday, when the TTF and MWF classes had their Halloween fun, we ran out of candy pretty early. Towards the end of the second session so the third session of older kids got pretty much nothing. Luckily there aren't many of them so the nothing was well spread out. For the first two sessions, I was hid in the playroom in a corner wearing this

There aren't windows to the outside in the playroom and it was overcast and our windows, like all windows in Korea, are covered by adverts. So it was pretty dark in my corner. And my costume is funny in the light but seeing a weirdo in the corner dressed like this is creepy. A lot of the kids turned on the light to make sure I wasn't an actual moaning monster. One girl cried and it might've been because of me but I think it was actually Maya-teacher who did it. Kids would find me and I'd give them a piece of candy and they'd scurry off and be back within minutes to beg for more.

But during the third session, I was out of candy so I stayed in the teachers' room. So did Minnesota and Joyce-teacher and eventually Australia and England and Maya-teacher and so on as people ran out of candy. But Joyce-teacher had my middle school girls in the office with us. She was putting make up on them. Bad make up. Clown mouths, unibrows, smeared eye shadow. And it was entertaining enough to watch occasionally because they'd flinch at the compact mirror. The MS girls only speak Korean. Their English is pretty good but they don't practice and they don't care so they only speak Korean. But I was just looking up from the physical comedy of it all, not because I recognized any words.

However, Joyce-teacher asked me later if I knew my nickname. I had looked up at the exact moments they said it a few times so they thought maybe I knew. Miguk (mee-gook) is America so they call me Mi-son. 

Mouse Cookie

I want to beg for another month with you. Just one more month. 1. That's a small number. Right? It's just 1. And it'll only be a bit more actually, because it'll be my birthday about then and you can't cut me off on my birthday, right? And that's right around the time we started talking. I looked it up for the collage and it was the booth right after my birthday booth where I was complaining that everyone on Facebook says happy birthday even if I haven't talkd to them in ages or never. The one after that you said something. But then Christmas is coming up and you don't celebrate it but Korea does so I'd have a week off and a week off to stew over my loss, that's not cool, right? So you'd have to give me till after New Years when I'm busy with work again. But then Valentine's Day comes and it's a stupid holiday but it's an excuse to beg you for more time. And after that, I don't have an excuse to ask you to stay just a bit longer because I won't even get the month or another day and I hate it i fucking hate it

but if you ever decide just one more conversation, or a million more, please talk to me. I'll always love you. 

What's the point? 

A couple of videos

Both of them are by Rick Astley. Maybe you can guess one. The second is still quite enjoyable.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ

Lights Out
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rgUrqGFxV3Q

I love you. 

Unofficial Teacher's Dinner

Last night I had ten shots of soju, which is anywhere from 20% to 40% alcohol. They tasted like cough syrup. I only had them when I had to, like during love-shots with Aiden or when we were playing Baskin Robins or when everyone was just expecting me to. I also had two cans of cider, clams, octopus that was alive at the start of the meal and submerged into boiling water and pink by the end.

Connie-teacher, the former desk-teacher who left last week, was back in town to visit. She didn't get to see the Kinder kids unfortunately, but she got to see the older kids. Her boyfriend is Aiden, a very tall Korean man who likes to dance and who speaks about as much English as Australia does Korean, though his ear for English is much better than Australia's for Korean. He's a wild guy. Very funny, a little effeminate, dressed in a hideous sweater vest. He said he was jealous of my nose and he poured me a glass of cider and then everyone yelled "Congratulations!" and the Koreans shook my hand so we might be married. He also got really drunk. Everyone but me and Joyce-teacher did. She knows all sorts of odd translations because she's dated almost exclusively Westerners, and revealed that the rumors about black penises should always be believed. She asked me if she looked like she drank a lot, which I don't know how to answer that! Not even what would be a safe, complimentary answer that she wanted to hear, but I don't know how to judge that on looks alone. She hadn't been drinking much throughout the night, less than me actually, so I said no, and that seemed to be a safe answer. She made her arms into a heart over her head and everyone cheered that I was a nice guy. Then all the women asked if they looked like drinkers and I said no, no, no, no but I giggled on the last one because it was just so odd so they all thought I was lying or teased me for lying anyway.

It was established that I was the youngest by a month. Maya-teacher was born in November, 1989 and I was in December, 1989. So after I had my first shot or maybe second shot of soju, Scary-teacher said she'd call my mom. Pretty-teacher invited England and I to travel with her sometime, maybe to Jeju. Scary-teacher also invited England to her house sometime. Apparently she's very concerned about her well-being, I think because she's the only woman native teacher at the school and she just doesn't know many people yet so it was a nice outreach but unexpected.

I'm still pretty reserved around everyone so this was another get-to-know-you dinner where everyone asks about me. What do you like to do? How do you like Korea? Where do you want to go? etc. And Scary-teacher asked if I was still boxing and if I'd fought the champion again and Aiden likes boxing so he was really interested. There was a lot of teasing mock-boxing directed at me and flexed muscles and Pretty-teacher compared the firmness of our arms and couldn't decide who won so we arm-wrestled. He took it very seriously. We had to go left-handed because his right hand had been crushed in an industrial accident and still recovering, though mostly better, and I lost. Then Scary-teacher challenged me. I didn't know if I should win or lose so at first I'm asking everyone around me what to do while she's pushing on my arm to go down down and I was holding firm in the starting position. Not to brag, but I'm much stronger than her. So when everyone was cheering my name, I gently and easily put the back of her wrist to the table. She said I was a man. She also told me to call her "Noona" which is older sister in Korean. It seems to fit with our interaction because she reminds me of an older sister. I have the physical superiority, but there's still that looming dread that if she's in a bad mood, she'll beat the living hell out of me. Minnesota then challenged Aiden and Minnesota is a big guy. I'd guess he has 30 kgs on me and he's only about 15 cm taller. He was a football player, basketball player, and baseball player in high school and college. And even he lost to Aiden so I didn't feel so bad. At the second place we went, we had a private room on the corner of the building and Aiden would sneak outside while everyone thought he was pissing and open the window then slyly join in on the conversation much to the confusion of everyone. Sometimes he'd play badminton with the other drunk people on the sidewalk. The rackets were provided by the bar/restaurant.

Wisconsin has always been a quiet person, nice enough, but pretty reserved. But as she got drunk, she couldn't stop talking. She was asking me about if Korean neighborhoods, which we all agree are pretty much the same from one to the next, are actually quite different to Koreans and we just don't have the language or cultural context to tell and then she compared it to how cities in the US are so vastly different and if I was slapped down in LA one day and Miami the next, would I be able to tell the difference? Which I don't think I could honestly. But she kept explaining what she meant, going further and repeating herself, and getting on tangents, and she was obviously drunk and somehow I got saved from further conversation--I think when she turned to Connie-teacher and Aiden and the now-sleeping Maya-teacher because Connie-teacher was explaining that Scary-teacher's English name is Sue because her Korean name is Jisoo and they were asking about Wisconsin's Korean name. Wisconsin is actually from Masan, Korea, but she's adopted. She was given up by her family when she was three months. About this time, maybe 1:30, I took the pulse of the group. The raucous noise had settled to quiet conversations. Scary-teacher (Jisoo, Sue, Noona, whatever) was talking about Tiger Kinder-class with Minnesota and how seven years old is a sensitive age for Korean boys which is why Billy acts out so much. England was discussing how love and language works in her opinion as she had lived in Italy for a stint and dated an Albanian man and their shared language was Italian, which is something they were both still learning so she was translating from English to Italian and he'd hear it in Italian and translate it to Albanian then he'd think of a reply in Albanian and translate to Italian and so on. Pretty-teacher had turned to texting someone and Maya-teacher was still asleep, passed out from too much soju. And I listened in on Wisconsin as she was asking about Korean opinions on abortion. The pulse was pretty dead and I was tired and while still enjoying myself, not as much as drinkers would have you believe. Alcohol made me a bit dizzy and that first shot made my heart race, but mostly I was at my usual level of enjoyment. Then Wisconsin cried. Everyone turned to see why and comfort her, of course, but she kept crying and she couldn't really say why but she tried to explain through the tears and mostly what came out was "I'm just really emotional sometimes. I'm sorry, guys. I'm done now," which, of course, she was not. And that was fine. Everyone was really nice and listened and tried to cheer her up and we agreed there were two effects of soju and that was tears like hers or sleep like Maya-teacher. Wisconsin made some cheesy speech about how we should make every second count, you know? And Aiden listened very intently and said, "I don't know what you said."

We left about 2:00 AM. Everyone seemed pretty tired and ready to go till Minnesota brought up karaoke, or nor-ray-bangs. I had no idea where we were but Pretty-teacher was going to head back too so I'd walk with her till it was time to part ways. Or so I thought. Then she got a second-wind and decided on nor-ray-bang too. So I'm asking which way Herald School is and no one was confident but I got pointed in the right direction. Scary-teacher had left earlier after a phone call, but now I was the only one ditching karaoke so of course I got some flak for it. I made excuses and escaped a few clutches and got ready to go when Wisconsin took me by the shoulders. She was smiling at first and I was like "I'm tired. Next time I'll go. It's cold and I don't have a sweater" and so on but she started crying again. She must've spent ten minutes latched onto me, telling me she wasn't going to force me and that I should do this for myself as a writer and that she loves writing more than me and that I should make every second count. Everyone else had pretty much gone inside and said bye to me, but Pretty-teacher and half-asleep Maya-teacher stayed to escort Wisconsin in and after so long I had to look to them for some assistance which I eventually got and I eventually got home with plenty of things to write about.

Anyway, I love you.