Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Public Transportation

We move
angrily in clumps,
tender shoots from the same seed.
God help us
find
a
seat
alone.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Elixir of Love

We've found it! It's white, lowfat, warm and has the reminiscent flavor of texturally neutral tapioca fluff. The best part about this elixir of love is its perfect abundance in Seoul. Need some in the morning before work? Try the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on the corner of Insadong and Nagwondong. Need some in the evening before a lengthy bus ride to Osan? Try the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf in the train station. Need it in the middle of the day because you are addicted and think of nothing but texturally neutral tapioca essence all through the live long day? Try the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf located in the cockles of your heart (because I'm sure they've staked a claim there too next to burger king and dunkin donuts)

Evidently, True LOVE can be purchased for a mere pittance (if you consider 4,500 won and your soul, a pittance). WARNING: may cause some facial distortion and sexual nightmares.







ps. why I am the only one with wiley nostrils? I've got to stop having friends with such straight, lovely, un-flaring noses.

Another historical moment brought to you by the letters S and B.

Nota bene is a Latin phrase meaning "note well," coming from notāre—to note. It is in the singular imperative mood, instructing one individual to note well the matter at hand. (The pluralis form is notate bene.) In present-day English, it is used to draw the attention of the reader to a certain (side) aspect or detail of the subject on hand, translating it as "pay attention" or "take notice". It is often written in the abbreviated form: N.B.

does it get any cuter? Seriously.

Monday, December 22, 2008

Sometimes, you're just tired

Going To Bed Early

Nine below something Celsius
Christmas in three days
First, I think about you, strange country that is not strange
(but will be in three months)
And my gut is too twisted from
(too many vegetables at dinner)
thousands of unknowns pushing themselves up against me
(or just something I ate)
I see the clock says 7:16
And I remember that it’s actually 7:08
(I set it eight minutes fast because doing math wakes me up faster than alarms)
I know it’s too early, but nine below
a good book
and maybe a vision or two when I close my eyes
It’s enough.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

A Crush Is Born

Take note:

1. Smart Boy requests that I send him music.

2. Smart Boy then listens to every song, taking note of structure, possible connections between songs and why and how each song may have captured my ear/heart.

and as if that weren't enough to lay me out...

3. Smart Boy sends me a poem that includes the words, "my head exploded" to describe his listening experience. The poem has a RUBRIC (!!!!!) on how to unlock the layered meaning.

Excuse me, Smart Boy, but I'm pretty sure I'm the one with the exploding head.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

New News Now!

I ate at Bennigans!
(This is Misook Werner from Pennsylvania! She knows my Nan and Pap! We ate a BROWNIE!)
It Snowed!!!
(this is where I live! There was a pony! I knew this was a magical place, and then that PONY!!!)


(we love the snow!)


I sang! I was on a poster and everything! LOOK!


Friday, December 05, 2008

BAM! Crush UP! Crush Down!

May I introduce a few new concepts to your vernacular?

B.A.M. Boy Attention Moment (noun) A (pathetic) replacement for real dating and relationships meant to make you feel the soaring leap of hope necessary to prove to yourself that you are not slightly socially autistic.
usage
friend: Um, were you crying during church today? I would have handed you some tissue to clean...well, you know...but I was kind of on a sacrament date and I couldn't really stop in the middle of the rub-down portion... I wanted him to ask me to Sunday School. You understand, right?
NB: Oh, yeah, no problem. Well, yeah, it was a rough day, but it's ok because tonight at the Break The Fast, ______________ (insert boy name) totally gave me a BAM! Like eye contact and everything. I think he wants to marry me.
Friend: excellent.

Crush Up (verb) moving your crush to level 2 (level 1 = facebook stalking) by making real life contact in some written or verbal form.
Usage: I totally crushed up on ________________ after blogstalking for many months and I think he really liked my comment on his facebook status. I think he wants to marry me.


Crush Down (verb) Taking your crush back down to level 1 shortly after a failed attempt at crushing up.
usage: I guess I will have to crush down as it appears ______________ was unimpressed with my comments on linkup, facebook, friendster and myspace. Do you think the unsolicited chat on gmail was too much?

Credit where credit is due...crush up (or is it crush down? I can't remember!) is a trademark of Bottari

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Love = ceramic hearts+ handwritten notes


Thank you, R. I taught you the word "homesick" and you taught me about compassion.


If you are ever looking for something to serve as a miracle in your life...I present these little people...old souls who are the culmination of their families spiritual gifts and talents who know more about the things that really matter than all of our collective adult "wisdom". I am humbled to be part of their lives. God really knows what He's doing.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Things I remembered that I forgot

1. I forgot that I love www.toothpastefordinner.com but now I remember.

2. I forgot that when I was 14, I thought 31 year olds were old and freaky and not cool, but I recently remembered as I was at a movie with a smattering of tweens who were all pretending they didn't know who we were, even though we were the ones with their movie tickets and drivers licenses.

3. I forgot that I am an ENFP in meyers briggs land but when I finally remembered, it also jogged my memory of all my flaws. Which are many. (yeah, like I could forget that...especially since I remember that I'm also a virgo which reminds me that I'm doubly screwed...self-absorbed and highly aware of it. BLURG!)

4. I forgot (but my older brothers and their GI Joes certainly didn't) that I don't make very good bombing, helicopter and gun explosion sounds. Had I remembered this very important bit of information sooner, I may have avoided this very awkward and weird "sound effect" phase in which I am currently stuck. Has this ever happened to anyone else???? Like, instead of saying a word, I make a noise. Example. Someone says, "Hey, you're a totally and utterly self-absorbed, fruity ENFP, aren't you? I can tell by the way you whore for attention at any given moment!" to which I reply with a perfectly pitched, "DING!" and follow it up with a lower, more sophisticated "Merp." It's completely out of my control and the worst part is how I can't even seem to approximate a machine gun when necessary after all these years.

5. I also forgot, but now choose to remember that I can choose my life. That's more serious and lest I bore you with the depths of my mental pinings, just imagine that for years you thought everything you did was on some sort of string being manipulated by someone else and then you realize that there is a string, but you've got it in your hands. There's no puppet master, only a loving God who hands you a blank pad of paper before the show and says, "make it up. I'll make it work for your good if you love me." That's a really amazing reminder during times of transition.

Monday, November 10, 2008

I got interviewed

check out this blog by Arthur Hatton. He features LDS musicians who aren't Colors and this week-ish, he's featured me.

Linescratchers

No pressure.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008

Hunger of Memory

It's historic. America elected Barack Obama and I wasn't even there to watch it unfold, to be part of the changing of the guards. I was in a classroom, writing November 5th on the blackboard and feeling like a true ex-patriot. It's a little like the 13 year old version of myself, sitting at the kitchen window, straining to see what's happening at Dawn Balliet's party across the street and trying to figure out why I wasn't cool enough to get invited. You know the worst part? This time it's all my fault. I didn't vote. I missed the deadline for the absentee ballot. I didn't register in time. I didn't cash in on my american right and by extension, I didn't become passionate about it one way or the other. I didn't learn enough about the candidates and the issues because it wasn't shoved in my face. I was lazy. I was supposed to demand entrance into that damn party at Dawn's house, and I just walked away and bought a Krispy Kreme donut in Gangnam and watched a Korean game show instead.

And now, I am totally and utterly homesick. Like the kind of homesick where I just sit and cry and hate everything about Korea. I wish I was in America right now so that I could be feeling something about this election result. ANYTHING except the sort of wishy washy ambivalence that I feel. I hate that everyone else gets to be passionately disappointed or passionately excited and I can only wonder what the news means for the falling won and my monthly money transfer. I know...I chose this. Self-imposed on many levels. You know I just really hate to miss a party.

And I miss my family. I miss my passionately political dad and his opinions that are so often at odds with my own.

So tonight, I will eat an apple, send a few emails and curl up in my bed and look forward to a rested tomorrow when I can hug a little korean kid who is speaking beautiful broken english at me. God bless America. Everyone.

Sunday, November 02, 2008

I lied.

My life is not really all about the fiber. It's all about the A's.

ABBA.

AFROs.



AIR GUITAR by chad gooch.



And to reward you for looking at my self-absorbed halloween pictures, I will tell you a secret.

I'm coming home! I've decided not to renew my contract for next year. I'll be back in Americaville as of March/April 2009. I'm excited for the next chapter...but it's nights like this Friday that make it just a little bit harder to think about leaving. You better be getting ready for me, America. I hope you have lots and lots of air guitars.

Friday, October 24, 2008

I'm normal and regular.

I'm tired of everyone appearing to have these fabulous lives full of weekend shenanigans and hip everything. I read your blogs. I'm sure that I like you in RL. But maybe sometimes my life is all about how much fiber I consumed instead of the wild hijinx of single life. So today, I want you to know that I ate 10 grams of fiber (mostly from fruit and these Fiberone bars that I love) and almost (working on it as we speak) 1600 ml of water. Tomorrow will be more of the same. Oh, and a coerced theatrical experience in which I finally! see the musical CATS...in korean. Shoot me now.

Friday, October 10, 2008

words are cheap and I like a good bargain...

but seriously, "hubby"? That word is like the nasty stained underpants at the bottom of the DI bucket that you pick up accidently and then hurl across the room when you realize what it is. Don't take it! EVEN IF IT"S FREE! That stain will NOT come out. Hubby. Blech!

I can't think of a less attractive word to call the person that you've decided should be the father of your children or at least the payer of your bills.

actually, I think I should just start a comprehensive list of unapproved words here for the sake of posterity...

NOTE: while not inherently evil, each of these words use alone or together in certain contextual situations or combinations (ie. pork panties) can ignite a physical reaction that may or may not include chills, projectile vomit, explosive swearing and whimpering.

moist
ointment
boil
panty
pork
pustule
hock
cubicle (thanks alie, now it always makes me think of pubicle, and who likes the word pubicle?)
bladder
misanthropic
delve
menses
lark
mercantile (can't really watch Little House On The Prairie anymore, stupid Olsens.)
blossoming (no reference to joey lawrence and mayim bailik vehicle of the early 90's)


There's more, but I won't really remember until after I punch you. Accidently.

Thursday, October 09, 2008

Little Mexico



It's concert time and I'm in the business of creating the finest singing Korean Mexicans you ever heard. Check out my gang.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Ninny Beth Sees Dead People or What DO you do in the Korean Countryside?

Well, if your name is Ninny Beth and you are the token whitey guest of the Kim Family for Chuseok, (Korean Thanksgiving), here's what you do:
You shuck peanuts (or in the case of Sir Inguen, recently of Surrey England, you sit in a chair and supervise the peanut shucking while taunting the dogs). You make Seongpyeon, traditional tteok with sesame, honey and walnuts inside. Please notice that we are cooking on the floor again! Countertops be damned! Who needs them? Youngji and her Omma do a lot of talking while they cook. I am consistently amazed at the consistencies that find their way across cultural divides...this is when my mom and I talk too, multitasking during the "woman" work. However, we usually do it standing up.
The filling! YUMMY! This is the best part of Chuseok. I finally learned that there is a word for a girl like me, a tteok-a-holic. In korea, I'm referred to as a Tteoksunni. I'm not really sure of the exact translation. Don't tell me. While I secretely suspect that sunni is a variation on a theme of "pig", I'm going to believe that it means "connoisseur".


Evidently, if you can make pretty seongpyeon, you will make pretty babies. Youngji's Omma was openly dubious of my ability to create aesthetically pleasing SP. I plowed on ahead, thoroughly convinced that I would be revealed to have a hidden tteok shaping genius (and subsequent baby making talent). However, I was quickly humbled as I realized that this is no easy task for a westerner. Apparently, the prevalent ideal for SP is to make it look like a smooshed dog turd with finger prints in it. I had, up to this point, not really attempted such a sculptorial feat. Despite my lack of preparation, I thought I was doing swimmingly in my task because Hyunji kept saying, "Oh! I want to see what your kids look like someday." Surely, this was a vote of approval? Well, only later when Omma told me I had to eat all my own SP because no one else will want to eat them did I realize that Hyunji was implying that my unborn babies are going to be monstrously hideous. hrmmmphhh....they TASTED fine to me.

You EAT....and eat....and eat. With ne'rey a diet coke in sight, I was confronted with all manner of Weight Watchers unapproved deliciousness. Granted it was all organically grown in ye olde garden, but still....

You honor your ancestors in an elaborate and delicate ceremony at the top of a mountain.

ceremonial food or the fruits of the fall harvest: dried fish, apples and asian pears with their tops peeled back for easy spirit access, rice wine to entice the ancestral guests, beautifully made Seongpyeon (crafted by those with beautiful children), and nuts.





Appa trims the grave mound in defference to his Mother and Father. Doggedly pulling weeds and bringing the resting place of his parents (well off the beaten path) back to a respectable appearance.

The offering.

After the family bowed, I was introduced as an honored guest. I spent a few moments, silently paying my respects to those good men and women who fathered and mothered this lineage...There was no cultural divide as I bowed in gratitude. Thank you for sharing your loving family. Thank you for teaching them how to teach me. Thank you Omma, Appa, Youngji, Hyunji, Inguen, Ilsun for taking me in, feeding me, handing me purple eggplants from the garden when you knew I was homesick for my own mother, listening to me sing in a foreign language, giving me a name that means Voice of Jade and leaving me alone to rest on your quiet front lawn as the fireflies exploded overhead. It was Thanksgiving in every way.





Monday, September 22, 2008

The Carter Family - Wildwood Flower

I know that on my LDS mission to West Virginia I was supposed to listen only to MoTab and classical music...but come on! When a pervy/sweet old man named grandpa G feeds you beans and cornbread and asks you to sing old country songs so he can teach you how to play the dulcimer in his tiny trailer home up the holler, you just do it. This song was one of the best gifts I brought home from my mission. I love me some bluegrass because of that old man. Bless your heart, Grandpa (and that nasty skirt chasing dog Penny, too).

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Pastoral. Andong Korea. Thanksgiving.

The only thing more terrifying than not understanding is this
countryside.
Leaves melting, yellowed and browned,
like butter sliding from tree bones
full moon gloating over
a completed harvest discarded clothes, flapping on a line
forgotten until tomorrow and destined to spend a cold night
dry, ready, unworn.
and this blue sky, thick and unrelenting in its clarity- quietly fading
without a moment of doubt.

I cannot say what we understand is communication.
sweat mingling with raspy breaths and unnamed
confusion?
A Korean model car
Hyundai, Daewoo, Samsung
trickles by and all heads turn to look at me with eyes blushing
hungry, tired
my nostrils burn with the scent of ripened rice.

It seems like home, but not quite
something.
something about these dogs like hyenas.
Everything goes dead here in silence.
The day shoots into night.
The perfectly flattened shapes of frogs
make deflated swastikas on rocks.
Children by the pond, like specters, their mouths open and close
gulp and spit English that doesn't quite reach me.

When the blood harvest moon clicks on at 6:30,
its illuminated sphere a solemn nightlight, I am aware
this is tomorrow-
One more early leaf flutters to the wrinkled grass
One more ancient cricket sings pansori to the beat of a sickly pulsing earth.
My eye catches at the hovering flight of an angry dragonfly
and I am afraid.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Reason number #34

sometimes I wear my retainer to bed.
Most times that I wear my retainer to bed, I wake up to discover that I have ripped it from my mouth and flung it across the room during the night.
It's a funny thing that makes me wonder what other acts of violence I am capable in a fit of unconscious discomfort.
It makes me want to get married just so I can really find out.

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Miles Davis. Eggplant. Seoul Korea.

Saturday 8:44 pm.
lights dimmed over my kitchenette.
The smell of garlic simmering on my hotplate.
Miles Davis whispering in my ear.
Clarity.
I am cutting deep purple eggplant, yellowy green zuchini and red peppers into new shapes.
no one has called.
no one will call.
I wipe my hands on my apron, nibble the zuchini like a rabbit and start in on some onions.
stop.
listen to that horn line.
listen to that.
shake my head because I can.
Seoul Korea has a heartbeat tonight and it pulses in the light of my tiny apartment.
Supreme peaceful.
I am a whisper like miles.
air blowing through metal and tubes and subways and concrete.
can you feel me?
can you feel me there?
shake your head because you can.

Sunday, August 31, 2008

The Last Starfighter's Life Goes On

I know that you know that I have an addictive personality.. But did you know that it started in my teen years with the television show "Life Goes On"? You remember it. The one about the boy with downsyndrome. Corky. And the girls (as I like to call them) nerdy sister becca and beautiful sister Paige?

I was obsessed with this TV show. Every sunday night, like clockwork, I made my family watch it...because I needed to see Patti Lupone singing in the voice of Evita and Corky's cute attempts at "sleeping" with his first DS girlfriend and of course the endless string of lame love interests for the girls including Tyler the kind gentle popular football hero who just would. not. go. away.

But the extent of my delusional obsession came to a head when the girls finally got boyfriends that I could really rally behind...I mean, Tyler was nice to Corky and all that, but that hair...BLECH. Enter moody, HIV positive Jesse McKenna played to fever pitch, earring-ed rebel perfection by Chad Lowe (brother of Rob).

He was a loner. Life dealt him a bum hand and he was angry at the world. It seemed that only the love of a smart, bespecled teenage girl could help him feel safe again.

And then there was Michael Romanov. Tortured artist. Scraggly bearded secret lover of betrothed but unhappy Paige played by none other than The Last Starfighter, Lance Guest. Here he is a bit younger, but the picture captures his hair...his glorious tangly tangly hair. Hi.

I think I can nail my current love of curly brown haired men down to my first encounter with a V. C. Andrews series (Heaven? I don't remember, I sadly devoured them all at a debaucherously young age) in which the protagonist was a thin, tall, long tapered fingered tortured musician. A melancholy pianist who was wealthy and tortured by his art. Tortured, with curly brown hair and artistic fingers and probably even a little bit on the pale side, like he needed more vitamin D. Did I mention the tortured artist part? And of course, only the love of a secretely adopted, bespecled, smart, damaged beauty could save him.

But I digress...so Lance Guest as Michael Romanov stole my heart away along with Paige's and I couldn't bear to miss an episode. What if this was the one? The one where Becca kisses Jesse, AIDS be damned! What if this is the one where Paige and Michael run off in their dangerously tortured artistic overalls clasping artistic hands?


Well, it's been over 15 years since the last episode aired. And the times they have-a-changed. Jesse married and divorced Hilary Swank, worked through a drug problem and didn't die of AIDS. Becca did a bunch of made for TV movies and changed her name to Christy (starring opposite ANOTHER teenage movie crush, Stan Bobrucz, FOR KEEPS?). And Michael Romanov...well....I think we all know what he needs now, don't we...