I call this meeting to order

If you don't have children or work with children, I apologize in advance for this post, but the other day, I laughed so hard I almost peed when I watched them eating. Is it me or does something in this scenario suggest a middle manager lunch meeting? Is it the glasses? The two handed oversized sandwich grip? The pained expressions? The "paperwork" on the table? The banana milk? So maybe you won't think it's as funny as I did, but at least it's not pictures of my cats, right? I really love these kids.

In Which NinnyBeth gives new meaning to the phrase Dirty Whore

Welcome to Boryeong. Peaceful oceanside town, ROK. Idyllic beach. Home of the "healthful wellbeing feeling of mud". And the not so healthful, wellbeing feeling of the Mudfestival (AKA foreigners with low self-esteem orgy). Kaja!

You say you'd like to go to the mudfestival? OK! First you have to nearly miss your Hana Tour bus and run desperately through pelting rain in the middle of city hall and accompanying underground subway mazes after chucking a 10,000 won at your taxi driver even though your fare was only 4,000. You should board your Tour bus (FINALLY!) wheezing and coughing, bright red and sweaty, to the cheers of your friends and the consternated looks of all the other patrons, because you have made the bus FIVE MINUTES LATE. And your skirt should be completely twisted around and manipulated so that the modest slit in the front is halfway up to your...well...you know. When you finally arrive at the Mudfestival, you will be grateful for the "energy pit stop" where you loaded up on choco digets and those little seashell cookies because there's a whole lotta wrastlin' to be done. And a whole lot of military men trying to smuggle massive beer bottles into the wrastlin' tub. You'll need the extra zip that korean snack foods give you to avoid getting maimed, molested or (shudder) ignored.
Here in Boryeong, we loll in mud while harnessed, strapped, connected, tied, attached, pulled, pushed and prodded on large blow up castles and other carnival-esque toys. Like your local church carnival? Remember?

Here's what you look like after the mudfestival has had its way with you...

And here's what you look like after the spicy hotdog and lack of sunscreen have done their job too....

And then you clean up in a $2 shower and go eat some yummy lunch in a restaurant that looks a little bit like a trailer.

On the way home, you will discover that the waterproof sunscreen you trusted is NOT mudproof. An old woman in the bathroom at the rest stop will slap your back and say "burning" as you examine your lobster red body in the mirror. You will appreciate the fact that she touched you and treated you like someone she knew...it means you are practically Korean (or seafood, as the case may be).

Thanks Boryeong! Thanks Korea! Thanks friends! Thanks mud!

What Demi Secretely Misses About Bruce

This blog is called NORMAL GIRLS for a reason and today I'd like to take it back to its uncensored roots wherein I talk about boys. Men. no...boys.

Last week, I tried something new. I went out on a date with someone much younger than me. 7 years younger to be exact. I thought this would be an interesting experiment for several reasons, but mostly I just wanted to hear my father call me a "cougar" (blech.blech. Seriously, Dad.)

All week long before and after the date, I processed the pros and cons of the younger man. The pros: young enough to not have gotten STUCK in freaky weird, still has all his hair, sexual peaks might actually be aligned, no heavy past stuff (divorce, children living in another state) or at least is blissfully unaware of that, none of that ugly "get married" pressure, sees the value of my life experience as COOL rather than intimidating (because he still sees the possibility of life...the dye has not been caste). All of this in addition to the fact that he actually ASKED ME OUT like, on a proper date, yo! That was pretty cool and definitely in the pro category. But in the end, the cons started to creep in in a big way...

I've always been older than myself. When I was 14, my piano teacher hired me to work for her consulting firm as a receptionist. When I told her I needed special permission from the government to work for her on account of my age, she responded with, "What? How old are you? We thought you were 17!" I spent that year selling commercial stoves to rich people who never knew that they were talking to someone not even old enough to have a learner's permit. Add to that the years of relationships in which I have stifled my thoughts and ideas in order to make a guy like me (DUH!) and my recent rennaisance as an uber communicator and you've got a recipe for a 23 year old freak out.

All I did was say what we were both thinking (this isn't going to work, but lets be friends!) in what I thought was a charming NB sort of way, but the result was 7th grade. The cute boy that I had a crush on figured out that I was stalking his locker and changed his class route. And I'm left feeling like the oldest jr. high drama geek you've ever avoided...er...I mean met. Oh well. ce'st la vie. At least the life of a would be cougar. Thus we see that the pros of the older man (which include but are not limited to: life experience, a sense of purpose/self, lots of dealings with weird, overbearing, psychotic ex-wives/girlfriends that make me look like a dream girl, knows who Milli Vanilli is when singing karaoke and doesn't think Blondie is a new "70's/80's revival" Band.)

I think the choice has been made for me. So if you are over the age of 28 and can tell me who sings the song that goes "pour some sugar on me, in the name of love...pour some sugar on me!" because you once owned the album...(though you're obviously embarrassed to admit it now)...let's talk.

China will have some blankets!

The art auction was Tuesday... and man, it was better than I expected! So smooth, so perfect...

The music was lovely...Samia and yantzi did four numbers that were rockers and then I did a few of my more upbeat pieces (Ordinary, Love Song and Oh Seoul). I was oddly calm which should indicate the gentle feeling of Buddah's and the crowd. I'm generally a shakey basket case the first time I play a place. Then on to the auction. Someone from Worldvision did a tiny schpiel (don't know how to spell that) and then we had a moment of gratitude...you know to honor those who've lost everything by thinking about what we have. It was a great start to the evening. Then the bidding began...it was a little slow at first...the photos just weren't selling! Panic. Organizer panic... OH NO...is this the way the evening is going to go???? So on to some paintings and you won't believe it but the ones that I was sure would freeze the crowd were the ones that people went crazy for...the Vagina? 150,000 (I think)!!!!! Seriously.... there was even a tiny bidding war over it. Where are you going to hang that????

The people were fabulous. The paintings all sold. Anna's Last Supper of Oprah sold for 380,000!!!!! But the winner of the evening was the AMAZING dreaming of tree painting by my lovely friend Kelly that was more beautiful in real life. it went for 450,000 with some high rolling korean guy in the corner beating out Darryl (the owner of Buddah's Belly) in the end. Everyone clapped and cheered and there was ENERGY! So much beautiful energy. The crowd was intimate and instantly friends. Samia and Mike were perfect as the jokster auctioneers. DJ Anna is an absolute rock rock rock star. Darryl was understated and smiling. People were having fun, and best of all, we raised

DRUMROLL please.....

3.7 million!

Not our original goal, but who's really counting? Certainly not the children, friends and neighbors who will benefit from the generosity of these artists and art appreciators. I have some pics. I will post them when I have a spare moment.

Most of all I learned that I have the ability to follow through on a project that is self motivated. I have been worried about that with regards to India and Sixteen Stones. I can do this!

My Funniest IM ever....

NB: I'm worried about you all alone walking in the nasty rain and with bad people all around spitting on the ground and making it slick with saliva. Are you home yet???

[11:03:57 AM] Chad Gooch says: Yeah, I made it. finally this morning at about 10am. I'd been out all night trying to find a way back home. First, I slipped on someone's saliva and fell into a puddle. Then while I was down, an old man who was slurping his teeth hawked up a big loogie right on my head. I tried to find a jimjilbang to dry off and lay my head for the night, but didn't have the money to pay for it, nor did I have enough to pay for a taxi home. Since I didnt' know where I was, and all the skinny legged chicks had all started to go in doors with there boyfriends to escape the pouring rain, I did't have much luck with finding anyone to help me with directions. So I found a broken discarded umbrella on the sidewalk and huddled under it, until someone was nice enough to throw me some change. It was enough to get me into a bath house, so I spent an hour searching for anyone that still might be on the streets asking, "Jimjilbang, jimjilbang." Finally, I happened upon one, only to find out that the word had gotten out around town that a some foreigner had stolen the keys to a jimjilbang shoe locker, so I was rejected. I found a bush to lay my head in until sunlight, when I was able to recognize some buildings and find my way home.

Do Something For China

The other day I met this fabulous artist named Brenda Chat. She asked me sing at a benefit she was putting together to help the victims of the recent floods and earthquake in China. Of course I said yes...maybe some of you remember that I was feeling a little hopeless in the immediate aftermath of the disasters and I've been praying for a way to help more significantly. Voila! A way is born. I've been helping brenda with some of the planning and organization for the event and it's been a whirlwind but we're up and running.

Here's a link to the blog that I put together to help explain our mission. http://www.dosomethingforchina.blogspot.com/ . You can see a few of the images and event details here. I hope you can make it...even if you aren't planning to bid on art work, your 10,000 won cover charge will go directly toward the cause.

We're still looking for artists who want to donate artwork too...so if you are one or you know one, send them my way!

Just Another Music Blog...

Sometimes I don't care about listening to music. I know that might seem hard to believe, but it's true. I go months where I crave quiet in my ears, head and house. I like the hour of complete silence in the morning when I wake up. But then, I'll have times of absolute obsession, like right now. I have so much GOOD music ringing through me right now that I'm humming it down the halls of school, plugging in the minute I walk out the door and turning it up at home. I know I'm behind the curve, but Vampire Weekend, Margot and the Nuclear So and So's, a mini Elvis Costello revival, Josh Ritter, the old 97's new one and a weird song by April March called "Coral Bracelets" have been catching my fancy as of late. What's your new musical obsession? I think this might last for a while and I'd like some new suggestions....

RHETT IS BACK! crush rekindled.

As if I needed another reason to love the Old 97's...the new album, Blame It On Gravity, is like a little love letter to themselves circa the Hitchhike to Rhome era. I'm listening on repeat. I'm swooning (I hate that word, but it's sooo true). You know I love Rhett. http://normalgirls.blogspot.com/search?q=rhett+miller and now you should buy the album on itunes and discover how I fell in love.

Swiss Chocolate vs. phone bill

There's an international lovestory unfolding in front of me at school. It's reminding me a lot of my own hollywood-esque adventure almost two years ago. (whoa. can you believe that??? TWO YEARS!) Today, I came into the office to discover a package on my coworkers desk from switzerland, the land of her true love...I ran down the hall (imagine it in slow motion) waving the package over my head, screaming "K, it's here! It's here!" She opened the package in the middle of a class with interested school children gathered around breathlessly waiting to see if the rumor of chocolate was true. It was. Chocolate. Flight of the Conchords DVD. A handwritten letter. All the things necessary to win a girl's heart across oceans. Lovely. Lovely. Vicariously Lovely. Love.

I wandered back down the hall sighing. So good to see a good girl get what she deserves. As I meandered back to my desk ready to pound out a few more lesson plans, I thought, wouldn't it be great to discover that in my haste, I missed the equally exciting letter that was sitting on my desk? Well there was a letter, but it was from LG telecommunications telling me that I owe them 50,000 won for a phone that only rings when I don't want it to and rarely illicites excitement.

This is hot on the heels of a bizarre sort of "psuedo breakup" phone call that I got from one of my male friends recently in which he told me that he was getting married (excellent! it's about time) but that necessarily meant that our relationship was curtailed and thanks for the time that we've spent together, blah blah blah "I'm a different man because I knew you" and via con dios. I felt lame. Am I the kind of girl that you have to actually say that out loud to? We were HARDLY BFF and I've had lots of male friends get married and never once have I had to be friend dumped.

So that's the story this week, kids. The phone bill wins. It's my life at the moment. So if you want to call me, I have skype and I'll probably pay the bill at some point.

The underbelly of Seoul

Monday Morning. Early. Groggy from the weekend's festivities.
J and I are conversing in hushed, tired tones as we walk to the bus.
Another day. Another old man on a bicycle approaches. Everything is as it always is.
But wait. Something is very wrong. J screams and jumps back. I turn my head toward the line of her vision only to recoil in surprise with an audible, "WHAT???". The old man, driving his bike with one handed abandon has his pants unzipped and is hurriedly wrestling something back into the crotch area while muttering to himself under his breath and OH MY GOSH, did I really need to see that on a monday? We stumble giggling to the bus stop, a little unsure of what just happened, but sure of one thing: Mondays and old man fleshy flashers don't mix.

***********************************

Wednesday. I'm getting things ready for a cooking class, digging through the cabinets of the school kitchen. Everyone in the kitchen staff has gone home for the day and I have no clue where anything is. So I'm excavating and slowly finding what I need when I see something odd. A big silver bowl under the kitchen cabinets filled with what appears to be meat. That's right. meat. PORK. Right next to the mixing bowls in the cabinet under the sink which is located, ironically, next to the empty refrigerator. I start to wonder if someone forgot it there, but then I realized, no no no...that's not forgotten meat, that's tomorrow's lunch, gathering bacteria and slowly marinating in it's own botchulistic (I think I just made that word up) juices. I told on the cafeteria lady. I couldn't help myself. I have to eat this stuff and who knows how many times before this she's flirted with my destiny in that cabinet....? Needless to say, today, The girls and I are going OUT for lunch.

What's weighing YOU down?

One of my students thinks he is a dinosaur. Really. Ask him to draw a self portrait and you'll get a detailed rendering of some prehistoric beast. Depending on the day, it's a triceratops, t-rex or that one dinosaur who runs really fast and freaks me the hell out in Jurassic park. He can move like a dinosaur, make noises like a dinosaur and claw his fellow kindergarteners with the agility of a dinosaur. Many a kid has come away from an attack howling like a monkey and yelling in broken english, "T J and dinosaur and hit and scratch and no!"

Last week, we went to the Korean Folk Village for our fieldtrip. When you are herding 5 year olds around a crowded tourist destination, it's pretty imperative that everyone move quickly and keep up with the teacher. Unfortunately, Dinosaur Boy was moving at an appropriately glacial pace throughout most of the trip. The day wore on. The sun got hotter. I got tired of dragging him through crowds of gaping, photo snapping US veterans while hollering to the other kids to slow down! SLOW DOWN! So I took DB (dinosaur boy) and another offender back to the bus a bit early, leaving my co-teacher with the other perfectly behaved children. We walked slowly but surely through the park and ended up on a bench just before the entrance to wait for the rest of the school to meet us for the bus ride home.

After a tiny bit of relaxation, DB wandered away and began to nonchalantly examine a tree a short distance from our bench. I was keeping an eye on him just in case he got a burst of uncharacteristic dinosaur energy and darted away like a veloceraptor on crack. What I saw amazed me. Quietly, while pretending to be enraptured by the tree, he dug into his sweat pant pocket and dropped a rock the size of new hampshire at the base of the tree. Then, looking up furitively and noticing that I was watching, he wandered around to the other side of the tree and rid himself of another massive rock. I stood up and went to confront him. Upon closer examination, I discovered that this wasn't the end of the collection. 10 more smaller rocks, a metal key chain, some sticks and a few stickers later, his pockets were finally empty of the 4o pounds this kid was packing around the folk village. NO WONDER he was moving slowly. And of course I was trying to contain my laughter while maintaining a hardline about why it is not a good idea to bring your dinosaur habitat WITH YOU back to school. But I failed. I mean, really, how can you keep a straight face when this guy is staring up at you in abject shame and asking if he can "just keep one????"

THE CULPRIT

THE REVEAL
THE GOODS

THE CRIME SCENE

I would also just like to point out that someone taught my students the phrases, "I have no energy." and "I'm starving!" I've worked in fieldtrips before and know that these two things are a requisite refrain for any out of doors experience, but before I could blissfully ignore it when it was repeated over and over again in Korean. This time, I was very aware. So I made them act it out for the camera. Here is "I'm STARVING"

And "I have no energy."

I think my job here is done.

I Got the Shakes...

Today I've had two diet cokes, which, added to the stress and anxiety of a regional singles conference coming up this weekend, makes me more jittery than usual...I can't stop bouncing my leg and I jump at the slightest provocation. My students, the other teachers, a piece of paper.

I would also like to discuss the fact that, in order to cut down on expensive teacher gifts (like $60 MAC eyeshadows and $100 bottles of wine) from parents who may or may not have ulterior motives, the administrators at my school have advised the moms to FEED US. Yes, because it is much better to have homely, makeup-less teachers with double chins that scare the children. Just today the menu included:

3 boxes of Krispy Kreme Donuts
1 grape/chocolate cake (don't get me started. I've had chocolate fondue with cherry TOMATOES here)
12 little mini cheesecake type things
10 vitamin C drinks (for our health, hahhahahaha)
oreos
sunchips

It's 4:50pm and I'm just waiting for the late entries to vie for our attention. Who knows what tomorrow holds!

And, just to let you know, one of the seamonkeys (TM) left for dead, made a miraculous Lazarus-like recovery and now sports a wraith like body and what appear to be testicles (unless they are egg sacks..my gender awareness with seamonkeys is sorely lacking) Will we have Sea Monkey Babies? I can't find the babydaddy if that's the case, but knowing the way things go these days, she/he probably ate the mate. oh, I don't liek the word "mate".

Who You Gonna Call??? DUSTBUSTER!

I thought I was happy....and then I got a dustbuster. Now I know what true happiness is and it looks like "spot cleaning ala carte". My Korean home is so tiny that my usual habit of leaving coins (they drop and I just can't be bothered...really, do they have to be so flat and round?) and bobby pins (prom hair takes a lot of metal) all over the floor can make it look like a tornado blew through Bizwell #215. But no more. Now I just bust my dust and the world is clean again.

The funny thing is that I've never been very OCD about cleaning...but now I can't help myself. Every chance I get I'm pulling out the dustbuster to pick up anything. I drop a cracker and instead of picking it up, I step on it and grind it down JUST SO I CAN USE THE DUSTBUSTER. If this keeps up, I might need professional help.

Inspiration comes....

I haven't written a song since I got here. Finally...

To Lumina who taught Korea how to teach us.

She'll take you in and break you apart

She'll wrap her hands around your heart

You are finally safe here in this deep conviction

You are never allowed into the contradiction

Everything is simple if we just remain blind.

But when her lanterns light the sky on fire

Wrapping streets in fever pitch desire

You can finally believe

You can finally count, you can finally concede

That everything is simple; Everything is by design.

What you get and what you need

may never be reconciled

but who you are and what she sees

are perfectly aligned.

They're perfectly aligned.

Oh, Seoul.

Maybe her soul's jerusalem.

You can't figure it out, but you will learn to bow and bend.

There's a height that you've finally found

in her mountains, her oceans, her body's fertile ground.

Everything's decided. She's finally resigned.

And what you get and what you need

may never be reconciled

but who you are and what she sees

are perfectly aligned.

They're perfectly aligned.

Oh. Seoul.

A blog about poems but not a poem about blogs

well it seems like just last year that it was national poetry month...oh, right...because it was. As April comes to a close I feel to honor this month that honors something that has been such a huge part of my life at every stage

As a hapless, nerdy 16 year old discovering Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Seamus Heaney and shock! and awe! Indigo Girls and Tori Amos
As an almostadult discovering the power of confessional poetry and Frank O'Hara's New York
As a student finding my heartbeat mirrored with more beauty than seemed possible in Yusef Komunyakaa, Louise Gluck, Langston Hughes, Amiri Baraka, Barrett Watten, Elizabeth Bishop,
Being taught by susan stewart (oh, sigh. beautiful language magician) and language poet Bob Perelman...
As a working stiff serving wine and cheese to the poetry world at the Kelly Writers House, slinking through literary conversations as though I belonged there... idolizing poets Kerry Sherin, Heather Starr and the universe that held them.
As an indoor poetry kid, sharing stories and words and jokes with brilliant poets all just trying to keep our words alive beyond desk jobs- nano, natalie, shari, jerry, john, adri
as a dreamer drifting off to the sounds of Ranier Maria Rilke poems and Ray Lamontagne songs...

I believe! I believe! I believe!

"Words ought to be a little wild for they are the assault of thought on the unthinking." -Oscar Wilde


I wrote something finally last night. I don't really care if it's good. I don't really care if anyone likes it. If you google Susan Stewarts name and get to this page, this is no indication of her talent as a teacher. It's just the tinkling sound of something that's been quiet for a long time.

After Walking on That Treadmill

We were children.
We could do splits and turn our bodies like windmills.
Here we were anchors, finally
strong against the pull of our tendons and young skin.
We could lay down with one foot high into the blue and the other
pressed against the ground to feel the rhythm of kingdoms beneath us;
Kingdoms where they lifted 150 times their body weight
And carried food without guilt- A prize.

I came back here with sweaty lips and matted hair
To see if I could find you somewhere in there.
Under brown layers of decomposing things
you were brought once
held high above the heads of everyone
moved along like an ocean liner on a sea of black bodies
and tossed lightly home.
Under blankets,
Under skin.
You did exist.
You do now, pressed between the spider and decaying leaves
Positioned like powder
Ready to dissipate, a disintegrating fossil of a raisin
You give life to the air.