13/02/2017
Just landed in Korea and am riding a bus to Kintex. God, I really do not know how Kyle was able to find his way to Dongtan. I was terrified of buying like an $8 bus ticket and started panicking when asked for the Korean currency, WON. To be honest though, people were being super rude. The man behind me must have had to take a deep shit or something cause he was sticking his ticket in front of the employee while we were in the middle of our transaction — perhaps it is a cultural difference. But then again, in what country is the airport not filled with a bunch of impatient travelers — myself included.
Anyway, on a less petty topic, I am really trying to be present and conscious of my experience so that I can actually be a part of this transition in my life. It sounds weird, like of course I am part of MY experience, but sometimes, especially when I travel, I start running around like Sonic the Hedgehog with his dick cut off. So, instead, I am trying to recognize the magnitude of this life-changing event and really unpack — pun intended. Just yesterday I was waking up in the United States and rushing to finish some last-minute packing and thinking about how amazing life will be in Korea, making promises and prophecies of my future greatness and an unforgettable experience, and then all of a sudden I’m here in Korea and I realize that it is still just the same life. That the greatness I foresaw can only be achieved if I do all the work that comes before. All of those promises that I made and all the shit that I talked has to be backed up now, or I might as well just be living in the U.S. again, staying home and watching Netflix and jumping on donkeys. So I am excited to see what goes down. I will make sure to really live my life, not only taking advantage of my time in Korea, but also using this as an opportunity to create a life-style where I am not content with monotony and comfortability.
Oh! I had an interesting realization at LAX. I usually feel like I am vey conscious of my cultural identity and how it affects me; however, I realized that it affected me more than I had expected in regards to emotional expression. I would say that I am generally very expressive. Like, if I was Inside Out, my five little friends would be: Irritable, Excited, Nervous, Outrageous, and Joy. They would probably have wrestling matches all the time, with Irritable choke-slamming Joy, and Nervous, running from Excited and Outrageous trying to do Rikishi’s special move on his Face.
Anyway, I also feel pretty comfortable being sad and crying. I really try to rise above the masculine label that I feel restrains men from expressing emotion or displaying vulnerability. It’s also a inescapable paradox of the unattainable dream of being “The Man”. If you cry, you are not a Man, but if you don’t, it might be because you are scared of emotion or being less of a Man, but fearful is not considered a manly trait as well. Basically, who fuckin’ cares, The Man sucks, and I’m just gonna cry.
Back to the story. The moment I really recognized the heavy influence from my culture was how uncomfortable my parents were with saying goodbye. I definitely get it from my mom — which is surprising — because we are both very expressive and direct, but with saying goodbyes, we become awkward, we want to avoid the situation and act like it isn’t that big of a deal. So when we said goodbye, my mom fake cried — and I realized too that we both hide behind our humor — and I reciprocated the joke, until real tears starting filling my eyes and I found myself embarrassed. It’s tough to know which identity made me feel this way but I really think that it’s just not how my family rolls. We didn’t say “I love you” or anything very sappy. They said “Bye” and I said “Well, I’ll see ya”. Fake ass people all went their separate ways and cried like a Boy who saw a Wolf.
Anyway it was still a nice experience, and I am glad that it actually hit me this time. Last time, when I studied abroad, I was talking a lot of shit about how I probably wouldn’t even think about home at all. Then, I got a homesick…after like…3 days, which I guess isn’t a surprise, considering the time I went to church camp for a week when I was like 5 and I cried myself to sleep and peed my bed every night. But this time, I showed improvement, and definitely displayed more mindfulness, being a part of the experience and not just pushing sadness and misgivings to the back of my mind. Also I have yet to pee my bed. Stay posted.
Last night I went out with my cousins, and when they dropped me off, it really started to hit me. I could tell that they were actually going to miss me, and for some reason, I was surprised. I think I didn’t tell that many people because I was afraid that they wouldn’t care and they’d just be like “ok…bye.” But, to be honest, I was overjoyed to be missed and to know how many people I have to miss and what a blessing that is.
To all my friends, my cousins, my grandparents, to my little annoying ass Chihuahua, thank you for the love and the wistfulness and the prayers and the thoughts. Isn’t it strange that a common cliche is “thoughts and prayers”. But I realized that being offered one, single second of a thought from among all of the bullshit that people have to think about, is such an honor. As much as I feel like I am supposed to live for myself and my own intrinsic motivation and free from what others think of me, I feel like a healthy bit of interconnectedness with the people that I care about just brings me more happiness and motivation — and, also debunks my concerns that I might be a sociopath. I think it is a healthy amount of self-worth derived from the opinions of other people, especially others that really matter. Anyway I’m bout to get to my city. Swim good.
