[how to love a stranger: park keun ha | solo exhibition]

February 20th, y'all! Mark it on your calendar, book your flight, reserve your seat on the bus! Kenny's show is opening at 4:00 pm. The exhibition is in Wonju at ACOZZA Gallery Cafe. Above is the front and back of the invitation postcards. Woot for designs at printer! Woot for the invites and exhibition brochures being delivered on Thursday or Friday! Woot for the HubbO finally getting to show the world how completely awesome he is and validate all my ranting and raving about him!

Questions about how to get there? Email me at sparticusdb@hotmail.com. Or leave a comment here and I'll get back to you!!

[Funny the Way It Is]

[push play, read]




I listened to this song on the bus home tonight. I realized a few lines of the lyrics captured the culmination of some debate going on inside me about convenience and comfort and what they cost.

standing on the bridge
watch the water passing under-
neath it must have been much harder
when there was no bridge just water
now the world is small
remember how it used to be
with mountains and oceans and winters and rivers and stars...

I live in the country of convenience. We have the fastest Internet; we have the most efficient airport in the world; we have ridiculously affordable health care; we have free shipping with online shopping; we can order food and have it delivered in a park, on the sidewalk, in an alley. And that delivery guy will come back later to pick up your dishes. We live in apartments surrounded by every kind of convenience you can imagine. Korea is saturated with convenience. Everything is done for you. You don't even pump your own gas in this country.

And I will tell you, dang, it's comfortable. I sit around and think about ways I can make my life even more comfortable. And generally, I discover how many things I need to achieve this. I need a better rice cooker so my rice will stay fresh longer and cook faster. I need a car so I can go where I need to go exactly when I like and skip the 10-minute-wait between buses. I need a better computer so I can spend more of my time in front of it. I need cable TV so I can watch programs I have seen before in English. I need a better cell phone so that I can Twitter on the go (because does Twitter really count if you must be tied to your computer and an Internet connection?). I need a personal trainer who will roll my belly out of bed in the mornings and march me to the gym. I need a personal chef (okay, I sort of have this one covered with the HubbO, but still) who will force me to eat things that are good for me while at the same time relieving me of the worry about and proximity with the food I consume. I need a lot of money so I don't have to teach. Because then I could spend all my time on the Internet, and everyone knows how great the Internet is!

And all of those things are fine. I love things. They're great. And I love easy and fast.

But what I don't love is who I become when everything is easy and fast. I don't love how those things prompt me only to consider further what more I need in order to be comfortable.

These things never stir me to create, to commune, to care about the person next to me. These things never allow me to test my patience or my discipline, both things running on empty. I am beginning to be drawn to the simple things in life. And I want to find beauty in waiting on the bus, instead of inconvenience. I want to order my life so that I don't need my rice cooker to keep my rice for 49 hours. And I want to stop seeing only my needs and the things that would make my life easier, instead of discovering the ways I can reach out and embrace a bit of difficulty or complexity. I want to stop complaining about being busy and having no time, and rejoice that I have a community to be a part of and people to care about. I want to work hard and build something for myself instead of ordering it to be done for me and delivered to my door for free.

I never understood why artists and writers always went to the woods or sparsely furnished shacks on the beach. I always wondered why they needed to seclude themselves from everyone else to get their work done. But it's not the people or the place they're running from. It's the things. The convenience and the comfort. Because let's face it; how many times can you site comfort as the great motivator? It's not. It just doesn't move us. It doesn't make us dance. It doesn't help us value vulnerability with each other or even within ourselves.

And we're ruining things with it. I crossed a good number of swinging rope and stone bridges built across small streams and hung across large coursing rivers in the Himalayas. And I was so thankful for those bridges. They held me and led me to places I couldn't have dreamed up. But the bridges are simply not enough. It's not enough that people can walk through the mountains and cross the water with relative ease now. People can't drive their cars through the mountains, and well, that's just annoying, isn't it? So not only do we want bigger and better bridges, we want roads. We want a clearly marked line to follow on the map. We don't want to twist and turn and investigate corners. We want to know where we're going and exactly how many minutes it's going to take us to get there.

The roads that are being constructed and laid through those mountains are destroying Nepal. Eventually, it won't be any big deal to hike through the Himalayas because you'll simply be able to drive through it. Without relying on the generosity of mountain farmers to feed you. Without poking dirt-bathed babies tummies on a stone wall. Without talking to the people of this land and trying your tongue at their names for the earth and its inhabitants. Nope. You'll be able to drive through it, with your air-conditioner on, your iPod plugged in, and all other experiences drowned in the comfort of your leather seats and the convenience of your four wheels.

Perhaps if I was Nepalese and walked everywhere, I would think differently. Perhaps speaking from the heart of comfort and availability and the opposite of hardship, I find the simplicity of others' lives beautiful. Yet, I have felt that simplicity work within me. I have walked through those mountains, trying to avoid the roads and being thankful for small bridges. I have seen what it is like when there are "mountains and oceans and winters and rivers and stars." And I met myself clearly there. My vision was not blurred by modern gadgets that keep me busy. Because the longer I think about it, the more convenience hides me from myself. Extremely comfortably hidden, actually. I don't have to look inside myself to, to examine myself, to reflect on my character, my choices, my heart. I certainly don't have to consider anyone else in this scheme of the easy life. If it's easy then it's good. If it's difficult, or complex, or fuzzy then it needs some work and someone needs to fix it so I don't have to do that work myself.

I'm tired of it. I'm tired of feeling the things I have within me being hushed by my comfortable life. Of course, we'll see where all this weariness gets me the next time I have to, God forbid, stand in a line and wait for something. Or when I need to order my time more wisely so I'm not 5 minutes late to everywhere. Or when I need to turn off the TV and shut down the computer in order to sit in front of the looking glass. We'll see. I am looking to simplify my life. Hoping to ignore the comfortable and choose instead the creative.

But y'all. I still want a car. Really, really bad.

[More on Middlemarch]

'You must be sure of two things: you must love your work, and not always be looking over the edge of it, wanting your play to begin. And the other is, you must not be ashamed of your work, and think it would be more honourable to you to be doing something else. You must have a pride in your own work and in learning to do it well, and not always be saying, There's this and there's that- if I had this or that to do, I might make something of it. No matter what a man is - I wouldn't give twopence for him' - here Caleb's mouth looked bitter, and he snapped his fingers - 'whether he was the prime minister or the rick-thatcher, if he didn't do well what he undertook to do.'

George Eliot wrote these words  found on page 562 of my 1994 Penguin Classics copy of Middlemarch borrowed from the school's library. And it got me thinking about "my work." What exactly is my work? Surely it isn't teaching. I enjoy it and it suits me, mostly because it feeds my self esteem to have someone looking at me for at least 6 hours out of everyday. It's nice to have a room full of people listen to you, and sometimes to write down what you say. There is some satisfaction in feeling a bit more important than I know I truly am. But this work is not what I love to do. And I do find myself, more often than I'd like to admit, looking over the edge and wondering when I get to play.

I've been absent for a while. I've been silent for a few weeks, with random posts stuck in here to hold my place in your mind or your Reader. And I have missed something. I've missed the way I feel at home when I think about things in words. I've missed the way I make miniscule but important self-discoveries when I try to fit everything flying through my head into paragraphs. I've missed the joy I find in the dance of my fingers over the keyboard. And it makes me hope that this is my work. That writing is my true work. I find that I have pride in my writing in a way that is not found in any other area of my lfe. Not a pride that sets me above others, but rather one that makes me thankful and sure of myself.

I guess I am still trying to find a balance in my life. A balance that creates a space for my husband, for housework, and for writing. (We won't mention that I have a full time job). I'm not balancing those things well. It seems I am either an exceptional wife who writes little but remembers to clean the litter box, or I am a writer who does little else exceptionally. This writing thing is powerful and time-consuming. And I can get lost in it.

But when I find myself lost in writing, I found myself missing out on my life. I'd like to be worth twopence, though. I'd like to be able to devote myself fully to my passion. I've been given the gift of actually knowing what I'd like to do with myself. So many people are still wandering about, trying to figure out what they're suited for. But I know. I know! I'm wondering when I'll be brave enough to try to feed myself with these sentences.

Until then, I will be mindful of not saying "There's this and there's that- and if I had this or that to do, I might make somehting of it." I have this and I have that. And I can make something of it. I think.....

WTCW: Baby Fever Edition

I know you're already thinking, "What the crap, Danielle? It's not even Wednesday." And I'd just like to second that. Because holy crap it's Thursday already?

And I was going to write this on Wednesday, but then I had to clean the litter box, and eat dinner, and wash the dishes, and do laundry, and watch TV in English! Also, I had to read a bit more of Middlemarch because I really have no idea how this story ends. And then, of course, I had to sleep. In conclusion, welcome to What the Crap Wednesday, Thursday Edition!

So, I want a baby.
But I don't want a baby.
What the crap?

I know. Number one, I can't afford a baby. Number two, I don't want to not be able to watch my baby belly grow because I already have a food-baby belly in place. I'd like to lose weight and then get fat. If that even makes any sense. Number three, I would have to quit my job, because they don't exactly have maternity leave at the ol' hagwon. In turn, we would lose our house because my job provides our apartment. (This might be able to be shoved up into number one, but whatever.) Number four, I have no idea what to do with a baby. Number five, I have a particular aversion to crying children. Number six, I want my sister to be first. She's been wanting a baby for who knows how long. It would feel wrong to have one first. Number seven, I want to travel. Number eight, I want to have more time with the HubbO. Because we've not even been married a year. (But almost, so yay!) Number nine, I can't afford a baby. Number ten, I can't afford a baby. (Also, the HubbO is not completely on board with my children-in-the-future plans. So, that's another strike against the baby fever.)

See? Ten good reasons why I don't want a baby.
But, no.
I still want a baby.

One that looks like this:

This is Sophia, the daughter of some of our good friends, Sandra and Philip. They graciously let us spend New Year's Day with their family and Kenny and I got some great shots. We had a really great time. It made me want a baby even more.

I don't know what it is. There's just this feeling that rises up through the center of my chest when I see babies. It's not just a "so cute let me pinch those cheeks" kind of feeling. It's not necessarily just happy or dreamy, either. It's this kind of sobering and resonating belief in something small and vulnerable being worth whatever I have to give. But then this other feeling pushes the that down with a ripening of my will, my desire for freedom, my search to see the rest of the world. Or at least a bit more of it before I sit down in a rocking chair and sing lullabies. It's strange. Because I want a baby. And I don't want a baby. In the same moment. Am I crazy? Possibly. 

To recap: I want a baby. I don't want a baby. 

Anybody else feeling me on this one? 

Seriously, y'all. What the crap?

(P.S. What the crap do you think about the new WTCW banner?)

[Four Cakes and a Stomachache: Birthday Recap]

So, the above stash is what ended up being the sum of all my beautiful birthday gifts last week. My birthday was Wednesday, the 27th, and I am now officially 27 years old. (Or, 28 if you count it the Korean way, which still doesn't make sense to me because 9 months does NOT equal a year. No matter what kind of math you do.)

My students gave me a number of unexpected gifts and sweet cards. But the best card I got was from my new friend, GeumOk 금옥, who works at the front desk at school. She is kind, thoughtful, gentle, and encouraging. And her card was so perfect. I wasn't sure if you could read her writing, so I typed the text below:

On my birthday, all day, I walked around in a daze of feeling loved. It was one of the most dreamy birthdays I've ever had, but I'm going to blame that on the four cakes I had. (No, Mom, it doesn't top any of your surprise parties or amazingly orchestrated birthdays.)

Yep, four cakes. And that's not bad Danielle Math, either. Right, so I'll tell you how to get four cakes on your birthday just in case you wanna try to pull the massive sugar high and then sleepless stomach ache of a night I had.

First, you should promise your incredibly fluent, bright, and intelligent high school students who have signed up for a daily English class DURING THEIR HOLIDAY before they go to university- you should promise them that you will buy them an ice cream cake. Then you should proceed to meet them at Baskin Robbins and buy a ridiculously expensive ice cream cake, which shouldn't even be called a cake, because there's no cake. You heard me, people. Ice cream cake in Korea is a SHAM! It's just a cake-shaped lump of ice cream frosted and decorated to make you want cake. So, you should eat only a few bites of this cake because it is before lunch time, y'all.

After you eat a bit of Ice Cream Just Kidding There's No Cake Number 1, you should head to your favorite restaurant for Shindukk Ddeokbokki. You shouldn't order the fried mandu, because you will get 6 of them on the house because it's your birthday. While you are there, you will be called by one of your coworkers who will tell you, "Hey, there's a meeting in 10 minutes. You know that, right?" And you will say, "What the crap?" And it will be totally appropriate because your birthday was on a Wednesday! Imagine that. So, you eat your free mandu in a hurry and rush to school for some "meeting." But it's not a meeting. No! It's a surprise party with, you guessed it, Ice Cream Masquerading as Cake Number 2! You should eat some of this cake ice cream, which was accompanied by another gift of a caramel macchiato from Sandra and her baby Sophia (squee-worthy pictures coming soon!) because it's after lunch now.

Then, after work is over, you should head to a new Italian restaurant to meet your husband and dear friends. Your husband should call the restaurant ahead of time and when they ask if they should make a cake for the occassion, he should tell them that his wife generally doesn't like Korean cake because it's not cake, it's like bread. Also, that she really likes chocolate. He should also buy another Ice Cream Minus Real Cake Number 3 to take to the dinner because he thinks there should be cake and is unaware of  the amount of Ice Cream Not Cake formerly consumed by his wife and also because he thinks he told the restaurant no cake.

At the end of the dinner, the restaurant should present you with REAL CAKE (Number 4 if you're still counting), that they especially made for you with EXTRA SERIOUS AMOUNTS OF CHOCOLATE in the SHAPE OF A HEART! And although you are already full of half of your own entree and half of another person's entree, you should try this cake. It is awesome and you should eat it because they made it just for you! But when they bring the chocolate heart cake that you share with everybody because you're stuffed, they will follow that with already cut slices of the Ice Cream Minus Real Cake Number 3. Because apparently, we eat a lot of cake. Or Ice Cream with a Cake Complex. Whatever. And because the Not Really Cake has already been cut and served so nicely with cute little dessert forks, once again you shove some down because, well, I mean, it's ice cream.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get 4 cakes on your birthday, 3 for free.

I whined all the way home in the taxi and had the hardest time falling asleep. I had a terrible stomachache. But my heart was more full than my stomach and aching a bit, too. Because I had no expectations for my birthday and it ended up being so sweet. I felt special, cared for, and of worth. What more could a girl ask for on her birthday?

Thanks to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday on Facebook, as well. I know amazing people all over the world. I am grateful for everyone who constantly shows me love and support, even though I rarely deserve it.

[P.S. The Internet has been down at our place. It's infuriating. I never realized how many things I looked up on the Internet in a day. Or a weekend. Goodness. I sometimes choose to take a break from blogging, or get busy and don't have enough time for everything I'd like to do, but involuntary breaks are the worst! I've msised you guys. Also, if you're reading this in your Google Reader or other feed, pop on over here to check out the new February design! Inspired by one of my lovely birthday presents! And make sure you scroll to the bottom of the page to see Kenny's new thief illustration!]

 

Excuses, Excuses

I've got a bunch. And as soon as I catch up with my own life, I'll tell you ALL of them! For now, I'll leave you with something from Middlemarch, my current nighttime reading:


We mortals, men and women, devour many a disappointment between breakfast and dinner-time; keep back the tears and look a little pale about the lips, and in answer to inquiries say, 'Oh, nothing!' Pride helps us; and pride is not a bad thing when it only urges us to hide our own hurts- not to hurt others.


Be back soon, my lovelies! Missing y'all. 

Workout, K-Pop Music Video Style

So, the all-time sweetest and strawberriest blogger ever, Kerri from Your Wishcake, started this great thing (or terrible thing, depending on my own determination and staying power) called Work It Out Weekends. And I thought it was a grand idea, to tell you how fantastically I fail each week at becoming small enough to wear "free size" in Korea, or to having an S-line. (I am currently sporting the B-line. It's a Boobs and Belly shape.)

And God bless Korea because I showed an enormous amount of initiative and joined the gym this week. I joined with two Korean girlfriends on Wednesday and signed up for the Aerobics class at 10:40 am. It's offered everyday, but I think for now I'll stick with Monday, Wednesday, and Friday classes. But I am a bit addicted to it and found myself wondering out loud whether they had a class on Saturdays when I got up this morning. And Kenny knew something was up. Because all of the sudden on my day off, the day of doing nothing, the day of taking three hour naps after only four hours of being awake, the day of eating however many corn dogs I can handle- on this day, I consider going to the gym.

I mean, I didn't. But this is definitely a step in the right direction, y'all. I mentioned that last week I lost a kilo. (That's about 2 pounds for the Stateside folks. And see, the great things about kilos is that I count the amount of weight I need to lose in kilos because the number is smaller. But when I actually lose the weight, I count it in pounds because it pretty much doubles. It's a beautiful system of motivation, or self-deception, whichever.) I can drop weight pretty fast if I just discipline myself enough not to eat after 6 pm. Which, when you work from 1-9 everyday becomes quite the task because oh my god you have to think about what you're going to eat and actually make plans and cook ahead of time and then remember to take it with you to work. But this week, I let it slip a little because good grief I went to the gym twice! And this aerobics class is a full hour of jumping, popping, kicking, grape-vining, shaking, and more jumping.

If I could video tape me in this class, y'all, not only would I record it, I would post it on the Internet for the world to see. And then I would be all famous. People would call me The Aerobics Girl, and then I would get all these invites to talk shows and I would get to teach Ellen how to do aerobics Korean style and maybe finally meet G-Dragon. Because this aerobics is not like any aerobics you have ever seen. Unless you have seen this, on speed:

Because the aerobics instructor is hotter than these girls, I get insanely jealous during class. And there is a lot of standing still in this video. But in class, there is NO standing still. And they have a stereo with one of those knobs you turn to make it faster and faster, but without everything sounding like the chipmunks. So, speed this song up about 7 or 8 times faster than it is, imagine me trying to do this, but with all sorts of hops, jumps, knee raises, swivel hips, and cute little hand motions in all the places where these girls are standing still. I am not kidding when I say it is Korean music video class. Because this Friday, I learned this signature move from the Brown Eyed Girls:



This is not the Brown Eyed Girls. Because in their video, they do a lot of standing around and writhing on the ground. Which is actually not part of my aerobics class. although I do consider lying down in class sometimes. This is the Brown Eyed Girls video everyone is familiar with in Korea. But the move where they cross their arms and shake their hips back and forth, yeah baby. I got that one down. Because after that part, I'm completely lost. All the way. It's like my nightmares have become reality. When I was in high school (and even now sometimes) I would dream that I am at a dance recital. And I should know all the steps. But I don't. It's the most horrible feeling in the world. I can deal with the dreams where I almost die, where people are chasing me and trying to kill me, where Strawberry Shortcake leaves me in the forest to be eaten by a giant. But this whole being on stage and flailing around trying to keep up with everyone and drawing an absolute blank when it comes to the steps: that I cannot handle and wake up sweating with that awful feeling still in the pit of my stomach.

So yeah, Korean aerobics class is kind of like that. Because although I have rhythm, danced for 16 years, and still routinely perform in the kitchen while washing the dishes or cleaning the house, I cannot keep up with these ladies. So, I get a lot more rest than everyone else because I kind of do the whole  throw your hands in the air when everyone else does and try to figure out which direction they're moving in next. I've figured out one routine, but not entirely. It is hilarious. I do not even have enough shame to stand at the back! I stand right next to my friend, boldly showcasing my inability to perform 2NE1's latest moves and cutesy steps. This is another song we dance to, only some manic and fiercely fast version:



But I sweat. And I actually do have fun. Although I have come to loathe the fifty year old woman who centers herself in the front row and does everything with this look on her face like she's the instructor, even though her transitions are laughable and her movements often lack conviction. As in, what is that move supposed to be? Ohhhhh. She's trying to do the one where you contract your stomach while you pull your shoulders and hips forward and then arch your back, showcasing your boobs while throwing your arms and hips back quickly. But instead of contracting her stomach and arching her back in turn, she's just bending her knees. It's awesome.

So, to recap, I am going to aerobics class and trying to learn all these dances/aerobics combos that everyone else already knows! But, I did find out that they learn a new routine every other Wednesday and practice for two weeks. So, next Wednesday here I come! Because I will be on the same level as everyone else. For one routine. And the rest, I'll still be the girl turning three counts late, not knowing the 2NE1 hand signals to throw, or how to roll my butt in the right direction at the right time on the right count and pull my knee up to my boobs at the same time. Ah well, it's exercise, right?

What are you guys doing to Work It Out?

Because I'm Too Tired to Write

Y'all, I am tired. Of a lot of things. Oh, no, not YOU. I didn't mean I was tired of you. What are you thinking? You are about the only thing I'm not weary of. With the exception of the HubbO. Because I miraculously never tire of him. And the kitters. And, since you haven't seen them since the new year rolled around, I thought I'd post a few squee-tastic photos of them. 

Oh, and remember all that stuff about how Bo turned into a happy, social, uncrap cat? Yeah, he was just joking. And for that, he only gets one solo photo. (Not really. It's just that Miso seems to know what a camera is and that I want her to look at me.)

They both love Kenny's backpack. Bo had already claimed it, but Miso wasn't having any of it. She needed a bath and she needed to have it right here.

This is Miso's favorite napping position. You can still see where they shaved her little belly for her surgery. This picture should help you understand why I have to keep myself from squeezing her to death sometimes. She's just that cute. 

More later, my lovelies. I miss you. And I joined the gym. Korean Aerobics Fiasco coming soon!

The Place to Be

The first 2S2 meeting was fabulous. I had so much fun meeting new people, meeting commenters here (hi, Charity!), and hanging out with some of my coworkers outside of school. We met at a coffee shop, went ice skating, and then warmed up at another coffee shop. Which is how I believe all events should be: bookended by coffee. And chocolate cake in a cup. And good conversation that didn't revolve around massive generalizations about Korean  society. Which is sometimes hard to find when a bunch of expats get together. But apparently Wonju draws the laid back, open-eyed, and warm-hearted crowd. I mean, take a look at these faces. How could you not want to hang out with these guys??

Also, Ryan was there! But the only pictures I got  of him were really blurry because apparently he's an ice skating champ and doesn't stay still for very long. So, everyone, meet Ryan:

Not that hard to pick out of the crowd, eh?

Anyhow, I was totally doing the wobbly arm wiggle on the ice. Mostly I blame my ankles. And also my back fat. Because y'all, that extra padding around the back and the belly, it was messing with my usually exquisite sense of balance. (Also, I lost a kilo this week. Woot.) However, my frantic arm circles and ice skate jig didn't intimidate the youngsters. I was told to "Be quiet," "Shuddupshuddupshuddup," and also to "Do handshake. Handshake," by a number of small monsters called children. I think the kid who shook my hand won some kind of bet with his friends. I mean, I do what I can for the little ones.

Also, people skated:

After everyone's toes were sufficiently frozen, we headed off the ice and down the road toward MaryJane, a local cafe that serves THE BEST CHOCOLATE CUP CAKE IN THE WORLD. Actually, it's not quite a cup cake. It's more like cake, in a cup. And it's ooey and gooey and pretty much like eating the entire batch of brownies off the spatula without cooking them thoroughly. Isn't that everyone's dream, anyway? I always feel cheated when I taste the final brownie or cupcake and it doesn't taste like the stuff I liked out of the bowl. But this, this is how it's done.

Yum, right? Anyway, the "cupcakes" were delicious and the coffee was good. But the company was better.

Thanks to everyone who took time out of their Saturday to join us. And if you didn't take the time, then you can leave your apologies and also promises that you'll come next time in the comments section.

2S2 Wonju

Hey guys! Hope everyone is having a great 2010. Mine is going pretty well already. Today, Darren sent me an inspired email suggesting that we start a Wonju chapter of 2S2. 2S2 stands for 2nd Saturday at 2pm and is pretty much Roboseyo's baby. I took Darren's idea and we came up with a plan for THIS COMING SATURDAY because it's the second Saturday in January. I know this is soon, but hey, that's how I roll. So, if you're in Wonju, or in Gangwondo and don't have anything going on this Saturday at 2pm, I cordially invite you to our get together!

And, a map!

Do you love it? I know you do! And in case you don't love the hand-drawn-with-love map, here's a boring Google one:


View Larger Map

So, come on out and see us!

P.S. To all my lovelies who do not reside in Wonju and do not care about 2S2, I will have a normal Wonju Wife-ish post up soooon! Because I love you. And I'm awesome. But mostly, because I love you.