tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89977730884522882952024-03-13T21:32:13.651-07:00FAITHIE IN KTOWN"Look she has curly hair! Let's unabashedly stare at her."Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-59784473582446843972013-07-22T17:28:00.000-07:002013-07-28T19:03:20.618-07:00"A wrap up," "an ahem," and a "why in the world did it take her 3 months to write this?" SERIOUS FACEMy last "Korean" post involved humor(or what I deem to be acceptable as) and "lessons" but it wasn't really what I wanted to say upon leaving Korea. It just seemed the most comfortable, and well frankly the safest way to avoid a crap storm of opinions.<br />
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I have this tape that plays in my head, I call it <span style="font-size: x-large;">"the maybe"</span> tape. "<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Maybe</span></i></b> people will be offended, <span style="font-size: large;"><b>maybe</b></span> people will see the real me, <b><span style="font-size: large;">maybe</span></b> I'll reveal too much." so <i style="font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;">maybe </i>I should just censor myself until my words are no longer a reflection of my opinions but skelelotian thought(yeah I made that word up). Vague and apathetic. My reaction: GROSS.<br />
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In these last three months I have tried with failing ability to understand what my time in Korea meant. I find myself starting sentences "In korea..." and watch people's eyes glaze over. And slowly my thoughts are changing and my stories are shifting stateside(to the relief of those around me).<br />
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But/however/even though/yet I am COMPELLED to try and sum it up. Ok. Korea in a word. "HARD" ok some more words: <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>"BLOODY HARD." </i></b></span>Hard does not always EQUAL bad. Though in Korea's case....just kidding....but seriously.<br />
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My first year in Korea was stressful but filled with laughter and fun. I had an awesome best friend to giggle with, I had plans, <b><i>students I loved </i></b>and even though I was stressed I could at the end of the day laugh it off.<br />
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My second year in Korea was unlike the first.<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> I STRUGGLED.</b></span> I spent the first 3 months sinking down into my own <span style="font-size: large;"><b>rabbit hole.</b></span> I buried myself in it. I pretended to be okay. I pulled a mask over my face and tried to be "me," but truthfully I didn't know who that was. If you didn't know this, don't be offended. I'm a great pretender. But let me tell you pretending happy is worse then feeling sad because admitting struggle takes away "aloneness." I smiled, I laughed, and acted what would be seen as normal...I found something to love and obsess over because it removed me from my own situation. Inside, I felt like I was in a tunnel without a flashlight.<br />
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I don't say this to manipulate sympathy. <b><i>HEAVEN FORBID</i></b>, but because I've realized something. Living in this small community of foreigners something happens(this happens in colleges, in youth groups, on missions trips, <b><i>you are not immune</i></b>). We become concerned with "surviving" and figuring out how to get the bus to Kwangjoo, that selfishness is the norm. We snap at others, have pointless arguments, and grip onto the things we believed that will keep us in control. We forget that the person next to us might be in the same dark tunnel. We forget to pray. We forget to serve. We forget to love.<span style="font-size: large;"> <i><b>WE FORGET TO LOVE. How dare we? How dare I?</b></i></span><br />
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Maybe you don't like my use of the pronoun "we." Tough rocks.<br />
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Maybe you're in this place now. Maybe you right now are faking happy, or you're so concerned with your self preservation that other's thoughts and feelings become natural causalities. I implore you. Whether you are in Korea or in your own living room watching TV. Remove your head from the dirt. Look around. Tare down what keeps you from loving others. Seek God so that any callousness may soften.<br />
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Throughout all of this I learned: <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">GOD IS FAITHFUL. </span>He was faithful to a girl who didn't always act in kindness, who didn't always love him like she should. He gave her gift after gift, and handed her a flashlight for that tunnel. </b><br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-56680360568775919192013-02-24T20:47:00.004-08:002013-02-24T21:47:37.370-08:00Lessons Learned in K-town: a reflection over the events of the past 2 years.<br />
I have given this such a formal title and have been working on it starting 2 months before my actual departure. I want to make sure it is actually funny. Not sure I achieved that.<br />
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So ahem....<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">K-TOWN lessons</span></b><br />
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1. Brown and black do in fact match<br />
2. sweeping canines and allowing them to climb into a box of hedgehogs is normal.<br />
3. Grown men will giggle when you smile at them in a restaurant.<br />
<a href="http://www.lolhappens.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/Cutest.Gif.EVER_.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://www.lolhappens.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/10/Cutest.Gif.EVER_.gif" width="200" /></a><br />
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4. That is not a purse it is a murse. Get it right.<br />
5. Two males riding on a motorcycle is perfectly acceptable.<br />
6. There is no such thing as personal space, silly you.<br />
7. High water pants are stylish. Hyun bin approves and if he does...<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">well it must be true..</span></b><br />
<img height="100" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_meae6uowgm1rqlm31.gif" width="200" /><img height="200" src="http://blogmedia.dramafever.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/hyun-bin-samsung-smart-tv-feb-2011-057_large.jpg" width="133" /><br />
8. That drunk man <b><span style="font-size: large;">WILL </span></b>sit next to you and leer at you on the subway. Don't presume differently.<img height="150" src="http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTalQYT4xK71AtNwa7ki551oEMkyS9obm-3IfXm_CSXlJYIUcXt" width="200" /><br />
9. Fast food signs are glorious.<br />
10. "Small face" is a compliment "big face" is a put down.<br />
11. There is literally a coffee shop on EVERY CORNER, sometimes 2.<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bpPUkeA-2o/TFJiOR6bB9I/AAAAAAAAASE/prUqF3jztkg/s1600/No%2520Garbage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__bpPUkeA-2o/TFJiOR6bB9I/AAAAAAAAASE/prUqF3jztkg/s200/No%2520Garbage.jpg" width="197" /></a>12. Stop playing hide-in-seek with that trash can. It WILL WIN.<br />
13. The Apocalypse is happening every Saturday...or someone is selling oranges.<br />
14. Korea is the best. Japan is not.<br />
15. You will always look better when you are thinner.<br />
16. Everyday you do in fact look tired.<br />
17. Subway doors may catch you. be careful. (that goes for you Izette.)<br />
18. Even if there is room around you, that old woman still reserves the right to hit you. sorry.<br />
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19. Bra + top does equal "Bratop." Thanks uniclo clothing<br />
<img height="112" src="http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y123/kurrant7/ph_w_bratop_120615_cover.jpg" width="200" /><br />
20. Psy is the <b>BEST PERFORMER IN THE WORLD</b>. don't doubt it....<br />
21. The answer to "Thank you." is <b><i>NOT</i></b> "You're welcome" it is "YES."<br />
22. Jeonpo station has 132 stairs.<br />
23. Despite thinking differently their is only one answer to "How are you?" and it happens to be "Fine thanks and you."<br />
24. Everyday <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I am</span></b> shuffling. <img height="112" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_llk952x0Wb1qiqmjr.gif" width="200" /><br />
25. If you are stuck in your bathroom and know how to say "help me" in Korean (TWAJuesayo) you will be forever known to your school administrator as "TWAJUSEAYO."<br />
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AND that's all She wrote...for now. unless I think of some more.<br />
<img src="http://bios.weddingbee.com/pics/89094/michael_magic.gif" />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-43198133179964170192013-02-22T05:56:00.000-08:002013-02-22T05:56:38.255-08:00Ktown sisters.This is a post about my Ktown Sisters. Meet Hwa Jung and So Young. They are both beautiful intelligent, sassy Korean women who I spent the previous year working alongside. Not English teachers mind you. Ethics and Math are what they teach the kiddies.<br />
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Recently I found myself once again staring across a coffee table listening to my two Unnies(sister in korea) tell a story in Korean. I don't understand a whole lot but I didn't mind. There is something wonderful about sitting there, hearing them laugh and catch up.<br />
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And while I sat there I thought back on the previous years Shinangians. Yes that is what I called it.<br />
So Young, is notoriously sassy. Whenever lunch time would begin everyone was leaning in to hear her words. Hwa Jung was the counter balance. And together they decided to adopt me.<br />
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Our conversations would take strange patterns. For example:<br />
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<b>So Young feigns a whisper</b>: Hwa Jung is Miss Korea.<br />
<b>'Who the heck is 'Miss Korea?' I wonder but play along</b>: Oh?<br />
<b>So Young</b>: Very skinny. VERY skinny. (<b>So Young gestures to all of her friend. drawing a straight line up and down...Thank you Vanna very flattering</b>)<br />
ohhhhhhhhhhhhh. yes. (<b>I</b> <b>nod vehemently)</b><br />
<b>So Young:</b> But she never wear dress.<br />
<b>(This is curious information indeed):</b> Why not?<br />
<b>So Young leans towards me and whispers intensely</b>: DRAGON TATTOO<br />
<b>Still clueless.</b>: She has one?<br />
<b>So Young motions across her throat with a pretend knife: </b>Gangsta Gangsta.<br />
<b>I narrow my eyes and size up the potential danger</b>: Oh....Hwa Jung are you a gangsta?<br />
<b>Hwa Jung comes far too close and grabs my arm</b>: Follow me.<br />
<b>I stretch back on my heels and arch an eyebrow:</b> where?<br />
<b>Hwa Jung laughs darkly:</b> To the bathroom....<br />
<b>I let my head wobble my answer: </b>errr...No....thank you.<br />
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So Young has done more for me than many in Korea. Her kindness and willingness to help me has made it easier to be so far from home. She invited me with no questions into her friends, told me schedule changes, and found me rides to work events. So Young is NOT fluent. but as she has told me before gestures can fill in the gasps...and of course an English-korean dictionary.<br />
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So Young told me over dinner that "We are not friends, we are family."<br />
My lovely sister is getting married on Sunday. What a wonderful way to spend my last weekend in K-town. She has made me promise to tell her when my "mister Big (she is obsessed with Sex and the City)" comes along. She is determined to see me off and wedded. To the right man of course.<br />
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Many times my "sister" has explained that she will only allow such a thing once she has examined him thoroughly. So Young expressed this idea by placing a cup on a counter and searching it's surface for imperfections. I tell you....poor guy. He might have a hard time earning her approval, and that's ok by me.<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-64471648355747178912013-02-19T00:10:00.000-08:002013-02-19T00:10:58.922-08:00solid...merrh loch-ness monster. If you a doctor and you see the loch ness monster you are CRAZY. Apparently. Even though you have a degree and years of study to make your sighting reputable, the instant "I saw a dinosaur carrying a sheep across the road," comes out of your mouth you are a wack-a moley-job.(and by this I mean insane)<br />
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Why am I talking about Lochness monsters? Other than the fact I am a believer in Nessie-pooh, I was reminded of something a friend said to me recently.<br />
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But lets go back to the idea of being "solid." (it's in the title! read it) dictionary.com says "Solid" means: <b><span style="font-size: large;">"<span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #0055bb; cursor: pointer; font-family: verdana;">reliable</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;">or</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: verdana;">sensible;</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: verdana;"> </span><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; cursor: default; font-family: verdana;">upstanding"</span></span></b><br />
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Korea is transitional. It can be a prefect place to run away, or hide. To be whoever you want to be, or to find out that you were in fact confused on who that person was to begin with. You change, you change friends, you change and you change friends again. Every week it seems like someone is boarding a plane, getting on a boat, or jumping ship.<br />
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Then are the phone calls, the emails from home, the facebook statues, and the blog updates. All shouting the same thing to you: SOMETHING HAPPENED without you. Whatever it was, something bad, or good or just plain different has happened WITHOUT you. THE POINT IS You weren't there. The experience is not a shared one.<br />
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Living away does something, making being "solid" impossible. There are times when I feel I am in a bowl of moving jelly, and not the tasty kind. Where emotions move like waves and I'm literally that girl who cannot decide if she's happy or sad. Glad that I'm here or disappointed that I missed something at home.<br />
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So what does this have to do with loch-ness? My friend said, "no one's <b><span style="font-size: large;">'solid' </span></b>we're all grasping with claws saying 'merrrrhhhh<b>(HELP ME!)</b>'" (and then she gestured like she was a soupy version of a swimming dinosaur)<br />
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And you know what? That's me. I am a soupy loch ness monster. Korea's a struggle and the "me" here is not the normal "me." I haven't done everything I could normally do but I've done what I can. And you what? THAT IS OK. Sometimes you can't be everything, you can't go everywhere, and you can't please everyone.<br />
and that's okay too! Being 'Solid' sounds good, but sometimes you realize that you're broken and that you're mushy. yeah. mushy. And you need time.<br />
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Wow. This post has gotten entirely away from me. A product of letting my mind run straight through my fingertips and onto the keyboard.<br />
MERRRH<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-36112008430660012542013-02-17T18:07:00.001-08:002013-02-17T18:07:05.902-08:00Realization! I always have these deep thoughts but when it comes time to write them down, <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I draw a complete blank.</span></b> It's like someone has pushed the pause button on my brain and I can't un-press it. a rather unfortunate condition.<br />
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I have recently felt validated tho. One of the many people I normally come in contact with has praised me for the first time ever. I feel like a champion and that the whole world should stop to hear her words! <span style="font-size: x-large;">That's right STOP spinning world! just stop. I'm about to quote.</span><br />
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<b><i>"I've realized how happy I was to work with you."</i></b><br />
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Now for get the condescending and slightly offensive use of "realize" and take that in for a moment. That is nearly a prefect compliment.<br />
<img height="140" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lygwhqQHfV1r9f4kdo1_500.gif" width="200" /><br />
After having my apartment compared to a dog kennel, this makes me feel much better. (I mean seriously Dog kennel? what does that make me?) <span style="font-size: x-large;">woof.</span> (as long as I am this dog...)<br />
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<img height="150" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Dh5ahkxDWiM/TjDhQeCl7uI/AAAAAAAAAq4/TdZenI50ghs/s200/Boo-the-Cutest-Puppy-in-the-World-in-a-Halloween-Costume.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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When I reach the states their will inevitably be an outpouring of stories and events that I had forgotten about, and remembered. be ready for a crap storm of emotion.<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-92043218410947091762013-01-28T20:51:00.001-08:002013-01-28T20:51:26.045-08:00that is not a twixt bar...and other equally unfortunate tales.<br />
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I have several <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Amazing</span></b> and <b><span style="font-size: large;">utterly alternate reality</span></b> stories to share with you. But due to laziness I will share only one. <b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>THE title has deceived you! </i></span></b>ahahhah....eh? what else is new? When I have I ever accurately described an event???? don't answer that.</div>
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<img src="http://i225.photobucket.com/albums/dd19/ColdFire555/twilightzone.gif" /><br />
I blame the following event entirely on <span style="font-size: x-large;">Izette</span>. Yes I have named her. and for further identification look at the photo below.<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bPu74YLT-QU/UQdQaVXFQFI/AAAAAAAAAFk/XuVdrZHAY5g/s1600/2045_10151307134606178_1341702702_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bPu74YLT-QU/UQdQaVXFQFI/AAAAAAAAAFk/XuVdrZHAY5g/s200/2045_10151307134606178_1341702702_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Don't let the prettieness fool you....she is a havoc maker. The best kind of havoc maker....the deceivingly nice kind.<span style="font-size: x-large;"> BEWARE.</span><br />
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What happen you ask?<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">EAR Plugs in my mouth happened</span>. Let's review.<br />
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I was dreaming <b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>innocently</i></span></b>, when in my dream a very angry and irate Iz, refused to take my <i><u><b>twixt candy bar</b></u></i>, that I probably had shed blood and tears to earn. I remember the <span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">rejection</span> and the self esteem blow as Izette took the bar and<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"> angrily placed</span></i></b> it on the ground. (yeah... angrily placed. wow. she is vicious). I looked sadly at the discarded gooey goodness and crossed my arms at Izette's determined steps away from me.<b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> I felt like I was abandoned in a vast desert, only tumble weeds and howling wind to console my crushed ego.</span></i></b><br />
<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/3369be4a24d4f9a4d2a7e4a776e08649/tumblr_mgs1m4Qavk1ro7uigo1_400.gif" /><br />
So I <b><span style="font-size: large;">naturally</span></b> did the only thing I could think of that would make IZ feel my acute pain. I snatched up the candy bar and <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>ate it. </b></span><br />
<img src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQDYRtYhhE7gr5J0sO-nSTJEHAqR6g81mendw1l4FrpN32DH-Tp" /><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">What happened next can only be described as both disgusting and mind-boggling. </span><br />
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Upon putting the candy bar in my mouth I noted that my dream twixt was <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>very un-twixt like</b></span>. No gooey chocolate but a squishy texture that <b>make sucking noises in my teeth</b>. No caramel filling but a distinct taste of...what was that...<b><i><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">oh ear wax</span></u></i></b>.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="200" src="http://thebestearplugs.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/07/13-ear-plugs.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">these are not candy...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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This is the moment I awoke to the horrifying truth. What I was chewing on was not a delightful twixt bar....<b><span style="font-size: large;">but a runaway ear plug </span></b>that had fallen out sometime during the course of my flailing about. <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>AN EARPLUG and not a clean one</b></span>!<br />
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I had grabbed the ear plug and put it in my mouth and was <span style="font-size: x-large;">"NOMMING"</span> on it. I instantly spit out the offending plug and ran to the bathroom where I gagged and brushed my teeth until the ear wax taste wasn't as offensive....<br />
<img src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lvo8isW1MC1r6aoq4o1_500.gif" /><br />
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<b>YES I could have died!</b> the headline reading:<span style="font-size: x-large;"> SLEEPWALKER CHOKES ON AN EARPLUG</span><br />
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Again I blame IZ...had she only eaten my twixt I wouldn't have found my mouth full of ear wax....<b>so unfortunate. </b><br />
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-17410202360617363632013-01-07T07:10:00.003-08:002013-01-07T23:58:55.428-08:00IT'S 2013...And me the Mope---er<span style="font-size: x-large;">in other news my favorite actor performed "GUNDAM STYLE" ON LIVE TV....UNACCEPTABLE.</span><br />
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Yeah so...While everyone was updating their facebooks and blogs<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;"> with end of the year madness, meanwhile I preferred to think I was still in 2012. or actually in a continuous space where the year just spreads out like a long road. sounds...a bit like groundhogs day?</span></span><br />
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<img height="125" src="http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lxudzzszCB1qiy6x3o1_r1_500.gif" width="200" /><br />
again for you uncultured souls....tsk tsk.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><b>Why you ask?</b></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"> </span></i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: 14px;">oh the laundry list is exhaustive. not really. I'm personally and profoundly in hate with New Years. I have never once cared about that ball and the droppage and the whole hoopla. This has to do with the fact that I find it a nostalgic time which makes me wander around, arms dragging on the floor as a complete and utter </span><b><span style="font-size: large;">MOPE ----R</span></b><span style="font-size: 14px;">. Which is a word...apparently...there is no red underline..</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: 14px;"><br /></span></span>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://satireknight.wikispaces.com/file/view/funny-animal-gifs-depression-hurts.gif/341747640/funny-animal-gifs-depression-hurts.gif" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have given into the cat apocalypse....</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">To be honest. 2012 was a very difficult year for me. One of the hardest I have ever experienced. Thankfully, God has been present or I might have jumped off a bridge. (you may take that literally, figuratively, with pb and j....whatever...hmmmmm peanut butter and jelly....peanut butter jelly....peanut butter jelly and baseball bat...)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">But what am I truly THANKFUL for? God. A God who cares about my wakings and sleepings(yes that is not a word), and my sleepwalkings...etc. Talking about faith may not appeal to the masses. but God is present. I don't have a new years resolution....</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: large;">I have a prayer though</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">. That all my friends, and family (and yes even my jpop celebs) would know God's love this year. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px;">I realize too as of the time it took me to write this and now that while I had a hard year so many other lovelies in my life have too, or are entering a hard situation. I cannot say it enough. but the only thing we can do is rest in God's faithfulness. He is faithful. Even when we spin wildly out of control he has it in control. What a good thing to know.</span></div>
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To commemorate and feel the hopelessness of humanity's taste in dance I have made the following gif.</div>
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<img data-cke-saved-src="http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/faithiehannah/31454808/4324/4324_600.gif" height="168.75" lj-cmd="LJImage" src="http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/faithiehannah/31454808/4324/4324_600.gif" style="color: #222222; cursor: default; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; margin-right: 10px;" width="300" /></div>
Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-74850751777963136312012-12-27T18:00:00.001-08:002012-12-27T18:00:59.320-08:00the death of a dino. Breaking. It's a quiet thing.<br />
swept into a sea of empty.<br />
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I feel like this blog at times resorts to gimmicks, and though I truly enjoy supplying everyone with lovely gifs and what I deem worthy anecdotes. Sometimes. I want to be serious with you.<br />
<br />
I can't say that this post isn't a reflection or response to events of my life, because that would a complete denial of the truth. And why not tell you a little bit of the truth? I believe I am in a minority on a certain view. Which is sad.<br />
How I view friendship. That's what I will write about today.<br />
<br />
I think and believe Friends are forever.(I saw you roll your eyes!) Which seems to be an illogical assumption living in a climate like Korea where nothing is stable. I am the child who when she gave a friendship bracelet REALLY and truly believed in it. Seems to the cynical world a little like a fairytale. That we are crossing our fingers and wishing on some friendship star. And at times I feel the same.<br />
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Because sometimes you make friends out of pure need. I've done it. Sometimes you have to for the sake of your own sanity break or limit the time spent with certain people. And when I encounter this....I feel so utterly WRONG. Even when I know a relationship is unhealthy, I cling.<br />
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So am I only wishing for something that is impossible?<br />
no. We are made to be in relationship with one another. I view fights as fights but not endings. Problems can be worked through. I think that so many of the people I encounter have a different perspective. If we fight it's over? They seem to genuinely believe this. It's so different than how I operate.<br />
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I have a best friend. She is lovely. Even though I sometimes misuse her, she is my best friend for a reason. It's mutual, or we try our best to be. but even sometimes I take too much because I'm imperfect and at my core selfish.<br />
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I'm rambling all this off because I have some free time and this is actually an old and unfinished post.<br />
So if you happen to think I'm talking about you. Silly billy. I probably am. lol. just kidding.Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-69578941516019051302012-12-05T18:32:00.003-08:002012-12-05T20:28:45.299-08:00An unexpected Visitor....Meet Frank. I called him <span style="font-size: x-large;">"</span><i><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Frank"</span></b></i>...this does not under <i><b>any circumstances</b></i> make him a pet. He was a <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">plague, </span><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">a disease</span>, <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">an affliction</span>, <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b>a personal tormentor</b></span>,<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> a living abomination</span>, <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"> much more than a nuisance</span>, <span style="font-size: large;"><b>a symbol of the fall</b></span>, and <span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i>a nightmare inducer</i></span>.<br />
<br />
He was a huge, <b><span style="font-size: large;">ninja-quick</span></b>, Cockroach that I surrendered my kitchen to sometime last summer.<br />
<img src="http://gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs/733813_o.gif" /><br />
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When I tell this story I expect you have your judgement prepared. That you think me a<b> baby</b>, <b><span style="font-size: large;">a wimp,</span></b> a pansy, and that I am wildly exaggerating the events that took place. To you I say calmly, "<span style="font-size: x-large;">WHERE YOU THERE?! DID YOU WITNESS THE LIVING<b><i> MOTHRA</i></b> THAT ROAMED MY KITCHEN ! "</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">again....for the uncultured...</span><br />
<img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m5p2u2PSdi1qcqriwo2_500.gif" /><br />
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and No I know Mothra is not a cockroach, <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><i>blog jerk</i></b></span>...but if frank had a cousin! it would be him.<br />
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To CLARIFY FRANK is a cockroach....not a pet and not a moth.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">ACT 1: THE DISCOVERY!</span><br />
I walked in my kitchen on a typical night switched on the the light and saw something that made me do a double roundhouse flip out of my kitchen<br />
.<img alt="image" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mczcazipvd1ryne87.gif" /> I slid the door shut with a firm slam, turned the light off again from the outside <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">( I was thinking "HIDE HIDE!")</span></i></b>and <span style="font-size: large;"><b>DESPERATELY</b></span> dialed my friends number. I think my phone has imprints from my abuse!<br />
ME(screaming): <b><i>MEAGAN!!!!!</i></b><br />
Meagan: <b><i>Faithy why are you breathing funny?</i></b><br />
Me(cowering in the corner): <b><i>Meagan there is the mother of all cockroaches on my kitchen cabinet!</i></b><br />
Meagan: <b><i>Faithy can you see him now?</i></b><br />
Me(peaking through the glass door to get a visual):<b><i> Nooo.....Meagan I'm scared.</i></b><br />
Meagan(as talking to a child): <b><i>Faithy you need to get a shoe.</i></b><br />
Me (IN COMPLETE TERROR, mind spinning ): What do I do with <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">this shoe</span></i></b>??<br />
Meagan: ....<br />
Me: <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">MEAGAN HE IS REALLY BIG! AND SCARY. HE MAY EAT ME!!!</span></b><br />
Meagan(trying not to laugh): <b><i>I know it is terrifying.</i></b><br />
Me: <i><b>Ok...ok...I'm going in.</b></i><br />
I slowly opened the door to discover....<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">NOTHING! </span></b>Frank had vanished. I cautiously placed a toe in the kitchen...The phone was still adhered to my ear.<br />
Meagan(alarmed at my silence):<b><i> Faithy...</i></b><br />
Me: <i><b>He's not there.</b></i><br />
Meagan: <b><i>Aww good maybe he ran away...</i></b><br />
<br />
IF ONLY.<br />
I sighed and locked my kitchen after being talked down from searching for the invader.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Act 2: the HUNT <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17.981481552124023px;">"DEAR FRANK. Leave my apartment and die. love, faith."-facebook update</span></span></b><br />
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The first thing I did was <b><span style="font-size: large;">CLEAN</span></b> my entire kitchen. I mean dishes everywhere, and bleach. lots of bleach. I stocked up on traps. I prepared myself for <span style="font-size: large;"><b>war.</b></span><br />
<img height="85" src="http://cdn.uproxx.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/storm-troopers.gif" width="200" /><br />
Frank would appear a the top of my cabinets finding himself a cozy crack to make a house. Sticking his <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">antennae</span></b> out in <b><i>mockery</i></b> of me.<br />
I felt his pride. His joy in ruining the life of a civilian unaccustomed to fighting off monsters.<br />
I couldn't reach him. I could only put traps and bait and wait. Oh the waiting....<br />
There would be days when it seemed to be successful and then I would see him again. dashing under the microwave or slinking into the sink drain.<br />
<br />
During this time...where I cooked and finished my meals quickly and throwing a white flag to FRANK to claim my apartment I posted updates on the <b><span style="font-size: large;">turf war</span></b> that consumed my life.<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">"Beyond frustrated....Frank must be a </span><span style="line-height: 17.981481552124023px;">super bug</span><span style="line-height: 18px;"> and you are probably just as annoyed as I am that this subject is still my status content. He moves to fast to kill and traps and raid doesn't work...good gravy. I'm at my wits end."</span></span></span><br />
<br />
These statuses consumed my facebook for more than 2 weeks!<br />
Causing many of you to<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"> CRY "USE A SLIPPER!</span></b>"<br />
to which I responded...<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">."NO REALLY?? and what happens when he takes my slipper and beats me with it!?" </span></b>SERIOUSLY...no one had any idea what I was dealing with.<br />
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Frank was too<b><i> FAST, TOO BIG FOR TRAPS</i></b>....in fact my parents sent me traps to catch him with, and <b><i>TOO SMART</i></b> for bait...yeah. he was special. maybe governmental engineered. a tracking device for foreigners.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">ACT 3: THE MADNESS ENDS- "Just sprayed bleach in Franks face."</span></i></b><br />
<img src="http://i26.tinypic.com/dr5jsx.gif" /><br />
When I finally had enough. <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I ended it</span></b>. Frank decided to mock me once more and I took aim with a bleach bottle. Twice I hit him with the burning substance. He recoiled into his home. He had acquired 2 now. one at each end of the cabinet. It was like a very disgusting game of <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">WACK A MOLE.</span></b><br />
<img src="http://gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs3/3697068_o.gif" /><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Again he went missing. And I watched with vigilance Until Ina discovered him in the crack of my door separating Frank from my living area and my bed.<br />
<br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Ina did what I was unable to do. </span></i></b>And smashed him to pieces with her slipper. Now..Frank was barely moving, but I, having the fear of God set upon me dared not touch him.<br />
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I have seen no other Cockroach...but my fear has kept me alert and watchful. <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Who knows what evil lurks in my kitchen</span></b>, waiting to scare the living daily lights out of me.<br />
<br />
<br />
Meet Frank...this is not him...but a much smaller version...the interwebs disappoint again.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img height="200" src="http://kimchiicecream.files.wordpress.com/2010/02/img_4392.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="198" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I almost vomited in my search for a FRANK twin..<br />
.and then had to be hospitalized for a period of time.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Someone had to make this...that someone was me.<br />
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<img src="http://i1282.photobucket.com/albums/a525/faith_taylor1/DOLPHIN2.png" />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-20234196171306828052012-12-03T16:56:00.001-08:002012-12-04T01:54:24.540-08:00Call Me "BOMB." And for the laymen...that means "joy"<div>
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Teachah."</span></i></b> I stare at the 1st year student who just waltzed into my summer camp. Literally waltzed, that is <span style="font-size: large;">not a metaphor.</span> I'm not being flowery. She spun and danced. <img src="http://www.pemberley.com/janeinfo/1816wlzt.gif" /></div>
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<b><i>"Yes?"</i></b> </div>
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<b><i>"Call me Bomb"</i></b> The 1st year student taps her chest proudly. <i><b>"Bomb Teachah Bomb"</b></i></div>
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<b><i>"Bomb?"</i></b> I size the student up. She does not look like she is going to <b><span style="font-size: large;">explode</span></b>....but one can never be too sure. Her big smile with no hint of mischievous intent, her eyes framed by long thin glasses and her short black hair.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">"BOMMMMB."</span></b> she confirms with a nod of her head.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">"Ok...why?</span></b>" I cannot resist the question.</div>
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Bomb folds her hands across her chest and does her best to explain.<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i> "You know the Nut that falls from the tree?"</i></span></b></div>
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<b><i>"err..."</i></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><b>"Nut from tree and Bomb."</b> </i></span>She puts her two hands together and makes a motion I'm all too familiar with. <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Same."</span></i></b></div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Chestnut?"</span></i></b> I raise my eyebrows.</div>
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Bomb hops up on one leg and puts both hands in the air.<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i> "yeahhh teachah. I'm chestnut!"</i></b></span></div>
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<img height="200" src="http://kyotofoodie.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/yakiguri-gohan-roasted-chestnut-rice-1.jpg" width="200" /></div>
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Over the next few weeks<b><i><span style="font-size: large;"> Bomb </span></i></b>quickly becomes my favorite student. Full of life and imagination, she runs into my Summer camp classroom and tries unsuccessfully to explain the story line to her favorite drama. Her excitement makes me unable to stifle her. </div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Teachah....today....errr....yeaaaahhh....kiss."</span></i></b> Bomb's eyes light up in excitement and she puts her two hands together to clap and bounces with gleeful embarrassment at the word "kiss".</div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Oh really?"</span></i></b> I say in mock surprise. </div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Yeaaaah teachah. Yeaaahh."</span></i></b> Her face bubbles over with joy and she puts both of her hands over her eyes and giggles. </div>
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<img alt="image" height="124" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m4i5hh986f1rujvyco1_500.gif" width="200" /></div>
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I quickly discover <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Yeaaah"</span></i></b> is Bomb's favorite word. Everything she tells me from the new glasses her sister bought her <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Teachah my sister...Yeaaaah...bought them for me....yeaaaahh...good sister....yeaaahh."</span></i></b> to her woes over spending time studying <span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>" Teachah....I study all weekend....yeaaahhh..."</i></b></span> are full of the word.</div>
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It is said as if she is a surfer, catching the perfect wave on a California beach. It's a lovely trait that I cannot help but smile at. </div>
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She is a special student. Smart, and kind. </div>
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She is the one student who no matter when she sees me it is like she has seen a present on Christmas morning. She bounds up to me, waves her hand and grabs mine. She is the one who stands at the bottom of the stairs when she sees me at the top. Her smile practically wraps around her face as she shapes her hands into a heart at me and wiggles wildly.</div>
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To which I respond, <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"I love you too."</span></i></b></div>
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These words transform my lovely student into a lovelier ray of sunshine. Literally light pouring from her face, as she says uncertainly <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Really?"</span></i></b></div>
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I nod and say <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Of course."</span></i></b></div>
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Bomb jumps up and down and points to herself.<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i> "ME too. yeaaaaahhhh me too. you love...ooooooo" </i></b></span>She spins around. </div>
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I don't know why the word "Bomb" means chestnut in Korean. I think if I could change the definition I would. <b><span style="font-size: large;">Joy</span></b> is an appropriate word here. In fact, when choosing English names it is the name that "Bomb" unknowingly selected from my name box. Her spirit is one of those that I want to remain intact and untouched by the trials she will inevitably face as being a student in a rigid education system. </div>
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She is one student I regret not staying for. I think about leaving her and know I will cry, because her heart is so beautiful. </div>
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<b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;">"Bomb" does not mean chestnut to me. It means "Joy" pure, lovely, giggling Joy.</span></i></b><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XVqa7qKBHnM/UL3IIu5KzZI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/R0XoBu2qGdk/s1600/bomb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XVqa7qKBHnM/UL3IIu5KzZI/AAAAAAAAAFQ/R0XoBu2qGdk/s320/bomb.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Bomb"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-76899154739881635542012-12-02T22:25:00.000-08:002012-12-02T22:25:03.904-08:00And in other news a Dolphin chewed on a small child...You probably should rush over, read that article and skip this post entirely. NO wait don't go!!!<br />
VALIDATE ME!!!<br />
<br />
I think for the most part this blog comes off as a jovial poke at the strange land of kpop and kimichi...and psy....<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">make it stop</span></b>.<br />
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I intend to make you laugh. however. I have these reflective moments and you are now going to be on the receiving end. <br />
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I came to Korea because I thought God told me to go. It's been this hard rocky thing I've done. I have moments where I literally think my sanity has left me. Where I feel like Rage faces are my only relief.<br />
<img src="http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=49519575" /><br />
There is this mysterious idea called <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"culture shock.</span></i></b>" it is indeed a strange undefinable beast.<br />
( I've talked to people recently who believe they haven't experienced it in Korea. and to you. I kindly say..<b><span style="font-size: large;">false! </span></b>or maybe you're a super high value of humanness.)<br />
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">I will raise my hand</span></b><span style="font-size: x-large;">! </span>I experienced it.<br />
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And through that God has been so <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">FAITHFUL</span></b>. and has blessed this woman who ignores her creator so much of the time. I mean if you were to transcribe my thoughts you would be stunned...and <b><span style="font-size: large;">alarmed</span></b>. Maybe you'd ask..."How can she think of robot bunnies that much?"<br />
<img height="200" src="http://page.crystalcomments.com/6/45260.jpg" width="177" /><br />
But the truth is that God loves me. He gives me things I ask for even if I don't deserve them. And weird things too. Like answering a prayer to meet a j-pop idol to rescuing me from my bathroom. God is faithful. When I'm faithless. So what does that mean?<br />
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It means that instead of assuming that disaster is about to befall me and running away screaming.<img src="http://i865.photobucket.com/albums/ab212/ramblinquixotic/Gifs/th_tumblr_lqe91yUmvF1qezg63.gif" /><br />
I <b><span style="font-size: large;">should assume </span></b>that God has it under control. I should assume that my prayers are effective that God hears them, and answers them.<br />
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Then it follows... if my prayer to <b><i>meet</i></b> the idol could change into a prayer for his<b><span style="font-size: large;"> salvation</span></b>, if my prayer to make it through the day could change into a prayer to <b><i>demonstrate Christ</i></b>. I might be surprised at the results.<br />
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These thoughts aren't funny. sorry. but that dolphin story is still available....should you need it.<br />
<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-547886180308620202012-11-29T18:22:00.001-08:002012-11-29T18:22:45.918-08:00Holy CATS! I'm glad I woke up.For a few days I have been wracking my brain to think of something humorous to write. Dear me...my brain works terribly and in strange <span style="font-size: large;"><b>concentric rambling circles</b></span>. (is that possible...)<br />
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<img height="128" src="http://www.icanbecreative.com/res/cinemagraphs/cinematography-gifs-13.gif" width="200" /><br />
Here is a snip it of my brains inner workings: ...<b><span style="font-size: large;">Hugs, hugs,hugs</span></b>...I hate that student..Japan...what is new in japan?...<i>.<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Holy CATS!</span> <b>why did I look up what is new in japan?</b></i>...<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">.NEW JENNA MARBLES!</span>...puppies! kitties!!! frowny CAT!<b><span style="font-size: large;"> lolllllcats</span></b>....<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="image" height="200" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mb2bmfYwFQ1qap5w9.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="188" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">allow me to introduce you to a major time waster...i.e. frowny cat.</td></tr>
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Anyway. Luckily, I came up with a story of a true event that happened in my apartment about <b><span style="font-size: large;">2 weeks ago. </span></b> And it must start with a confession: sigh....here we go.<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">I AM A SLEEPWALKER.</span></b><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lr38l7oWvV1qdtlw7o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="154" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lr38l7oWvV1qdtlw7o1_500.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The cabinet of Dr. Caligari....<br />sleepwalking in all it's terror</td></tr>
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I know you are squinting your eyes in disbelief. You didn't know but don't feel down on yourself friend. I too, for a large portion of my life I lived obvious to these escapades of <span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;">Nocturnal </span>weirdness. (that reads oddly...but I'm not changing it hmph!)<br />
If you did, bad for you, because it means I did something <b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>very strange</i></span></b> around you during the period of time reserved for <span style="font-size: large;"><b>dreamland</b></span>.<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">Previous events include but are not limited to:</span></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">1.</span> walking down the hallway to stare at my brother while he is sleeping and leaving only after he has awoken to his <b><span style="font-size: large;">creepy sister </span></b>leering in the doorway.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">2.</span> Slumping in my roommates door frame to tell her that there is a "<b><span style="font-size: large;">ghost man"</span></b> in my room.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">3. </span>Trying to escape the hotel room but being unable to because the chain is still on the door.<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">4.</span> Hitting the side of the bunk-bed whilst angrily shouting, <b><span style="font-size: large;">"Hey! HEY! HEY YOU!"</span></b> While my roommate in fear for her life hid beneath the covers.<br />
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" 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bXJu47joUXFi5AYObiAfhRvhZAPmcZ/j11kGsFmrptl3HhDZqju6jDSEFzk7kDA2JwNvSvbFTWLqk5uNKcrRnVqOsPk7acYIxjfPkahL6eMl1ZZCAudagAhjjbJ6jHXb4V7moSMDOABk5OPM+tSxoOO94/Cb27vzDa3F0kLIpuFVSqqFGkt4MNJnUiqDnJ1bhRmvq7Fha2MlqLq9uoEkUXISIzwqwYSYnlA2GVwQsgG/Tqawu1HbSdDO8SGeOe5TUiIAGhbEcKTTglhqELfJBVOJDlt8V62XHykAE1ldWS5dVBPycSO03LGXChY8hY9OoZCMdtqDxWxtLW5s+J29jDLFJKIwbaY4iuCp5eqFh4WIzlfIqPPr2yJsqCPMA/XXJ7a85726xq12Jb2CW5lcaeVbo0nL1aSQWI5hx+Cu/XbrSdKD5mkCqWOwUEn5gMmvyvDcc3VKes0kkp+d3Zv6CK/QXeZxoWvC7l84aSMwxDzMsvya4+sn+Ka/P0MelQv4KgfUMV24Z7248t9afdKgUrUzppSlApSlApSlApSlApSlApSlApSozQKVNKCKVNKCKVNTDE8kiwwxtNLKcRxruzH1Poo6knYVFsnupk36ibW+kt5oprcsJ43/AM3CqXMjEYMegbuGGxHxrufZbvA50nst/AeH3eAUikPhmUgHVE52O+RpySPjvjT9muw54PbtePA3EL3AykRA5UZPiWDX1IGST1bG1WQQ2fHLJHZBNFJkrkaZIZBsQCN43B64Pl5iseeXldtWGPjNLNSqGLbiXC/tRbi9qPvHIW9iX8l/dmA+ODWdY96Ni5KTSPZSqMtFdI0LjHXGrZvoJqi62s2OtaTinH4hbCQ+KOVc+6zAw+b4TLEFSMYG+tfWtNBfycY1LFrgsQ2l5Qw5t2QfEkTKSFiPQuNzuAdyRt7nhmq7RpCFhRESGLbTJMDzMnbYLoXAzuR+SKCuTdteH3Y+VLWyOmmOaRGgYKwI0nmLhkIzuNS776TjOdJ2OhuEzG8MiOrBeWzCLxY30KzIQNIIUYHib1q3yRBhhgGHoQCPqNV+bsDYBjILWOI9WMTPAD5ksI2UfXQRwjh0BuLpYimjXGJ4lVAnN5W5IAyDjT0PUH41vb69SCNpZXWNI1LOzHCqo8ya5XxzvBtuH3w/c8LdL7IYZ4oWxEkkbhoWMu65AaUHGTvVK7Tdr7riRHtTosSnKW8WRGG8i5JzIR8dvQVbHC5fFLnJ9ZXbvtmeKXAKaltYCfZlOxkc7GZh82yjyHz1X6UrXjjMZplyy8rspSlXQUpSgUpSgUpSgUpSgUpSgUpSgUpUUE1FDQGgZpQV929pJNJHBAuuWd9ES+WepZj5KoySfhUW6m0ybumTwLgc9/NyLRAzDBldsiKFT5uw6n0Ubmu7di+wcHDI/kxzJnHy87Aa5D6D8FPRRt89ZXY/stHw60S3j3I8Ur43lmO7OfnPT0AFbyseedyascZigiqDx3hz8IuG4hZxvJbSknilsmNj+MxKfvhvqA6j6xf6hlzVF2Nw3iUdzEksEiyRyLlGU5BH/nl5V58T4JBdLouYYp18lkRXAPqMjb6KpvEOFzcGme6sYmmspW131og8ULec9sv7WT4fVc+EcYiu4Unt5FljkGUYftBHkR5g9KCtS90nD86oo5rU+sE8sWPmAbH7KrPbfhH7mQAwcU4zJPMStpbrccxpJAMnYoTpA3J+b1rqF/fpBE8srhI40LSMdgqgZJrmnZvikVxcS8UvJoYTIOXYxySxq0FmOjaScq0hJJ+HwNRbpMm65zbdtOIMg/0pdnybdRhvMEFcg1iX95Ncfvm5ubgeksrsv8jIX9lWXvIveHTPzrGbXdn7YIELxTj/AIrDChvywSfWuetctvmNwEmDscglBgFhjrjrv0wa74ZY2b04545b1tuEQAYAAA6AbCokbAJwTgZwOp+asezuNWSSN/Eq5BKpgDfGw3ycVJuS+0XzF/vR+b+Ef2CtHlNenDxu/afbVOnSQ2tgOvQYJJI8sY8690cEAg5B6H1FY44ZHt4AcDrvk+uSOv01kgYpN/kuvwmlKVZUpSlApSlApSlApSlApSlApSlApSlAqMVNKD4c4wAGZmYKiqMs7k4CqPMk12fuz7uTZH2u6INzJHpCDBS3jYglQfvnOBlvhgeppndbb23thnupI42tlzb8x1Rdb5UnDdSB09K7CO1Fp+OWv66P/GsvLbbpo45JNtrStX9lNp+OWv66P/Gn2U2n45a/ro/8a5addxtKVq/sptPxy1/XR/40+ym0/HLX9dH/AI00bjZkVSLnu2IuJXtb65sILgh54LfSuqYZy6Oc8vI6gDcirJ9lNp+OWv66P/Gtfx3t1a29tLMlxBM0cbMkaSIzu3koAOdzimqbjjneXwW3t7qO1ha4kKR8y7eW4klLux8CsCcA4BY4HmKrAsIx0jj/AJIr3ed5XeaZtUs7mSU/lnyHwAwB81K14YST2zZ5W30gLXjPb5IZTpcDY+RHow8x/RXvSr6im2FHZZ9/SAeqIMKfzj1aswDH/nlTFTSSQttKUpUoKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQQa2th2ZnntZrqIRmK11c7L4cBUEhITG40nPXyNaur13SXKtPc2cnuXlqdvykypA+JSRv5FUztk3F8JLdVWeLdmJ7WGGaYRqt0AYgHy+CmvxLjbYgHfqRWTD2HunghuFWLl3MkaRfKYbVI+hdQxsM1ue9ziAe+SBfds4FTHpJJh2/mCGrfwn7j8M/S7L+8CuV5MpjK6TCXKxyrjvAJrGbk3AQPy1fwtqGliwG+BvlT+yttwju4vbqBJ4Uh0SglNUuliASNxp26VsO+NscSB9LOH+vNXROz937NFwy16GWzOR6tHDG5/axqcuSzGUmEuVcb4Z2UuLm1lu4lj5VuH5up8P4IxK2Fxv4WHn1r5+xaf2Fr/TGYFJBOvx7Sco+DH4Xx6V0jgVpyeF8Zi/3dzxFR+aIF0/zcVh9hrX2rgdxb9cXZXHwLQy/0sar2Za2nrm1R4n3fXlu0CSpFm6mEMOmTPyhBbDHTsMBjnfpUJ2BuzdtZhYTMsAmb5TwCMsFHix72SNsV2njFus89oRv7Lfln/Jb2SfGf1iH6RWg4LIDxjis56W8FtGD/wC1zGH1rVe3JPVi5pN2Bu0u0tGWESzRNJH8r4WVThhq0+954x0rxTsZcmO6kKRqlg8iXJZ8YaNdbaNvF4SpHrqFXntjxgoeC8SzthTKw80ljid//j51Z3etcraWLpHgPf3au+fPQqs5PwPKjU/n1PZkjrxUaHux4g0fMFsBkZCNIiy4/NJwD8CQar1pYPLMkCriSSURhW8OJC2jDZ6YOx9MV2ePiY4qi3PDblbe6gikRo5UDBVkMbMkieXijTEi5HXrnFcw4GZP3Yi54xN+6I5422mM+XxjbGrOMVbDO3e0ZYSa0907t703D2wSHmRwxyt8r4eXIzouDp65jbbHp61h/Ydc+y+16Y+UJTH9s8WsT+ze7jpzPPPTf4V3a3tIRfSSiTM7WsKSR6h4YVklZH04yMs0gznHhqi3f+rU36RN/wDZtVJy5Va8eKt/5I+IfgW/67/81X+E9nZrq4a2iCc1OZqDNpUcttDeLG+/TauhR3T/AGLl+ZJry3j1tr/fxX3856bdelV/uiP+lB8babPz5jrpM8tWqXHHcjUjsNdcu5k0xabF5FuPlN9UcaytoGPF4WHpvWZF3Y3zQiYJBoaMSD5XfQV1DbT1xXTuKWsMdjxUwS8wyC7e4GoHl3BtVBTYDGFVDg5Pi61re1drE/CbbnXhs9EMbRkNp50gtjiLqM53OPhXOcuS/Xi53wLu/vL2BbiBIuW5YKXk0k6WKnbB2yD9VeXAuxN1e80QLH/m8pjl1yacSDIIGxz0O9dS7G3JtuH8Kj932snI/hILi6x9YWvPsracqXjKY/8AVuw+aSHnD+vU9uR1xy7jvYy7signh+3OEiMbCQNKeiDG4Y+QI3xWTed3V9DE0rwDCLqkVZEeVE3OSinfodlJOxq735lPBuDGFlExk4fymk3USGAgF9iSMnNWDsxw+7hmuZ+JPbvrgt1V4tkEcTXDMGDKpGObnPTDfA07cjrxci4J2Iu7yPmwRLyySEd3VFcg48Gd232zjGfOse37K3Uly1otu3PTeRCVARdvEz506TkYIJznbO9XnsdwviM9nYkSWrWaS2zrGARMIoplbJJTGRpz13ra8Y9rfjEy8Nlto3WwthcGYEjaWcqBpViDhwT8CtT25bR1xzTj3ZK5sQrXEYCSHSsiOHTXgnSSNwcA9Rvg46Vp66v2wsmtuz6RXOgTc+POCCDIbhpTp/i6j82a5OK68eVynty5MZjfSaUpXRQpSlApSlAre9huMR2l/FPOWWNBIGIUsQWjZR4VBPUitFSos3NJl1dtx2y4pHdX9xPCSY5XQoSpUkCGND4TuN1b6qt3Zft7aLZQWt4J42tJUeNo01rJy5OZHnAJHoQR5bH05zSqXjlmlpnZdt3257RLxG7eZFZE5axRhsaii6vEwBOCS7begHnXRrrvbtVntlhJMGJBcs0EoeMBByuWNs5bY7Hb0rj1QKi8cuomcljrNv254bi+jklmEd9O7eGGYHRJawwvvp2OpHrW9hu2dlw+S8j5kwgknR7UmOR2ZeXpbVhcg5A6gVzgUqOqf1Pbf46t2b7zLaOa+ad5As96ZbciKRiY+UkI2AJXaIHBx71YnZ3vAtbduIyszmS6u5JLccqQho1TEWogeHJzscEfCuaUp04nbV67bdtoeI8LhjJxdqyPKixyLGH5bxuEY5GPHtuenU07y+19vfLbeyu7NCZC2qN0AJEen3gM7qelUalWnHIi8lrrad59jJJFdyi7jnhgliEQTUp5piZsMPCd4lwSV67jpjn9vx5W4ot5IDGhvRM4GWKR8wHHh94hQOnnmtJSk45EXktdZt+8iyHE5rgyS8p7K3iU8mXJkSWd2GnTkbOu9aGftjbNwWSzDPznmlZV5b6dLXxnHjxp9wg9fh1qiUqs4Yt21d07W2/7gmx1Pz9R8PLfT++zN7+NPub9f21rO73jsVlfCa4LKnIkTKqznUxQjZQT5Gq3Sr+E1Z/VfO7ldIXt3aezcVj1yar2a5a2HKk8SyW0cS5OPD4lI3xivfiHarhd5ZW8FzLcgwRxkBI5VxKsXLPiCEEbmuYUqnTFu2/x1n/KlbQJZQ25LpGUjui0MoKQLFp1RjbLagvQHbO3nX3ad4XD1nvHMsoW75RyIJc5WHlNtp22C1yOlOmHbXROPdsrJoLG0tpLkRWk9sXl0MrxwwqUyuRlpMEHZcbH4Cq32y4uk8/+bXV5PE0Eayc55BqdXkJUoQoZQGUjIO5NV+lTOKT2jLktWqTjkK8LjijvL4XKMh5QLrCpE2o6WCjGF3GG64rx7EcWhgnme6uruDmIuHhLs0j6iTzCFYnbfJ+NVulT1zVh2Xe3tfXRdzqllkVXflcx2YhCxIwGPhJGMgAV41l8NveUxJzhlwQMevx+n66zLTisSMG5WCGydKqMDUx2Od8jQMeWg7nUat8+KfWopWfb3cSxhGiDnT4mKgNq0ydGzkDUYsH0Q+uD48RmR5MxJy1wBjAG/wAwOPT6qnaGNSlKkKUpQKUpQKUpQKgUpQBQ0pQQKmlKBU0pQKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQKUpQKg0pU0TSlKgf//Z" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">5.</span> Switching a lamp <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">on and off </span></b>and declaring it defective.<br />
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So the event that unraveled in my apartment is a<span style="font-size: large;"> <b>little hazy, misty and jumbled.</b></span>...but unfortunately it happened.<br />
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When I<b><span style="font-size: large;"> sleepwalk I can sometimes be partially </span></b>be aware of events but have no control. <span style="font-size: large;"><b>intrigued???</b></span> ready for an opportunity to laugh at me and say <b><i><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"YOU're SOOOOO weird."</span></i></b> well I'm a people pleaser so here you are.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sometime during my sleep I became convinced</span></b>, <span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>ABSOLUTELY CONVINCED</b></span> that the following was true:<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1st </b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>that I was on vacation in America</b></i></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">2nd</span></b> <span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I had to be back to Korea on Monday</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;">3rd </span>it was <b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Sunday.</i></span></b><br />
<img height="133" src="http://en.korea.com/jangkeunsuk/files/2012/04/lrep8-33.jpg" width="200" /><br />
I awoke some time later to find the<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b> GLOWING SCREEN</b></span> of my <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>COMPUTER</b></span> staring at me as I was sitting in an upright position. Which in half dream sleep, I closed and fell back into a foggy sleep.<br />
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I cannot remember my exact actions but I will conclude that the following had to happen.<br />
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So in <span style="font-size: large;">c<i>omplete</i></span>, blind and entirely irrational panic I had, <span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>OPENED MY LAPTOP</i></b></span>.<br />
<a href="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_me3gcdGZJE1rgpcb7o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_me3gcdGZJE1rgpcb7o1_500.gif" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Entered my <i><b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">password</span></b></i></span>. <i>this takes some doing...I pride myself on my password strength. even I sometimes don't know it.</i><br />
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Loaded the internet page for<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i> EXPEDIA.</i></span></b>...and attempted to book a flight from<b><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"> AMERICA to KOREA.</span></i></b><br />
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It was during the <span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>destination page</b></span> that I became confused as to what exactly I was doing and became a little lucid.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>CUE</b></span> the wake up.<br />
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Now. how <b><i><u><span style="font-size: large;">fortunate</span></u></i></b> it is that I could not figure out the internet enough to enter a <b><i><u><span style="font-size: x-large;">credit card number</span></u></i></b>. I mean SERIOUSLY. I don't think I was lucid enough to think of trip insurance. in which case there would have been a large charge on my credit card...that I would be <b><i><u>weeping</u></i></b> over for months to come. I am breathing a sigh of UTTER RELIEF!!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">this would have been me.</td></tr>
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and there you go. I am a <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">WEIRDO</span></b> who likes<span style="font-size: large;"><b><u> trolling the airlines for flights in her sleep.</u></b></span><br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-14196746530949583832012-11-25T23:03:00.001-08:002012-11-25T23:03:16.619-08:00"Teachah. Why sad?"So anyone who knows me knows I have an infinity to Asian. Did someone gasp??? You can see yourself off this post.<br />
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It was revealed recently that OMA(object of my affection) has been meeting with an older woman....now.before you get worked up... <b><span style="font-size: large;">calm down</span></b>. It's just one picture...or three connected...but really who is counting....errr. this girl<br />
<img alt="image" height="176" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lo2ztbXBoO1qhh66s.gif" width="320" /><br />
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So When I discovered this paparazzi shot <i><b>I moped, groaned, put my hands on my head</b></i> and tried to reason myself from jumping <b><i>off the ok fangirl ledge into complete</i></b> crazyville. It was a close call as I tittered on the edge of sanity.<br />
<img height="106" src="http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mcn49ttJ6c1qiphgeo1_500.gif" width="200" /><br />
I went to my class and could not shake my mope. I dragged myself into the room of my<span style="font-size: large;"> BEST</span> class. (God's timing is lovely aint it?)<br />
Arms practically scratching the floor. <img height="132" src="http://images3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120105052108/victorious/images/6/6a/Squidward_depressed.gif" width="200" /><br />
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My students watched me with wide eyes. I barely managed the normal greeting before asking them to return the favor and ask about my life for once.<br />
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One played along.<br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"TEACHAH! how are you??"</span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"TERRIBLE!"</span></i></b> I threw my head down on the teachers table and kept it there. My students GASPED in loud concerned shock.<br />
<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">"Teachah?"</span></b></i> in worried tones <i><b><span style="font-size: large;">"Why?"</span></b></i><br />
<i><b><span style="font-size: large;">"My idol crush...."</span></b></i> I sighed, and they were hanging on my words. I barely picked my head up from the table. <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Is dating another woman."</span></i></b> I let my head hit the table again. <span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">(YES I WAS BEING DRAMATIC! </span>sometimes it's fun to play with my kids this way....err. I was playing right???<b><span style="font-size: large;">)</span></b><br />
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To which there was instant sympathetic groans and cheers of <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Fighting teachah," "you're pretty teachah"</span></i></b><br />
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<b style="font-size: x-large; font-style: italic;">yes. thank you </b>lovely student for making me feel better about my tendency to look like chewbucca.<br />
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I frowned extra deeply. "<span style="font-size: large;"><b>There are pictures." </b> </span>I made the camera snapping sound and demonstrated with my hands.<br />
This is when the student with the large eyes, cute bangs, a band aid she <span style="font-size: large;"><b>literally</b></span> wears on her face everyday<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">(this is a mystery I've encountered for 2 years)</span></i></b>, and a mischievous smile, leaned forward to <b><span style="font-size: large;">SLAM</span></b> her fist down on her desk.<br />
<span style="font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">"OH SHIT!" </span>she moaned in complete and utter empathy.<br />
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Now I'm normally a together teachah. I can handle most tomfoolery. but that was too much for me in my emotional state.<br />
I laughed with both hands over my mouth to contain my squeals and turned to the blackboard. It was unsuccessful Of course my laughter led the rest of the class into chaos.<br />
To which I had a class of 30 students repeating her phrase(LISTEN AND REPEAT Koreans are good at that)....<b style="font-size: x-large;">not exactly English class appropriate. </b>It was a chorus of <b style="font-size: x-large;">"shits"</b><br />
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so Naturally I tried to look serious as I told her it was not a good word...but even that ended up looking like this....<br />
<a href="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbi7iv7Q2N1qgqava.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="image" border="0" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbi7iv7Q2N1qgqava.gif" /></a><br />
Anyway...after regaining control. <img height="159" src="http://blog.oup.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/gif-angry.gif" width="200" /><br />
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I finished the lesson and returned to my desk. To which I automatically turned on facebook.<br />
This greeted me. And let the giggle fest continue <b><span style="font-size: large;">forever</span></b>.<br />
underneath....<br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">"Faith these are the real pictures"</span></i></b> I've got some good friends and students eh?<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-678758864162490572012-11-12T04:00:00.000-08:002012-11-12T04:00:19.038-08:00James Bond...aka Creeping around I'm a little <b><span style="font-size: large;">ashamed</span></b> to write this....Ashamed it took me so long! teeheee. take that to the bank.cash it in. Bam. money.<br />
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During our time in Japanland, Ina and myself decided that we would do the following, in a very James Bond manner (NO I DID NOT SEE your beloved <b>SKYFALL, </b>stop asking!) maybe it's better to name it after <i><b>Boris and Natasha</b></i>. (IF you don't know who they are....we are <span style="font-size: large;"><b>not friends.)</b></span><br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Our plan:</span></u></b><br />
1. find Johnny's entertainment<br />
2. sit outside and wait for Japanese Celebs to see us from the upstairs window, come outside and invite us in for sake. (maybe not sake...that's gross) I would take a soda...or koala bites...mmmmonononononon.<br />
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Koalllaaaaaaaa........<img height="134" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/megankohvm/SA_UWtTZ_LI/AAAAAAAAA3E/oXqBTLJWnY0/koala%5B3%5D.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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There is most likely some rule against this written in some obscure corner of the internet...e.g. a Japanese website. (I'm telling you what I don't know.<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"> helps me.</span></b>)<br />
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Of course for our mission we were dressed in the most inconspicuous of manner....a <i><b><span style="color: magenta;">bright pink</span></b></i><br />
<span style="color: magenta;"><i><b> t-shirt</b></i>(</span>myself) and a <span style="color: orange;"><b>orange sweater(</b></span>Ina).And the fact that we are the color of paper, helps us blend in considerably well. Well camouflaged indeedy.<br />
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We <b><i><span style="font-size: large;">mapped</span></i></b> out our route...aka got directions from the hostel manager..and headed out. 40 minutes later we had arrived at our <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">"destination." </span></b><br />
Curious that we couldn't find it<b>... 40 minutes, 8 consultations </b>of different street maps<b>, and of course </b>following<b> random attractive men </b>that seemed<b> <span style="font-size: large;">idol-esc</span> (</b>here this means perfect hair, white teeth and nice clothes<b>)<span style="font-size: x-large;"> later</span> </b>we <i>realized</i> that we had turned the wrong direction out of the subway.<br />
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And at long last we came upon <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">J& A entertainment</span></b>....Behold it's.....<br />
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<b><i><span style="font-size: large;">ERRRRRR glory????</span></i></b><br />
This was the place that birthed the grand concerts that filled the tokyo dome???? This is where my OMA sat in meetings? INCONCEIVABLE !!!!! It was an unimpressive little building with a blue sign and several serious valets/drivers who appeared to have nothing better to do than to scowl at us and get in and out of their identical cars.<br />
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So you better understand our day....I made an accurate log. Read on read on.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Data entry Log: 10-1-2012 time: 11:55 am</span></b><br />
1. Driver #1 parks his car, and disappears inside.<br />
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2. <b>Errand boy<i> </i></b>runs to the drug store across the street. (<b><i>HOW CAN I WORK IN THIS DRUG STORE????????? me want.</i></b>)<br />
3. Driver #1 exits and parks his car across the street (in front of us) <span style="font-size: x-large;">scowls at us.</span><br />
4. <b>Errand boy</b> emerges from the Drug store with 1 bottle of water. Disappears back into J &A entertainment.<br />
5. Driver #2 parks his car, goes inside<br />
6. <b>Errand boy</b> goes up the street for a jaunt and back into the Drug store.<br />
7. Driver #2 moves his car across the street not forgetting to <b><span style="font-size: large;">SCOWL</span></b> at us.(we were most defo breaking rules)<br />
8.<b>Errand boy</b> comes out of the Drug store with again only<b> ONE SINGLE BOTTLE OF WATER.</b><br />
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This routine must have happened a dozen times within the (cough) 3 hours we sat across the street <b><span style="font-size: large;">(yes we were afraid of the small men)</span></b><br />
The weirdest part was(no not the 2 white girls drinking soda and staring at the entertainment company) that the <b><i>ERRAND</i></b> boy only bought <b><span style="font-size: large;">one</span></b> <i><u>bottle each time.</u></i><br />
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Ina and myself did finally give up on the greatest spy mission ever....and decided to<b> (GASP) </b>walk across the street and on the sidewalk in front of the actual entertainment co.<br />
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It was then that the <b>ERRAND BOY</b> appeared possibly coming from the.... DRUG store...<br />
Ina grasped my hand in excitement.<br />
<b>"I'm gonna say hi"</b> she squealed.<br />
<i>oh dear. </i><br />
<i>It is fortunate that my lovely friend Ina did not do her normal Japanland greeting, which had over the course of our trip developed into her doing </i><b>little hops</b><i>, waving her arms in a birdy fashion and saying a very slow "heeeeelllloooo"</i><br />
<b>(I love you friend. from the bottom of my heart.)</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>"Hellllllooooo!"</b></span> Ina said as <b>ERRAND boy</b> passed.<br />
<b>ERRAND BOY</b> could/would not be bothered with any formalities of politeness, and <b><span style="font-size: large;">SCOWLED</span></b> at INA (I think this is taught in training at J &A entertainment). And he must have practiced his frowny face in the <b><span style="font-size: x-large;">mirror</span></b>...truly a work of art.<br />
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Ina stared helplessly after <span style="font-size: large;"><b>ERRAND boy </b></span>as his determined steps carried him farther away from her.(or to the drug store)<br />
<b>"Bye." </b>she whispered in defeat.<br />
Ina turned to give me a big puppy dog frown. <b>"That was mean."</b><br />
Unable to contain myself I giggled and linked my arm in hers. <b style="font-style: italic;"> </b><b>"He had important things to do."</b><br />
<b>"Like what?"</b><br />
<b>"Like buying another bottle of water....never occurred to him to buy more than one." </b><br />
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ok I give in...<br />
<img height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e1eI5aCki7g/TvLPbODvKaI/AAAAAAAAAD0/uNS91jksaxc/s200/boris_and_natasha_1%255B1%255D.jpg" width="200" />Boris and Natasha<br />
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At one point we did sneak around back to find yet another unexciting setting....<br />
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yeah.....J&A they live it up big!Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-75610474805238737622012-10-29T17:13:00.000-07:002012-10-29T23:18:34.963-07:00That is a puppy...you should not sweep it.I have a veritable collection of tales from the chronicles of <b><span style="font-size: large;">"Sarah Hanka and Faith Taylor mayhem."</span></b> IT never begun as mayhem or <b>"carnage"</b> (Hanka is flowery with the words...a British trait??) but always seemed to turn out as such.<br />
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I will provide the beginning of these tales....where did this duo find themselves in trouble? when did it start? maybe I can trace it back to a logical point...probably not.<br />
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Within the first month of Korean shinanagins <b>(eg living in this foreign Asian country)</b> Sarah and myself tried to have a meal. For those taking notes: <b>TRIED</b> is the key word here.<br />
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It was our first experience. and we decided on the exploration of Seomyeon. Lemme see if I can explain Seomyeon to the clueless. It is the center of Busan and for the first timer it is a maze of shops, Angel-in-us coffee shops, restaurants with no discernible difference, and did I mention coffee shops? Yeah Korea is caffeinated....a little <i>too caffeinated</i> if you ask me...<br />
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Well on our walk: conversation began. The first of many...<br />
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<b>"what are you looking to eat mate?"</b><br />
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<b>"food"</b> I said looking at the street surrounding me in confusion. Were people actually selling giant teddy bears as key chains? wouldn't that cause undo hand muscle strain when opening a door? <b>These are the kind of thoughts I think. Scary isn't it?</b><br />
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<b>"well they seem to have that..."</b> Sarah trailed off.I turned in her direction, just in time to see the man in the <b><span style="font-size: large;"> Clown mask</span></b>.<br />
<img height="200" src="http://www.awise.org/files/productsimages/BS_C/32999.jpg" width="200" /><br />
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A man with flyers for a "restaurant,"(I put quotes here because I didn't dare venture in) had stepped in our path. His suit glistened in the street light(shiny...) and from his Clown mask a cigarette hung out the mouth opening. I doubled back in terror.<br />
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The clown mask wasn't the friendly kind. We aren't talking Bozo. We are talking<b><i> "IT" tourture clown style.</i></b><br />
<img src="http://cdn.smosh.com/sites/default/files/bloguploads/youtuber-jenna.gif" /><br />
As I leaned back into Sarah I whispered, <b>"WHAT kind of Marketing technique would you call that?"</b><br />
truly...I don't remember if I said those exact words, but I most certainly thought them.<br />
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I remember him standing in the street light trying to hand me a flyer, my eyes popping out at the very idea. <b><i>My thoughts circled</i></b>....Who would follow him to whatever resturant he was serving...why was he dressed like that? It wasn't even close to halloween. What is this strange land called "Korea?" Why is he still leaning forward? Is he trying to scare me into entering his establishment? <b><i>(I will NOT be bullied.</i></b>) <b>Why are they selling giant teddy bears as key chains??</b><br />
<br />
There seemed to be no forthcoming revelation. No parting in the clouds. And still now a year later...I feel just as confused as I was on that night.<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Questions, Korea....nothing but questions.</span></b><br />
<br />
So we skipped around him, half running away....laughing to relieve the stress. And found a place to eat...<br />
where we haphazardly pointed at the menu in a whimsical guessing game...and were served..."dinner" Again the quotes.<br />
<br />
<b><i>We were served... the following: </i></b><br />
a glass bowl with ice, decorated with a scant number of peaches and sliced tomatoes.<br />
silk worms<br />
and Kimchi jiage.<br />
<b>total cost: </b>around $20.<br />
<br />
<img height="159" src="http://image.shutterstock.com/display_pic_with_logo/578401/578401,1283626889,3/stock-photo-beondegi-boiled-silkworm-larvae-available-for-purchase-from-street-vendors-in-korea-60346450.jpg" width="200" /><br />
<b><i>beautiful aren't they???</i></b><br />
<b><i><br /></i></b>
On our way to the <b><span style="font-size: large;">second dinner</span></b> of the evening( Felt a little like a hobbit. )...we were met with a display of animal hawking. (hawking here means selling)<br />
<br />
Tiny puppies shivered in the March wind, as a sleepy unemphatic vendor stared after them. Sarah and I stared at the dogs. (Hanka is a big fan and has told me on many occasion that she would rather spend time with a canine than a human. She once compared me to the furry creatures claiming she liked me "as much as" a dog. This is a true<i> Hanka compliment</i>)<br />
<br />
After awing at the dogs we heard a scraping sound behind us.<br />
<br />
<b>"What is she doing?"</b> Sarah asked.<br />
<br />
I turned and saw another woman with a large broom in hand. She was carelessly sweeping the road of litter. At this very moment one of the puppies bounded in her path. <b><i>Surely, she'd stop her sweeping, or deter her course..</i></b>.No that would be logical. And that was our first mistake. Never assume logic exists.<br />
<br />
She proceeded to <b><span style="font-size: large;">sweep</span></b> the puppy along with paper flyers and other litter. The puppy half ran, half tumbled along as being unable to avoid the power of the broom.<br />
<br />
Sarah and I turned away in shock.<br />
<br />
<b>"Faith, she swept the puppy."</b> Sarah whispered.<br />
<br />
<b>"I don't understand." </b><br />
<br />
<b>"No where in any civilized society do they sweep canines."</b> Sarah contiuned. "That is a <b><span style="font-size: large;">puppy</span></b>. you should not <b><span style="font-size: large;">sweep</span></b> it."<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-47573708818937004462012-10-23T23:23:00.001-07:002012-10-24T02:00:01.152-07:00WATCHING ANTS masquerading to be a Jpop group.(I'm onto you.)<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black;">First, let me start by explaining the trouble I went through to go to Japanland for a concert. <i><b>A CONCERT....</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black;">I experienced a plane ride the day of the concert from my domicile</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: black;"> Ran through the tokyo metro....(<i><b>HAVE YOU SEEN THAT MESS?</b></i> cause it is one), checked into my hostel, and navigated to the Tokyo Dome. <i><b>OH GLORY. </b></i>If you have never been to the Tokyo Dome I will be supplying pictures so you understand the <i>pandemonium</i> experienced there within. IT IS PANDEMONIUM. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: black;">Ok so imagine 50,000 <b>JPOP</b> fans<b>(I FEEL YOUR JUDGEMENT!)</b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: black;">milling around the outside of this stadium. Imagine 3 white girls wide-eyed</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black;">in disbelief and</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><b style="color: black;">pure rapture</b><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black;">at being ad-mist fans who love the same people we do. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><img height="375" src="http://sphotos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/540409_703139288179_797454138_n.jpg" style="border-style: solid; border-width: 0px;" width="500" /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: black;">We were memorized, amazed and awed at the paraphernalia everywhere. AND I MEAN EVERYWHERE.<br /><b><i>"Did you see them?"</i></b> I whispered to my friend, gesturing to some girls cos-playing </span>as <b><i>Kat-tun</i></b><span style="color: black;">(you with the confused look, let me help you out cos-playing means dressing up as) </span><span style="color: black;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: black;"> (I realized at that moment I am</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><i style="color: black;"><b>not</b></i><span style="color: black;"> </span><span style="color: black;">hardcore. If that was you, I'm SLOW CLAPPING FOR YOU</span><span style="color: black;"> </span><i style="color: black;"><b>RIGHT NOW</b></i><span style="color: black;">....)</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404; font-size: 12px;"><img src="http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m65ki60TFP1rnc6b5o3_400.gif" /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;">We checked out the </span><span style="color: #040404;"><i><b>merch. tent</b></i></span><span style="color: #040404;">. And let me tell you that in itself is an experience.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;">Imagine a line, longer than your life, being </span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>PATROLLED</b></i><span style="color: #040404;"> by security. Who will not let you. 1. take pictures of the dome. </span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING</b></i><span style="color: #040404;">..</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;">They are very </span><b style="color: #040404;"><i>orderly</i></b><span style="color: #040404;"> and after you snake your way through the line to the tents, you can purchase your goods. But here is what happens. </span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>PANIC.</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><span style="color: #040404;">I have no idea why, but all of the sudden my friends and I found us under the compulsion to buy </span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>EVERYTHING</b></i><span style="color: #040404;">. I was feverish. </span><i style="color: #040404;">"kame poster...poster...poster... key chain... bag...book... photos,..... wait...where did my money go???"</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="color: #040404;">And I felt like I had </span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>TO HURRY</b></i><span style="color: #040404;">....or I would possibly die/they would sell out </span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>(that's the same thing right?)</b></i><span style="color: #040404;">. Not considering that they had </span><span style="color: #040404;"><b><i>mountains</i></b></span><span style="color: #040404;"> of the stuff. I was like a Zombie thinking one thing</span><b style="color: #040404;"><i> "BRAINS....BRAINS...."</i></b><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404; font-size: 12px;"><img src="http://www.animateit.net/data/media/310/zombie_walk.gif" /></span><br /><i style="color: #040404; font-size: 12px;"><b>YOU MAY NOW ENTER</b></i><br /><span style="color: #040404; font-size: 12px;"><img height="375" src="http://sphotos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/578323_703144607519_1767739980_n.jpg" style="border-style: solid; border-width: 0px;" width="500" /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404;"><span style="font-size: 12px;"><br /></span></span><br /><span style="color: #040404;">Upon entering the </span><span style="color: #040404;"><i><b>Tokyo Dome</b></i></span><span style="color: #040404;">, which is only about the size of the </span><span style="color: #040404;"><i><b>sun</b></i></span><span style="color: #040404;">.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404;">My friends and I attempted to find our seats. I say "attempted," because I am the stupid foreigner. I am not offended by this. It's true.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;">We gazed at our tickets...</span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>.GATE 40.....row 65....</b></i><span style="color: #040404;">I was previously prepared that we were high up. I knew it before the cute Usher spotted us and told me </span><i style="color: #040404;"><b>"WAIT WAIT" (yes adorable man, I will wait for you.)</b></i><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;">Cutie Pie Usher however felt it necessary to count every row until our seat. </span><b style="color: #040404;"><i>I kid you not.</i></b><span style="color: #040404;"> "1 to 65." It went like this:</span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;"><i><b>"row 1....</b>(shakes head) <b>no..."<br />"row 2....</b>(shakes head)<b> no..."<br />"row 3....</b>(shakes head)<b> no..."<br />....<br />"row 64....</b></i>(shakes head)<i><b> no."</b></i></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;">To finally arrive at row 65, where there is </span><span style="color: #040404;"><i><b>no oxygen</b></i></span><span style="color: #040404;">. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404;">Now I am </span><b style="color: #040404;"><i>not</i></b><span style="color: #040404;"> complaining...but some other people could have been down there for all I know....<i><b>If It were me, I would totally sit back stage and back my orders to have someone else run around in my costume pretending to be me</b></i>...yeah I'm a nice person.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404;"> </span><br /><span style="color: #040404; font-size: 12px;"><img height="375" src="http://sphotos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/580158_703139562629_900752954_n.jpg" style="border-style: solid; border-width: 0px;" width="500" /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404; font-size: 12px;"><img height="375" src="http://sphotos-d.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash3/156231_703146334059_1165738292_n.jpg" style="border-style: solid; border-width: 0px;" width="500" /></span><br /><br /><span style="color: #040404;">But I still HAD A BLAST....and loved it. So gloorrry be.</span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: white;"><img alt="SNL - Excited Trek fans gif" height="169.23076923076928" src="http://i899.photobucket.com/albums/ac195/pew_pew/General/STSNLTrekkiesExcited.gif" style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;" width="300" /><br style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;" /><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">a replay of my excitement (ask me about this sometime.)</span></span><br />
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<b style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"><br /><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">The <b>Mc</b> was long of course, and my Japanese limited to <b><i>"Cool" and "do your best</i></b>" meant I took my cues from the audience...laughing along where they laughed...nodding when they </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">nodded and so on.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"> I did A heck of </span></span><b style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">A LOT of AWKWARD </b><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">laughing...perhaps you are familiar ...especially at English words....MONKEY SEE....MONKEY DO.</span></span></span><br />
<img src="http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u144/Balfaer/tumblr_lf2e9nUosu1qabgxu.gif" style="background-color: #a8a8a7; color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;" /><br />
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<span style="background-color: #a8a8a7; font-size: 10pt;"><b> </b></span><span style="background-color: #a8a8a7; line-height: 12.9pt; text-indent: -18pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><b style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 12.9pt; text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="font-size: 1.4em;">Encore 1 It's never REALLY over now is it?</span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #a8a8a7;"><img height="300" src="http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/561221_703149188339_2064345211_n.jpg" width="400" /></span></div>
<span style="background-color: #a8a8a7; color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: x-small; line-height: 15px;"> </span><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"> 5 large </span></span><b style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">Chain ballons</b><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"> complete with smiles were unleashed Where they hid them was a mystery to me. Hmmm....I must find this out.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br />A VERY large inflatable chain was “tied” to each and below the 5 balloons hung a basket with a member in each. </span></span><br />
<span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: #a8a8a7; color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;"><img height="300" src="http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/523119_703149203309_1082780776_n.jpg" width="400" /></span><br />
<br />
<span style="text-indent: -18pt;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 12.9pt;"> Part of it </span></span><i style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 12.9pt;"><b>deflated,</b></i><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 12.9pt;"> and I sense…</span><span style="line-height: 17.200000762939453px;"> someone was FIRED</span><span style="line-height: 12.9pt;">. And should it fall on you......</span></span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<img alt="image" src="http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbhxo9QhrE1rvexrt.jpg" /><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 15px;">And of course it ended as everything does....and I cried my tears and managed to bend my posters on my way out of the Dome. </span></span><br style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;" /><br style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;" /><span style="color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 15px;">I'm still weeping.</span></span><br />
<img src="http://ts2.mm.bing.net/th?id=I.4987754851467937&pid=15.1" style="background-color: #a8a8a7; color: #040404; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 15px;" />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-27401207090643441882012-10-22T17:21:00.005-07:002012-10-22T17:38:55.664-07:00Is my foot bleeding? Why no sir. no it is not. TRANSLATION: Ina's feet are too beautiful to be neglected....Ok. Okayyyyy. so you're sick of Tokyo stories. TOOOO BAD for you. push the back button...ps. I think you're lame. (I have no idea why I feel so defensive today.)<br />
<br />
So whilst on my fabulous third trip to Japan. (I love it there, in case you didn't know....in which case how are you my friend?) Ina and myself decided to revisit the beautiful structure called the Tokyo Dome and explore without ceasing it's endless caverns of shops and hello kitty merchandise....<br />
<br />
And of course we had to eat. The following event occurred whilst we were trying to have a meal.<br />
<br />
Ina and I ordered our Delicious Japanese meals and headed to stare at the passersby at the counter by the window. Where we were sitting resembled a food court....oh for heaven's sake it was a food court. <br />
(so pretentious.)<br />
<br />
As we stared into the crowd of teens wearing clothes <strong><em>10 sizes too big</em></strong>...(why is this ok for a Japanese uniform?) and men on bicycles. <em>I became aware of a presence near ours. Call it a premonition or call it seeing his shadow hang over my bowl of ramen...whatever</em>.<br />
<br />
Some Japanese fellow had ambled over to us in a rock step manner and was pointing with fierce determination at Ina's delicate feet. <br />
Since I was sitting next to Ina, I cannot accurately describe the scene as it occurred. My eyes are on the front of my face and do not rest on the sides of my temples. <strong><em>(how terrifying would that be?? Horse people...everywhere horse people...)</em></strong><br />
<br />
Here is what I observed in the most scientific of manner. <br />
<strong>Subject A</strong>: Japanese man in his 30's bending over and touching Ina's big toe. <br />
<strong>Subject B:</strong> Ina staring in disbelief and confusion as she tried to find her non-existent injury. <br />
<strong>Subject C:</strong> Japanese college student sitting near Ina looking to Ina's feet in confusion, then mortification.<br />
<strong>Subject D</strong>: that's me glancing toward the window and pretending to not understand what was occurring. <strong><em>Pretending?</em></strong>.... there was no pretending.<br />
<br />
When <strong>subject A</strong>, (the Japanese man with an interest in Ina's delicate flower feet moved away). I turned to Ina in an attempt to understand the events I had witnessed. <br />
<br />
<strong><em>"Is he gone?"</em></strong> She whispered. <br />
<em><strong>"uh...sure."</strong></em> I said. Confession: I didn't actually look. <br />
<strong><em>"Good."</em></strong> Ina breathed and pulled something off her foot. I stared perplexed at the Anime band aid. now destroyed by Ina's vehemence to remove it. The character was no longer smiling on it's pink surface.<br />
<strong><em>"What happened?"</em></strong> I asked.<br />
<em><strong>"He pointed to my foot, like I was bleeding. So I looked at it. Then he put this!"</strong></em> she gestured to the band aid. <em><strong>"On my big toe."</strong></em><br />
I coughed back on my noodles. <em><strong>"Uh, why?"</strong></em><br />
Ina stared in confusion, <em><strong>"I think he just wanted to touch my feet."</strong></em><br />
I narrowed my eyes and looked around suspiciously, trying to see if subject A(band aid weirdo) was anywhere close. He had disappeared just as quickly as he had come. Like smoke, in the Tokyo dome. in the cafeteria. in the food court (....that cannot sound eloquent).<br />
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<div class="iholder" id="yui_3_5_1_7_1350952714647_440">
<img alt="" aria-label="<b>smoke</b>.<b>gif</b>" height="355" id="yui_3_5_1_7_1350952714647_439" src="http://i566.photobucket.com/albums/ss106/miss_anna_chan/Backgrounds/smoke.gif" style="height: 355px; margin-top: 109px; width: 484px;" width="484" /></div>
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<br />
I googled "Horse people" for my own amusement and one of the first suggestions that popped up in the dialogue box was "Horse dating people"....I feel dirty. >.< <br />
The following image isn't even close to what I wanted to find on the Internet....oh well. since when has Yahoo search not disappointed me. <br />
<div class="iholder" id="yui_3_5_1_7_1350950309717_455">
<img alt="" aria-label="<b>Horse Head </b>Mask | Know Your Meme" height="360" id="yui_3_5_1_7_1350950309717_454" src="http://i3.ytimg.com/vi/2Rk5a0EEZ-o/hqdefault.jpg" style="height: 360px; margin-top: 106px; width: 480px;" width="480" /></div>
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and I also found this image....this perhaps is your reaction to my story.... mostly I like<strong><em> yoda</em></strong>...<br />
<div class="iholder" id="yui_3_5_1_7_1350951504567_440">
<img alt="" aria-label="<b>gif </b>oh no" height="306" id="yui_3_5_1_7_1350951504567_439" src="http://www.humorhound.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/11/orly-animated-gif-baby.gif" style="height: 306px; margin-top: 133px; width: 350px;" width="350" /></div>
<strong></strong><br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-8235726697143655072012-10-15T21:55:00.002-07:002012-10-15T21:55:44.764-07:00God in the small stuff, Even the fan club crazies.I'm deviating from my original format. 1.Tell you a funny story(at least one I think is funny). 2. make you laugh at my ridiculous life. However, you will get a story.<br />
<br />
Recently, I posted my adventure of meeting my OMA, see the post below for clarification. I proceeded to post this on a public fan club account. MISTAKE #1. (why I labeled it #1....there is no #2.)<br />
<br />
Rather than rejoice with me(my anticipated response) I was unexpectedly fanjumped. It involved aggressive messages, and abusive language. I was even tweeted about. <br />
<br />
I came home from my birthday dinner to receive words that had me in tears. That is WHEN God showed up.<br />
<br />
Lovely people, I have never met, or spoken to came to my defense. Wrote me letters and encouraged me. <br />
And it amazed me. . Amidst Cyber bullying. God showed up. amidst stupid fangirling. God showed up.<br />
<br />
<br />
God showed up.<br />
<br />
Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-61739234352890576422012-10-07T23:44:00.001-07:002012-10-08T00:35:23.639-07:00Organized FANDOM... aka how I met the object of my affection looking like Chewbacca.So if you are reading this post, you have not yet heard the story.... or you have and find some strange pleasure/satisfaction in reading my ramblings. (I'm much obliged to you then.)<br />
<br />
Note: I am a fangirl. This horrendous confession is true. but rather than shudder away from your judgmental stares I will embrace them. Knowing that I am 1. truly in love. 2. It is sincere. 3. it is deep. 4. it is lasting. And recently my existence was made known to the object of my affection(OMA for short)...when we stared into each other's eyes. sigh...pure bliss.<br />
<br />
<br />
I went to the musical "Dreamboys." I know what you are thinking....sounds like a stripper show right? Well remove your mind from that gutter and imagine a theatre, Jpop music, high flying aerobatics, and of course...glitter. (I reread that and realize that may not help my case) ha. <br />
<br />
After a spectacular show and potentially my last time seeing my OMA, I convinced Ina to return to the scene of the crime. I was hoping of repeat last year's experience where I lined up all orderly-like with other Japanese girls to <em><strong>SILENTLY</strong></em> wave to a....<strong><em>CAR</em></strong>...as a chubby <em><strong>hand </strong></em>waved back from the window. And that was the end of my expectations. <br />
<br />
But still I padded my hands together in a hope that my prayer to meet my OMA would be answered.<br />
<br />
I had changed from my previously dressier outfit into a t-shirt and essentially no make-up. I laughed at the girls around me adorned with makeup kits and fancy dresses. <strong><em>Why were they readying themselves for a hand! HA! silly Japanese fans.</em></strong> <br />
<br />
I stood confidently...greedily eating my ice cream, ignoring any looks in my direction. <strong><em>These girls just don't know how this works.</em></strong> I laughed....<br />
<br />
Whenever a Japanese person would come down the corner yelling something, I would shrug and follow whatever cue I could pick up on. <em>Shuffle here. Stand there. be quiet. Squeeze tight. 4 people in a row. orderly orderly. <strong>good job fan club girls.</strong></em><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
That was how the whole thing went, until Letters appeared. <u><strong><em>600 girls with letters.</em></strong></u> Everyone had magically produced them and Ina, myself, and a handful of Japanese women where ordered out of line. <br />
The instruction went like this: <em><strong>"No letter....No line"</strong></em><br />
<br />
WHAT??! my mind spun...why was the line moving? could it be that my OMA was meeting people with letters? <strong><span style="font-size: large;">INCONCEIVABLE!</span></strong> and me without one????<strong><em><span style="font-size: large;"> UNACCEPTABLE!</span></em></strong><br />
<img height="252" id="il_fi" src="http://www.reactiongifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/jim2.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="500" /><br />
<br />
"Quick INA! PAPER!" I may have been hysterical and panicky... After begging several Japanese women (WHO WERE BY THE WAY AROUND 60 yeah figure that out?), for paper I hastily wrote the worst letter I've ever penned, in green pen. It went like this:<br />
<br />
<em><strong>Dear Kame,</strong></em><br />
<em><strong>I came from America to see you. You are wonderful performer. You are my favorite member of Kat-tun. I (heart) U.</strong></em> <br />
<br />
That includes a <strong><span style="font-size: large;">giant</span></strong> heart on both the outside and inside of the letter, which I folded and continued to perspire on. <br />
<br />
At this point I was considerably less beautiful than before. Hot and sweaty, hair turning into a lion. I must have resembled chewbuka. <br />
for the uncultured....<br />
<img height="180" id="il_fi" src="http://gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs6/3113423_o.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /><br />
<br />
When we finally discovered that my OMA was at the end of horrendous line. I got way too excited, to which Ina attempted to calm me down. I think my answer was: <em><strong>"Shut up./don't you tell me to calm down!"</strong></em> or some variant of that. <br />
<br />
I saw him in the distance, and realized. 2 facts. <strong><em>1. we were the first foreigners in the line. 2. I HAD to go before Ina.</em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
It was Go time. I had been desperately clasping Ina's hand, my heart beating wildly, every time a tearful fan passed on her way from meeting OMA. But now I shoved a surprised Ina behind me, and snarled, <strong><em>"I'm going first!"</em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
<strong><em>Ask me if I would have done that differently and I will ANSWER: NO.</em></strong><br />
<strong><em></em></strong><br />
MY OMA stood before me. Hair curly from his shower, grey shirt, and black pants. He looked tired and said nothing. His eyes met mine and widened in surprise. I appreciated the surprise. SCORE! Now I remember what I looked like. His surprise was probably not a reaction to my beauty. <br />
<br />
I came to life with extra energy and fumbled with my letter. "errr....THANK you...." I put on my biggest smile. It was probably super frightening. I bowed like a school girl in an anime and placed my letter with two hands into his. <br />
I looked up just in time to catch his eyes, and see him give me a toothless smile. <br />
<br />
I turned around remembering my friend. <br />
"FAITH!" Ina screamed. and I grabbed her hands, and much to the disdain of the Japanese fan club girls we skipped and shouted down the line. I might have done some variation of jig, kicking my legs out wildly. <br />
I possibly resembled tom cruise on Oprah....<br />
<img height="240" id="il_fi" src="http://gifsoup.com/webroot/animatedgifs6/2550649_o.gif" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="320" /><br />
Then I <em><strong>cried</strong></em>.... then I couldn't<em><strong> breathe</strong></em>.... then I sat down and tired to remember my name... oh rapture! <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
here is my OMA<br />
<img height="545" id="il_fi" src="http://www.tokyohive.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/03/kamenashi-kazuya.jpg" style="padding-bottom: 8px; padding-right: 8px; padding-top: 8px;" width="408" /><br />
If I get one comment that he looks like a woman...Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-37367507672795938612012-10-04T19:52:00.001-07:002012-10-04T21:33:11.792-07:00"THAT is a Wine bar....I will buy you 1 drink."Setting: Tokyo, Japanland. Chuesok 2012 (Korean thanksgiving for the laymen.) <br />
<br />
Scene: Ina and myself have just decided that clubbing was never going to occur during our time in the magical and wonderful place that is Japan. After this conclusion has been reached, Ina and myself decide to go and have something fruity to drown our sorrows over our last evening of vacation. We are dolled up (as far as I can be "dolled" up).<br />
<br />
Ina and myself are walking around Jimbocho. It is approximately 11:00pm. We notice a Wine bar nearby and stare at it for a moment. Both of us are scared to go in. Something about being a foreign country...We look at it indecisively. <br />
<br />
Ina: Should we go in?<br />
Me: ummm..... I don't know.... (leaning closer to said establishment even though I am still across the street)<br />
<br />
This is when an old Japanese gentleman ambles towards us. He is dressed in a white collared shirt and black pants. He has a pooh bear tummy and a chubby wrinkly face, framed with Ms. Potts glasses (who is Ms. potts you ask? I don't know myself) For convenience sake and my own amusement I have named him below.<br />
<br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Potts</strong>(Japanese gentleman):<em> "Excuse me?"</em><br />
Ina and myself look up.<br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Potts</strong> (tapping his chest):<em> "I am an old drunken Japanese man."</em><br />
<strong>Ina and myself:</strong> we assess PBP. He is indeed Asian, and if his placement is an indicator, he may well be Japanese. but our results are inconclusive.<br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Potts</strong> (gesturing broadly): <em>"That is a WINE bar."</em><br />
<strong>Ina and myself</strong>, stare at the wine bar and back at Pooh bear Potts. We conclude that Pooh Bear Potts is correct and that is in fact a Wine bar slash eatery.<br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Potts</strong>(sticking a pudgy finger in the air): <em>"I will buy you 1 drink!"</em><br />
Hmmm.. one drink, one drink. I think this over. <br />
<strong>Me</strong> ( shakes head): <em>"No thank you."</em><br />
I grab Ina's elbow and begin walking. Pooh Bear Potts rocks along beside us. <br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Potts </strong>(peering from behind his glasses): <em>Where are you from?</em><br />
<strong>Ina (</strong>surrendering to the inevitable question): "<em>America."</em><br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Potts</strong> (rolling his head from side to side): <strong>"</strong><em>I don't know. I don't know."</em><br />
<strong>Ina: </strong><em>"Oh....umm....U.S. A."</em><br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Pots </strong>(light bulb): <em>"Oh yes."</em><br />
Pooh Bear Pots tries once more to get us to go to a bar with him, to which we refuse. He must guess our answer because he is already floating away from us. But still he finds the need to whirl around with one last question.<br />
<strong>Pooh Bear Pots: </strong><em>"Why not? I am too handsome?"</em><br />
<em></em><br />
Yes. Mr. PBP. you guessed it. You are indeed too handsome.<br />
<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-10790804572572973272012-09-02T19:43:00.001-07:002012-09-02T19:43:25.743-07:00The Great Escape-or how I locked myself inside my bathroom and managed to annoy the whole neighborhood with my wobbly wails.So this has to be the most epic and embarrassing moment I've yet to have in K-town and what better use of my free hour than to blog about it. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Yesterday: 9:00pm. </div>
<div>
"Mom," I said. "I'll call you back." It was shower time. I went into my small Korean bath, and shut the door, and from here on out <b><i>everything went wrong</i></b>. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
10:00 pm</div>
<div>
I did my thing and had turned the bathroom into a veritable sauna by the time I finished. I put my hand on the handle and turned. Nothing happened. Now my door has been sticking as of late and so I thought that it needed some jarring. I turned and pushed, and the door stayed in it's place. I narrowed my eyes and tried once more. Replay of the the previous scene. </div>
<div>
I put my hands on my hips and considered my options. I could start yelling, and wake up everyone in the vicinity (there are no English speakers in my apart.), or I could try to escape. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At first the challenge seemed exciting. I thought "no problem, I got this." I scanned my bathroom for something that would be the key to freedom. I found pliers. <i>YES now we were talking. </i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
I attempted to unscrew the handle and when this failed I felt a little frustrated but sure I could get out. For the next 40 minutes I pulled, twisted, and wiggled the handle in every way I thought possible. When all my attempts ended with me sweating and angry. I opened my small window, to breathe. Like I said it was a SAUNA. <i>maybe if the steam leaves the door will shrink and open...</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
What a laugh that was. After waiting a while I sprayed the handle with some cosmetic grease, and managed with exhausting groans to get one screw out of the handle. I turned the handle once more and it seemed to be finally doing it's job. Or so I thought.....until the handle found itself in my hand and unattached to the door. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At this moment my panic kicked in. I was alone. in my apart. in ASIA. I didn't have a phone. I looked at the window trying to gauge weather I could squeeze through the porthole opening...<i>That was NOT happening.</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Images of newspaper clippings and websites with the headline "foreigner dies after days trapped in bathroom" filled my thoughts. I also thought....<i>When I don't show up to school my co teacher will kill me.</i></div>
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
So in anger and an attempt to draw attention I slammed my fist against the door. I hit it, and and hit it again. I have a bruised palm to prove my rage. I saw the door as my enemy, my foe, worthy of a death. I rattled and created such a commotion that the woman below me stepped outside and looked up.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Help me!" I cried in mangled Korean. </div>
<div>
"WHAT?" the woman responded, which sounded incredibly rude in Korean. "MWO?????!"</div>
<div>
"TWA-juesayo!" I yelled (help).</div>
<div>
"MWO?!!!" was the response....really did I need the attitude?</div>
<div>
"TWWWWWWWWA-juesayo!" </div>
<div>
"What do you want Woman?!" was the response in korean. haha. really? REALLY?</div>
<div>
The yelling woke up the neighbors across the way who also yelled "MWO?!!!"</div>
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"I can't open it! My door....no open...broken." was my cry.</div>
<div>
After repeating the request for help and asking them to call 119, in korean that is 911. The neighbors finally understood. </div>
<div>
And I heard moving next door. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Password?" A Korean man asked through a small window nearby. I told him twice and heard him successfully enter my apartment. </div>
<div>
He messed with the handle for awhile and left a few moments later. The next 45 minutes involved 3 korean men, and the landlady's attempts to free the frightened foreigner. Broken English was used as an attempt to get me to help from my side, "stick, push, no..pushy...pull....stick." You are probably just as clueless as I was.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally, I heard a pounding of a sledge hammer. YES A SLEDGE HAMMER.....The inside of the door quaked and I backed myself into a corner. The lock had to be KNOCKED through the door, resulting in a large hole.</div>
<div>
"Come out" they called and I slowly opened the door. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The scene was the following...3 men, two under 30 and an older gentleman, starring at me in my towel that is far to short to cover me in any short of decency. I mean in Korea they cover shoulders! and here is my foreigner self, chubby, white and almost naked coming out of my shower. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I stood in the door for a moment and the old man looked at me and said in Korean.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Come out little fool." really? was that necessary!?</div>
<div>
I gulped and came out. </div>
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I thought they are going to leave and I can get dressed. HA NOPE. </div>
<div>
Another 10 minutes went by where the men discussed the problem, while I awkwardly stood in my towel. The hallway door was also OPEN.</div>
<div>
At one point a phone was handed to me, and my Co-teacher on the other end. She was laughing.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
AND THE MEN WERE STILL THERE. I was still in my <i>towel</i>.</div>
<div>
I talked to her and hung up. but through some confusion a second phone call was made. </div>
<div>
another 5 minutes on the phone in my TOWEL. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Finally the men exited and I was allowed to put on clothes. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The moral of the story: 1. never shut the bathroom door. </div>
<div>
2. Bring a phone with you when you pee. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Dear God, I'm thankful for the towel. </div>
Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-28956077188894342662012-08-20T23:43:00.000-07:002012-08-20T23:55:15.062-07:00Don't put that Spoon down....An Eating experience in Hong Kong. (aka hongkongity.)<br />
<br />
<br />
Let's go eat. How about this restaurant? Ooo. look it's close to our hostel.<br />
It's hotter than the surface of the sun outside. Hurry hurry. Oh air conditioned restaurant. I love you.<br />
yes. I would get down on one knee and propose, if you'd have me.<br />
Wow. fancy fancy. Glad I put on my new dress. Glad I can show my shoulders. Glad people don't think my shoulders are scandal worthy. happy happy.<br />
Sit down. Ooo. So many waiters. You are fast little waiters aren't you? You are observant waiters. Efficient good waiters. run along on your merry way. me like.<br />
<br />
Ooo water, yay. Ooo tea, Ooo English menu. Hurray. Yes, dumplings sound delicious. Yes,yes, yes, noodles, "noodleeeeeees." Hahaha. Kungfu Panda joke. Hahaha. Panda, hong kong. Hahaha. I'm a child.<br />
<br />
Ooo more tea...yes...I guess I needed some more. You linger waiter...and smile.err...try a compliment, maybe they'll leave. "Hi....Thanks"<br />
Not quiet a compliment but close. You seem appeased. Maybe that is the cue.<br />
Thank you for stepping back. But you didn't step back very far. I guess you are cute...in a sweater vest way.<br />
<br />
New waiter, why hello? Checking the receipt are you? Good. You can see what I ordered. very efficient. I hope you get a gold star on your name tag. Do you like stickers? My students like stickers.<br />
<br />
Ooo. food. Checking again are we? I think it's ok. Why are you a different waiter? Why do you hover? Yes I can use chopsticks. It's ok. thanks.<br />
<br />
Thanks for exploding dumpling. My place mat is very colorful now. Look up, very slowly, play it cool. Fantastic, all 4 of our waiters witnessed that. Awesome. You can call on me to fulfill your western stereotypes. Yep. after a year and a half in K-town I can't manage chopsticks.<br />
<br />
Tea again. Not sure I need it this time. You look familiar waiter...hmmm... even though you are new. ponder...ponder... Oh...you're expression is changed. please stop smiling and leaning. please take your tea pot and go back to lurk in your corner. I'm scared.<br />
<br />
Noodles. they are here. Oh check that receipt one more time. Linger a little longer. good. I'm glad you're so diligent but please put the smile away. It's frightening.<br />
<br />
No I'm not done with my soup. Yes, I realize I put my spoon down but that was to breathe. Yes, I need to breathe. I like breathing. air in, air out. That's how I do that.<br />
<br />
Creepy woman, stop lurking behind Elaine. You're lurking reminds me of something...ponder again...We aren't finished eating. There is nothing to clean up.<br />
<br />
Ok. I'm done. Hello creepy waiter. Good job, better take that spoon away as fast as possible. Can't bear to have it sitting on the table for a moment. Why do I recognize you?<br />
<br />
Oh...4 waiters. standing behind Elaine. do you want us to leave? Why do you smile and stare? If you are trying to make me feel awkward you have accomplished your mission.<br />
<br />
Creepy waitress. stop. it. Oh...you're smile is bigger now but it doesn't make me feel warm and fuzzy....<br />
<br />
Ok we are leaving. bye-bye.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Our waitress's doppelganger.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.anime-zone.ru/inc/gallery/yamato_nadeshiko_shichi_henge_liveaction_/screen/small/yamato_nadeshiko_shichi_henge_liveaction_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.anime-zone.ru/inc/gallery/yamato_nadeshiko_shichi_henge_liveaction_/screen/small/yamato_nadeshiko_shichi_henge_liveaction_.jpg" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<img src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/15017329/154532_164281023610680_164274206944695_320365_6672266_n_large.jpg" />
Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-16402707272293646742012-07-03T17:06:00.001-07:002012-07-03T20:26:33.513-07:00A taste of the horrible.A typical day in my class that occurs in the designated time period "after escuela." That's spanish and I'm so burnt out that I can't even think to correct myself.<br />
<br />
Bell rings. Get up slowly. "God help me."<br />
Grab role book.<br />
Walk up the 5 flights. Huff huff. Why are their so many stairs?<br />
"Hi teacher! HIIIIIIIII TEACHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHH! "<br />
Smiling students, oh why aren't you in my class? Look at that cute student. Smile Faith, do it.<br />
Smile.<br />
"Hi teacherah." Why are you so frightened student? Why do you flee?<br />
Enter classroom. So noisy. What did the last teacher feed you? Mountain Dew Frappe's with chocolate hearts and a side of 24 hour energy?<br />
Put role book down, try to look serious. Why are you climbing on that other student? Why, you student who is so kind in all my other classes stare at me so disdainfully? I didn't assign you that homework, I don't make you go to hogwan. Stop burning a hole in my face. Did someone take away your magical Frappe?<br />
"Ok" Quiet students. For the love of all that is holy sit down. Stop tickling her. Stop stealing pencils. Stop drawing poop. really poop? Stop asking me what the english word is for poop. I don't want to tell you.<br />
<br />
Role call. Yes, I am saying numbers. Yes, you're name equals a number. Yes, an English number. Yes, you are number 12. Raise your hand. Raise your hand means put your arms up. Demonstation needed. ok. there you go.<br />
Finish. only 40 more minutes.<br />
<br />
Assigned seats. why? because you were jumping on desks. Why? I don't know. Why don't you tell me?<br />
"Let's start, Today we are going to learn about Spring"<br />
Blank stares. Why? Why the blank stares?<br />
Vocabulary. Spring, bee, flower, ......Stop kicking her! No. I won't tell you the word.<br />
death glare. Noisy students. quiet. good. I will take away points. do you want to sit in assigned seats forever? Guess so.<br />
Only 30 more minutes.<br />
<br />
Worksheet. Finnally. Walk around. look at students.<br />
"TEACHAH TIREEEED." I know student.<br />
"TEEEACHAH What is BEEEEE?" hand motions. "ahh teachah. I know I know."<br />
"TEACHah, bathroom." No you can't go. Why? because you won't come back.<br />
"teachah yellow water." eww. stop. you can go. I'll time you.<br />
"teachah..." Giggle giggle. "teachah." Giggle giggle. No I WON'T TELL YOU THE WORD.<br />
Only 10 more minutes.<br />
<br />
Ok. finish? ok. No sleeping. Put your head up. Why are you raising your hands? "puuuuttt your hands up."<br />
I know it's a song. yes. I know. 2pm yes. Yes. Handsome. No, not all handsome. NO, I WON'T TELL YOU THE WORD! STOP ASKING! No, I don't like Justin Bieber. No, I don't have a boyfriend.<br />
<br />
Ok. Short game. Short game. 2 teams. Yes you are on that team. Ok rules. Draw, guess. easy.<br />
Animal: Zebra. ZEBRA. Ok. what is that? Why did you draw Poop? for the LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! ring bell. ring.<br />
Ring.<br />
"BYEEEEEEEEEEE TEACHAH."<br />
Bye. Thank you Jesus.<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-66298765370992767872012-06-26T00:01:00.001-07:002012-06-26T23:43:40.481-07:00Number NINEThis story is important to express for Oh SO Many Reasons. The main being that I have a few spare moments to reminisce and laugh over the tragic events within. I'm entitling this work(because the thought alone is work) number NINE. Read on, oh intrigued reader. (I've changed names to protect the innocent...not entirely sure if that's even applicable.)<br />
<br />
So It started last summer when I went home to my brother's wedding. I sat on a plane for over 14 hours and made no conversation to the attractive Korean beside me. When I finally decided that 7 hours was long enough to break the ice, he had fallen asleep. I stared angrily at his sleeping face for the next 7.<br />
<br />
Long story short....I decided that out of the population of Korea, that I could find the one sleeping Korean on Facebook. Yes....And hereby I stumbled on a profile, added a friend, and met a completely RANDOM and strange Korean that I had coffee with.<br />
<br />
Whew.<br />
Let's call him: Mr. Fashion. I want so much to share his real name but I'm afraid he may read and recognize the story...<br />
Mr. Fashion and I talked for a while over Facebook. Such is life and a dangerous one at that. He suggested meeting, but only with the company of his friend because he is a "shy boy." Lollers.<br />
So I naturally took Sarah and we sat in Angel-in-us across from these two gentlemen (why do I use such grand words? There is no need.) Fashion introduced his friend as THE NUMBER NINE. can I write that again? Can you feel the incredulity spilling from my fingertips onto the computer and into the website? THE NUMBER NINE. Yes. I had so many thoughts upon hearing this. I asked "Sarah why is He a number?"<br />
Why has he chosen a numeric value over an English name like Stephen? What DOES it mean? If he has a brother is his name EIGHT? Does he marry a woman named TEN and added together have NINETEEN children? Then what are their names? But alas....there is not an answer. least not one that I take seriously...and since this is my blog...<br />
<br />
Mr. Fashion is appropriately named. Just guess his career choice. Also you should know...Pictures truth do not equal. During the course of the ridiculous encounter NUMBER NINE stared out the window and mumbled nonsensical answers to our questions. Fashion asked us questions ranging from clubbing to america . Sarah being the kind hearted person supplied questions to fill in the conversations inevitable holes. One of the questions asked involved illegality. I will not re-post the question, for fear of government and school monitoring. (sarah's fears have infiltrated my brain.) So let me phrase it like this:<br />
<br />
"Do you eat wood?"<br />
Sarah and me staring blankly. "Uh no."<br />
Sarah with brows raised, "Have you?"<br />
"Of course!"<br />
<br />
I was trying to keep my composure the entire evening. I decide to ask Numero Nueve a direct question.<br />
"what are you thinking?" I say conversationally.<br />
I didn't hear his answer, but Sarah choked on her Frappee (hazardus these Korean men) at his response.<br />
"You're so beautiful." was his reply. (I'm not sure if I believe or want to believe Hanka's hearing abilities.)<br />
<br />
Then at the height of conversation a group of Koreans were laughing loudly next to us. 9 has remained silent for most of the evening aside from murmuring words like "special....ok....good....thanks...and you" as if they were magical incantations. Fashion said, 'they are are noisy.'<br />
"yeah....noisy" Sarah and I responded. My responses had started to become like rainman. Mechanical and mumbled...maybe I had caught it from NiNe.<br />
That was when Nine cracked. There are a couple of things in this world that this numerical value can't handle...1 being noisy people.<br />
"SHUT UP B*tch!" Nine yelled. Can you imagine the incredible hulk, slamming his hand on the table? Well it wasn't that. It was more like Paddington Bear being angry.<br />
Anyway the table stopped but since they were <i>Korean</i> and those where <i>English</i> words, they went back to their loud antics.<br />
<br />
We left but the two men asked to meet again! I believe the question was "When you're free...lets go club? ok?"<br />
No. ok.<br />
<br />
Sarah on the walk back home , "What just happened?"<br />
"I have no idea." And it's the truth.<br />
<br />
NOTE: ( I put in an astrid because I believe that my family may read this and become offended. Maybe I should have written (shut up female canine!)
<br />
<br />
Note # 2: Every once in a while, Fashion updates his life. With albums entitled "Simply (Actual name)" Or "me and my apartment"....in which there is no apartment and only him...<br />
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<br />Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8997773088452288295.post-58863856950795161752012-06-25T21:39:00.000-07:002012-06-25T22:06:09.619-07:00That's not the Recycling man...<b>"Faith."</b><br />
<b>"What?" I answer<span style="font-size: x-large;">. </span>It is 11:30 pm. Sarah is on the other end of my small Korean cellphone. </b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>"I have a recycling man."</b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>This is obvious. Koreans as previously stated like to "recycle" ie make trash piles because no one thinks a bin would reduce garbage....In each apartment building their is an annoying regulation to sort out garbage into the appointed waste recepticials. So when producing garbage, the foreigner thinks...when is it best to go downstairs? When will I not be scolded in a foreign tongue for the mis-sorted egg container? And if I wait until dark has fallen will the cockroaches (baceeebowlee') eat my face off when I open the dreaded food waste container that is of course too small for the entire apart to use? </b><br />
<b>So I understand instantly.</b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>"Yes, I imagine you have a recycling man." (I've seen mine once or twice, when I do I cover my face, pretend I'm a ninja, and slip away. He is a sour looking little man)</b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>"Faith." Sarah pauses for a beat. "He is outside my apartment door."</b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>"Ok, what is he doing?" I ask staring at my four walls. (my apartment is small so it is easy to do.)</b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>"He is ringing my buzzer. I can see him on my video monitor...He's probably mad because I sorted wrong." Sarah rambles.</b><br />
<b style="background-color: white;">"Sarah. No."</b><br />
<b>"No what?"</b><br />
<b>"That's not your recycling man."</b><br />
<b>"What do you mean?" Sarah asks.</b><br />
<b>"I mean he's drunk and ringing you. It's late."</b><br />
<b>"Mate, why did you tell me that?" Sarah sighs. "You mean some drunk ajushui is outside my door?"</b><br />
<b>"Yes." I laugh. I'm trying hard not to. </b><br />
<b>"How Dare he." </b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b>Indeed. The man eventually went away, but the situation left it's mark on Sarah. A week later, Sarah and I are walking to dinner.</b><br />
<b>"Mate I need to find a bin." She says. Ok I start looking, and finding a trash can in K-town can prove complicated. </b><br />
<b>"Can you wait until after dinner?"</b><br />
<b>"No..."</b><br />
<b>"Why?" </b><br />
<b>"I have a frozen bag of food garbage in my backpack. I need to dump it."</b><br />
<b>I look at Sarah and she explains. "So I've been afraid of my recycling man. So I now dump my trash in subway bathrooms." </b><br />
<b>I note the multiple use of the bathroom. "Well," Sarah explains. "They have cameras everywhere. So I get off at different stops and dump my garbage." </b><br />
<b>I picture Sarah ducking in and out of restrooms and getting on and off the train. I laugh loudly. "Is that why you were late today?"</b><br />
<b>"Yes, mate it is." </b><br />
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<b><br /></b>Faithhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08179972948612482927noreply@blogger.com0