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There’s a big pile o’ email in my inbox begging for replies. You know how it is being popular. sigh. It’s 11am and I’ve been on-line since 9am when I awoke with the desperate memory that I was supposed to chat with Tom. Made it, and I bet he could never sense how quickly I rushed around putting in my eyes and preparing my chocolate moo just so we could chat. More likely, he probably thought I’d lost a finger in a taxi hailing accident since I couldn’t type worth a shit today.
So Yesterday morning I was so content to slob around with the radio on and do laundry, write emails, read, etc. Much to my original reluctance, instead I agreed to meet TWO people whom I only conversed with on the internet and never met in person for TWO separate appointments. Weird isn’t? Meeting two people from the same newsgroup on the same day. I mean, they called ME, and they don’t know each other so it was some freak occurrence. Lately, all occurrences seem freakish.
I had lunch with Linda. We had bibimbap, which was really good. She’s only in town for a month and so I get the feeling she doesn’t have that frustration factor associated with living here. It’s good to be with people like that. Or maybe it’s just me. Lately I’ve been thinking that I’m the only foreigner not having a good time here. Or, rather, I’m the only foreigner not having a good time who actually sticks around to gripe about it. Yeah, that’s more accurate. Linda is highly connected with people. She’s here for a month but she’s got contacts all over the place, which made me feel guilty for my slacker nature. My only hope is to rely on parasitic skills where I add my name to other people’s lists who are much better networkers and then let them give my name to other people. Saves me a lot of pain, but I get some good benefits. Heh.
Next I bopped up to Apkujong to meet Riki. She’s from Seattle, my age, and chatty. Just what the doctor ordered. We loitered in Mrs. Field’s cookies for four hours or so talking in our native slang. Felt good to let my language deteriorate and swear a bit. She reminded me that there are parties to be experienced here in Seoul and that I could do it if I weren’t so unmotivated and apprehensive of risk. I’m so boring. And I don’t say that because I’m thinking that other people would think I’m boring, but that I feel bored or boring. Wait, that’s not totally right either. I mean, I’m not bored in the sense that I have nothing to do, just that all my activities are pretty lopsided these days toward the calm, controlled, lethargic side. It’s been a long time since I let myself go nuts. I feel that inside of me, wanting out like steam in a pressure cooker. Music is the only outlet. When I listen to music I feel energized and like moving. I can’t listen if I’m sitting still. So, when I’m on a bus or walking around it’s like a severely mild form of dancing. Except, it’s more like being inside a music video. Whatever. It keeps me from blowing a gasket. Would be nice to go dancing some time though. Did that in Taiwan and had SUCH a good time. Korea’s not as relaxed as Taiwan however and I imagine two types of clubs: The first has snobby Koreans sitting around boozing, smoking, and looking at clothing labels; the second is full of horny G.I.’s. Is there a middle ground? Like I would know. Sheesh. No, I do know ‘cause I have been to a few bars frequented by the teacher and children-of-rich-expats crowds. They’re OK, but everyone knows each other because they’re either one or the other and since we’re neither we don’t know anyone.
Therein lies the foundation for our isolation here.
So it was good to meet Riki. Yvonne is gone and any palpable connection to people my age is scarce these days. Riki is moving, though, back to Seattle next week. The search continues.
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