2.11.98

Dave has recently been listening to all my current favorite music. I mean, every night he plays the same 4 CDs. I'm worried I'll get sick of them (even though I like it when he plays them). So I'm wondering: Should I take them skiing this weekend or no? Will I get sick of them? Don't want to do that, but nothing else feeds my soul these days. Uh! It's important not to wear out good music.

I’m feeling pressure to write something great. It’s bothering me. Every once in awhile someone decides to post some kind of on-line journal writing guidelines, I run into it, and then I worry. So stupid. Basically, I try to subscribe to Writing Down the Bones school of writing, which means you just write what comes to you regardless. Regardless. Doesn’t matter if it’s trash. But I hate writing about writing… I was busy yesterday, but not in the sense that I was up at dawn and home after dusk with not a second to stand idle in between. I was awake soon after dawn and did computer stuff for a few hours. A brief period of frenzy followed when I hurriedly made a few phone calls, which supplied me with a great sense of accomplishment. Doesn’t take much does it? Then I left for Ewha around 1:30, which was so late. I felt bad, like I was letting down Mala who probably counts on me to be more consistent in my arrivals and departures. I called her to tell her I was late, but I don’t like being that kind of person. At least I went. Normally if I’m that late getting started I’d just call and cancel, but going felt necessary. I’m glad I did it; it must have in the stars for the day. I stayed until after five and got home long after dark and after Dave, who was wondering where the heck I was. I’m the one who needs the hand phone, not him. Today I was up earlier and it hurt. Catherine picked me up at nine to go look at antiques, which I seem to love these days. Maybe I will be one of those people that buys antique furniture. It’s never really appealed to me because I grew up believing in the *new* and *improved*. I guess since most new things in Korea are cheap knock-offs of Western modern or traditional Korean, it makes more sense to buy the real traditional. So we looked and I saw the Chinese wedding cabinet I’ve been wanting. Very expensive piece and worth the wait. I’ll be waiting quite a bit longer as I save. Luckily, that kind of cabinet is plentiful. Try not to think about all the mainland Chinese giving up their old furniture so Westerners can pay a lot of money to own a piece of the exotic. So, we did that, ate lunch, went to Namdaemun, then home. Tiring day. Catherine’s husband is out of town so Catherine’s driver, Mr. Kim, was available for our use. He drove me home and I felt like I was some kind of important person riding in the back of that car with someone driving me. Mr. Kim has such a nice face. I don’t know the best way to say it in English, but in French I can say he is gentil He’s so very polite and tries really hard to do the best he can. He’s careful with the car, always smiling, and very helpful. He is abject; I feel so sorry for him and hope he has a loving, happy family life. I would hate to be so servile to others; to have them treat me like shit because I’m lower class. Catherine is not like that at all, which makes me feel better. Driving for foreigners - Americans at least - in Korea must be a dream job for the trade. Still, Catherine is moving to Japan in two weeks and Mr. Kim doesn’t have a new employer and I couldn’t keep my mind off his future welfare the whole way home. Such a good driver - really, Seoul is a nightmare - so polite, tidily dressed. He helped me carry the rug I bought from Catherine up to my apartment. I wondered if he listens to the radio and relaxes when he’s driving alone. I hope so. Are you looking for a driver? Or do you know someone who is? When Princess Diana died, the first thing on my mind - and on a lot of other people’s - was astonishment that she wasn’t wearing a seat belt. The second thing to cross my mind was that no one in that situation wears seat belts. In Catherine’s car I do most times, but I haven’t a lot of others. I hardly ever wear one in a cab. The belts are so grimy from non-use that I fear getting my clothes dirty. And, it’s just strange to get into someone else’s car in the middle of the city and put on the belt. It just doesn’t happen. I can’t rationalize it, it’s just something different about being in cars here as opposed to the US. So when Diana died, I was reminded that I need to remember to wear the seat belt. But, I was not surprised in the least that she wasn’t wearing one because I hardly ever see anyone who is driven wearing a seatbelt. On the other hand, I always see the drivers belted. The other day the sys admin at my isp sent out an email telling us we had to delete our mailbox because it was too big and others couldn’t get mail. Of course, that’s not what he was really trying to say, but his command of English was really lacking. I emailed asking how I would get my mail if I deleted my mail box and he replied that I couldn’t leave mail on the server once I’d downloaded. Oh. Well, I’m not doing that so I was still curious what he meant. In the end, after a lot digging, I found the "mail box" I was supposed to delete, which is not really my mailbox but a file that is some kind of email residue. Awhile ago someone was sending us huge .wav files that took forever to download so I chose to leave them on the server. They were deleted, but something else that was not a .wav file got left behind. At least I think that’s what happened. Anyway, I deleted it and everything seems to be fine. *shrug* I dread dealing with the isp people because their English is always so poor and, you know, my connectivity is so important that I get all anxious when I’m not exactly clear what’s going on with my account. What I really fear is having some kind of problem, having to call them as a result, and not being able to communicate it. Man, that’s like the worst case scenario. So far I’ve been lucky.

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