Mostly I’m staying depressed. In fact, it’s been rather bipolar around here: In one moment I’m so excited and happy to go home and in another I’m feeling the weight of future possibilities and current problems. But being in solid unhappiness is productive for me. Yesterday I did every single thing I’d set out to do and I didn’t even mind the manual labor stuff like cleaning up the kitchen. I always hate cleaning, and when I articulate that feeling to myself I think of Dave’s mom who seems never to mind that kind of thing and who said once in response to me saying I hated it, "Why? It’s the easy work." It’s funny, because it is physically tiring if you do it all day, but mindless too. In fact, yesterday it was restful to me because I was still doing something, but it gave me reprieve from the good and evil battling it out in my head.

Earlier today Dave and I went to Tongdaemun fabric market where I was looking for a zipper for myself, moshi to take to Mary, and something cool for Tom’s fiancee, Luana. I got the zipper and the moshi, but couldn’t come up with anything like what I wanted (e.g., silk) for Luana. The weather has turned hot and fairly muggy which made the cramped quarters of the market really uncomfortable since they hadn’t turned on the air conditioning yet. Not to mention, there was the usual stench of cigarette smoke. Of course, people were everywhere, blocking walkways and shoving into us. Dave really hated it and wanted out. He was short-tempered with the vendors, telling them off when it was appropriate. I was glad to have him around for that because I don’t have the skills to do it myself. And many of them were being just so rude. You’d never know these people were suffering economically because they totally act like they don’t want any business. One guy told us he wouldn’t show us the fabric we wanted to look at until we agreed to buy it. What an idiot. Probably if he'd been helpful he would’ve sold 100 bucks worth to me. While buying the zipper, an old guy carrying a dozen or so bolts of fabric loaded onto an A-frame strapped to his back totally plowed into Dave, knocking his head with one of the bolts. That was it for Dave; he says he’s never going back there.

Afterward we caught a bus to Itaewon where Dave returned the new shoes he had custom made because they were too small. The guy was nice and said he’d make them again, no charge. While we were in there, a couple of women somehow associated with the US Army were buying trampy looking shoes. They were the high-heel kind that are also slip-ons, with just one or two thin straps over the top of the foot to keep them from coming off. I hate those kind of shoes. Korean women wear them a lot and I think feet just look disgusting in them because the height of the heel puts all the pressure on the ball and toes of the foot, squishing them and making ugly toes look even more ugly. Sometimes the thin straps are too tight and the flesh bulges around them, or maybe the baby toe is behind one of the straps and protrudes from the confines of the shoe altogether. The whole look is just grotesque. How can the wearers not see this?

At home I was totally worn out from the market, the heat, the buses; I ate and went to sleep for a few hours. Now I’m here biding time until we leave for the Hard Rock Café. This time we’re actually meeting some other people: one of Dave’s coworkers and his wife. Will I get the chocolate milkshake? Tune in next time….