Caveat: 3653 days

Ten years ago, today…
On September 1, 2007, I arrived in South Korea for my first teaching gig. I didn’t blog about my arrival until a few days later – I still hadn’t adopted the one-blog-post-per-day habit.
My first place of work was in a building less than two blocks from where I work now. One of my coworkers at that first job is still a current coworker, despite an intervening complexity of 6 different institutional employers. I had met two others of my current coworkers within the first 6 months.
Although Goyang is a city (suburb) of over 1 million residents, the Hugok neighborhood where I work is a village within the city, and over the decade it’s really changed very little, and many of the faces are the same.
The intervening 10 years have seen a few memorable adventures (including my year teaching down south in Jeollanam in a public school) and a long, drawn-out near-death experience: cancer, anyone?
I believe that the latter experience has fundamentally changed my personality. Perhaps not even for the worse – but I seem to have a much less adventurous spirit, now. I rarely fantasize about travel, anymore, whereas that was a near constant in earlier versions of myself. That, of course, is on my mind, since I’m going to be traveling, starting tomorrow, for only the second time since the cancer thing.
I still don’t have any clear feeling that this Korean life is permanent. There are strong reasons why it might not be – there’s some precariousness to it. Nevertheless, on a day-to-day basis, I operate on a fundamental assumption that this Korean life has, indeed, become my permanent lifestyle. It’s convenient to think that way, even if it’s not really true. It’s comfortable.
More later.
picture[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Random Poem #95

(Poem #396 on new numbering scheme)

So, having issues that relate to guilt,
I thought I'd cope by setting sneaky traps.
The guilt would come, but guileless, gambol through,
when suddenly a guilt-trap would bite: snap!

Caveat: the life of the Trumpenproletariat

Actually, in the moment, I have nothing much interesting to say. I'm trying to get ready for my departure, Saturday. I have a lot of things to do, because I procrastinate a lot. So my focus is poor.

Meanwhile, for your entertainment, I recommend this humorous and insightful article about the current state of the US political economy (in the vaguely post-marxian sense, I guess), vis-a-vis culture.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

 

Caveat: Random Poem #94

(Poem #395 on new numbering scheme)

I stepped out, looking for the purple clouds.
A giant head was floating just above;
it sent out lines of force that underlay
the shape of space and warp and woof of time.

Caveat: one aberrant onward-gliding mystery

That This

Day is a type when visible
objects change then put

on form but the anti-type
That thing not shadowed

The way music is formed of
cloud and fire once actually

concrete now accidental as
half truth or as whole truth

Is light anything like this
stray pencil commonplace

copy as to one aberrant
onward-gliding mystery

A secular arietta variation
Grass angels perish in this

harmonic collision because
non-being cannot be ‘this'

Not spirit not space finite
Not infinite to those fixed—

That this millstone as such
Quiet which side on which—

Is one mind put into another
in us unknown to ourselves
by going about among trees
and fields in moonlight or in
a garden to ease distance to
fetch home spiritual things

That a solitary person bears
witness to law in the ark to

an altar of snow and every
age or century for a day is

– Susan Howe (American poet, b 1937)

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Random Poem #93

(Poem #394 on new numbering scheme)

Inscrutable, the god chose not to speak.
Instead, he hovered, watching all the souls
that sought him with their yearning eyes and hearts
and failed to note his mediocrity.

Caveat: Several hilarious student anecdotes eventuated

Yesterday morning, I predicted I would have a hectic week. In fact, yesterday was more than hectic – yesterday was downright insane. My coworker Grace failed to return from her vacation as scheduled (maybe an airplane travel problem? I wasn't clear on the situation). But her substitute teacher was no longer available. We had no teacher for 6 classes, and about 30 minutes to adapt.

So Curt shuffled the schedule, combined some classes, and we made it through. I had a full schedule, needless to say. 8 classes, straight through, no breaks.

For the combined and non-standard classes, mostly I taught non-standard lessons. I'm pretty good at ad-hocing it. So it went OK. I had one combined class with 20 students, though – which is HUGE by hagwon standards. I haven't faced a class that large since I taught at the public school down south in 2011. They were the younger kids. We played bingo. It went smoothly.

Several hilarious student anecdotes eventuated.

I was giving a planned, really hard month-end essay writing test to my ED1 cohort, but being a bit frazzled, I wasn't being very sympathetic or helpful to my poor students.

A boy named Sean, who never pays attention, looked up in the middle of the test, and asked, "What's a film festival?" Perhaps that seems innocent enough – a gap in vocabulary, no more. However, in fact we had been reading, brainstorming, discussing, and trying to write essays about film festivals for the past month. The core of the test, in fact, was to write an essay about an imaginary film festival, for which I gave some made-up details (location, schedule, etc.). So this was a rather glaring gap. Rather than try to help the boy, I just started laughing. I think the students were disturbed by this performance.

I laughed so hard I nearly cried.

Later, in one of Grace's speaking classes, I asked a 6th grade boy named Kai if he was in any clubs. We had been discussing clubs such as a taekwondo club, computer club, chess club, or that kind of thing.

Without missing a beat, he said, "I'm in the night club. Every night." He mimed a disco dance move. Where did that come from? I laughed again. That might seem like a pretty clever pun for a non-native speaker. Actually, it makes a bit of sense. "Club" is a borrowed word from English to Korean (클럽 [keulleop]), but only in the "night club" meaning – thus that's the central meaning for Koreans, rather than what we think of as its main sense, which is just a social organization of some kind.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: I come alive in the fall time

I had a plan to do some things to get ready for the fact I'm going to Australia next weekend: various projects, hovering in the wings. But after making it to the store yesterday, I got absolutely nothing done. I just lost momentum – last week was a hard week and I just needed the downtime, I think.

I listened to random new music in pop and rap genres.

So now I'm going to have a pretty hectic week, I think. More later.

What I'm listening to right now.

The Weeknd, "Starboy feat. Daft Punk." This song intrigues me: the kind of sweet, ballad-like production and melody contrasting with the hardcore street-culture braggadocio lyrics. That makes it a more introspective effort than either genre in isolation. 

Lyrics (NSFW).

[Verse 1]
I'm tryna put you in the worst mood, ah
P1 cleaner than your church shoes, ah
Milli point two just to hurt you, ah
All red Lamb’ just to tease you, ah
None of these toys on lease too, ah
Made your whole year in a week too, yah
Main bitch out your league too, ah
Side bitch out of your league too, ah

[Pre-Chorus]
House so empty, need a centerpiece
20 racks a table cut from ebony
Cut that ivory into skinny pieces
Then she clean it with her face man I love my baby
You talking money, need a hearing aid
You talking bout me, I don't see the shade
Switch up my style, I take any lane
I switch up my cup, I kill any pain
[Chorus]
Look what you've done
I’m a motherfuckin' starboy
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin' starboy

[Verse 2]
Every day a nigga try to test me, ah
Every day a nigga try to end me, ah
Pull off in that Roadster SV, ah
Pockets overweight, gettin' hefty, ah
Coming for the king, that's a far cry, ah
I come alive in the fall time, I
No competition, I don't really listen
I’m in the blue Mulsanne bumping New Edition

[Pre-Chorus]
House so empty, need a centerpiece
20 racks a table cut from ebony
Cut that ivory into skinny pieces
Then she clean it with her face man I love my baby
You talking money, need a hearing aid
You talking bout me, I don’t see the shade
Switch up my style, I take any lane
I switch up my cup, I kill any pain

[Chorus]
Look what you've done
I’m a motherfuckin' starboy
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin’ starboy

[Verse 3]
Let a nigga Brad Pitt
Legend of the Fall took the year like a bandit
Bought mama a crib and a brand new wagon
Now she hit the grocery shop looking lavish
Star Trek roof in that Wraith of Khan
Girls get loose when they hear this song
100 on the dash get me close to God
We don't pray for love, we just pray for cars

[Pre-Chorus]
House so empty, need a centerpiece
20 racks a table cut from ebony
Cut that ivory into skinny pieces
Then she clean it with her face man I love my baby
You talking money, need a hearing aid
You talking 'bout me, I don't see the shade
Switch up my style, I take any lane
I switch up my cup, I kill any pain

[Chorus]
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin' starboy
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin' starboy
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin' starboy
Look what you've done
I'm a motherfuckin' starboy

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: on being unscary

I was yelling at my HS1-T cohort the other day, as is so often my wont these days.

It's a very frustrating group of students – a collection of obstreperous, very smart but extremely rebellious 6th and 7th grade girls (yes, all girls – by some grave misfortune).

So I was yelling. The standard stuff: please focus on your work and quit talking about your favorite pop star idols; please speak English during class; please do your homework, next time. 

Maybe the "pleases" were getting thin on the ground. I was pretty annoyed.

One girl (whom I won't name) said, "You know, you're not very good at being scary."

I sat down, deflated.

"I know," I sighed. The girls all had a laugh, and went on their merry way.


What I'm listening to right now.

Communist Daughter, "Soundtrack To The End"

Lyrics.

You put on a pretty face
And we never saved our money
And then we got stuck in place
And I lost my milk and honey

And all the songs were new
And they broke our hearts in two
While we walked away
So I just pushed on through
And I made my muscles move
'Cause I could never say

And all our hearts were breaking
There was music all around
And the walls were always shaking
'Cause our love was the sound
Our love was the sound

We took six of one
And nothing from the dozen
I guess I'll never need another hand to stay awake
Oh, get me right up to the brink
I'll break one way or other

Some of the best of us are already home
Still singing softly through the stereo
Although we tried to make the only amends
Now it's just a soundtrack to the end

And all the songs were new
And they broke our hearts in two
But we still walked away
So I just pushed on through
And I made my muscles move
So I don't have to say
That it's not right to carry on
It might be old but she isn't gone
And you never listened anyway

All our hearts were breaking
There was music all around
And the walls were always shaking
'Cause our love was the sound
Our love was the sound

And all our hearts were breaking
There was music all around
And the walls were always shaking
'Cause our love was the sound

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Random Poem #89

(Poem #390 on new numbering scheme)

You grasp at meanings with mind's fingers spread
out wide like wind-blown nets to try to catch
the semiotic objects which you hope
to understand. In this you mostly fail.

Caveat: Thia bag hippe

picture

I was doing a prospective student interview yesterday at work, with a 2nd grade elementary student. My task in these interviews is to try to decide which class to place the student in, based on current level, but where the kids are too young or too low-level to be able to do a typical Korean-style diagnostic test.

I had the student attempt to read from one of our elementary readers, then we tested a few random flashcards from our phonics series. Finally, I tried out our "phonics diagnostic," which is a kind of graded set of sheets where we attempt to gauge how well the students can sound out unfamiliar words.

The boy really wasn't very good at any of this, but he was pretty good at catching my meaning and understanding my directions, in spoken form. We get a lot of students like this, who've attended some kind of pre-literacy "immersion" (in quotes because it's often not very immersive) kindergarten – they have some rudiments of English in spoken form but are very weak on alphabet and reading/writing.

Anyway, I always conclude these interviews with a very short writing test. I have the kids draw a picture of their favorite animal, then have them try to write something about their animal. At his level, I didn't expect much, but in yesterday's case, the result was a bit odd.

The boy drew a picture of a very implausible dog (at right), then smiled and confidently wrote, "Thia bag hippe."

"What's that say?" I asked.

"This dog happy," he said.

Hm: not strong on phonics or sight-words, then, and maybe not even completely clear on the whole alphabet concept, but, for all that, apparently confident.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Random Poem #88

(Poem #389 on new numbering scheme)

Let's pick some flowers. Then we'll contemplate
how vibrant colors yield to deep despair
and we'll decide, spontaneously, that
there's nothing left to live for in this world.

Caveat: Duration of Stay

picture

Contrary to all expectation or intention, 10 years on I am still in Korea. 

I was at the immigration office this morning, doing the annual ritual of visa renewal. It was completed completely without hitch – Curt and I have it down to science, and we spent a record minimum amount of time on the paperwork this year – maybe 30 minutes, total¸ plus driving time to the office and waiting time in the waiting room.

There are many reasons why I wasn't sure I would be there this year, but none of those worries have come to fruition, so far, and so, I have once again renewed.

Picture at right: the back of my registration card, my main ID in Korea.

Duration of Stay: really long.

[daily log: walking, 8.5km]

Caveat: fiesta criolla

Sometimes my friend Bob, an academic professor of music and conductor in Wisconsin, sends me snippets of Spanish song lyrics to translate, because he actually needs them for his work. He knows I don't mind this, and even enjoy it.

Perhaps I should add to my blog's various tag-lines, at left, the phrase "The Only Spanish-to-English translation service operating in the Korean Peninsula!" I would be pretty confident this is true, though who really knows what Kim Jeong-eun is up to in his secret cultural propaganda factories in the basements of Pyeongyang.

Yesterday, Bob sent me a song in the genre of candombe (see the wiki thing).  He was hoping I could translate it and/or offer some cultural observations. Here's what I sent back to him this morning.

Here's an in-line translation, mostly "on the fly" with a few checks with the RAE (Royal academy of Spanish Dictionary website). There are a few disorganized notes below the translation.

Candombe del seis de enero

Verse 1

Es por todos sabido que el 6 de enero
    Everyone knows that January 6th
es el dia de los Reyes Magos
    is the day of the Three Magi [Epiphany]
y en honor de uno de ellos, el más negro
    and to honor one of them, the darkest,
se programa una fiesta en el barrio.
    a party is arranged in the neighborhood

Es por todos sabido que es el más negro
    Everyone knows that the darkest,
el rey de los santos candomberos
    the king of the candombe saints
San Baltasar es un santo muy alegre
    Saint Balthazar is a very happy saint
dice la mama Inés y mueve los pies.
    that's what Mama Inés says, and she moves her feet

Refrain

Listos corazones
    Ready hearts
van con el candombe
    come with candombe
y con este ritmo a profesar,
    and with this rhythm, to show
los rojos colores
    the bright colors
con festón dorado,
    with golden edging
le gustan al rey San Baltasar.
    they love Saint Balthazar

Verse 2

La comuna convoca y lo venera
    The troupe gathers and venerates
por la estrella lucero que el ciclo espera
    under the Wandering Star that the calendar will bring
San Baltasar se hamaca sobre las aguas
    Saint Balthazar rocks over the waters
de un mar de promesantes que canta y baila.
    of a sea of worshippers who sing and dance

Conversa el ronco bombo mientras avanza
    the husky drum speaks as it moves forward
repican tamboriles en las comparsas
    tambourines sing out in the dance-lines
fiesta criolla de negros y blanqueados
    a high-caste party of blacks and whites together
cuando cambian de toque cambian de estado.
    when the rhythm changes, the whole mood changes

Refrain

– by Yábor (Uruguayan folk singer, b 1950) – in-line translation is mine

Possibly controversial translations:

* criollo as high-caste – normally criollo is translated as "Creole" but that, in colloquial English, is tightly associated with Franco-Carribean culture, which obviously is something different than what we have here. So I went back to the original Spanish meaning (actually originally Portuguese), which is a reference to a specific rank within the complex caste system that existed in Spanish colonial America – the criollos were the locally born white folk, thus at the top of the caste system. But criollo also developed a broader meaning of "locally born" as opposed to "foreigner" (immigrants and "peninsulares" i.e. Spaniards) – especially during the 19th century. So in that sense, the "fiesta criollo" might just mean "a party for and by locals". In the first half of the 20th century, it even became a kind of term of pride that was essentially unifying as opposed to divisive. Probably that's what's intended, here, but by using the term "high caste" I'm getting at the word's problematic roots.

* toque as rhythm – that's not a dictionary translation, but it seems to fit the context. It really might be wrong, but "when the touch changes" feels meaningless to me, so I made a guess based on my feel for broader semantics of the word toque – much wider than English "touch" – and my vague recollections of interactions with Spanish-speaking folk musicians (a few in the 1980s, and one, a close friend of my dad's, in the 2000s).

The most notable thing about this song, to me, is the clear implication that whites participate and enjoy, too ("a high-caste party of blacks and whites together"). This is underscored by the insistence that Saint Balthazar is the "darkest" – it's announcing a kind of "Africa Day" for the whole community, which is unifying in a pre-PC way. That's how I read it, anyway. Cynically, if Yábor is the author (and I think he is), as a white Uruguayan folk singer, he would naturally want to emphasize this aspect if he decided to author a candombe. In that sense, this song most definitely is a bit of cultural appropriation, but perhaps no less authentic or meaningful for that – it represents a genuine if somewhat starry-eyed effort at racial unity in the complex landscape of Latin American racial politics (which, we must always remember, work differently than US racial politics, as much as we want to notice the obvious parallels and similarities).

What I'm listening to right now.

Yábor, "Candombe del 6 de enero."

Letra (above).

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: a real high art

The poem's themes are quite dark, but they are depressingly apropos considering it's 2017.

What I'm listening to right now.

Oscar Brown, Jr., "Bid 'Em In."

Lyrics.

Bid 'em in! Get 'em in!
That sun is hot and plenty bright.
Let's get down to business and get home tonight.
Bid 'em in!
Auctioning slaves is a real high art.
Bring that young gal, Roy. She's good for a start.
Bid 'em in! Get 'em in!
Now here's a real good buy only about 15.
Her great grandmammy was a Dahomey queen.
Just look at her face, she sure ain't homely.
Like Sheba in the Bible, she's black but comely.
Bid 'em in!
Gonna start her at three. Can I hear three?
Step up gents. Take a good look see.
Cause I know you'll want her once you've seen her.
She's young and ripe. Make a darn good breeder.
Bid 'em in!
She's good in the fields. She can sew and cook.
Strip her down Roy, let the gentlemen look.
She's full up front and ample behind.
Examine her teeth if you've got a mind.
Bid 'em in! Get 'em in!
Here's a bid of three from a man who's thrifty.
Three twenty five! Can I hear three fifty?
Your money ain't earning you much in the banks.
Turn her around Roy, let 'em look at her flanks.
Bid 'em in!
Three fifty's bid. I'm looking for four.
At four hundred dollars she's a bargain sure.
Four is the bid. Four fifty. Five!
Five hundred dollars. Now look alive!
Bid 'em in! Get 'em in!
Don't mind them tears, that's one of her tricks.
Five fifty's bid and who'll say six?
She's healthy and strong and well equipped.
Make a fine lady's maid when she's properly whipped.
Bid 'em in!
Six! Six fifty! Don't be slow.
Seven is the bid. Gonna let her go.
At seven she's going!
Going!
Gone!
Pull her down Roy, bring the next one on.
Bid 'em in! Get 'em in! Bid 'em in!

– Oscar Brown, Jr. (American poet, 1926-2005)

[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: Random Poem #85

(Poem #386 on new numbering scheme)

"Perhaps I'll be a floating leaf today,"
he mused, and threw himself into the brook.
He bobbed and drifted through the eddies, till
at last he washed onto a sandy beach.

Caveat: Leashing the Unleashed

I ran across this argument on an online political website, but I don't recall where. Nevertheless, the longer I've mulled it over, the more plausible it's become in my mind. I'm sorry I don't have a proper attribution for the idea – to be clear, it wasn't my idea originally.

Consider that the whole "Russiagate" thing is actually more to the advantage of the Republican Party than to the Democratic Party. Without Russiagate, Abu Ivanka is a loose cannon that even Republicans can't control, and certainly his less orthodox notions, evidently somewhat toxic to the Republican Elite, are incompatible with what they want to achieve (to wit: social conservatism, scaling back the welfare state, tax reductions, etc.).

But with Russiagate always looming, the Republicans in Congress can say to AnnoyingOrange, "You need us. If you betray us, we can impeach you."

Russiagate is a leash for the beast they unleashed to win the election.

Contrariwise, why should the Democrats be pushing Russiagate? It serves them no purpose – they can't get an impeachment without Republican cooperation, and it just ends up revealing their own dirty laundry as well – of which I'm sure they have plenty.

I'm not normally one for so-called "conspiracy theories," but this one fits the data neatly, and personages like Mueller, the special prosecutor (and former Bush II appointee), are evidently more establishment Republicans than Democrats, anyway.

Bannon's recent departure actually just seems further evidence – his "extreme views" annoyed the establishment Republicans. Because of their leverage, they insisted (either directly or indirectly, it doesn't really matter) that he go. So he went.

Of course directly controlling Turnip's twitterings is harder. So they just tolerate it, as raw meat to toss out for the so-called "base." Meanwhile the backchannel disassembly of the welfare/regulatory state can proceed apace.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Random Poem #84

(Poem #385 on new numbering scheme)

"A stone - I shall become a stone," he said.
And soon enough, he dropped, bottomward. "There."
The stream's quick waters rushed around his shape.
He sighed. "In this way, I am truly free."

[daily log: dropping, like a stone]

Caveat: hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito

Lo que estoy escuchando en este momento.

Luis Fonsi (feat. Daddy Yankee), "Despacito." Acerca del video, pido disculpas. Casi aproxima lo llamado "NSFW", pero me defiendo con que es culturalmente apropriado. De hecho, incluso la letra es mas o menos igual de NSFW. Cierto que no intentaría enseñar esta canción a mis alumnos en unas de mis clases "CC." Bueno, ni se presenta como posibilidad, dado el idioma.

Observación lingüística: cuando se anuncia "DY" (Daddy Yankee), el nombre se deletrea en inglés (o sea, "dihuay", y no, digamos, "deígriega"). Esto me interesa.

Letra.

Ay
Fonsi
DY
Oh, oh no, oh no
Oh, yeah
Diridiri, dirididi Daddy
Go

Sí, sabes que ya llevo un rato mirándote
Tengo que bailar contigo hoy (DY)
Vi que tu mirada ya estaba llamándome
Muéstrame el camino que yo voy (oh)

Tú, tú eres el imán y yo soy el metal
Me voy acercando y voy armando el plan
Solo con pensarlo se acelera el pulso (oh, yeah)

Ya, ya me está gustando más de lo normal
Todos mis sentidos van pidiendo más
Esto hay que tomarlo sin ningún apuro

Despacito
Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito
Deja que te diga cosas al oído
Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo

Despacito
Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito
Firmar las paredes de tu laberinto
Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito

Sube, sube, sube
Sube, sube

Quiero ver bailar tu pelo
Quiero ser tu ritmo
Que le enseñes a mi boca
Tus lugares favoritos (favoritos, favoritos, baby)

Déjame sobrepasar tus zonas de peligro
Hasta provocar tus gritos
Y que olvides tu apellido

Si te pido un beso, ven dámelo
Yo sé que estás pensándolo
Llevo tiempo intentándolo
Mami, esto es dando y dándolo
Sabes que tu corazón conmigo te hace bom-bom
Sabes que esa beba está buscando de mi bom-bom
Ven prueba de mi boca para ver como te sabe
Quiero, quiero, quiero ver cuanto amor a ti te cabe
Yo no tengo prisa yo me quiero dar el viaje
Empezamos lento, después salvaje

Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito
Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito
Cuando tú me besas con esa destreza
Veo que eres malicia con delicadeza

Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito
Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito
Y es que esa belleza es un rompecabezas
Pero pa montarlo aquí tengo la pieza

Despacito
Quiero respirar tu cuello despacito
Deja que te diga cosas al oído
Para que te acuerdes si no estás conmigo

Despacito
Quiero desnudarte a besos despacito
Firmar las paredes de tu laberinto
Y hacer de tu cuerpo todo un manuscrito

Sube, sube, sube
Sube, sube

Quiero ver bailar tu pelo
Quiero ser tu ritmo
Que le enseñes a mi boca
Tus lugares favoritos (favoritos, favoritos, baby)

Déjame sobrepasar tus zonas de peligro
Hasta provocar tus gritos
Y que olvides tu apellido

Despacito
Vamos a hacerlo en una playa en Puerto Rico
Hasta que las olas griten: ¡Ay, bendito!
Para que mi sello se quede contigo

Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito
Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito
Que le enseñes a mi boca
Tus lugares favoritos (favorito, favorito, baby)

Pasito a pasito, suave suavecito
Nos vamos pegando, poquito a poquito
Hasta provocar tus gritos (Fonsi)
Y que olvides tu apellido (DY)
Despacito

[daily log: walking, 7.5km]

Caveat: Left Out

Well, I admit I'm feeling more than a little bit grumpy about work, this morning.

Last night, we had one of those typical Korean after-work dinner events: 회식 [hweh-sik]. Not formally obligatory, but socially "highly recommended," as it were.

But here's the thing: I didn't go.

And I would have gone.

But I didn't even know it was happening. That's pretty annoying.

Typically, there are two kinds of hweh-sik. The first kind is the pre-planned, long announced one. Often, there's a message on the staffroom whiteboard at least several days before, which I try to take the time to look at once a day and see if anything new has appeared. Of course it will be written in Korean, but I'll decipher the handwriting, look up any words I don't recognize, and make sure I know what it's about. And hweh-sik is a common enough phenomenon that I recognize these readily, now.

The second kind is more spontaneous, as in, "hey, we're going out after work." Even then, I'm not always told, but if I'm in the staff room or at the front desk, I'll overhear the conversation, in Korean, and catch the drift and butt in and see if I've understood correctly. 

Well, last night, I guess the decision was made after 8 pm. I had classes for the last two periods of the day, so I wasn't out of the class room at all – I just went from one class to the other, and reappeared in the staff room after my last class. The decision had been taken. And no one was talking about it. And no one told me.

Sometimes, on these spontaneous kind, I will bow out. I don't like having my daily schedule discombobulated unexpectedly – it's part of my new, more stick-in-the-mud personality that seems to have been implanted with my re-engineered post-cancer tongue. I have been bowing out of these spontaneous ones less, lately, though. I really do see the value of these gatherings, even if they are stressful for me.

They are stressful – more than any other aspect of my job. I'm not particularly good at socializing, anyway. I'm a shy person, and not very good at what you might call "bar banter" which is, of course, the main semantic content of these types of outings. And of course they are 97% in Korean. I'm the only non-Korean speaker, after all. Why socialize in the second language, even if everyone is competent in that second language, when the first language is more comfortable?

So it's like a language immersion experience. And as you know, I have insecurities about that… about my abilities and competence, about my failure to do better, about my presumed identity as a "linguist" – "What, you're a linguist? Why haven't you mastered Korean?" Remember, linguists aren't necessarily polyglots. Those are different things. I study about language, I just don't learn languages – not very well, anyway.

Anyway, summarizing in brief, sometimes I decide not to go. And I might have decided not to go, last night – I wasn't feeling the best, already. I was tired, finishing a heavy schedule yesterday, and in a bit in bad mood because of my struggles with that HS1T cohort that's been giving me so much frustration recently.

But at least I would still prefer to have to option to make this decision. Instead, I was left out, which is altogether a different feeling.

I found out about it because it was announced, in Korean, on the Kakaotalk app  [ka-tok] Karma discussion channel on my phone (Kakaotalk is the most popular Korean chat chat platform, a bit like facebook messenger or the old yahoo messenger app). This is a thing I try to watch, too, like the whiteboard in the staff room. I'd even been aware there had been some discussion posted while I was in class. But it was a bunch of dense Korean text, and I didn't even scan it while I was still at work. Instead, once home, changed for bed, eating some dinner, I thought, Oh, I should see what that ka-tok was about. I will do a thing where I drop the text from ka-tok into my email drafts, then I can open the email draft in my browser on my computer and get a google-translate of it, which is a place for starting to sort out what it's about. And there it was – we were having a hweh-sik. Presumably, they were there as I read it. 

I don't know how I could have necessarily known about it even if my Korean were perfect – I would have had to have checked the ka-tok app as if it were potentially urgent, which is not how it's typically used, except in contexts where something is already in progress – i.e. where are we meeting? meeting tomorrow moved from 3:00 to 2:30… that kind of thing.

I was pretty pissed off.

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: 냉수 먹고 잣죽 트림한다

I learned this aphorism from my aphorism book.

냉수 먹고 잣죽 트림한다
naeng.su meok.go jat.juk teu.rim.han.da
cold-water drink-CONJ pine-nut-porridge belch-up-PRES
“Gulp down cold water and belch up pine nut porridge.”

This is a little bit hard to understand, without some cultural reference. Apparently in old Korea, belching was a way to indicate satisfaction with a meal. It’s not that that’s not true in the West, but it didn’t have the patina of vulgarity that it has in the West – indeed it was specific to even high society.
Pine nut porridge was considered a delicacy. So a young nobleman, too poor to eat well, might gulp down some cold water before entering into company with his peers, thus causing himself to belch in their company. He could then boast of the fine pine nut porridge he’d eaten.
This means to “put on airs” or “make a fine appearance but without any substance.”
[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: Random Poem #80

(Poem #381 on new numbering scheme)

The ghosts await you, clustered at the edge
of what you know to be actually true.
Then in between the bursts of summer's rain
they peer at you, admonishing your mood.

Caveat: __ : __ :: __ : __

This blog post will not be very substantive.
Just a thought-for-the-day (in the form of an old-school SAT-style analogy – now obsolete, this will really only be culturally identifiable to you if you took the SAT before 2005):

Korean curry : Indian curry :: American tacos : Mexican tacos
i.e. Korean curry is to Indian curry as American tacos are to Mexican tacos. 

[daily log: walking, 7km]

Caveat: Random Poem #79

(Poem #380 on new numbering scheme)

He casts his dull cliches into the world
like crumbs of bread dispensed to hungry birds
but worse, these birds are mere robotic shades
which cannot eat but only peck and strut.

Caveat: At least the water is free

In commemoration of Korea's Liberation 72 years ago today, the local sky has been liberating an immense amount of water onto the ground, trees and buildings in Ilsan.

Happy liberation day.

I might not take a walk, today, since I don't have to go to work and since it's rather damp outside.

[daily log: walking, around the apartment anyway, maybe down to the 편의점 downstairs]

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