Being “home” means so many things. But one thing that it means is that I can sit down and with a few clicks at my desktop computer, I can begin to type effortlessly and painlessly in way that has been denied me by the circumstances of my recent captivity at the cancer hospital. Yet immediately, facing the square white box on my blog host’s website, the question formost in my mind is simply, “now that it’s easy, what should I say?”
Nothing comes to mind. I’m pleased to be home. After having a lunch of somewhat-craved 콩국수 (kongguksu = cold noodle soup in soy-milk-broth) with my coworkers, Andrew was alarmed to find me in a mood to clean and shop and rearrange furniture as soon as we got home. My nesting instinct kicked into overdrive, as I was wanting to reestablish my presence in my own small space affirmatively and unambiguously. So I did.
And then, exhausted, I went to sleep. In my bed. Which is nothing more than a thin blanket with a sheet over it, on the floor: I sleep Korean-old-person style, and have done so for years. It was, I swear, the most amazing, most comfortable, most at-ease sleep I have ever had. The nap lasted a bit over an hour, and now, here I sit, facing my blog and my world with undoubtedly altered eyes, an altered worldview.
But I’m not so changed as all that. My coworkers said I had become “extroverted.” I could see how they could perceive that: in my moment of triumphal discharge from the hospital, I was elated, effusive, energetic, and stunningly positive – not traits they necessarily associate with me. In fact though, what they were seeing is something I have had and been all along – what they were seeing was my “classroom personality,” which I have deployed judiciously with my students for years. But ever since going into the hospital, because of the “always on” social nature of being in that communal space, I had turned on that “classroom personality” full-time. Always on. It was possible partly because I could take quick naps between interactions.
Curt said I need to spread my happiness out – “don’t use it all up now. You need it for the long run,” he suggested. He’s right. But he’s wrong in that I already had it – I was just being parsimmonious with it, before, and tended not to use it much outside the classroom. That, I suspect, will change – or at the least, I want it to. I think I can.
I’m not sure I’m making a lot of sense. For now, I’m happy to be home, I’m resting, I’m nesting, I’m enjoying having the freedom to get up and make a cup of tea for myself in my own diminutive kitchen.
I’ll share more later. Only a few hours ago, Andrew snapped this candid picture of me being injected with positron-emiting chemicals in preparation for a PET scan.
It’s not a sentence, just a noun phrase. This tongue-twister isn’t that hard, except that I don’t have full confidence that 곽진광 [gwakjingwang] is just a name. If it’s a not a name, then my translation is poor and missing something important, but assuming it is a name it makes perfect sense, so I’m going to go with that.
