Caveat: 櫛風沐雨

I saw the following four-character aphorism on my elevator yesterday.

櫛風沐雨
즐풍목우
jeul.pung.mok.u
comb-wind-wash-rain

My online dictionary offers: 바람으로 머리를 빗고 빗물로 목욕을 한다는 뜻으로, 객지를 방랑하며 온갖 고생을 겪음을 비유적으로 이르는 말.  I didn’t try to translate this in detail, but basically it seems to mean, “let the wind comb your hair, let the rain wash you.”
As an English equivalent, I found: “The storms of life.”
After a windy, gray and drizzly weekend, it seems like a good thing to meditate on.
picture[daily log: walking, 6.5km]

Caveat: 중이 제 머리를 못 깎는다

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

중이 제 머리를 못 깎는다
jung.i je meo.ri.reul mot kkakk.neun.da
monk-SUBJ self head-OBJ cannot shave-PRES
A monk cannot shave his own head.

This is interesting, because two sources give nearly opposite meanings for this aphorism. My aphorism book says that this is the idea of a someone who can’t take care of himself properly, or can’t manage his own affairs, implying it as a kind of criticism. The online dictionary daum.net says that this is “A man cannot scratch his own back” – i.e. that this the idea that a person needs other people. I think the online version makes more sense.
[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: 吉祥善事

I learned this four-character Sino-Korean aphorism from my building’s elevator’s advertising TV yesterday.
吉祥善事
길상선사
gil.sang.seon.sa
The online dictionary gives the meaning: “더할 수 없이 기쁘고 경사스러운 일.”
It took me a while to figure out this definition, until I realized 없이 was an adverbialized form of 없다. From that, I guess this definition literally translates to something like “A happy and auspicious day unable-ly to grow worse,” but we have to make the adverbial into relative clause to make natural English: “A happy and auspicious day that cannot grow worse.”
Sounds like that would be a pretty good day. Not that I’ve had many in that category lately, although last week wasn’t really that bad – just very busy and I feel tired.
[daily log: walking, 1 km]

Caveat: 누은 나무에 열매 안연다

I saw this aphorism in my aphorism book.
누은 나무에 열매 안연다
nu.eun na.mu.e yeol.mae an.yeon.da
fall-PP tree-LOC fruit not-bear-PRES
A fallen tree bears no fruit.
The book suggests “nothing ventured, nothing gained” as an English equivalent. That makes sense.
I haven’t ventured much lately. 
QED.
[daily log: walking, 6km]

Caveat: Ideophones for Hangul Day

Today is “Hangul Day” – a Korean holiday that was recently invented (or rather, “restored” as apparently it existed before, but its current incarnation became a legal holiday last year). I think South Korea was feeling self-conscious about how few holidays they have, relative to other OECD countries, so they’ve been inventing new ones. To celebrate Hangul Day, it seems logical to study Korean.

In that domain, here is something I’ve been working on recently.

I have posted about Korean language phonomimes, phenomimes and psychomimes 3 times before (here, here and here).

I have decided to just put together a consolidated page listing them, which I will update when I feel like, because such a resource for non-Korean speakers does not seem to exist online.

Here it is.

[daily log: 걷기]

CaveatDumpTruck Logo

Caveat: 반말송

What I’m listening to right now.

정용화 (씨엔블루), “처음 사랑하는 연인들을 위해 (반말송).” I don’t really like this song, but it’s sociolinguistically interesting – it tackles the moment in a Korean romantic relationship when potential lovers switch to “banmal” – the less formal register of the Korean language used between intimates.
가사.

맨 처음 너를 보던 날
수줍기만 하던 너의 맑은 미소도
오늘이 지나면 가까워질 거야
매일 설레는 기대를 해
무슨 말을 건네 볼까
어떻게 하면 네가 웃어줄까
손을 건네보다 어색해질까 봐
멋쩍은 웃음만 웃어봐
우리 서로 반말하는 사이가 되기를
아직 조금 서투르고 어색한데도
고마워요 라는 말투 대신 좀 더 친하게 말을 해줄래
우리 서로 반말하는 사이가 될 거야
한 걸음씩 천천히 다가와
이젠 내 두 눈을 바라보며 말을 해줄래
널 사랑해
너와의 손을 잡던 날
심장이 멈춘듯한 기분들에
무슨 말 했는지 기억조차 안 나
마냥 설레는 기분인걸
우리 서로 반말하는 사이가 되기를
아직 조금 서투르고 어색한데도
고마워요 라는 말투 대신 좀 더 친하게 말을 해줄래
우리 서로 반말하는 사이가 될 거야
한 걸음씩 천천히 다가와
이젠 내 두 눈을 바라보며 말을 해줄래
널 사랑해
우리 서로 사랑하는 사이가 되기를
잡은 두 손 영원히 놓지 않을 거야
바라보는 너의 눈빛 속에 행복한 미소만 있길 바래
우리 서로 사랑하는 사이가 될 거야
아껴주고 편히 기대면 돼
너를 보는 나의 두 눈빛이 말하고 있어
널 사랑해

[daily log: walking 6 km]

Caveat: 丹脣皓齒

This is a four-character aphorism from my elevator. Let me explain: my building’s elevator has this video display that plays news or advertising. Sometimes they put up these Chinese aphorisms, like this one. I decided to look it up, as I stood there staring at the screen.

단순 호치 = 丹脣皓齒
dan.sun.ho.chi

According to the daum online dictionary, this means “red lips white teeth” and references the face a beautiful woman. It seems very Chinese to me.
picture[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 밑빠진 독에 물 붓는다

My coworker taught me this aphorism. So, for a change, it was actually contextual when I learned it, instead of it being simply something I ran across in one of my books or online. That was cool.

밑빠진 독에 물 붓는다 
mit.ppa.jin dok.e mul but.neun.da
bottom-lack-PP jar-IN water pour-PRES
[…like] pouring water into a jar with no bottom.

Maybe this means something like "bailing water from a leaky boat" or even "in one ear, out the other." My coworker used it in the context of describing a frustrating student who never seemed to actually acquire any knowledge from her constant efforts to teach him. It made me laugh when I figured it out.

[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 남아도처시고향

I found this aphorism in my Korean-English Buddhism dictionary. Most of the aphorisms there are embedded in the articles, and are of Chinese origin (since that is the language of Buddhist scholarship in Korea for the most part). This makes them doubly hard to make sense of, and mostly I just go with whatever explanation is given, without trying to puzzle out the etymology.
남아도처시고향 (男兒到處是故鄕)
I found this explanation: 남아가 가는 곳 마다 고향인데, which (very roughly) seems to mean “every place is your hometown.”
I like the sentiment of this. There is an English aphorism that I think it was my uncle used to say: “Home is where you hang your hat.” I think this is similar.
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 處暑

I don’t really know how it is possible that I have lived in Korea for so long with knowing about the concept of “solar terms.” Perhaps I was exposed to it and it didn’t stick.
I’ve been watching the Korean 24 hour news channel a lot on TV lately. Mostly, that’s because I’m curious about what’s going on with North Korea – I’m not really that worried, but those around me – my students and coworkers – like to worry about it, so I try to keep up. Regardless, having Korean-language programming running in the background when I’m at home feels virtuous, because I am hopefully picking up bits of Korean.
Today, on the news, during the weather report, the announcer said today was 처서 [cheoseo]. I wondered what that was, and so I looked it up. Specifically, today is the “start” of 처서. It’s a Chinese calendrical concept, the division of the year into 24 named periods called solar terms, each of which is subdivided into 3 pentads of 5 or so days. This must be linked to the every-five-daily market day pattern I remember becoming so aware of when I lived in Yeonggwang. Anyway, you can read about it on the wiki thing.
The name Cheoseo is Sino-Korean [hanja 處暑], and means “limit of heat.” Pretty much appropriate.
Happy Cheoseo.
[daily log: walking, 2km]

Caveat: Zero to one hunnit baby

지금 듣고 있어요.

인크레더블, 타블로, 지누션, “오빠차.”
가사.

오빠 차 뽑았다 널 데리러 가
Baby Let’s ride (Hey) 빨리 나와 (Skkkkkrt)
어서 타 달리자 어디든 괜찮아
Baby Let’s ride Let’s do it All night

질리도록 말했잖아 돈 벌어서 데리러간다고
넌 그냥 몸만 오면 돼
쥐뿔 하나 없어도 날 믿어주던 사람들에게
확실히 보답해
Brake 없이 Accelerator
말년휴가처럼 달려가 제대로
신발대신 이젠 바퀴
멈출 생각 없어 아우토반이 된 앞길
풀릴 일 없게
꽉 조여 매 안전벨트
걱정 마 너 말곤
아무도 안태워 내 옆엔
아까워 우리 나이가
좀 빨라도 겁내지마
가끔 속도위반

오빠 차 뽑았다 널 데리러 가
Baby Let’s ride (Hey) 빨리 나와 (Skkkkkrt)
어서 타 달리자 어디든 괜찮아
Baby Let’s ride Let’s do it All night

다 태워 먼저 부모님 또
뒷바라지해준 여자친구
절대 아냐 허세나 생색
내 차엔 없거든 Airback
돈 번 다는 말은 진짜 종이 쪼가리 몇 장을
바라는 게 아냐 알아서 따라올 걸 알아
이젠 사치가 된 부모님의 걱정
한낱 소원 같은 게 아니었어

I love my car my ride 네 바퀴 달린 왕좌

U know U want it baby Shotgun it baby
Strap on your seatbelt Let’s ride

I love my car my ride 네 바퀴 달린 천사

Zero to one hunnit baby
We runnin crazy
Let’s make some noise

오빠 차 뽑았다 널 데리러 가
Baby Let’s ride (Hey) 빨리 나와 (Skkkkkrt)

어서 타 달리자 어디든 괜찮아
Baby Let’s ride Let’s do it All night

운전면허 딴 적은 없어도 아끼고 안 쓰고 벌어
그 당시 전 재산 털어 십년은 넘은
아빠차를 바꿔드렸어
한 달 뒤에 주차장에 세워져
먼지 덮인 걸 보고 화냈지
울 아빠는 말했지내 아들의 첫차 아까워서 어떻게 타겠니? For real

오빠 차 뽑았다 널 데리러 가
Baby Let’s ride (Hey) 빨리 나와 (Skkkkkrt)
어서 타 달리자 어디든 괜찮아
Baby Let’s ride

오빠 차 뽑았다 널 데리러 가
Baby Let’s ride (Hey) 빨리 나와 (Skkkkkrt)
어서 타 달리자 어디든 괜찮아
Baby Let’s ride Let’s do it All night

[daily log: walking, one hunnit meter]

Caveat: 신세계

pictureOn Sunday I did something I don’t do very often (maybe basically almost never): I watched a Korean movie all the way through, without subtitles.
I find it frustrating to watch without subtitles, because my Korean just isn’t that good. But when something comes on the TV, there are no subtitles. More often than not, I will just channel surf away from a Korean movie on broadcast TV, but for some reason something compelled to sit and watch this movie.
It’s a critically acclaimed Korean gangster movie from a few years ago, called 신세계 (New World).
Here’s the thing: the whole time I watched it, I more or less understood the basics of the plot. And the excellent acting and character development were somehow apparent despite my lack of ability to pick up on many details.
I didn’t even know the title as I watched it. I couldn’t figure it out, and I’d missed the beginning. Sometimes the broadcasters put little graphics showing what you’re watching in the upper left or upper right of the screen, but I couldn’t see a title in this broadcast of this movie.
How did I find out the movie’s name? I related the plot of it to a coworker, the next day, and they told me.
This is a kind of linguistic milestone, although I’m not sure how it could be characterized: watch a movie in Korean, tell the plot to a third person, and have them recognize the plot and fill in the details for you. Of course, this conversation was largely in English, but at least I was getting the plot from the movie, somewhat.
Anyway, I would perhaps like to re-watch the movie with subtitles. Or maybe after some indeterminate amount of time, that is approaching infinity, when my Korean is up to the task.
picture[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 동에 번쩍 서에 번쩍

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

동에 번쩍 서에 번쩍
dong.e beon.jjeok seo.e beon.jjeok
east-AT gleaming west-AT gleaming
[…Like] a glint in the east, [then] a glint in the west

This references someone who flits around, not really leaving a trace. “Quick and aimless feet” is the phrase used in the aphorism book. I can’t think of an English language equivalent, at the moment.
I rather like the utter fail that is google-translate’s offering: “Standing gleaming in gleaming copper.” That is poetic but not quite what was intended.
This aphorism makes me think of wizards, or ghost stories.
In fact, this reminds me of the ghost story I sometimes tell my students. It’s not really something that happened to me, although it has some germs of truth in the events of the night I died.
What I did was modify and alter some details, and focus in on several details that aren’t part of the canonical telling, and craft a narrative appropriate for children, with a frisson of weirdness and supernatural. Koreans enjoy ghost stories, and I felt that having my own ghost story would be a good idea.
I thought I had written this story down in my blog at some point in the past, but it seems that I did not, based on searching around the archives a bit. I was going to put a link to it, but since I did not, I’ll have write it for my blog and post it in the future, at which point I’ll put a link here.
[daily log: walking, yes, walking, walking, walking, well, not really that much.]

Caveat: 부처님 위하여 불공하나

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

부처님 위하여 불공하나
bu.cheo.nim wi.ha.yeo bul.gong.ha.na
Buddha benefit-INF hold-ceremony-INTERROG
Do [you] hold a ceremony for the Buddha?

The meaning, according to the book, is that people may pretend to work for their employers but in fact are only looking out for themselves. However, the literal meaning of the phrase is merely, “hold a ceremony for the Buddha” – the bad faith of those holding the ceremony is taken as a given implied by the question, which grammatically is what is called a “mild interrogative” but the -나 ending also has an “adversative” meaning, i.e. an implied “but….
This seems to reflect the category of the old, institutionalized anti-Buddhist sentiment that was one of the ideological productions of the Choson era and which underlies, in my opinion, the success of evangelical Christianity in modern Korea.
[daily log: walking in the rain, 6 km]

Caveat: 自强不息

I was cited this “four-character aphorism” by a student (I’ve discussed these special types of aphorisms [broken link! FIXME] before). He didn’t bother to explain it – somehow it’s just something people should know – as is so often the case with aphorisms.
So I had to figure it out. First of all, I went online and found the hanja (Chinese characters), as my student had only cited the hangeul spelling of it.

自强不息
자강불식
ja.gang.bul.sik
self.exert.not.breathe

Really I’m not totally confident I understand it. I found this definition in Korean, which I don’t fully get: “스스로 힘써 몸과 마음을 가다듬고 쉬지 않음.”
The definition seems to mean something to the effect of “working hard doesn’t take care of heart and body.” I have decided the aphorism must mean something like “sometimes one should take a break.” Perhaps it’s like “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”
After trying to figure this out, I decided to take a break.
[daily log: walking, 6.5 km]
 
 

Caveat: 개미가 정자나무 건드린다

Here is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

개미가 정자나무 건드린다
gae.mi.ga jeong.ja.na.mu geon.deu.rin.da
ant-SUBJ shade-tree stir-PRES
An ant stirs a shade tree.

The ant cannot be successful in trying to shake a big tree. This means “out of one’s league,” maybe: the small man provoking or challenging the big man – a hopeless battle.


In other news, today is the last day of my “naesin vacation” – i.e. my reduced work schedule because of the middle school exam prep period. Frankly, this naesin vacation was the least vacationy I’ve had – since Grace was out for the first 3 weeks of it, I actually didn’t have a reduced schedule but instead an increased one. Last week I finally got the reduced schedule, but it hasn’t had the recuperative effect I normally derive from these periods of easier work. I’m still feeling stressed and burned out.
[daily log: walking 6 km]

Caveat: 내것 잃고 인심 잃는다

About a month ago, I misplaced my book of proverbs. I don’t quite know how this happened – I was straightening things up and put it somewhere I thought was logical at the moment, and then couldn’t for the life of me find it again later.
This was annoying. I actually looked quite actively for it a few times.
Yesterday, I finally ran across it, under a vast pile of papers I had intended to sort out at one point. How it got there I can’t quite fathom, as the pile of papers precedes, archeologically speaking, the loss of the book. 
Anyway, I am glad to have found it again. Here is a proverb.

내것 잃고 인심 잃는다
nae.geot ilh.go in.sim ilh.neun.da
my-thing lose-CONJ hearts-of-people lose-PRES
“I lose my things, and I lose the hearts of the people.”

I guess this has a pretty self-evident meaning, although it’s not clear to me if the loss of the things leads to the loss of people’s hearts, or if it’s more about how bad luck comes along all at once, losing this and then that.
Anyway, this is why I was sad to have lost my aphorism book – because I knew that subsequently, I would be losing the hearts of my readers. 
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: Vigilant Disregard

On my work blog's admin page, hosted on the naver.com website, which is Korean, they will put up these little "prompts" to suggest blog topics, in Korean.

Yesterday, on June 25th, appropriately, they had the question:

6.25전쟁과 같은 전쟁이 다시 일어나지 않으려면, 어떻게 해야 할까요?

Roughly, it asks, "How can we avoid another war like the 6-25 war?" ("6-25 war" is what South Koreans call the Korean war, since it started with the  North's surprise attack on June 25th, 1950). 

The answer that popped into my mind immediately was: "Just keep doing the same thing that's been done."

Why such a flippant answer? Well, it's worked for 60 years, right? 

I would characterize the South's approach to the North with the oxymoronic phrase "vigilant disregard." Vigilant because the Korean military is large, well-trained (relatively speaking), and well-supported (e.g. financially, by the U.S. alliance, etc.). Disregard, because, despite this vigilance, there is little coherence or intentionality to be found in the broader policy portfolio. It is mostly reactive, but tempered by a strong conservative tendency to hove to the status quo and avoid provocation. I've always said that South Korea seems to mostly see the North the way a Korean family would regard a mentally ill elderly relative. Something to be embarassed by, to try to ignore, but also to be controlled as best possible. 

Anyway, I answered that naver blog question here on this here blog thingy. 

[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 용화꼰데 녜이보 쥬도 몰라소 미효니꼴로 보냬욤

My student sent me this message as the subject line when emailing an essay last week.
용화꼰데 녜이보 쥬도 몰라소 미효니꼴로 보냬욤
This is profoundly badly-spelled Korean. It is so bad, that it’s systematically bad. It took me about 25 minutes of work to figure out what she meant. Thus I theorize that it represents a kind of Korean version of “eye dialect“.
One thing I realized is that it systematically moves vowels around. Where standard Korean spells “어” she spells “오”
Thus 네이버 -> 녜이보 and the verb ending -서 -> -소
This change applies to her name and her friends’ name too:
영화 -> 용화 and 미현-> 미효니
Note in the latter she also doesn’t obey the morphophonological rules for dividing stem from suffix, but sticks to a strictly phonological division.
I don’t quite know what the -꼬- suffix is about, semantically. Something “cute” I suspect.
There is also a certain degree of systematic palatalization:
네 -> 녜 and 내->냬 … I never pronounce these distinctions quite right anyway, they are quite fine, but Korean ears perceive differences in palatalization  to a degree I can’t even hear with my English-trained ears.
My ultimate question is why did she do it? In a paranoid moment, I could just imagine it’s a kind of mocking of a “foreign accent” – several of the transformations, like the vowels and the palatalization, represent issues I have with my Korean pronunciation. But in fact I very much doubt it. Basically I think it must be a kind of “eye-spelling,” I’m almost certain, which emphasizes certain trends in Korean as spoken by teenagers – I have definitely heard 어->오 in slangy talk, especially girls. Kind of like the very common addition of the ending -ㅇ/ŋ/ to open syllables in clause final position, of which this text doesn’t have an example – but I frequently hear e.g. “안녕하세용” for “안녕하세요,” even by teachers.
That being the case, however, it’s puzzling that she would select me as a target for this strange spelling – the message was meaningful and specific to communicating the content of her email to me – it relied on me understanding it’s meaning, because what it says is: “Yeonghwa forgot her login password so Mihyeon is sending you her essay.” Thus the only way Yeonghwa gets credit for the attached essay is if I understand the subject line – otherwise Mihyeon gets credit for the essay, as except for the “sent by” field, it’s the only place any names occur.
Did she just “forget” that I wasn’t a native speaker? That’s probable. Or did she do it intentionally as a way to challenge me or be deliberately opaque? That’s possible too. Did she think I’d spend half an hour figuring it out, and then write a linguistic analysis about it on my blog? I doubt it. I tend to write about these things because there is very little on the internet, in English, about non-standard Korean – it’s extremely hard to find.
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 설마가 사람 죽인다

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

설마가 사람 죽인다
seol.ma.ga sa.ram juk.in.da
surely(-not)-SUBJ person kill-PRES
“Surely not” kills a person.

Don’t assume “it can’t happen here.” Be prepared for the worst. Never say never.
This is interesting because the adverbial 설마 seems to have the subject particle attached to it, which seems to function as a kind of citational. It is definitely an example of the fluidity of grammatical categories in Korean.
Should I prepare this for our talent show on Friday?
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: Wah Wah Wah… the power’s going out!

I had a bit of a happy minor milestone with Korean this morning. 

My building occasionally makes announcements over the intercom system. A few of these, in the past, I have learned to identify, mostly on the basis of keywords combined with the timing (each month's electricity bill delivery, for example, comes on a certain weekday near the end of the month).

Mostly, however, I feel about these intercom announcements the way the peanuts kids feel about their teacher's talking. The sound quality is poor, and my command of Korean is lousy at best.

It's just so much incomprehensible input.

This morning, however, there was an announcement. It included the word for electricity, and it listed a specific time, and I was able to decipher it enough to realize: a) the power was going out, and b) I knew the exact times. I was thus able to actually plan my morning around this knowledge. 

Therefore, this represents the first time an intercom announcement influenced my behavior directly in a way closely connected to its intended meaning.

That's what language is for. So … I felt happy because of that.

I'm off to a very stressful week of work. Annual talent show, this Friday. Blog posts may be sparse… 

 [daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 귀소문 말고 눈소문 하라

This is an aphorism from my book of aphorisms.

귀소문 말고 눈소문 하라
gwi.so.mun mal.go nun.so.mun ha.ra
 ear-report refrain-CONJ eye-report do-COMMAND
Refrain from [believing] the report of the ears, but rather [believe] the report of the eyes.

“Seeing is believing,” of course. Then again, as a fan of (or, anyway, someone fascinated by) apophenia, sometimes we see things that are not there, and we choose to believe them, because our impulse to believe seems to epistemologically precede our sensory capacity.
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 수박 겉 핥기

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

수박 겉 핥기
su.bak geot halt.gi
watermelon surface taste-GER
[… like] licking the skin of a watermelon.

This seems to refer to the superficial enjoyment of something without knowledge of the deeper meaning. Googletranslate gives “scratch the surface” but I’m not sure that’s quite exactly the same – “scratch the surface,” to me, anyway, means something neutral, as in, just getting started digging into some topic (potentially negitive but also potentially positive). The Korean seems more definitely negative, to my perception, implying a kind of “failing to dig deeper.”
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 살아가면 고향

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

살아가면 고향
sal.a.ga.myeon go.hyang
lead-life-WHEN hometown
Home is where you’re living.

It means that living somewhere, it becomes home. “Home is where you hang your hat.” Or, in Buckaroo Bonzai terms, “Wherever you go, there you are.”
This is highly relevant. I need to remember this when Koreans ask me where my home is.
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 눈치 없는 사람

I learned a new Korean expression from an elementary 2nd grader today – which is perhaps my preferred source of new Korean expressions.
She was describing another student as 눈치 없는 사람 [nun.chi eop.neun sa.ram], with a sigh of resignation. I said, what do you mean? She took the time to patiently explain it to me. This is why I like learning things from kids – they are more patient than adults in explaining things to clueless foreigners.
I had learned 눈치 as meaning something like “notice” or “telltale clue”. But apparently it also means “common sense” and “tact.” So a 눈치 없는 사람 is a tactless person, or a person with no common sense. For that matter, it might be a close match for American slang “clueless”, which seems capture the other valences of the word 눈치 well.
This is a very useful expression. A lot of kids have this issue.


Last night, after work, we had a 회식 (work dinner) to celebrate the end of exam-prep time. I wasn’t feeling very celebratory – I feel stressed, as we have looming month-end tests for elementary and the upcoming prepartion for our talent show thing at the end of May.
[daily log: walking, z km]

Caveat: 두 손뼉이 맞아야 소리가 난다

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

두 손뼉이 맞아야 소리가 난다
du son.ppyeok.i maj.a.ya so.ri.ga nan.da
two palm-SUBJ meet-OFCOURSE(?) sound-SUBJ comes-out-PRES
With two palms meeting, sound comes out.

This has the meaning of “it takes a team [at least two] to get anything done.” It’s not quite the same as the English phrase “it takes two [to tango]”, which has a kind of negative implication about how it takes two people to do something bad (like argue or fight). The Korean seems positive in its valences.
I was (am) puzzled by the ending -야 on the finite verb form 맞 아. According to my grammar bible, the -야 ending is for nouns with that “even” or “of course” meaning. But it made sense to assume that’s what was being done here. I have a vague recollection of a verbal -야 studied somewhere, but  I can’t remember the specifics and for the life of me I can’t find it right now in my grammar books. 
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: Here Read This

My boss Curt handed me this document and said "here, you can read this." 

Answertongthing-page-001

Answertongthing-page-002

I think it will take me a long time with a dictionary. It's an excerpt from a teaching innovation periodical… something about some great new teaching methodology or something.


What I'm listening to right now.

Linkin Park, "In The End."

Lyrics. 

It starts with
One thing I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme
To explain in due time
All I know
Time is a valuable thing
Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings
Watch it count down to the end of the day
The clock ticks life away
It's so unreal
Didn't look out below
Watch the time go right out the window
Trying to hold on but didn't even know
I wasted it all just to watch you go

I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when…

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

One thing, I don't know why
It doesn't even matter how hard you try
Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme
To remind myself how
I tried so hard
In spite of the way you were mocking me
Acting like I was part of your property
Remembering all the times you fought with me
I'm surprised it got so (far)
Things aren't the way they were before
You wouldn't even recognize me anymore
Not that you knew me back then
But it all comes back to me
In the end

You kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart
What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when…

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this
There's only one thing you should know
I've put my trust in you
Pushed as far as I can go
For all this
There's only one thing you should know

I tried so hard
And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter

[daily log: walking, 1km]

Caveat: 내 말이 좋으니 좋으니 해도 달려 보아야 한다

This is an aphorism from my aphorism book.

내 말이 좋으니 (네 말이) 좋으니 해도 달려 보아야 한다
nae mal.i joh.eu.ni joh.eu.ni hae.do dal.lyeo bo.a.ya han.da
my horse-SUBJ be-good-SINCE (your horse-SUBJ) be-good-SINCE do-CONC gallop-INF try-SHOULD
Although it may be that my horse is good or your horse is good, one must try it at a gallop.

Only by experience can we really know something. The part in parentheses was not in my aphorism book, but I was having trouble figuring out the grammar and when I googled the aphorism online, I got the version with the extra between parentheses, which made the meaning easier to figure out.
See? Only by experience. 
[daily log: walking, 2 km]

Caveat: 바보선언

Last night, about 11 pm, I had the TV on, which is becoming a usual thing. Keep in mind that it’s just Korean broadcast channels (I don’t pay for cable), so my level of comprehension of the 99% Korean-language broadcasts is only low-to-medium, and therefore I kind of just keep it on as a background noise. It’s part of my philosophy that one way that my Korean will improve is with maximization of input.
Sometimes these old Korean movies come on, on the EBS network. The one that came on caught my attention, and I sat and watched it, rapt.
It was 바보선언. I guess it could be translated as “Declaration of an Idiot” or “Fool’s Declaration.” The internet translation I ran across was “Declaration of Idiot” but the lack of particle makes me think it’s not a well-thought-out translation. More online research found out about it, here (there’s not much about it anywhere in English).It was directed by Lee, Chang-ho.
The lack of subitles on the television was irrelevant, for once – the movie has almost no dialogue and what dialogue there is strikes me as more absurdist or atmospheric than relevant. Compositionally, with its many non-sequiturs and absurdities, the thing reminded me of something by Ionesco, such as La Cantatrice Chauve, but impressionistically one could say it is a kind of cross be Koyaanisquatsi and a Korean slapstick comedy “Gag Concert.” The show’s soundscape is remarkable, too, and its interesting that it captures the atmospheric of the early 1980s better than most American
movies I’ve seen of the era (keeping in mind that that is my era, having graduated high school in the year this movie came out), despite being filtered through Korean culture.
Further, the movie is quite subversive. It’s important to remember that in 1983, Korea was still a military dictatorship, during its twilight phase after the assassination of Park. As such, for example, the symbolism quite striking in the final scene, where the two “fools” are striping off their clothes and dancing wildly in front of the recognizable icon that is the National Assembly building, gesticulating at it wildly. That building was only 8 years old in 1983, and it must have symbolized an empty promise of democracy to South Koreans then entering their third decade of authoritarianism. How did this get past the censors?
picture
Overall, it is a snapshot of the Korean id, circa 1983. Fascinating.
Oh, and guess what? It’s on youtube, with subtitles. You can watch it.
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 一刻千金

picture
I ran across this four-character Chinese aphorism online.

一刻 千金
일각천금
il.gak.cheon.geum
moment-wealth

The second of the two terms, which I rendered, after much equivocation, as “wealth,” is literally “thousand pieces of gold.” The idea is that each moment is precious.
You wouldn’t know that from how I waste my time. Er… or is that the point?
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 끈 떨어진 두레박

This is an aphorism I saw in my book of aphorisms.

끈 떨어진 두레박
kkeun tteol.eo.jin du.re.bak
cord fall-PPART bucket
A bucket with a fallen cord

Apparently it refers to a person who wanders without friends or relatives. Although I have friends and relatives for whom I am immensely grateful, I admit sometimes I easily fall into a pattern of perceiving myself this way.
[daily log: walking, 6 km]

Caveat: 세살적 버릇 여든까지 간다

Yesterday my student cited this aphorism to me – he was trying to figure out how to say it in English. Having seen it before in my aphorism book, I actually was able to decipher his idea – I think without that, I’d have had no clue what his intended meaning was.

세살적 버릇 여든까지 간다
se.sal.jeok beo.reut yeo.deun.kka.ji gan.da
Three-years-MANNER habit eighty-UNTIL go-PRES
A habit of three years goes until eighty.

It means a childhood habit sticks with us for life. He was using it to explain why we can’t easily stop people from eating junk food.
[daily log: walking, 5.5 km; lifting boxes, 1 hr]

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