Exclusive Sneak Peek!

As per usual, my Halloween costume is uninspired.  This year I will be going as “a girl with a red wig and fake glasses.”

Jelly Arms

I have to be stopped.  I can NOT buy any more clothes.  It’s been fun, I look fabulous (fabulous!), I have more clothes than hangers, and my plastic has been swiped so many times it’s on fire. (Okay, my plastiic s a debit card, so I can’t rack up debt.)

I found a plus size section at the Doota in Dongdaemun.  Dongdaemun is the biggest shopping district I’ve ever seen.  Four shopping malls at least 10 stories high, plus all kinds of late night outlets that I’ve never been to.  Not to mention all of the stalls on the street, both late night and all day.  I can’t tell whether Dongdaemun is heaven or hell, but it sure has a lot of neon lights.  Doota, and the other shopping malls there, aren’t like what we’re used to in the states.  They don’t have department stores, they have stalls of varying classiness and price.  Stalls that sell the same items are next to each other.  I tried on blue and pink wigs at a wigstore which was next to a wigstore with the same exact merchandise. 

I’m going to try and redeem myself here by mentioning that I’ve been reading A Brief History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson this week, so I do spend a lot of my brain cells being awed by science, and not just shopping districts. 

I joined a gym in Anam yesterday afternoon.  It’s a fifteen to twenty minute walk from my apartment.  My friend Katie and Dan, my taekwondo master, are members.  I get personal trainers in both of them.  I’ve been told I need to concentrate on lifting, because building muscle increases my metabolism.  Seems like I’m to do about 70 weight and 30 cardio.  We worked on the chest this morning, which sounds funny to say.  I’m not sure if I’m using the right weight lifting jargon.  Oh how I want to fit in! 

My arms are wobbly jelly, which makes me suspect I didn’t lift the right way, because I was supposed to be working my amazing pectorals! 

Earlier this week the doc put me on an antibiotic (along with about 4 other pills whose purpose is unknown to me.)  I’d complained that a few times I coughed up something very unsavory.  Its been about 3 or 4 days of the medication, and now more than ever I can feel this itchy lump in my throat, off-center.  I feel like I can scratch it and get it out, and a few times I’ve stuck my hand down there and nearly gagged trying to get an idea if it is something I can yank out, like a popcorn kernal.  I must look very silly doing that.

My Common Cold in Korea

My fever was really high last night, it topped off at about 103, which worried me.  How high does a fever have to go before it starts damaging your tissue permanently?  

The Babysitter took me to the clinic across the street this morning.  She met me at my apartment, and as I closed the door she reopened it, took a not-so-stealth peek, and then closed the door for me.  I said, “You just wanted a look, huh?” and teased her lightly about it, but actually I found it unsettling.  What was that about?  What were you looking for?

The whole clinic trip couldn’t have lasted for more than 20 minutes.  The doctor I saw spoke a lot of English, and ruled it to be a common cold.  Breezily, I said, “Aha, not swine flu.”

I’d heard that the Korean clinics are big on injections, and I was supposed to get one.  I calmly and firmly declined.  My coworker said that when she was sick, they injected her with steroids.  I’ll take a rain check.  I feel like a soggy crap sandwich, but I have a low-grade fever.  As long as the fever isn’t too high, you probably shouldn’t get rid of it.  At least, that is one school of thought.  Your body is getting rid of an infection, hence the fever.  If you stop the fever, you’re interfering with your body cleaning itself up.

They prescribed me 5 pills each after breakfast and dinner, and two pills after lunch.  That is 12 pills a day.  I have no idea what they do, so it’s no better than the mystery injection.  

It’s a quarter after ten now, and I still haven’t had breakfast.  I don’t have an appetite, plus there isn’t much good in my house.  I’d kill for a salad.

Sick

I’m sick.  Where’s my mommy?  

I’m going to have to get rid of my glitter claws for taekwondo, hence the third picture.

Awful

I’m happy to be back in my taekwondo class.  I’m doing something good for myself, and it feels like a family.  A supportive family that kicks each other.  

I woke up today with a fever of 101, my mouth dry and cracked, and with my nose full of nose juice.  When I stood up I could  barely walk; my arches were killing me.  I guess that is an upshot of doing a sport barefoot.  

I went into work only to do the morning broadcast.  They took me down to the nurse, either to make sure I don’t have swine flu, or to make sure I’m not fibbing.  I think it was the latter.  To bad for me I’m not.  

It’s the late afternoon now, and the medicine has barely helped to lower my fever.  

I arrived to work early, and there were only three teachers in the office.  I can’t speak or understand the language beyond a few simple phrases, but I could tell there was something upsetting going on.  Apparently one of our first grade students was seriously injured.  His mom and dad both died last night, and they didn’t think he was going to survive.  The accident had something to do with gas, and I was getting two different versions.  One version there was an explosion, and in the other it was a gas leak that suffocated them.  Poor fucking kid, if he survives.  Both parents dead at the age of 12.   God damn.  

I didn’t feel so sick after hearing this.

Don’t Bite Me

The weather has been delightful for a couple of weeks, and I thought that this delightful weather would kill off the mosquitos.  But they are in my apartment, and they are more avid than ever.  I wake myself up while I sleepily scratch all the bites I don’t know I have.  It has effected my sleep for a couple of nights, and I’m starting to think this is personal, mosquitos.

I listen to John Denver’s “Take Me Home, Country Roads” over and over and over in my apartment.  I wonder if anyone can here it being played over and over.  Probaly.  And me singing it.  Probably.  I get stuck on songs and play them to death.  It makes me feel insane and alive.  And I belt it out, even the cheesiest line of all (being “Mountain mama”).  I decided that the lyric “the radio reminds me of my home far away” was pretty damn true to my life, and have plastered that everywhere I can.  My mom saw it, and asked if I was homesick*.

I live in Korea, which is pretty damn far from my home.  I have not seen my best friends in more than a year, I have not been in a culture that I dig for a long time, or a culture that digs me.  Yes, I’m homesick.  Autumn is a bitch for being homesick, and Chris has the god damned balls to go apple picking and to make apple pies.  Sonofabitch.

*The biggest bitch of all is that I know that when I get home I’ll miss my life in Korea.  My apartment to myself, my near total lack of personal accountability, the pubic transportation.  I will come home and be annoyed with parking lot deserts and SUVs and aggressive conservative bumper stickers and who knows what else, because it hasn’t happend yet.

My New Romance

We’re still in the honeymoon faze.  

First Day Back from Chuseok Holiday

It’s my first day back to work after the four day Chuseok holiday, and one of my classes has already been cancelled for today.   For my four days free I spent a lot of money on clothes, a lot of money on cab rides, I went to see a 17th century Joseon dynasty wall which I totoally failed to find, and I went with a friend to Everland, an amusement park south of Seoul.  I totally digged the amusement park cheese, which was fairlly solid cheese, and I enjoyed all of the trees and plants.  I appreciate how necessary some green is in life.  I’m feeling really nostalgic.  How can I avoid it? 

Upon completion of my contract, I will get 4 million won severence pay. 

I’m sleepy right now.  Tea time.

Seoulamente Briana Episode 32: Busan and BBQ

slackadasical

Cheerios, My Love