Big Words

And my laptop is singing for me. It starts and stops and starts again, humming along the walls. I sit here, my mind thousands of miles away. My legs are wrapped in my blanket, “im a merman pop, a merMAN” repeats in my head. 

Its funny when you’re abroad for this long you start remembering all the things you used to hate about being home. You remember it with an indescribable longing. Riding the J, wrapping around Cypress Hills heading towards 75 and elderts, the high school coming along in the distance, the sun setting on my last summer in NYC; such beautiful afternoons filled with wonder and curiosity. 

Sometimes I feel like Im the only one who thinks about the past. The only one who looks at the cityscapes and remembers back on those summer days where I was looking forward to these days im living now. I look at the cityscapes and remember how I felt those days, trying to imagine everything I would be doing in the next couple months. I wasnt anywhere near correct. 

How will I remember these days? How will bitter nostalgia hit me in ten years? 

What is there for a man who sees in the future, lives in the presents but thinks in the past? 

and with it the scent of your sun burnt skin. 

Yes, I will gladly breathe you in. I will fill my desires with your scent, this summer will be immortalized, you will never smell this way again.  

In our beds I will look at you and say nothing, just stare at you. You will ask me “what?” I will say nothing. Just know, Im getting lost in you, getting lost in the moments that our minds share but dont say. I get lost in the moments in between now and future, the monotonous days where nothing is new, the redundant evenings where you look at me with your annoyed eyes, the early saturday mornings where the sun peaks its head through our window, spying on us seemingly wrapped in each others love. 

In these casual moments I peer into our minds eye and venture off to what will hopefully become. In our kisses on these lazy spring days I leave a mark of love and lust, that will linger long. When we look back on these days these marks will be our winkles. These winkles, I will appreciate. I’ll look at you longingly, remembering the times we laid in bed kissing, touching, loving each other. I’ll remember back every summer, every sun soaked summer and remember the one special one, the first one where we rolled around in each others love.  

Ive been sitting at my desk staring at words for the last couple days. Ive been interrupted by classes scattered throughout the days. It has been great; it has been a relief to be back in the class room. 

In between those short periods I sit back at my desk and the monotony hits again, and my mind wanders again. 

The new semester has begun with a big splash, and as all the teachers scurry around with the office, the classrooms, and there desks I sit here patiently waiting to take on my new class. I hope that the fervent the students have felt these last couple of days remains. Maybe it’ll make me reconsider leaving a bit earlier.

Im taking a new approach at my conversation classes. Each month will focus on a broad topic with the weekly classes being more specific to the overarching theme. The driving force will be, hopefully, interesting English activities. I’ve got to keep thinking, I’ve got to keep focused.

I have so many plans to accomplish, and to think about it, so little time to do it here, assuming I stay for only one year. 

It is lent, and although I am not religious, I have decided that I will try to be more social. Not just for lent, but for life. I want to reach out to more people I care about and try and develop stronger relationships with them. Hopefully they feel compelled to reach out to me as well. If not, oh well, I work better by myself. 

Cheers to another couple months. 

six more to go. 

And its all a big blur. 

And it all gets old pretty quick. 

Its funny, how I wake up and still cant believe im in another country. This apartment that I call home lacks the warmth of the familiar. It is a base, a base in the sense of playing tag with your friends as a child and touching the cold brick wall was a sense of protection; this apartment is that to me, not a home, just a cold brick structure of protection. 

I find myself planning the future, looking forward to going home in six months, seeing my family and friends. Im tired of the lack of connections I have here. Its just a reiteration of my other life, Korea makes me appreciate my real friends that much more. It makes me appreciate myself a lot more, and at the same time wonder how life would be if I concerned myself more with the popular, and less with the interior. 

Sometimes, I speak to my students more than I do anyone else. More than my coworkers, then my American friends, more than my girlfriend. A close second to her, heh. I have a nice group of kids that like hanging out with me, I hope that I can inspire them to travel, explore and learn. I hope that after this we will be friends. 

Anywho, being away from the familiar forces one to be true to themselves. You can see the desperation in the faces of everyone when they first arrive. Attaching themselves to people, hoping for a connection, hoping to experience something together so many miles from home. For many people in this social experiment (thats what i’ll call it) we come expecting something. I think if i could tell anyone anything, it would be not to expect a thing. Just come, clear mind, with your baggage left at home, hopefully a clean slate. Learn all you can, and expect nothing. Then you wont be disappointed, and only surprised. 

Six months left, six months to enjoy, six months to loathe, six months to grow, and nourish relationships that matter, and ignore ones that dont, six months to see, whatever there is to see. 

I want to be better. 

is where you live when you have gone. 

Thats where I look to find the moments that have ceased to exist, only to remain in a digital space. 

Does it exist if its in the air, if its not tangible, if its not something you can grasp but only see when a machine is turned on and is connected?

And In this world of multi connections, do you still long to be with me, physically, disconnected? Do you prefer these anti social moments when the only things said are the things that cant be heard, but only felt with exchanges of touch and synapses?

Lets be in love in the modern world, without the constant notification and need for external stimulus. We can create the moments we need to remember and keep them to ourselves. Lets do things together, lets live like we did when all we had was a land line. 

a hole the size of the twin towers inside my chest when you stepped away from me. 

In those eyes that I looked at so fondly at one point in our lives only holds a resentment thats been etched in stone. Somewhere, where ever you are, I know you’re being held, held the way you deserve. The hole that you left in me remains as a testament to the mistakes that cant be taken back. The hole is being filled with meaningless songs and moments of lust that I dont even remember what love really is, or if it even existed.

In my nihilism I look back and try to remember those moments we shared with a positive light. I guess my memory has been clouded by all the years of disgust. Im sorry in advance. 

I do recall the last time we made love before you grew to hate who I was. I asked you never to leave me again. I asked you repeatedly to stay, whispering in  your ear how much you meant to me. I felt your touch grasping my back, holding me close, your legs wrapped around my back. I smelled your skin, your hair freshly washed with shampoo; I was intoxicated by you. In your lips I found the love that was both perfect and never meant to be. 

It is sweet nostalgia that kills me slowly. Since that moment I have become nothing more than a strand of your hair that fell off your head and remained in the corner of my dark attic room that summer I let you down. 

I am prepping to do my nightly workout and pondering what to write about Korea. Ive been reading up on what everyone else has been writing on tumblr, their stories, their feelings… 

My December is a waste really. My first and second graders had speaking tests for the majority, then final exams. Two weeks left till the end of the semester and then a new group of fun loving Korean first graders. My third graders are checked out; I havent taught them since before thanksgiving. Ive been plotting vacations, been plotting my escape really. I love Korea, but I dont think I could stay another year. Sometimes I feel like im losing out on so much at home, or maybe im just romanticizing the whole idea that my future is all planned out. Anywho, I hate the feeling that im stagnating here. I sit at my desk most of the day this cold month and read news. I use the bathroom when I want, say hi to students as they run past me, chat to some of my Co teachers, but not really at the same time. Its an interesting experience I wouldnt change for the world, but I cant find myself staying, at least not for the right reasons (the kids, not the convenience of money.) I enjoy 75 percent of my classes, but those four classes that just dont care, or are loud, or think im a joke just suck the life out of me. Who knows, maybe next semester things will change, maybe I’ll get pulled in and convinced for another year of adventure. 

My opinions on some of these cities are as follows: 

Daegu is pretty big but not overwhelming. I feel like these cities are gatherings for westerns where they create this bubble of the country, it hardly feels like Korea. It bothers me to some extent that there is a divide between us and them. I hate the bubble. 

Busan, is massive and not unlike Daegu. This bubble idea exists here layered with consumerism that only Korea could create, (at least ive convinced myself). The train system is gigantic but not as big as Seoul. Its big enough to remind me of my home town of New York. This reminder makes me despise public transportation, but also appreciate The size of NY and the relative ease of traveling there. (Express Trains I love you) 

My first impression of Seoul: Massive and too many people. I stepped out of Myeong-dong station and wanted to combust into a pile of ashes. Its comparable to Soho on a Saturday afternoon. But worse I would say, without the charm of Manhattan’s architecture and chinatowns lovely smell of garbage. 

I love Gyeongju. I am thankful for the city, its quaint character, its historical charm, the fact that if I wanted to I could take my bike and ride for 45 minutes and be at one of the foremost temples in Korea. I love the fact that im snuggled in between mountains. I love  the fog that covers the mountain ranges in the mornings and when it rains. 

I love Korea, in the sense that It has a lot to offer. The nature, the freedom, the disgusting consumerism that is comforting in a sense. Korea is a place of extremes. Im glad I have another 8 months to explore it. Im glad that I have another 8 months to try and make an impression on these young korean boys, so that maybe, they will look at the world a bit differently after meeting me. 

there is something in those eyes of yours, those eyes that seem to glance off mine like bullets to a shield, those deep brown eyes that ask me “what are you looking at me”, that makes my synapses fire uncontrollably.

And in your bed I run my fingers against your exposed skin. I wonder what youre feeling under those calm eyes, those deep lakes placed conveniently in the middle of white sand. I’ll cross any desert just to bathe in those lakes. I know not everyone makes it there, only the ones willing to journey. Only the ones that catch your attention. 

And in the darkness of your room I try desperately to read the passing silence. The steady movement of your chest, the beating of your heart, im trying to read you with my finger tips. In the silence your heart beats steadily, readily for my embrace. You squeeze my body closer to yours. 

In this moment I know you’re mine, and I am yours.