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Finding Magic
Recently I have extended my walk all the way to Sunae station, about an hour from my house along the river. The first time promised a surprise...a beautiful mural under the overpass. Who says Koreans aren't creative? Though it is not a new concept to me, I have, as of late, discovered the extent of my obsessive nature. It is absolutely true that the further you go from home, the more intense the magnification becomes on the picture you view or yourself. It has always been apparent to me that I have obsessive tendencies. This is all part of my passionate nature. I have alwayus thought of it as an endearing quirk, something that gives people a reason to remember me, something that holds me out from the rest. It is the character traist in others that are really unique that I, myself, am drawn to. In light of the new evidence of my slightly psychotic natuer, however, I think I am probably drawn to these people because they allow me to feel slightly more normal...more socialized.
Ok, so I am being dramatic (how appropriate). But the truth is I have been constantly on the move lately. I have developed an obsession with power walking my way around this "small town" I live in, walking a good 2 to 3 hours a day at ungodly speeds (my feet are in rough condition). Coupled with my "Rocky" obsession,
I have become aware that I am possibly trying to keep myself busy. This means I am most likely trying desperately not to deal with SOMETHING that's bothering me. Or, on the contrary, I am trying desperately not to get myself attached to anything, or involved to heavily with anyone, so as to keep myself from HAVING anything to bother me. For someone that has spent her life attached like glue to everyone and everything around her, this may be a breakthrough, as crazy as it may seem.
It is of popular opinion among most of the teachers here that Korea makes you more emotional. It loosens up the hreat a lot to be away from the things you love and things come seeping out that had a lot more viscosity at home, things that would normally never surface. However, being the backwards human being that I am, I have harden quite substantially. Normally I would have myself in therapetuic tears over lots of inconsequential crap at home. Here, nothing really shakes me. I feel stable and secure, comparatively.
But today something broke through the surface. Tammy and Angele and I went for breakfast at the Rocky. In
reality we were quite the threesome to dine together...we all enjoy our fair share of "air time" in a conversation. Once the conversation shifted to a time before mine, about people I barely knew, my mind drifted to the scenary...to the hockey jersays I have spent countless hours admiring, to the black and whites on the wall of the boys.......and suddenly I realized my heart was aching. And I knew exactly why, though I entertained the idea that it was a partial romantic mystery (a story for another day). The speakers were crooning the whiney sound of country music, the sounds of home, and when "Dust on the Bottle" began its familiar chorus my eyes welled right up. I looked out the window at the hazy, dusty Korean street as Tammy and Angele carried on their discussion of things completely irrelevant to my sudden overwhelming reality......I looked around again, glad that all the lustre was not lost despite the boys absense. But something was not right. SOmething was most certainly WRONG. The boys were gone, and I was here. And more importantly, they were HOME.
The new reality is that my realities, my WORLDS, have converged. The boys are
definitive of "Korea", of my experience of this country, of this "part" of my life. And now they are giddying up in Calgary, at the Stampede, probably in the same bar as all of my friends from home. I suddenly realized that I would MISS them. This can't be, I thought. What an embarassing thought. Besides, they are part of my KOREAN life, and in my new Korean reality there are no attachments, and therefore, no missing anybody. I was uncomfortable with thought. However, I am not totally naive. I do realize that I have put a substanital amount of my emotions onto them for the soul reason that they represent the familiar. They are the epitomy of home for me, and, whether they realize it or not, have become representatives of whatever "family" means over here. And now they are gone, gone to my home town. If anything else, this has added all kinds of depth and dimension to my homesicknesses, that's for damn sure.
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